#spemily

[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

SPENCER: We’ve officially profiled all active serial killers. What now?

EMILY: Now? *takes out a gun and a bible* Now, we profile God.

[badathumanemotions]

Tease

Spencer Reid x Emily Prentiss x Fem Reader

MDNI Master List Category: Smut CW: Smut, Established Poly Relationship, Dirty Texts, Bondage, Light Dom/Sub, Vibrator, Voyeurism, Exhibition, Vaginal Sex, Cream Pie, Cum Play, Fingering, FaceSitting, Oral Sex (fem rec.), Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, AfterCare. WC: 6,888

You decide to tease Emily and Spencer with spicy texts while the two are at work. Once they get home you face the consequences. (Not Proof Read)

You really couldn't resist the urge to send those spicy texts.

As you lounged on the couch at home, you sent a text to Emily, a smirk playing on your lips as you typed, "I can't wait to feel your mouth on me, Em. The way your lips feel on my pussy…it drives me wild." You hit send and felt a little thrill at the thought of her reading it in the bustling office, surrounded by her colleagues. You knew it would be a sweet torture for her, a delicious secret that would keep her mind on you until she got home.

To Spencer, you sent a different message, one that painted a vivid picture of you kneeling under his desk, his pants around his ankles. "I wish I could suck you off right now, Spencer. Your cock in my mouth, my tongue playing with your balls… Can you imagine the look on everyone's faces if they knew?" You pictured his cheeks flushing at the thought, his mind racing with the scandalous image.

Emily's phone chimed discreetly, interrupting her focus on a particularly complex case. She glanced down, expecting something completely mundane. But as she read your text, her eyes widened in surprise and arousal. Her breath hitched, and she felt a sudden wetness between her thighs. The room grew hot, leaving her flustered as she tried to compose herself.

Spencer's phone vibrated against the wooden desk, a silent but insistent pulse that drew his attention from his work. He glanced over at your name, and his heart skipped a beat. He read the message and felt a blush creep up his neck, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grin. He couldn't believe the audacity, the sheer naughtiness of it all. He looked around the bullpen, ensuring no one was watching, and replied with a promise that had him twitching with excitement.

You decided to up the ante and snapped a picture of yourself in the white lingerie you had picked out especially for tonight. It was barely covering your body, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you knew it would drive Spencer wild. You send it to him with the caption, "A little something to help keep you focused at work."

Spencer's eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw the picture. He quickly pocketed his phone and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the bulge growing in his pants. The sight of you, laid out like that, waiting for him made his resolve weaken. His focus kept straying from the case files, the picture of you front and centre of his mind.

Emily noticed Spencer's sudden shift in demeanour. The way he fidgeted in his chair and the way his eyes kept darting to his phone made her grin wickedly. She had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

Her own phone buzzed, and she looked down to find your text, accompanied by an image that was far from professional. The sight of you, barely covered in the seductive lingerie, made her mouth go dry. The other agents in the bullpen were oblivious to the steamy thoughts racing through her mind.

You had been riling yourself up all day, keeping yourself on edge with every little thing you did. Every move you made you felt the anticipation building, making the ache between your legs that much more intense. The fabric of your underwear brushed against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body, a sweet torment that you basked in. You had been teasing yourself with thoughts of what's to come once Spencer and Emily get home.

Finally, your phone buzzed with the text you've been waiting for: "On our way home, darling." The words made your heart start to race. You jumped off the couch and rushed to the bedroom to prepare for their arrival.

You softened the light in the bedroom, dimming the lamps to cast a warm, sultry glow across the room. You took a moment to make sure everything you need was within arm's reach, not wanting any interruptions to spoil the mood once they arrived.

As you heard the key turn in the lock, your heart began to thunder in your chest. The door swung open and there they were, Spencer and Emily, looking at you with a hunger that could only be described as ravenous. The tension between the three of you was palpable.

Without a word, Emily strode towards you, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She took you by the wrists and gently but firmly pulled you towards the bedroom. Spencer followed close behind, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you in the lingerie.

Emily's lips met yours in a fiery kiss, her tongue darting into your mouth with a familiar heat. Her hands roamed over your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing gently. You could feel her excitement, her hunger for you, and it only served to make your own desire burn even hotter.

Spencer took his place behind you, his firm grip on your hips making you arch your back instinctively. His warm breath danced across the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His hands began to explore, tracing the curve of your ass before sliding up to your ribcage, teasing just under the edge of your lingerie.

Emily's mouth left yours and trailed down to your neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin as she nipped and kissed along the way. Your eyes fluttered shut, a gasp escaping your lips. Meanwhile, Spencer had moved from behind you, his eyes now locked onto Emily's ass as he slid behind her.

With practiced ease, he began to unbutton her blouse, his fingers working swiftly to expose her navy coloured bra. She leaned into you, her breasts pressing against your chest as Spencer's hands dragged down towards her trousers.

Spencer's eyes never left yours as he undid her belt, his knuckles brushing against her abdomen, making her shiver. He tugged at the waistband, and her trousers slid down her legs, pooling around her ankles.

Emily stepped out of them, now only in her matching navy bra and panties. She kicked off her heels, the sound echoing through the room. You couldn't help but admire the way she looked standing there, confident and sexy.

You noticed that Spencer was still fully dressed, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, a couple shirt buttons undone, and his pants still on. "Someone's a bit overdressed," you teased, nodding towards him.

With a smoldering gaze, Emily took the cue and stepped closer to Spencer. She placed a soft kiss to his lips before moving to undo his tie, fingers gliding through the material with ease. You stepped up to his other side and mirrored her movements, placing a kiss on his neck.

Together, you and Emily worked in harmony, each one of you eager to reveal more of his body to the other. His tie came off first, discarded to the floor with a gentle toss from Emily. Then, one by one, you started on the buttons of his shirt. Each button that popped open revealed a new patch of his pale, lean chest.

When his shirt was open, you couldn't help but let your hand slip inside to feel his warm, firm skin. Your fingernails grazed lightly over his abdomen, making him flinch and groan.

You both reached for his belt buckle, your hands brushing against each other in the process. You felt the heat of Emily's breath on your cheek, and she smirked before saying, "Ladies first," with a wink.

With a gentle tug, you pulled the zipper down. His erection was evident, pressing against the fabric of his boxer briefs. Emily's hand reached out, cupping his cock over the material, making Spencer gasp.

As you pushed his shirt off, Spencer stepped out of his shoes, and his pants followed suit. He was now only in his boxer briefs, which Emily proceeded to slip down his legs. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, making you both stare with hungry eyes.

Emily moved over to you, undoing the clasp of your bra. The material fell away, revealing your breasts to the warm air. She cupped them, her thumbs gently brushing over your erect nipples.

"On the bed," she murmured, her voice low and commanding. You didn't need to be told twice. You practically jumped onto the soft, plush surface, the anticipation coursing through your veins like electricity.

Emily leaned down, her breath hot against your ear. "You've been a naughty little tease today," she whispered, a hint of playfulness in her tone. She reached for the leather cuffs you had so conveniently laid out earlier.

Her eyes locked with yours as she secured each wrist to the headboard, one by one. The soft leather of the cuffs cool against your heated skin. "Now, you're going to learn the true meaning of patience," she murmured, her voice dripping with the sweet promise of torment.

You thought you had orchestrated this entire evening, but as you lay there, bound and exposed, you realized that Emily had other plans. She didn't miss a beat, immediately taking control of the situation as she stepped away from the bed. "Now, Spencer," she said with a smirk, "I believe it's time for us to have some fun."

Letting out a whine, you tried your best to give them the puppy dog eyes, hoping to be released from your restraints and join in the fun immediately. But Emily just chuckled, shaking her head. "Patience, darling," she said, her voice low and seductive. "You've had all day to think about this."

Ignoring your pleas, Spencer stepped closer to Emily. His hand reached up to cradle her face, and before you could even blink, their lips met in a fiery kiss. You watched as his thumb traced the outline of her jaw, her hands roaming down his chest, her nails scraping lightly against his skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

Their kiss grew more urgent, more passionate, and you could feel your own need building as you watched them. Spencer's other hand made its way to the clasp of Emily's bra, and with a quick flick of his fingers, it was undone. The cups fell away, revealing her breasts to his eager gaze.

Spencer cupped her, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. She let out a soft moan, her breasts swaying under his touch. You felt your own pussy clench with desire as he began to fondle her, his palms moving in slow, sensual circles. Her skin looked so soft and inviting that you found yourself wishing it was your touch instead.

You watched as Emily leaned into Spencer's touch, her eyes fluttering closed with pleasure. You felt a twinge of jealousy, but it only added to the thrill. You squirmed under your restraints, your hips bucking up into the air as you grew wetter by the second.

Emily's hand trailed lower, her fingertips grazing over Spencer's stomach before finally wrapping around his cock. She stroked him slowly, her thumb gliding over the precum beading at the tip. The sight of her hand on him made you ache to join, but the cuffs held firm, keeping you the captive audience of their erotic display.

With a gentle nudge, Spencer laid Emily down sideways on the foot of the bed, her legs hanging over the edge. She looked up at him with a smoldering gaze as he stepped back, taking in her body, laid out for him to feast on. You bit your lip, watching as Spencer's eyes travelled down her torso to her wet panties.

Spencer took his time, his mouth watering as he kissed down her body. His lips lingered on her neck, making her shiver before moving down to kiss along her collarbone. His kisses grew more urgent as he reached her breasts, his tongue flicking at her hardened nipples, making her moan softly.

You couldn't stop yourself from squirming and whining. The desire to touch, to be touched, was overwhelming. You watched as Spencer's hand slid down Emily's stomach, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her panties. He traced the seam, teasing her, making her hips rock into his touch.

With one swift move, Spencer dragged Emily's panties down her legs, the fabric sliding over her thighs and calves before he tossed them in your direction. You watched them fly towards you, landing just shy of your face. The scent of her arousal lingered, making your mouth water.

Emily's legs parted slightly, and Spencer knelt between them. His tongue darted out, and he took a long, slow lick from her hole to her clit. You felt your own clit pulse in response, desperately wanting the same attention.

He began to worship her with his mouth, his tongue swirling around her clit as his thumbs spread her wider. You could see her wetness glistening, smell her sweet scent in the air, and it was all you could do not to scream with frustration.

Emily's moans grew louder, filling the room with the erotic symphony of her pleasure. Her hips bucked against Spencer's mouth, her breaths coming in sharp gasps as she grew closer to the edge. You watched, entranced, as Spencer's cheeks hollowed with every suck and lick, her juices coating his chin.

"You see this?" she panted, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. "You want it, don't you?" Her smirk was devilish, knowing full well the torment she was putting you through.

Spencer looked up from his task. His fingers, slick with her wetness, hovered just above your parted lips. "How about a taste?" he asked, his voice husky with lust. You leaned forward as much as the cuffs would allow, eager to taste her on him. He brought his fingers to your mouth and you eagerly took them in, sucking the essence of Emily's arousal off of his skin. The taste was intoxicating, a blend of salt and sweet that made your mouth water for more.

Emily took that moment to climb up the bed, straddling your hips. She leaned down, pressing her mouth against yours, sharing the taste of her desire. The feeling of her breasts pressing into yours made your nipples peak even more, your body begging to be touched. But she had other ideas.

Reaching to the side, she grabbed the vibrator you had so thoughtfully placed within reach. She strapped it to her own thigh, positioning it perfectly against your clit, setting it to the lowest vibration. The hum was faint, almost a whisper, compared to the roar of your arousal.

With a wicked smile, Emily climbed off of you and made her way back to Spencer, who was still kneeling on the foot of the bed, watching the two of you with rapt attention.

Spencer took her hand and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply before guiding her to turn around. With a gentle push, she was positioned on her hands and knees, her ass high in the air.

Without wasting a moment, Spencer got behind her, his cock at her entrance. The tip of his erection teasing her entrance. You watched, breathless, as he slid into her, inch by inch. Her eyes squeezed shut, and a moan tore from her throat as he filled her completely. The sight of him claiming her, taking her, made your clit throb against the vibrator strapped to your thigh.

Emily's body moved with Spencer's, their skin slapping together as he took her roughly. The vibrator barely touched you, the gentle buzz against your clit driving you insane with need. You had the perfect view, but it was torture, the sweetest kind of frustration. Your eyes wandered over every inch of them, drinking in the sight of their bodies joined and their faces contorted with pleasure.

You could feel your hips bucking uncontrollably, trying to get even an ounce of the stimulation they were sharing. Your breaths came in short pants, your chest heaving with every thrust. The vibrator was a cruel reminder of what you were denied, sending a minimal amount of pleasure through your body, not enough to satisfy the ravenous hunger you felt.

Emily's eyes met yours, and she smirked, knowing exactly what she was doing to you. She pushed back into Spencer with every stroke, her ass bouncing slightly with every impact. You couldn't help but stare at the mesmerizing sight of his cock sliding in and out of her.

Then, Spencer tapped one of Emily's arms. She lifted it without a second thought, her hand reaching back. You watched as he grabbed hold of her arm by the elbow, pulling her torso taught. Her other arm moved back for him to hold.

Now, with her body arched back, Emily's breasts thrust out even more, the flesh bouncing with every hard thrust Spencer delivered from behind. It was a delicious sight, one that had you desperately wishing you could touch, suck, or bite them.

Spencer took full advantage of the new angle. He pushed into her deeper, his hips slamming against hers, each thrust harder and more demanding than the last. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by their grunts and gasps of pleasure. The bed rocked under them, and you felt every movement resonate through the mattress beneath you.

The sight of Emily's body, stretched taut with pleasure, and Spencer's cock disappearing into her over and over was maddening. You were so close to them, but the cruel leather cuffs held you in place. Your fingers curled into fists, desperate to reach out and touch.

The vibrator on the lowest setting continued to tease your clit, the barest of sensations taunting you. It was a torment you hadn't anticipated, but one that somehow heightened the scene playing out before you. You could feel your juices drenching the fabric of your underwear, your thighs quivering with need.

Emily looked over her shoulder at you, her eyes hooded with lust. "You like watching, don't you?" she purred. "You like watching Spencer claim me, filling me up with his thick, hard cock?"

Spencer groaned, his hands tightening around Emily's arms. "Tell us how much you want it," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Tell us how much you want to be filled up too."

"I want your tight, little pussy to take everything we have to give." Emily licked her lips, the words coming out as a purr.

"Mmhmm," Spencer nodded in agreement, his strokes becoming more fervent. "Imagine it, Emily, her begging for us to fill her up."

Emily's eyes glazed over with lust as she pictured you beneath them, begging for their touch. "Tell me, darling," she started. "How does it feel watching us? Do you wish it was you, taking his cock?"

You swallowed hard, the vibrator still buzzing against you. "Yes," you finally managed to yell out. "I want that. I want you both."

Emily's smirk grew wider as she watched your reaction. She began to rock back into Spencer's thrusts, her pace increasing. The vibrator was now a constant, maddening pulse against your clit, your body begging for more.

"Spencer," she began. "I think our little audience is suffering enough. Time to turn up the vibrations, don't you think?" Without missing a beat, Spencer carefully released her arms.

Spencer's hand moved to the vibrator, his thumb finding the control. The hum grew louder, the vibrations stronger, and your eyes rolled back in your head at the sudden increase in sensation. You felt your body respond immediately, your hips bucking up into the air, desperate for relief.

Emily watched you with a gleam in her eye. "Good things come to those who wait, darling."

Spencer reached down and flicked the vibrator to a higher setting, making you gasp. The vibrations grew more intense, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. The ache grew stronger, the anticipation unbearable. You watched as Spencer took hold of Emily's arms once again. He began fucking her with an intensity that was almost violent.

Emily's moans grew louder, her eyes squeezing shut with pleasure as Spencer's cock pounded into her with a ferocity that had her seeing stars. She could feel her orgasm building, the pressure growing with every thrust, her walls tightening around him. Her breaths grew ragged, her body trembling as she approached the precipice.

Suddenly, she was there. She threw her head back and screamed, her body convulsing with the intensity of it all. You watched, the vibrator on your clit now building up the same pleasure in you, as Emily's climax painted a vivid picture of pure ecstasy on her face.

Spencer's grip on her arms tightened as he thrust into her, the wet sounds of her pussy clenching around him filling the room. You could feel your own orgasm approaching, the vibrations from the toy growing stronger and more insistent with every second.

But it was the sight of Emily's wetness, her juices sliding down her thighs and onto the bed, that finally pushed you over the edge. You couldn't help but let out a moan that was louder than you had intended, your voice echoing off the walls.

With a final, harsh slam into Emily, he came, his cock pulsing deep inside her. Emily's body clenched around him, her orgasm being drawn out. The vibrator was almost too much now, the intense pleasure making your body convulse uncontrollably.

Spencer pulled out with a wet sound, and you watched in a daze as his cum began to dribble out of her, running down her thighs in thick, white lines. The sight was obscenely erotic, making your stomach clench with a mix of arousal and envy.

Emily's body was still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm, her breaths coming in pants as she collapsed onto the bed beside you. But Spencer wasn't done yet. With a predatory look in his eyes, he moved up the bed.

He reached down and untied the vibrator from your thigh, the sudden loss of sensation making you whine. Then, with a swift move, he tugged your panties down, the fabric tearing away from your body as he yanked them off.

Spencer didn't waste any time. His fingers found their way to Emily's cum-soaked folds, and with a wicked smile, he scooped up a generous amount of his own release. You watched, eyes wide, as he brought those same fingers to your own drenched pussy.

Without a second thought, he pushed them inside you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp. The feeling of his fingers, still slick with his cum and her juices, was intense. He didn't hold back, fucking you with a fervour that had your legs spreading wider of their own accord.

The vibrations from the toy had been a tease, a gentle caress compared to the reality of his touch. His fingers moved in and out of you with ease, the wetness from his and Emily's combined releases coating him, allowing him to slide in deep. Each stroke was punctuated with a wet, lewd sound that seemed to echo in the room.

You bucked your hips up, trying to meet him, desperate for the fullness you'd been denied. Spencer took his time, watching the expressions that played out on your face with a smug smile. Your body thrashed against the cuffs, your breasts jiggling with the force of your movements.

Emily took that moment to recover, her breathing evening out as she climbed up the bed towards you. Her hand reached out and cupped one of your breasts, her thumb flicking over your hardened nipple.

With a devilish smile, she leaned down, her hot breath fanning over your skin. You felt her mouth close around the tender flesh, her tongue swirling around the sensitive nub before she took it between her teeth and gave it a gentle tug. You arched your back, a moan escaping your lips, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

Her mouth moved down to the valley between your breasts, her tongue tracing a wet path that made you shiver. Each nip, each lick was a brand, marking you as theirs for the night.

You were a quivering mess, moaning unintelligibly as Emily's teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of your neck. Spencer's fingers continued their relentless assault on your pussy, his thumb circling your clit, sending electric jolts through your body.

The orgasm that crashed over you was like nothing you had ever felt before. It was as if your entire body was a live wire, sparks flying everywhere as your muscles clenched and released in wave after wave of pleasure.

You threw your head back, eyes squeezed shut, as the intensity of your climax took over. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, meeting Spencer's thrusting hand with each stroke. The feeling was overwhelming, the mix of his touch and Emily's teeth on your neck too much.

As the last spasms of pleasure rocked through you, Spencer didn't let up. He knew you could take more, that you needed more. His free hand moved to your lower stomach, pressing down gently. His fingers in your pussy never stopped, now targeting your G-spot with a precision that left you panting.

The pressure grew, building a crescendo of pleasure that started in your belly and radiated outwards. It was unlike anything you'd felt before, a coiling tension that grew and grew until you felt like you were going to burst. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, a sign of the release that was coming.

Spencer's eyes never left yours as he worked you over, his thumb pressing down on your clit with just the right amount of force. Emily's teeth grazed your neck, her hand moving to your throat to gently squeeze. You felt yourself getting closer, the need to let go growing stronger with each passing second.

He pressed down on your lower abdomen a little more, your muscles tightened around his fingers as he curled them against your G-spot. Emily's mouth moved up to your ear, her voice a hot whisper against your skin. "You're going to squirt for us, aren't you?" she asked, her breathing heavy with excitement.

You nodded, unable to form words. Your orgasm was approaching like a freight train, unstoppable and all-consuming. Spencer's thumb flicked over your clit faster, his fingers pumping into you with a steadfast rhythm that had your body shaking.

Emily leaned closer, her breath hot against your neck. "Say it," she murmured. "Tell us you're going to come for us."

You gritted your teeth, the need to scream their names overpowering you. "I'm going to… come," you managed, the words barely leaving your mouth.

Emily's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "That's our good little slut," she murmured, her teeth grazing your earlobe.

With a final, punishing push, you felt it. The orgasm hit you like a tsunami, your pussy fluttering around Spencer's fingers as you squirted, your juices soaking the bed beneath you.

When you finally opened your eyes, you could see Spencer licking his fingers clean. The sight of him tasting you, savouring the evidence of your pleasure, sent a fresh wave of arousal through you.

Emily was watching you intently, a look of concern and care in her eyes. She reached out and stroked your cheek. "Are you okay, love?" she asked. "Do you want to keep going?"

You nodded, the word "yes" slipping past your lips. You were still reeling from the intensity of your last orgasm, but the thought of stopping now was unbearable. You needed more.

Emily leaned in, her breath hot against your skin. "Good girl," she whispered, her voice filled with satisfaction. Then, she turned to Spencer with a wicked smile. "Help me adjust her," she said, removing the pillows propping you up. "I want to sit on her face."

He took hold of your ankles, his grip firm but gentle, and began to pull you down the bed. You felt the leather cuffs pull your arms taught as you slid along the sheets, the fabric gliding against your sensitive skin.

You watched as Emily positioned herself over you, her pussy glistening with her cum. Her legs straddled your head, and she lowered herself down, the heat of her sex enveloping your face. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, and you eagerly opened your mouth, ready to taste her.

Spencer knelled closer, his own cock now fully hard again. He took your legs and wrapped them around his waist, his hands holding you in place as he aligned himself with your eager entrance. The head of his cock brushed against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

As you began eating Emily out her hand found the back of Spencer's neck, pulling him in for a deep, passionate kiss.

The first few inches of Spencer's cock slid into you with ease, the lubrication from your previous orgasm allowing for a smooth entry. But as he pushed in further, you felt a slight burn, a delicious stretch that had you panting into Emily's pussy.

As Spencer started a slow rhythm, you began lapping at Emily's pussy with a fervour. Your tongue swirled around her clit, flicking and licking, tasting the saltiness of cum on your lips. Her moans grew louder, her hips moving in time with Spencer's thrusts as she ground herself against your face.

You loved every second of being at their mercy, the feeling of being used for their pleasure. It was intoxicating. You were no longer just an observer, but an integral part of their passionate dance.

With Spencer's cock now fully seated within you, he upped the speed, his hips ramming into yours with a ferocity that had you seeing stars. Each thrust sent your body rocking into the mattress, the leather cuffs creaking with every movement.

Spencer's hand came down, his fingers finding your swollen clit. He tapped it lightly at first, the sensation making you moan against Emily's pussy. The sound of your muffled cries only seemed to spur him on, his rhythm growing more erratic.

Emily's moans grew louder, her body rocking against yours in time with Spencer's thrusts. She leaned forward, her breasts jiggling, and you felt her nails dig into the skin of your torso as she held on tighter. Each tap from Spencer sent a shock of pleasure through you, making your own tongue move faster, more insistently against her clit.

The scene unfolded before you like a living, breathing painting of eroticism. The soft curves of Emily's body, the sharp lines of Spencer's physique, the leather of the cuffs that kept you bound to the bed—everything was a masterpiece of desire and want. Your senses were on overload, the taste of her, the smell of them both, the feel of Spencer's cock stretching you, the sound of skin slapping together.

All thoughts of work, of the outside world, of anything but the raw, primal need to come, had been driven from your mind. You were a creature of pure instinct now, a being of sensation and craving. Your entire existence was focused on the wet, warm heat of Emily's pussy on your face, and the thick, hard cock inside you, claiming you as their own.

Spencer leaned forward, his cock still pistoning in and out of your soaking wet pussy. His mouth found Emily's breasts, licking and sucking at her sensitive flesh. His tongue circled her nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks that begged for more. You felt the vibration of her moans run through her body, her hips grinding down onto your face as she threw her head back in pleasure.

The three of you were a tangled mess of limbs and desire, each movement bringing you closer to the edge of release. Spencer's strokes grew more frantic, his breathing hitching as he felt his own climax approaching. Emily's thighs tightened around your head, her moans growing louder, more demanding. You knew she was close, her body trembling with the effort of holding back.

Spencer's fingers found your clit once again, stroking it with a masterful touch that had you arching your back. Each pass over the sensitive bundle of nerves sent electricity through your body, making your toes curl. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your pussy clenching around his cock with each movement.

"You're so beautiful, Em," he murmured, his voice strained with his own growing need. "Riding her face like that, taking her mouth like it's yours. And look at her pussy, so slick and ready to be bred."

Emily moaned at his words, her hips bucking harder against your face. You felt her pussy juices leak onto your face. The thought of Spencer's cum filling you up, the idea of being bred by him, sent a fresh surge of arousal through you.

Suddenly, Emily's body tightened. With a scream, she came, her orgasm flooding your mouth. You swallowed greedily, the taste of her release mingling with the lingering flavour of Spencer's cum.

Her legs trembled as she lifted herself off your face. She rolled to the side, gasping for air, leaving Spencer's cock buried deep within you. "Keep going," she panted. "Don't stop until she's screaming."

With renewed vigour, Spencer pounded into you, his hips a blur as he chased his own orgasm. Emily leaned back into the pillows, watching you both with hooded eyes. "That's right," she began. "Take his cock like a good little slut. You love being filled up, don't you?"

You could only whine out in response, the word "yes" lost to the sounds of pleasure that had overtaken you. Spencer's strokes grew even more demanding, the sound of your wetness adding to the obscene sounds you were making.

Emily's voice grew more commanding. "Spencer, breed her," she said, her hand moving to her own clit, her fingers working it in slow, deliberate circles. "Fuck her full of your cum."

Spencer's eyes darkened, the intensity of his thrusts increasing. The idea of claiming you in such a primal way had him on edge, his body responding with an instinctual need to fill you with his seed.

You felt it, the pressure building up, your body begging for release. Emily's words had tipped you over, the dirty talk echoing in your ears. "I want it," you moaned. "I want you to breed me."

Spencer's strokes grew more erratic, his body taut with his own impending climax. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you felt your orgasm coil, ready to explode. Then, it hit you. Your body thrashed against the bed, the leather cuffs holding strong.

The feeling of Spencer's warm cum flooding your pussy was exquisite, making your own orgasm drag out, as if you were floating in a sea of pleasure. Each pulse of his release sent waves of ecstasy rippling through your core.

After a beat, Emily began to unbuckle the leather cuffs that had held you so tightly. You felt the leather loosen around your wrists, the sudden freedom making your skin tingle with sensation. She took care not to jostle your arms too much, knowing the blood flow would rush back with a sting.

As you lay there, panting and trembling with the aftermath of your orgasms, she gently began to massage your wrists. Her touch was feather-light at first, the pads of her thumbs moving in slow circles over your pulse points. It was a tender, loving gesture that seemed out of place in comparison to such intense passion.

Spencer remained still, his cock still buried in you to the hilt, his cum a warm presence inside your body. His eyes focused on yours, the connection between the two of you palpable. You could see the love and lust in his gaze, the possessive way he held onto your legs as if afraid to let you go.

Emily's gentle touch grew stronger as she massaged your wrists, her thumbs working out the kinks that had formed from being bound. "Good girl," she whispered, her voice soothing after the storm of passion. "You did so well for us."

Spencer's eyes never left yours, his expression one of pure adoration as he watched you come down from the high. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against yours, and kissed you. "You're incredible," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

As his cock began to soften, he carefully pulled out of your sensitive pussy. You felt a strange sense of emptiness, a void that his presence had filled. The wet sound of his withdrawal seemed to clash against the quiet of the room, the only noise now the sound of your heavy breathing.

Emily sat you up with surprising ease, her strong arms wrapping around your back, supporting you as your legs swung over the side of the bed. You felt boneless, your muscles having turned to jelly under the onslaught of pleasure. She kissed you gently, her lips tasting sweet.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she murmured, her eyes filled with affection. Spencer had already moved to the en suite, the sound of the shower being turned on filling the space.

With Emily's help, you managed to stand, your legs shaky from the intense experience. She led you to the bathroom, her hand firm but gentle as she guided you into the steamy embrace of the shower. The warm water hit your skin, and you sighed in relief, the heat soothing the ache that remained from your bound position.

Spencer had already stepped in, the water cascading over his body as he watched you approach. His eyes were still filled with the same hunger and love that had fuelled his earlier actions, but now they held a gentle concern.

Emily helped you step into the shower, the warm water washing over your body. You felt the last vestiges of your bound state slip away as the steam enveloped you. The water hit your skin with a gentle patter, the heat soothing the ache of your muscles.

Spencer's hands were on you immediately, his gentle touch as he helped cleanse your body. He took his time, using a soft cloth to wipe away the sweat and cum that coated your skin. The intimate act speaking volumes about the connection that had grown between the three of you.

Emily took a step back, watching the two of you with a satisfied smile. She leaned against the shower wall, her body still flushed from her own climax. She looked like a goddess, her hair sticking to her skin in wet strands as the water ran down her body.

Spencer turned you to face the spray, his hands moving over your body with the tenderness of a sculptor sculpting a masterpiece. The water washed away the physical remnants of your passion, but the emotional intensity remained.

Emily stepped closer, her own hands reaching out to join Spencer's in their gentle ministrations. She began to clean herself as well, her hands gliding over her own skin as if to mirror the care they were giving you. The three of you stood under the water, basking in the warmth.

When she finished, she took over supporting you, her arms sliding around your waist as Spencer stepped back. He took the cloth from her and began to clean himself, his movements methodical and precise.

With a gentle nudge, Emily guided you out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body and helping to steady your legs. Spencer, ever the considerate lover, took over, tenderly patting you dry with a soft, fluffy towel. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he was afraid you might break.

Once you were clean, Emily stepped in, her eyes lingering on the marks on your skin from the cuffs. She leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on each red line before guiding you back to the bedroom. The sight of the freshly made bed, with crisp sheets and plush pillows was a welcoming sight to your exhausted body.

With a gentle touch, Spencer helped you to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands on your shoulders to steady you. Emily climbed in first, her body a vision of satiation. She lay back against the pillows, her arms open in invitation. Spencer following, his body warm and firm as he slid in behind you, his chest pressing against your back.

He pulled the blankets up, cocooning the three of you together. Emily's hand reached for yours, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a reassuring gesture. Spencer's arm draped over your stomach, his hand resting protectively over you. The warmth of their bodies enveloped you, chasing away any lingering chill.

As the adrenaline from your earlier passion began to ebb, exhaustion claimed you. You drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the steady beat of their hearts and the warmth of their embraces. The soft whispers of their conversation lulled you into a peaceful slumber. You felt safe, nestled between them, their arms and legs entwined with yours. The love that emanated from Spencer and Emily was a warm blanket that wrapped around you, chasing away any lingering fears or worries. You were theirs, and they were yours.

[vampireids]

perfect stranger

summary: lauren reynolds is dead, emily prentiss along with her, and spencer finds himself alone, struggling and in need of company (smut, angst)

warnings: former emily prentiss/spencer reid, exploration of grief, references to addiction and divorce, spencer acts questionably in this but he's struggling so forgive him, reader has some backstory, reader is referred to with she pronouns and wears makeup and a skirt, reader smokes cigarettes, spencer POV (third person limited). very, very angsty.

word count: 7.8k

a/n: the first half of this is quite spencer/emily centric in its themes, but the second half focusses more on the reader character. reader means everything to me and i am cradling her so gently. posting on mobile so let me know if there are any formatting issues!

Three weeks since Emily Prentiss had died and taken half of Spencer Reid with her.

Three weeks.

Three weeks that tasted of ash and bile, where no matter how brightly the sun shone everything still looked grey, where every smile he passed on the street seemed to be mocking him.

He hadn't had an easy life, not by any standard, but even he had been unaware of just how keenly he could hurt, just how painful and violent breathing could be. It was an agony that seemed to persist beyond any capacity a human being could feasibly endure, a constant bleeding wound in the cavity of his chest.

It hadn't been long before daydreams of oblivion took hold of him. Murmurs of a phone number he couldn't forget as hard as he tried sounded in his mind, growing louder and louder as days went by. If he called it, he could remember peace. More crucially, he could forget everything. A call, a deal, a prick, a push, and every screaming agony in his mind could go away. The sweet, muggy bliss of a syringe of dreamless sleep. It would be so easy.

A disapproving voice in his head that sounded uncannily like Emily pleaded with him to resist the allure. She wouldn't want him to submit to the urge. She'd want him to withstand the pain, to feel the burn of grief boldly and without reprieve, to let time heal him with all the swiftness of a wounded sloth.

But it had been Emily who had loved him enough to keep him grounded and sober. And without her, how could he ever be strong enough to do it? The constant craving for quiet had been drowned out by the sounds of her soft sighs as his body pressed against her, by the consuming sensation of her around him and on top of him and in the beating heart in his chest.

And slowly, an idea formed. He couldn't have Emily anymore. But he could find something close enough. Some approximation to act as a temporary sigil to ward off the ghosts at his door. It had been an old coping mechanism he’d turned to in the early days of his sobriety. Nothing was more deadly to an addict than solitude, so he’d sought out company where he could get it, in faceless women in bar bathrooms and parked cars.

It had worked before, and it could work again.

At the very least, it forced him to shower and put on nice clothes, to brush his teeth and hair and remember the feeling of being alive. With his face clean and his body dressed, he could almost pass for human instead of the walking gaping wound he felt like.

The bar was an old favourite of his. The lights were dim and low, the music soft and unobtrusive. It wasn't any kind of high class establishment, but it didn't need to be for his purpose. With any luck, he wouldn't be here long.

He walked to the bar and ordered a neat whiskey. Drinking in his fragile state was unwise, but he needed to feel the burn of it sliding down his throat to remind him he was still capable of feeling anything but grief. After a bracing sip, he took a seat on a barstool and surveyed the milling revellers. They all seemed carefree and happy in a way he resented, drinking and laughing and dancing with one another, lovesick like he’d once been.

One woman caught his eye on the other end of the bar. She was alone, like him. Nursing whiskey neat like him. Seeming just lonely enough to make his own crushing solitude feel less isolating. She noticed him watching her and smiled, a coy edge to it that made heat start to simmer in the core of him.

She wasn't Emily, but she had a similar fire in her eyes, the same challenge in her smile, a striking beauty to her face that stung as much as it excited.

If he could find her beautiful, then beauty was still attainable to him. Things could still be wonderful in some far off life.

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't notice she'd stood, approaching him and sitting in the stool beside him.

“Waiting for someone?” she asked softly.

Yes, he thought, I’m waiting for Emily, and I’ll be waiting for as long as I live.

But for tonight, he would temporarily cease his waiting. So he smiled, shook his head, and said. “No. Are you?”

She grinned at him, and the expression was so reminiscent of Emily's sly smiles that it hurt. “I was. But I think I found what I was waiting for.”

The line was so cheesy and silly he couldn't help but huff out a laugh. “And what would that be?”

“Someone pretty. Someone who looks like they might have stories to tell.” She tilted her head. “You know anyone like that?”

“I might,” he shrugged. “I’m Spencer.”

She told him her name and he barely heard it but he knew he wouldn't forget it. He knew he was supposed to say something, so he breathed, “that's a beautiful name. It suits you.”

Her smile was like the sun and he almost believed he could feel warm again. “You're not so bad yourself.”

He’d never grown used to accepting a compliment so he ducked his head to hide his face. She was already talking again, saving him from the awkwardness of knowing how to reply.

“What brought you here tonight?”

The truth wasn't something he was ready to share with a stranger. He approximated it with, “I’m looking to feel a little less alone.”

Her hand on his was soft and warm. “What a coincidence. I’m here for the same thing.”

He couldn't fathom someone like her, so beautiful and confident and with such a warm presence, being lonely. So he raised his eyebrows. “You're really wanting for company?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she laughed. “But yes. I am wanting for company. I just moved here.”

“What made you move here?”

“Nothing special about here. I needed to leave my life behind and threw a dart at a map of the states and moved where it landed. Well, technically it landed on Virginia, but I overruled that. This was close enough.”

Needed to leave her life behind.

She'd said it casually, but it was an interesting thing to note. Like him, she was lost, alone, hiding from something. Seeking comfort in the arms of strangers who wouldn’t stick around to fix her messes. He hummed thoughtfully. “Running from something?”

With a shrug, she murmured, “aren’t we all?”

“Most people,” he conceded.

“You?”

“I don’t like to think I am. But I don’t think I’d be here tonight if I wasn’t.”

She smiled at him slightly. He was only just starting to realise what else about the smile reminded him of Emily - the slight undercurrent of sadness to it. “That’s the nice thing about running.” she said after a pause. “Sometimes you look up and realise your feet took you somewhere good without you even realising it.”

“Are you somewhere good?”

“You’ll have to tell me,” she said softly, and leaned forwards, capturing his mouth in a kiss.

It took a moment for his brain to catch up with his situation before he was kissing her back. She tasted like whiskey, fiery and hot and intoxicating. He reached his palm up to rest it on her cheek and she made a soft noise of encouragement, sliding her tongue into his mouth.

The angle of it was awkward, their bodies angled towards each other and hanging off their barstools, but it didn’t make the kiss any less dizzying. It wasn’t Emily, no way to pretend for even a second it was, the taste of her and the shape of her and the feeling of her were all different. But it didn’t matter. It was company, and she was beautiful, and he knew in his heart Emily would want him to do this. She’d want him to find something that would help ease the pain. She would never want him to be lonely.

She pulled away and he gasped.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked breathlessly.

He nodded desperately, wrapping his hand around her wrist. “Yes. Please.”

“My place okay?”

“Yes. That’s perfect. Let’s go.”

She picked up her glass of whiskey and motioned for him to do the same. As soon as he did she wrapped her arm around his and linked them at the elbow, holding her drink aloft. It took a second to realise what she wanted, and when he did, he grinned. It was silly, childish, exactly what he needed. She nodded at him and, arms interlocked, they downed their drinks in unison. The liquor burned his throat like a sip of liquid flame and he struggled to keep his mouth neutral as he swallowed, watching as she wrinkled her nose. He couldn’t help his huffed laugh, giddy with the drink and the company.

She led him out of the bar, weaving them around the huddles of drunks and tables of friends in silence, and pounding guilt nestled behind his chest. Three weeks since the death of his lover, and he’d already found his way into the arms of someone else. What kind of man was he? Was his loyalty so thin?

But she turned towards him, glancing back with a mischief in her eyes that was achingly, throbbingly familiar, and he couldn’t make himself pull away.

He wasn’t a man of God. He didn’t believe Emily was watching down on him, in pain at the thought of him with another woman. She was simply gone. He couldn’t live for a ghost he didn’t believe in.

It was all hollow justification, really, convincing himself it wasn’t wrong to do the thing he already knew he would do. Her pulse under his fingertips was thrumming and alive, the sign of a heart that could pump blood and skin that was flush with warmth, and he needed to feel that. He needed to want something that could want him back.

The air was chilled as they stepped outside into the street and he stumbled into her as she came to a sudden stop. She giggled softly and wrapped her arm around him, steadying him and pulling him softly against her. Her body was a column of heat beside him, every breath she took causing her chest to rise and fall against him. Living, living, so alive, something real, something tangible. He’d known this woman all of 10 minutes and he loved her as much as he hated her for simply being alive.

It wasn’t fair on this poor woman, this beautiful woman, this kind woman to be drawing these constant comparisons. That thought, more than any other, almost gave him pause. He vowed to want her for what she was and not what she wasn’t. She was sweet, beautiful, haunted, said he had pretty eyes and looked like someone with stories. She had soft skin and lovely eyes, a smile that held secrets and promises that he wouldn’t get to know. He could want her for that.

She swung out her arm and a taxi pulled in beside them and they stumbled into the taxi, their bodies never leaving each other until she shuffled across the seat to the other side. Even then, her hand stayed on his arm and he revelled in the touch. She leaned forwards to share her address with the taxi driver and they drove into the night, the flickering street lights casting shadows on her face.

He couldn’t help it, he leaned forwards to kiss her again. Her lips were a temporary oblivion, something consuming to drown out the noise of his grief. A comfort in company, a reminder he wasn’t as alone as he felt. The guilt bubbling in his stomach was dulled by the softness of her lips, the gentle movement of her tongue, the sharp bite of her teeth on his lower lip. So different to Emily. Not different enough.

No.

She was her own person.

He pulled away with a gasp, her chest heaving to match his own.

“You’re good at that,” she mumbled.

He moved his thumb across her cheek. “So are you.”

She smiled and kissed him again, and he let himself sink into it, to feel the heat of another person against him, to let the sensations wash over him and through him and stir those familiar desires beneath his skin.

It was a quick taxi to her apartment and then he staggered onto the sidewalk like a man intoxicated. He was dizzy, though he only had the one drink. On a street he’d never been on before despite his years in the city, the buildings unfamiliar, his companion a stranger, and he felt like someone totally different. Someone else. Someone who could be casual and silly and risky and stupid. Not Spencer Reid. Not the grieving man.

His alienation from himself would be frightening if he had the fortitude to care. Instead, he called it a blessing and let his beautiful stranger pull him up the stairs.

Her apartment was four flights up, and by the time they reached her door, he was breathless. She laughed at the pink on his cheeks and he felt a hum of embarrassment course through him.

“Not laughing at you, baby, I promise,” she murmured as she turned to unlock the door. The term of endearment sent something hot running through his veins and his face only got warmer.

The door was pushed open, and she waited for him to enter before shutting it behind her.

Another moment of guilt and hesitation threatened to break him and he drowned it out by pulling her closer and capturing her mouth in a desperate kiss. She made a soft noise of surprise against him before melting into it, bringing her hand up to rest on his shoulder and pressing herself against him. It was soft and sweet and nothing he needed it to be so he deepened it, pressed her against the wall to gain the leverage to kiss her roughly. She let out another low sound of pleasure and it emboldened him, gave him the courage he needed to guide his hand up her thigh and under her skirt, running his fingertips along her hip.

She threw her head back with a soft “fuck,” letting her head rest against the wall as he moved his hand from resting on her hip to tracing over the line of her underwear and brought it down until it was ghosting along her core.

Her softness, pliability, was intoxicating and so different from what he was used to. Emily gave as good as she got, was bared teeth and strength and only going down with a fight. His beautiful stranger seemed happy to let him control the night, and he was grateful for it in that moment, grateful for the opportunity to have the control in the bedroom he’d lost over his life.

She gripped onto his shoulders hard as he pushed the panties aside and ran his fingers over the exposed flesh, spreading the accumulated arousal and circling over the sensitive nub at her apex.

He attached his lips to her neck, grazing his teeth across her collarbone and drinking in the sounds she made as he slowly inserted one finger, and then a second.

“Baby, god, feels so good,” she mumbled above him and the praise went straight to his cock, the taste of her skin against his tongue and the feeling of her around his fingers creating a dizzying cocktail of arousal in his abdomen. He was making her feel good, he was capable of creating pleasure in another, he could do something right even if his life felt wrong and hollow. He clung to that knowledge as he sucked a mark into her neck and basked in her whines.

Years of magic tricks gave him agile hands, a skill at profiling let him read a woman’s pleasure in her gasps and twitches, and it wasn't long before her moans were heightening in pitch and volume and her nails were pressing into his shoulders desperately. He felt a glow of pride as she came undone around him, moaning his name in shaking cadence. He pulled his fingers from her carefully and felt a bolt of arousal at the sight of her, her skirt rucked up around her waist, her cheeks pink and her eyeliner smudged.

“You have wonderful hands,” she murmured after a few moments of loaded silence.

He laughed roughly. “I’ve been told that before,” he mumbled, and didn't mention the woman who’d told him.

“Let me make you feel good too, baby,” she said, and her widened eyes and desperate tone made it sound very much like a plea.

His head was spinning, body alight with lust, too full of want for the guilt to make a dent, and he nodded. He was sick, sick, sick in the head, his agreement a condemnation of himself, and so he nodded.

“Yes. Yes, okay. Let's go to the bedroom,” he tried to speak through the dizzy desire and warring self-loathing and his voice came out thin.

She frowned, eyes big and concerned and placed her hand on his cheek. “Are you okay, baby? You don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

He shook his head almost violently, causing her hand to drop to his shoulder. He felt its absence like a wound. “No. Please. I want this, I want you.”

She still looked hesitant so he kissed her, feeling the tension leave her body as his tongue explored her mouth. The relief of her wordless acquiescence was physical. He needed this, he needed her, he needed his life to dissolve in a melody of moans until he couldn't remember anything but the present, until everything faded but touch and heat and want.

He couldn't bear the weight of his mind alone. She might be a stranger, but he needed her. And curse Emily's voice in his head chiding him softly both for using this poor woman and for so quickly finding solace in the body of another. He was using her, sure, but she was using him too. It wasn’t like she was in love with him, and he wasn’t in love with her either. It was a one night stand, not marriage. And he and Emily had never labelled their relationship, had never been able to communicate well enough to even discuss exclusivity and all of that aside, she was fucking dead so really she’d left him first and didn’t have the right to be judging him.

He was talking so much to the Emily in his head he was starting to remember that he was still in the window for schizophrenia. 

He kissed the woman more desperately, drowning out that thought. She made a keening, broken sound against him, and it temporarily brought him to the present. 

He took a hold of her wrist, still resting against his collarbone and stumbled back. “Bedroom, please,” he begged, too far gone to be self-conscious of the pleading tone. 

She smiled, her pupils blown wide and her lips darkened from the bruising force of the kiss. “Come on, baby.”

She took a stumbling step towards him and he felt a surge of pride he’d taken her apart so thoroughly. He was still a man, after all, and she was a woman, a stupidly beautiful woman he was undeserving of, and it felt good to know he was bringing her pleasure. 

He let himself be led like a lamb by its shepherd to her bedroom. It was clean, minimal, the bedroom of a flight risk who didn’t want anything tying them down. No photographs, no personal effects, nothing in the room that didn’t serve a utility. 

The profiler in his brain was switched off by her hands moving to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with nimble fingers. Once his shirt hung loose, her touch moved to his bare chest, tracing across the planes of his torso. He felt unavoidably self-conscious under her scrutiny, but she looked at him with such a heat in her eyes he couldn’t help but know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

He still wanted to know what demons had led her to him, to seeking solace in the arms of a man she didn’t know, but he shoved the thought down. She was well within her right to want a one night stand, she didn’t have to be damaged just because he was. And besides, she’d started removing her own shirt, and it was hard to think about anything other than her chest, framed by a delicate black brassiere.

She caught his heated gaze because she laughed softly. “Like what you see, baby?”

He nodded stupidly. “God, so much.”

And then she was kissing him, walking him backwards towards the bed where he was all too happy to go.

His knees hit the back of the bed and he dropped onto it, looking up at her as she undid the button fastening her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her underwear matched the bra, and she wore them well, the lines and curves of her silhouette enough to intoxicate him. He leaned forwards to kiss her abdomen softly and she gasped. Their positioning, her above him with his head against her stomach, was some strange parody of worship. In a way, she was a god to him. He was giving himself as an offering in futile hope of salvation, devoting himself to a beautiful concept of a woman. She was nothing real and everything wonderful. A perfect stranger.

Her hands wove themselves into his hair and he groaned out his oblation into her skin.

“I need you, baby, please,” she whispered into the still air of the room, and he was her willing servant.

He sat back, and before his hands could reach down to unfasten his pants, she was undoing them for him, her fingers trembling as she fiddled with his button and then his fly.

There was something unsettling about her movements, and he stilled. “You okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah. Yeah, just want you,” she mumbled as he shimmied out of his pants.

There was something she wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t have time to ask before she was dropping to straddle his lap, his cock only separated from her arousal by the flimsy fabric of their undergarments. He might have been a genius, but even he found it hard to think about anything much with a woman in his lap, her hips shifting against his and sending his senses into overdrive.

He begged a silent plea of forgiveness to the Emily in his head. She remained stonily silent. He took it as permission and put his hands around the waist of his perfect stranger, using his leverage to twist them both until she was lying beneath him on the bed.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, and the tender words felt like more of a betrayal than the sex.

“So are you,” she whispered, and he kissed her gently. The kiss was short, chaste, before his lips were moving - kissing down her jaw, the column of her throat, her chest, her abdomen, her stomach. She gasped softly as he reached the waistband of her panties, and he lingered there just a moment, looking up at the rapt expression on her face.

He noticed, not for the first time, how very sad she looked behind the desire. Maybe she knew he was thinking about someone else. More likely, she was thinking about someone else. It wasn’t his business. He understood what it was like to need to drown out the ghosts.

It was the echo of that thought that played in his head as he slowly pulled down her panties. Drown the ghost, make her feel good, bask in the warmth of another, remember what it means to live and breathe and feel. Simple instructions, a defined victory condition, something black and white and real. He tossed her underwear aside and looked up at her, propped up on her shoulders to watch as he exposed her.

He must have stayed there a moment too long, because she made a soft, plaintive sound and mumbled, “Baby, please. Don’t tease me.”

“Sorry,” he grinned, not sorry at all if it made her call him baby in that desperate, whining voice, and licked a stripe up her core.

She made a harsh, pleading noise at the contact, and he felt it like lightning under his skin. He pushed away the thoughts of the sounds Emily had once made, and moved to suck gently on her clit, summoning more sweet whines from her lips.

Her hands came down to twist in his hair and he groaned against her. He felt hot, shivery, alternating waves of lust and guilt rocking through him like a boat tossed about through the surf. Something about the sheer wrongness of it was only heightening his desire. His grief was getting tangled in his need and his body was turning all of it into heat and want.

Eventually, she gasped raggedly and used her grip on his hair to pull him off of her, looking down at him with eyes turned the inky black shade of lust. “Need you, now, please, baby,” she groaned, and what man could say no to that?

He nodded, dizzy and hazy, and lifted himself onto his knees. “Condom?” he managed to force out through the white noise of his mind, and she sat up to lean over to her bedside drawer, rifling through a little box to pull out a Trojan.

He pulled off his own underwear hastily as she unwrapped it, and hissed as she leaned forwards to roll it onto him. He hadn’t realised how hard he was until her soft hands were ghosting over him, and the touch felt like little lines of fire over his skin. He groaned thickly and let his head fall back as she stroked him experimentally over the latex.

He didn’t want to wait any longer, couldn’t risk being still when the thoughts of everything he was hiding from could come back. Emily was being quiet in his skull, probably furious at his betrayal, but it was still quiet, no voice in his head but his own. So, he gently pushed her back until she was lying against the pillow, and put his weight on one arm as he guided himself to the centre of her arousal. He teased for a bit, sliding his length along her a few times to hear her breath hitch.

Finally, slowly, he pushed in, his eyelids fluttering as he was constricted by the tightness inside of her. It hadn’t even been that long since he’d had sex, but after years of having it almost daily, his body had grown accustomed to a certain frequency, and the tight heat felt like home.

As soon as he was fully immersed inside her, he let out a ragged, hoarse groan. Her own thin whine was in harmony with his, the musicality of their pleasure intertwining as their bodies did.

His vision blurred as he started to move, the friction sending sparks up through his skin as she gasped his name underneath him.

“Oh, fuck, Emily,” he groaned in return.

He didn’t realise what he’d done until she stilled completely under him.

“Emily?” she said quietly.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him, every nerve going dead with the shock.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and it felt so inadequate to the scale of his mistake.

She swallowed under him, her throat bobbing. Something was playing out behind her eyes, something not even years of profiling could clue him into. Eventually, she shook her head, the movement minute.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I understand. I can be Emily. If that’s what you need, I can be Emily.”

The words broke his heart. Who was this woman? Who had broken her down to the point she was willing to contort herself to be another woman for a man she’d never met?

He shook his head. “No. You’re not Emily. You’re you, and that’s a good thing to be. Don’t- you don’t- I’m an asshole. My head is a mess right now, it’s nothing to do with you. You’re wonderful, you’re beautiful, you’re kind. I want you.

She smiled thinly and brought her hand up to rest against his face. “It’s okay, baby. It’s one night. I’m whoever you want me to be, okay? Whatever you need. Let me take care of you.”

He groaned slightly, a war in his torso as her words cast a sick sort of spell on him. The person he wanted to be fought the battle, screamed at him that she obviously had her own demons, that he’d be taking advantage of what must be a self-esteem issue, to be allowing him - asking him - to pretend she was another woman. “It’s not right,” he mumbled.

“Does that really matter?” she whispered. “No one’s watching. I’m saying it’s okay.”

“Why?” he said desperately. “Why would that be okay?”

“We’re using each other, that’s all this is, right? I don’t know your life or your last name or your job or your friends, you’re whoever I want you to be tonight. I can be whoever you need me to be. It’s only fair.”

Her words made a strange sort of sense, or maybe he was choosing to believe that to stymie the guilt bubbling behind his ribs. He was using her, plain and simple, no matter whose name he was saying. If she didn’t care, why should he?

Because you’re better than that, the Emily in his head murmured disapprovingly. But who was she to talk when she’d left him all alone, when she’d lied to all of them to follow a terrorist without thinking of the wound she’d be leaving behind. So he nodded. “Okay. Okay. Are you… Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes. Please,” she said, eyes big and pleading, and he gave only another cursory thought to wondering if she was okay before starting to move again. She wasn’t Emily, there wasn’t really a way to pretend that she was, unless he closed her eyes and that seemed too sick even for him. But the feeling of it all was still so achingly familiar - the heat, the tightness, the slick sounds of bodies connecting and the shaking gasps of pleasure.

He couldn’t pretend she was Emily, but he could pretend he loved her and she loved him. And with the way she looked at him, her jaw slack in ecstasy and her pupils blown with lust, it wasn’t hard. She looked beautiful, genuinely divine in the throes of her desire, in that way people only do at their most unrestrained. He leaned forwards and kissed her, drinking in the sounds she made against his lips and revelling in her hand gripping his shoulder like he was a lifeline, the thread connecting her to reality.

“Baby, oh, baby, I’m close, please, just like that, fuck,” the words were mumbled against his lips, garbled among gasps and soft whines, and it took a moment to decipher what she was saying. But once he’d decoded it, he glowed in his pride.

“Come for me whenever you want to, sweetheart,” he groaned, “Let me make you feel good.”

His tone was tender, fragile, delicate, the words of lovers and not strangers, and maybe that was the fantasy he was fulfilling with her. One where he loved freely and received it in return like he never could with Emily and her shroud of secrets. He’d pretended with her, and he was pretending again now, playing the role like he was born for it.

And when, maybe seconds or years later, her noises climbed in pitch and she tightened around him, he pushed her hair out of her face gently and fucked her like he knew her beyond the feeling of her body and the sounds of her bliss.

Her nails dug into him, and she called him, “baby,” again in that sweet, overwhelmed voice, and it was that which pushed him over the edge to his own undoing, his rhythm faltering and stuttering as he twitched inside of her.

This, the release, the moment where the world stopped and all he could feel was beautiful, perfect pleasure, was why he'd gone out tonight. A simulacrum of hydromorphone all released in one, lovely moment. One addiction swapped for another, oblivions traded. Her hand ghosted back over his cheekbone as he slowed and stopped, his head leaning into her palm as he stilled.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he laughed, breathlessly, smoothing out her hair before pulling out of her with a wince.

She sat up and watched as he tied off the condom. “I know, but I want to. I needed this. Let me take that, I’ll bin it in the bathroom.”

He smiled weakly and handed it to her, watching as she walked into the little ensuite next to the room. She shut the door behind her, and he sat awkwardly for a moment, his nakedness suddenly visceral in the solitude of another person’s bedroom. He stood and found his underwear, discarded next to the bed, shimmying into them as he waited for her to be done. He never knew what to do in this part, never knew the etiquette of the afterglow. Eventually, he heard the toilet flushing and the sound of the tap running, and she emerged from the bathroom clad in a short white satin robe, tied loosely at the waist.

“I’m going to have a cigarette,” she said with a little smile. “Care to join me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice hoarse, and followed her outside to the balcony. It was nice, a wrought iron railing shielding them from falling into the city skyline, two chairs nestled around a small round glass table. On it lay a crystalline ashtray, stained with dead embers, and a small pack of Marlboro Golds.

She sat on the far chair, motioning for him to sit too, and picked up the pack, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. She took a long drag and let her head fall back as she exhaled the smoke.

“I know it’s a bad habit,” she said quietly. “But I can’t bring myself to quit.”

He tilted his head as he watched her take another drag. “I used to tell my mother every cigarette she smoked was 6 less minutes she’d get to spend with me.”

“The way I live my life, I’m not expecting that to be an issue,” she shrugged.

“How do you live your life to expect to die young?”

She gestured at him. “Bringing strange men I meet while alone at a bar to my apartment, for one,” she deadpanned, and he couldn’t help his exhale of a laugh.

“Mm, touche, I suppose,” he sighed. “What makes you like it?”

She raised her eyebrows. “The cigarettes or the strange men?”

“Both, I guess.”

“It’s the same reason for both. Makes me feel like I have some control over things. Forces me to… confront my mortality, to get comfortable with the idea of death. It can’t scare me if I’m inviting it.”

He frowned. “You’re suicidal?”

A long pause where she seemed to be thinking, her eyes fixed on the twinkling lights of the city around them. “No. I’m not. But I’ve spent a lot of time living in fear of things that are inevitable, and I’m tired of that.”

He couldn’t help himself from wanting to pry. It was like that, sometimes, in the afterglow of sex. After the intimacy, the bedroom could become a confessional. “What inevitabilities are you scared of?”

She sighed and took another drag of the cigarette. “I married my high school sweetheart a year after we graduated. Our relationship was… fine. Good. He was the only man I’d ever been with, the only one I knew how to be with. Even when I knew he was having an affair, I couldn’t bring myself to let go of him. He was an asshole, sometimes, and a cheat, but sometimes he was so wonderful. He worked and supported us the whole time I was in college, he’d plan these extravagant dates and trips for us, always remembered birthdays and anniversaries. And I’d been with him since I was so young, I didn’t even know who I was if I wasn’t his wife. Even when I knew he didn’t love me anymore and I barely loved him, I stuck around. In the end, he left me. He got the other woman pregnant and owned up to everything I already knew. I didn’t even have the guts to tell him that none of it was news, because I felt so pathetic for tolerating it. That night, I quit my job, threw a dart at a map and moved here. Just like that. I didn’t want to be scared anymore. I wanted to just… live.”

He was quiet for a long time. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually, and it was a pale pleasantry against the scale of her admission.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Not like it’s your fault. Just illustrating the point. I knew the relationship was over years before it actually was. But I was so scared of the unknown I refused to admit it. I’m not going to do that anymore.”

“That’s a good philosophy,” he said softly.

She smiled at him, the look stained with melancholy. “Yeah, I like to think so.”

The silence dragged, unobtrusive and comfortable as she ashed her cigarette and lit up a second. “Who’s Emily?” she asked eventually, and he startled.

He watched her hands as she let the cigarette dangle between her fingers. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time,” she pressed. “Story for a story.”

“I have a… stressful job. One where I have to travel a lot. And I had a coworker, Emily. We started sleeping together as a way to let off steam on tough days. I fell in love with her. I think she loved me too. We never said it. She’s a… flight risk, I guess, runs away at the first sign of anything emotionally scary, and any time things between us got too real, she’d freeze me out. I learned to keep my feelings to myself. But I was in love with her. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done to keep her near me.”

“That’s hard,” his perfect stranger murmured. “Where is she now?"

“She’s dead,” he said flatly, as if keeping the emotions from his voice would stop it from hurting him. “She was murdered.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Fuck, that’s- I’m sorry. That’s horrible.”

He shook his head, the ugly bitterness in his chest building up and spilling from his mouth. “She knew. She knew he was coming after her, she knew what he was capable of, and she never told me. I could have done something, and she took that chance away from me. And I’m so angry at her, but I can’t be angry at her because she’s gone. What use is it being furious with a ghost?”

“It’s normal to have mixed feelings when a loved one dies, baby,” she says softly. “In a way, she left you, even if she didn’t want to. It’s hard. It’s a breakup with no room for self-reflection and no way to change things. The loss of your future and the shadow over the past. There’s a lot of different stuff going on in your head right now. There’s no wrong way to feel about it all.”

He knew that, was intellectually versed on the complications and machinations of grief. He’d seen all kinds of people in the throes of their losses - mothers who’d lost children when their last words had been in anger, husbands whose wives had stormed out and never made it home to talk it out, children who’d snuck out and returned to find their parents dead. He was acquainted with the intricate weaving of love and guilt and grief, had read every study on managing loss, had sat in the room with countless people in the seconds after learning their loved one had been taken from them.

And yet, there still lingered a revolting feeling of wrongness in his grief. For all that he knew the way he was behaving and feeling and coping was normal - all of it, the sex, the cravings, the depression, the bitter, cruel anger - he couldn't help but sink into the belief he was wrong for all of it.

But the look on her face, wide eyed and earnest, her brows slightly furrowed as she watched him intensely, made him believe her. This was a woman acquainted with loss, he could tell. He didn't have to pry to know that. She understood him in a way the journal articles didn't quite seem to.

Maybe, for all his overreliance on academia to navigate the world, he needed people like everyone else did. Emily had taught him that loving was worth the agony of losing.

He was quiet for a while, thinking through her words.

“Why were you willing to pretend to be her?” he asked.

She pursed her lips. “I liked what we were doing. I didn’t want you to stop. And you seemed like you needed it.”

“That's it? I mean, I called you the wrong name, I would assume that would be a dealbreaker for anyone.”

“I'm not under any illusions about what this was. It was a beautiful thing, but nothing to do with who I am or who you are and what we deserve. Just… people fucking for the sake of it, like they’ve done through all of human history. I wanted it to be good for you, just like I could tell you wanted it to be good for me. It makes it feel better if you're both getting what you want. And I've been a lot of people for a lot of people. It doesn't bother me.”

It still didn't seem quite right to him, but he nodded anyway. He just watched her for a moment, watched the movement of her irises as she looked at the shimmering skyline of the city, the careless elegance of her cigarette drags, the way her robe split over where she crossed her legs to reveal the soft skin of her thighs. She seemed solid in a way he deeply envied, a steady contrast to his own flickering identity.

“Thank you,” he said softly before he even thought the words. “Tonight could have been a bad night. But it wasn't. This has been the easiest night since-” he swallowed, stopping the thought there. “I feel… lighter.”

She made a quiet humming noise in response. “I feel the same. You're a nice person to be around, baby.”

He flushed a little at the endearment, a little token of affection she seemed so at ease sharing. She was a forthcoming person, he was noticing - quick to give. Her thoughts, her kindness, her love. It was an interesting counterweight against a scarcity in her home that spoke to solitude and distance. In just the short time he'd known her, she had shown her share of little contradictions. Clearly self-assured, but willing to pretend to be another woman to please a stranger. Clearly loving, but isolated and lonely.

Before he could stop himself, he said, “I'd like to get to know you better.”

The statement was innocent - he truly meant exactly what he said. She was, in many ways, fascinating to him, and solving her was a welcome distraction from trying to solve his own issues. He liked being around her. But her eyes widened and then crinkled sadly.

“I'm not- you're sweet, baby, and you're handsome, too. Your Emily was lucky to have you. But I'm not ready to be anyone's love anytime soon. And I don’t think you're ready for that either.”

He shook his head. “Oh! No, I didn’t mean- no, I'm not ready for anything like that, I'm- I just meant… I don’t have many friends, or at least friends who didn't know her. And you said at the bar you were lonely too, and I just thought- I'd like to be your friend. If that's okay with you.”

She looked at him for a while, as if trying to find a double meaning behind his irises. Then, wonderfully, she nodded, her lips quirking up at the edges. “I'd like that, baby. Let’s be friends.”

He felt a strange sense of gratefulness bubble in his chest. This could be something good, even if it came from something bad. He held out a hand to shake. “Friends.”

She shook it with a little laugh. “Friends.”

Trying his luck, he added, “And if friends involves doing,” he gestured back towards the bedroom, “that, I wouldn't complain.”

She raised her eyebrows and ashed her cigarette. “Give me a second to brush my teeth and we can demo it, try out our new friendship arrangement?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes. Please. In the name of trial and error, I think we should definitely do that.”

She stood and leaned over to kiss him gently on the forehead. “Wait for me in the bedroom, baby. We've got some friendship to do.”

He watched her go inside. her robe swaying softly with her movements. Emily was quiet in his head, but the silence didn't feel reproachful. He allowed the grief to take hold of him for a second.

And then he followed the perfect stranger inside.

[jamesheathridge]

"Are you worried?" / "About what?" / "About me being in the field. That I might freak out, overreact?" / "Why would you even-"

SPENCER REID & EMILY PRENTISS CRIMINAL MINDS | 13.02 "To a Better Place"

[criminalmindsverse]

Emily Prentiss + Spencer Reid

Criminal Minds | 4.02

[cherryspence]

the whole bau was in love with spencer at one point

[shipperoffanonships]

Protective Big Sister Emily Pt. 5

Emily: *picks Spencer up* I've only known Reid for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him, I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself.

[sirpotys]

The dynamics of their friendship

[spritehouse]

pt. 4 ft. emily prentiss & her relationships

<- part 3 | part 5 ->

[hotch-girl]

SPENCER REID and EMILY PRENTISS | 4.16 “PLEASURE IS MY BUSINESS”

[em-prentiss]

Reid going absolutely bonkers when he sees Emily annotate her books in front of him and Emily who starts annotating unnecessary things when he’s around to drive him even more insane :p

[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

EMILY: Maybe I can just gaslight myself into being okay.

SPENCER: You can, it’s called cognitive behavioural therapy.

(Inspired by @thememedaddy)

[badathumanemotions]

After Hours

Spencer Reid x Reader x Emily Prentiss MDNI Category: Smut CW: Friends With Benefits, Co-Workers, Threesome, Strap On, Sex Toy, Vaginal Sex, Cum as Lube, No Prep, Pegging, Dom/Sub Undertones. WC: 5,024 Master List Spencer, Emily, and Reader have a friends with benefits arrangement. (Not Proof Read) @imagining-in-the-margins

Spencer Reid sat hunched over his desk at the BAU, the fluorescent lights above flickering in rhythm with his weary blinks. The mounds of paperwork and empty coffee cups served as a testament to the long hours he'd been putting in lately. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, and his tie hung loose around his neck like a noose made of silk. The tension of the latest case weighed on him like a lead blanket, stifling his usual brilliance and leaving him drained. The only thing keeping him going was the promise of relief that evening—a promise that had been whispered in the hallowed halls of the office in hushed tones and knowing glances.

Y/N looked up from her own paperwork, noticing Spencer's distraction. They shared a knowing smile, the kind that could melt the ice of the coldest of cases. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, the electricity between them crackled. The air grew thick with anticipation, and the office felt hotter than it had any right to be. They'd been dancing around this for weeks now—a delicate tango of desire and professionalism. But tonight, all that would change. Tonight, they would let their hair down and indulge in the kind of stress relief that HR would never endorse.

Emily Prentiss leaned back in her chair, watching the silent exchange with a knowing smirk. She knew the signs of their mutual frustration all too well. It was a dance they'd performed countless times before, and she was always ready to lead when the music played. She casually stretched, her shirt riding up just enough to reveal the soft, bare skin of her midriff. The gesture was innocent enough, but the message was clear: the clock was ticking down to their rendezvous.

The minutes dragged on like hours, each second feeling like a lifetime. The office buzzed with the mundane chatter of cases and deadlines, but their minds were elsewhere—on the promise of what awaited them after the sun dipped below the horizon. The anticipation was a drug, pulsing through their veins, making their skin feel too tight and their nerves too alive. They all knew the script—the quiet nods, the lingering glances, the unspoken agreement to meet at Emily's place once the day was done. It was a ritual they'd perfected over the months, a secret shared only by the three of them.

Finally, the clock struck the magical hour, and the trio packed up their things with an unspoken haste. They made their way to the elevator, the weight of their desire pressing down on them like a heavy fog. The ride down was silent, the only sound the ding of the elevator as it descended floor by floor. Spencer's heart thudded in his chest like a bass drum, and he couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N, who returned his gaze with a smouldering look that sent shivers down his spine. Emily's eyes gleamed with mischief, her smile a secret shared only by those who knew what the night had in store.

Once they arrived at Emily's apartment, the tension snapped like a tightly coiled spring. The door barely had time to close before they were on each other, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses. The scent of their need filled the room, a heady aroma that seemed to thicken the air and make it harder to breathe. They shed their clothes like snakes shed their skin, leaving a trail of fabric on the floor as they stumbled toward the bedroom.

Emily led the way, her dominance as palpable as the heat between them. She reached back and grabbed Y/N's hand, pulling her in close. Spencer trailed behind, his eyes wide with excitement and a hint of trepidation. The room was dimly lit, the fabric covered lamps casting a soft glow across the walls. The large bed in the centre looked like a stage set for their darkest fantasies.

Y/N's hand slid up Emily's back, tracing the lines of her spine before settling on the nape of her neck. They kissed deeply, their tongues dancing in a fiery tango as they stumbled backward onto the bed. Spencer watched, his eyes glued to the sight of their tangled bodies, his cock growing hard at the thought of what was to come. He felt a thrill of submission, knowing that tonight, he would be the one to watch and serve.

Emily broke away from Y/N, her eyes shimmering with lust and power. She turned to Spencer, her voice low and commanding. "Sit on the bed, against the headboard," she instructed, her finger pointing imperiously. Spencer obeyed without a word, his legs trembling slightly as he settled into place, his erection bobbing with every movement.

Y/N was then positioned with her back against Spencer's chest, their bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Spencer's arms wrapped around her waist, his hands ghosting over her skin as Emily took charge.

"Hold her legs open," Emily purred. He eagerly complied, his palms pressing against the inside of Y/N's thighs, spreading them wide. The intimacy of the position made his heart race. He could feel Y/N's warmth radiating against him, her breaths coming in short gasps as Emily positioned herself between her legs.

Emily began to tease Y/N's pussy with a feather-light touch, her fingers dancing along the sensitive folds. Y/N's eyes rolled back, and she moaned, her body arching towards the touch. Spencer's cock throbbed in response, straining against Y/N's back as he watched Emily's skilled movements. Her thumb circled Y/N's clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave Y/N wanting more. The sight of his friend's pleasure painted on her face was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and submission.

"You're so eager, aren't you?" Emily murmured, her voice a seductive purr. She traced her fingers down Y/N's stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. "But remember, it's up to me to decide when and how you come."

Y/N bit her bottom lip, nodding slightly as she felt Emily's hand cup her mound. The anticipation was exquisite, a sweet torment that had her entire body singing with need. Emily's eyes met Spencer's over Y/N's shoulder, a smug glint of pleasure in them. Spencer's own arousal grew as he felt the tremble in Y/N's body, the way she leaned into his touch as if seeking solace from the storm of sensation Emily was unleashing.

Emily's fingers slid lower, slipping into the warm wetness of Y/N's pussy. Spencer watched, his eyes transfixed as he felt Y/N's hips jerk in response. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the dampness of her skin against his palms as he held her in place. The scent of arousal filled the room, thick and potent, making his mouth water with the need to taste.

Y/N's moans grew louder as Emily's fingers began to pump in and out of her, the rhythm slow and deliberate. Emily's eyes met Spencer's, the challenge in them clear. He knew his role tonight was to watch, to serve, to submit to their desires. But the need to be part of this intimate dance was overwhelming. He felt Y/N's body tense and release, her muscles rippling under his touch as she rode the waves of pleasure Emily was crafting.

Spencer's cock was a steel rod pressed against Y/N's back, and the friction was maddening. He wished it was buried inside her, feeling her warmth and wetness firsthand. But he knew better than to interrupt the show. Emily's thumb circled Y/N's clit, faster and harder, and Spencer could feel her legs quivering in his grip. Her breath grew ragged, and her eyes squeezed shut as she approached the precipice of orgasm.

Emily leaned in, her breath hot and damp against Y/N's sensitive flesh. "You're so close, aren't you?" she whispered, her voice a siren's call. "But not yet." She withdrew her hand, and Y/N's eyes shot open, a silent plea in them. Emily's smile was cold, a knowing smirk that sent a shiver down Spencer's spine."

With a graceful twirl, Emily stood from the bed, her naked form casting shadows on the floor. She sauntered over to her nightstand, her hips swaying with each step. Y/N's eyes followed her, her breath hitching as she opened the drawer and pulled out a silicone strapless dildo. The sight of it sent a jolt of excitement through her, and she felt her own arousal spike in anticipation.

Emily turned back to them, the dildo held loosely in her hand. She straddled Y/N's body, aligning the dildo with her own slick entrance. Spencer watched, his heart racing, as she pushed the toy inside herself with a soft groan. The other end, thick and curved, nudged against Y/N's pussy, the promise of a shared pleasure.

With a deliberate motion, Emily pushed the dildo further into her own heat, the base pressing firmly against her clit. She leaned over, capturing Spencer's mouth in a bruising kiss, her tongue demanding entry as she claimed him. He tasted her dominance, her control, and he melted into it, his cock pulsing with every inch she took.

Suddenly, she broke away, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Now, watch," she whispered against his lips. She positioned herself so that the dildo was at the perfect angle, and then, with a wicked smile, she began to thrust into Y/N. The other woman's eyes went wide with surprise and pleasure as she felt the fullness of the toy stretching her open.

The sight of Emily's body moving against Y/N's, the sound of their flesh slapping together, was almost too much for Spencer to handle. He could feel the vibrations through his own body, and the pressure against his cock was exquisite. His hands tightened on Y/N's thighs as he watched Emily's breasts bounce with every thrust, her muscles rippling with the effort.

Y/N's moans grew louder, her hips meeting Emily's with every push. The dildo filled her completely, the curve hitting all the right spots. Spencer's mouth went dry as he watched her face contort in ecstasy, her eyes rolling back in her head. He could feel her body tighten against him, her muscles contracting as she approached climax. The power dynamics of the scene played out before him like a live-action porn scene, and he was utterly enthralled.

Emily's movements grew more fervent, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The dildo slid in and out of Y/N with a wet, needy sound that seemed to echo through the room. Spencer's cock was painfully hard, trapped between Y/N's back and his pelvis, begging for attention. He knew he wasn't allowed to touch himself—not yet—but the temptation was almost unbearable.

Y/N's body began to tremble, her moans turning into whimpers of pleasure. "Emily," she breathed, her voice strained and desperate. "Please…"

Emily's pace grew frenzied, her own pleasure building as she watched Y/N teeter on the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, she pushed the dildo deep into Y/N, the toy's base grinding against her clit. Her orgasm ripped through her, a violent storm of sensation that had her back arching and her nails digging into the bedsheets.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, and she screamed out her release, her pussy spasming around the dildo. Spencer felt her body tighten, her muscles contracting in waves of ecstasy that seemed to echo through his own. He could see the desperation in her face, the raw, unbridled passion that Emily had brought to the surface.

Emily's own climax washed over her like a tidal wave, her hips bucking and her pussy clenching around the inserted end of the dildo. Her orgasm was a symphony of sensation, a crescendo that had been building up, and now it crashed over her with the force of a hurricane.

As the waves of pleasure receded, leaving their trembling bodies in its wake, they took a moment to catch their breath. The room was thick with the scent of sex, a potent perfume that seemed to cling to their skin. Emily's chest heaved, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction as she stared down at Y/N, who was still lost in the aftermath of her own release.

"Now, it's time for the next act," Emily murmured, her voice like velvet. She slid the dildo out of herself, a wet sound that had Spencer's cock twitching with need. Y/N looked up at her through a haze of pleasure, her eyes glazed with desire.

Emily's hand reached down, gripping the base of the dildo firmly. "Put this on," she ordered, her voice low and commanding. Y/N took it, her hands shaking slightly as she inserted the wearable end of the toy, adjusting it until the thick, curved shaft jutted out from her pelvis.

"Now," Emily said, her voice a seductive purr, "it's Spencer's turn." She slid off Y/N and turned her attention to Spencer. He watched, wide-eyed, as she approached him, his breath hitching in his throat. The need to be part of this intimate dance was now a raging fire, consuming him from the inside out.

Emily's eyes never left his as she straddled him, her wet pussy sliding against his cock. She positioned Y/N so that the tip of the dildo was pressing against his asshole, the coolness of it making him gasp. "You've been a good boy, watching us," she cooed, her hands sliding up his chest. "But now it's time for you to be a good little slut."

With a wicked smirk, she leaned in and whispered, "You know you want it, Spencer. You want to feel Y/N's cum inside you." The words were a hot brand, searing into his psyche and making him crave the filthy, depraved act more than he ever thought possible. His cheeks flushed, but he nodded eagerly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Good boy," Emily purred, her hand sliding down to grip his cock. She gave it a rough squeeze, making him gasp. "But we don't need to prep you, do we? You're so desperate for it, you're practically begging."

Spencer felt his face heat up, but he couldn't deny the truth of her words. The thought of the dildo lubed up with Y/N's cum filling him up was driving him wild with need. He nodded, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Yes, Emily."

Y/N took the cue, pushing forward with a gentle but firm pressure. Spencer felt the tip of the dildo breach his hole, the sensation a mix of pain and pleasure that made his eyes fall shut. His body adjusting to the intrusion as she slid it in deeper. Emily watched with a sadistic glee, her eyes never leaving Spencer's face as she tightened her grip on his cock, stroking it in time with Y/N's movements.

Y/N took her time, her eyes locked on Spencer's, gauging his reactions. With every inch she pushed in, she felt his body tense and then relax, his moans growing louder. The sight of his face—a picture of pure, unbridled lust.

Once the dildo was fully seated in Spencer, Y/N paused, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. She waited, not for permission, but for the moment when she knew he was ready for more. Spencer's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth gritted, but she could feel his body begging for it. He was hers to use, to claim, and she revealed in that power.

With a wicked grin, Y/N began to thrust into him, her movements slow and deliberate at first. Each push sent a bolt of pleasure through Spencer, the sensation of being filled so completely was something he hadn't quite prepared for. The dildo stretched him, filled him, and the feeling of Y/N's firm thighs against his own was an erotic symphony playing against his skin.

Emily, not one to be left out, straddled his waist, her own wetness coating his cock as she began to grind against it. The friction was maddening, a sweet torture that had him begging for more. She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "Look at me," she demanded, and Spencer's eyes snapped open, meeting hers.

Her eyes held a fiery dominance that sent a shiver down his spine, and he knew he was about to be claimed in a way he never had before. As Y/N's thrusts grew deeper, Emily took his length in her hand, stroking him in time with the rhythm. The sensation of being filled and pleasured simultaneously was almost too much to handle.

Emily leaned down, her breasts brushing against Spencer's chest as she took his mouth in a searing kiss. She tasted like power and need, and he could feel her pulse racing against his tongue. With a wicked smile, she broke the kiss and slid down his body, her wetness coating him as she went.

Her hand guided his cock to her entrance, the tip nudging against her slick folds. Spencer watched, his eyes wide with anticipation, as she took a deep breath and slid down onto him. The sensation was indescribable, a perfect mix of tightness and heat that had him gritting his teeth to hold back his own orgasm.

Emily's eyes never left his as she took him in, inch by inch, her pussy stretching to accommodate his thickness. Her moan was a symphony of pleasure, a sound that resonated through his very core. The sight of her, her breasts bouncing with every descent, her eyes glazed with desire.

Spencer felt the pressure building inside him, the need to come a gnawing ache that was only heightened by the feel of the dildo in his ass and Emily's tight heat around his cock. He could feel every muscle in his body straining, his breath coming in ragged pants. He was a conduit for their pleasure, a vessel for their desires.

Y/N's pace grew more erratic, her thrusts now punctuated by her own moans of need. Spencer's hips rolled to meet hers, his body moving on instinct, his mind lost in the symphony of sensation. He was consumed by the pleasure, a willing slave to the two dominant women who had claimed him.

The pressure within Spencer grew to an unbearable crescendo, his muscles taut as a bowstring. Emily could sense his impending release, her own arousal spiking at the thought of him coming undone beneath them.

Y/N's thrusts grew more deliberate, her aim precise. With a wicked grin, she angled the dildo just so, the tip hitting his prostate with each deep plunge. The first time it grazed that sensitive spot, Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, and a guttural moan tore from his throat. Emily felt his cock jerk, and she knew they had found the sweet spot.

"Oh, fuck," Spencer whispered, his voice strangled. The sensation was intense, a white-hot bolt of pleasure that shot through his body. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and his entire being was alight with desire. His hands gripped the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he tried to hold on, to keep from shattering into a million pieces.

Emily's eyes never left his as she began to ride him with renewed vigour, her hips rolling and bucking in a dance that was as ancient as it was erotic. She was a goddess, a queen, and he was her willing subject. Each bounce sent a jolt through his cock, a symphony of pleasure that had him on the edge of his sanity.

Her breasts swayed with every thrust, the sight of her riding him a vision that was burned into his mind forever. He could feel the beginnings of his climax building, a pressure that was both terrifying and exhilarating. The room was a blur of sensation—the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the feel of the dildo filling him up and Y/N's hands guiding him through the motions.

But it was Emily's eyes that held him captive, her gaze a brand that seared into his soul. "Please," he whimpered, his voice strained. "Please, let me come."

Emily's smile grew, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards as she felt Spencer's desperation. She knew he was close, his body trembling beneath her. "Not yet," she whispered, her voice a sweet torment. "Not until I say so."

With a grace that belied the urgency of the moment, Emily repositioned herself, her movements as fluid as water. She turned, her legs straddling Spencer's hips, leaving her facing Y/N. She reached back, her hand finding his cock, slick with her juices, and guided it back to her entrance.

Their eyes locked, the unspoken question in Y/N's gaze. Emily's response was swift and sure. Her hand slid around the back of Y/N's neck, pulling her in for a kiss that was as fiery as it was possessive. Their tongues danced, a duel of desire that sent sparks flying. Spencer could feel the heat of their passion, the intensity of their connection.

With a fluid grace that seemed almost inhuman, Emily began to ride him, her hips moving in a mesmerizing rhythm that had him panting. Each downward thrust brought her closer to Y/N, whose mouth was eager and hungry against hers. They kissed as if it were the last time, as if the world was ending and all that mattered was this moment of shared ecstasy.

Y/N's breasts bounced with every movement, and Emily couldn't resist the temptation. Her hands slid up to cup them, her thumbs playing with the sensitive peaks.

"Look at me," Emily murmured, her voice a velvet command. Y/N's eyes snapped to hers, the haze of pleasure sharpening into focus. Emily's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?"

Y/N nodded, her breath coming in short, sharp pants as she felt the pressure building within her. Each thrust of the dildo into Spencer sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body, the sensation of being so intimately connected to Spencer a heady rush.

Emily watched them, her own arousal growing by the second. Her hand slid down her body, her fingers finding her clit, already swollen and sensitive from her earlier release. Y/N's moans grew louder as she pumped the dildo into Spencer, her own climax approaching like a freight train.

"Fuck, Emily," Spencer gasped, his body a tightly wound spring ready to snap. "I can't hold on much longer."

Emily's eyes gleamed with a sadistic satisfaction as she watched Spencer's desperation. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against Y/N's as she whispered into the other woman's ear, "Make him cum, baby. I want to feel him spill inside me."

Y/N's eyes widened with excitement, and she picked up the pace, her movements becoming more erratic and passionate. Spencer's body was a canvas of pleasure, his moans and gasps painting a picture of ecstasy. Emily's hand worked in tandem with Y/N's thrusts, her fingers moving in a circular motion over her clit, driving her closer to the edge.

Spencer felt the climax building, his body a symphony of sensation. He could feel the tightness in his balls, the ache in his cock. "Please," he begged, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Please, let me cum."

Emily's eyes met Y/N's, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. The room was a cacophony of moans and gasps, the rhythm of their bodies in perfect harmony. Y/N's thrusts grew stronger, more demanding, the dildo slamming into Spencer's prostate with a precision that had him teetering on the edge.

"Cum for us, Spencer," Emily purred, her voice a siren's call. "Give us what we want."

The words were all it took. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the apartment, Spencer's orgasm hit him. His body arched off the bed, his hips bucking wildly as ropes of cum shot out of him, filling Emily. Y/N's eyes widened in awe, watching the display of raw, unbridled passion.

Emily felt the warmth of Spencer's release, the thickness of his cum filling her, and it was like a spark to kindling. Her own orgasm crashed over her, a wave so intense it stole her breath away. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, her muscles pulsing in time with her heartbeat as she rode the wave of pleasure.

Y/N watched, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and envy, as Emily took her pleasure. The sight of Spencer's body, lost in ecstasy, was almost too much to bear. Her own need grew, a desperate ache that she knew only one thing could satiate. She pushed the dildo into Spencer with renewed vigor, the friction against her own clit driving her closer to the edge.

Spencer's orgasm was a thing of beauty, a testament to the power that Emily and Y/N held over him. His body arched, his muscles tightened, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Y/N's hips never stopping, milking every last drop of pleasure from his trembling form.

As Spencer's climax subsided, Y/N's own need grew more urgent. She could feel the pressure building, her clit swollen and sensitive from the friction of the dildo. She rode him harder, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she approached her own peak.

With one last harsh thrust, she tipped over the edge into her own orgasm. Her body spasmed, the dildo buried deep within Spencer as she found her own release. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she threw her head back, the waves of pleasure crashing over her like a storm at sea.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Then, with a final tremor, Y/N pulled the dildo out of Spencer, the wet sound echoing through the room. She collapsed onto the bed beside him, her body slick with sweat.

Emily leaned over Spencer's form, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she watched him try to catch his breath. "Good boy," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "You did so well."

Y/N leaned back, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her hand still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm. She reached down, her grip tight around the base of the dildo, and with one swift movement, she pulled it free. It was a sensation that sent aftershocks of pleasure through her, making her whimper.

With a sultry smile, she tossed the toy onto the bed, watching as it landed with a soft thud. It lay there, glistening with their combined juices, a silent testament to the passion they had just shared.

Y/N leaned back, her chest heaving with exertion. She felt… spent, yet invigorated. Her eyes met Spencer's, and she saw the same raw emotions reflected in his gaze. "Good boy," she echoed Emily's words, her voice a caress that sent shivers down his spine.

They all lay there, a tangled mess of limbs and satiated bodies. The sweat glistened on their skin, mingling with the remnants of their climaxes. Spencer's eyes drifted closed, a content smile playing on his lips as Emily and Y/N cuddled closer, their soft bodies pressing against his. Despite the stickiness and the faint smell of sex, there was something incredibly comforting about the intimacy of the moment.

Emily's hand trailed lazily over Spencer's chest, her thumb tracing patterns on his skin as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. Y/N's head rested on his shoulder, her breaths deep and even as she too revelled in the afterglow.

In the quiet of the post-coital haze, the unspoken truth hung heavy in the air. They were all silently glad that they had this arrangement, this deliciously twisted dance of domination and submission that played out behind the closed doors of Emily's apartment. It was a secret garden of pleasure, a place where they could shed the weight of their jobs and their inhibitions.

Spencer felt the warmth of their bodies, the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they all tried to catch their breath. He knew that without these moments, without the fiery passion that Emily and Y/N brought to his life, he would be lost, drowning in the cold, clinical world of the BAU. Their arrangement was more than just sex—it was an escape, a sanctuary from the darkness that surrounded them.

Y/N rolled onto her side, her hand sliding up to stroke Spencer's cheek. He leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt the tension of the day melt away. The three of them had found something special, something that went beyond the confines of their job descriptions and into the realm of the taboo. It was a balm for their weary souls, a reminder that they were more than just agents, that they were alive and capable of feeling.

Emily watched them, her own chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of contentment. She knew that Spencer craved this—the release from his own mind, the chance to let go of his control. And Y/N, she knew, enjoyed the power, the ability to make him beg and whimper. They were all getting what they needed, a delicate balance of give and take that only they understood.

The silence stretched out, a warm embrace that enveloped them all. It was a testament to their connection, this unspoken understanding that no words could ever fully capture. They had found refuge in one another, a place where they could be vulnerable and strong, where desire didn't have to be whispered but could be shouted from the rooftops—or at least the four walls of Emily's apartment.

[pelorsdyke]

making a new pinned post to neaten up my fic links! my name is k, i love writing wlw ships, and ill be so real with you rn a lot of them are rarepairs. find me here on ao3. my tumblr fic tag is here, and I often post wip peeks for tag games.

some ships I’ve written once or twice include: spemily (pll), buffy x tara (btvs), jackienat (yellowjackets), donnajoey (the west wing), maggie x sophie (leverage), and wayhaught (wynonna earp). I also wrote a lot of ronance (stranger things) during the s4 era.

marjan marwani & nancy gillian (911 lone star):

who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me (test kitchen au)

and love isn’t a fact, it’s a hunch at first. (paul helps marjan come to terms with her feelings for nancy)

and your keys, your ring of keys (marjan starts to realize some things about herself, with the help of an oc. lesbian marjan)

underneath your hands I become poetry (some celebratory sex after tommy announces nancy will take over as interim captain while she’s away. inspired by the bts pic where nancy appears to be wearing a name tag that says captain gillian)

your essence is the ink in the word forever (nancy has tattoos. marjan notices.)

so swing your hips and do a little dip (nancy, marjan, and tarlos go to a gay bar)

I will do my best to get it right (nancy and marjan’s first anniversary plans go awry)

I’m gonna love you for a long time (marjan’s lesbian flag hijab, but also just like. 1k words of established fluff)

I’ve been under scrutiny (you handle it beautifully) (marjan and nancy are actors on the firefighter show austin 126. nancy may have a tiny baby crush)

everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it (post-canon, nancy thinks about moving on. it’s kind of terrifying.)

speed queen marj versus the big tortoise (a coda to 5x01 wherein nancy & marjan continue their banter and kiss a little bit. a secret relationship fic)

lucy tara & kate whistler (ncis: hawai’i):

the room is empty, and the window is open (a spiderwoman lucy au, the tumblr tag for the series is here)

february, the thirteenth (kacy celebrates valentines day early, as per lucy’s way of handling holidays)

blue scooby-doo fruit snacks and unrequited love, probably (high school au kacy flirting)

sit down, breathe, and just listen (post-3.04, kacy talks about marriage and promises)

in response, your glorious laughter (a snapshot of a sweet married kacy early morning)

hear the desert wind roll by (kacy first meeting cowboy au, pwp)

one single thread of gold tied me to you (kai buys lucy a virtual meet-and-greet with her celebrity crush, kate whistler. it turns out they may be a little more familiar with each other than lucy’s remembering.)

hen wilson & karen wilson (911 abc):

I did think, let’s go about this slowly (karen and her instinct to let insecurity drive her decision-making.)

I wanna get stuck in your head (some soft henren fluff about parenting, flirting, and finding the time to talk to your wife.)

[cabeswaterdrowned]

inspired a lil by an ask I’m working on that made me want to do a poll on favorite pll femslash pairings but there are so many I would want to include so I need to find a way to break it up… so I’m doing it by liar starting with Spencer

[prettylittleliarsstuff]

S01 E10

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