#elle greenaway smut

[missarchive]

bed chem 𐙚

elle greenaway

fem!reader

cw; +18 minors dni, kind of dom!reader, multiple orgasms, fingering & oral (elle receiving), tribbing, fade to black smut

wc; around 3k

an; i've been meaning to write for elle for a while and finally got around to it. dt to my lovely @reidsstargirl thank you for being my little proof reader <3

The conference room was silent except for the soft hum of the projector. Crime scene photos flashed on the screen, each more unsettling than the last. Victims frozen in snapshots of terror and tragedy. Couples, always women, always the same methodical precision to their deaths.

Hotch stood at the head of the table, arms crossed. “This unsub is methodical, patient. He takes his time earning the trust of his victims before he strikes. What we know is this: he targets lesbian couples in rural areas. He chooses women who are isolated, who he believes won’t be missed right away.”

The room was heavy with tension. You felt the weight of the case pressing against your chest. The details were chilling, but what made it worse was the pattern. He was escalating, and the longer it took to catch him, the more women would die.

“Given his methods, we believe the only way to stop him is to draw him out,” Hotch continued. His sharp gaze swept over the team. “We need to create a scenario that fits his profile—a couple he can fixate on.”

Your stomach flipped as the implication settled over the room. Before anyone could speak, Elle leaned forward in her chair.

“You’re asking us to go undercover,” she said, her voice steady.

Hotch nodded. “Yes. It’s our best chance to lure him out. He studies his victims carefully. He’ll be watching for any cracks in the facade, so whoever takes this role will need to sell it completely.”

The room was silent for a moment before Elle spoke again, her tone decisive. “I’ll do it.”

You hesitated for half a second before following her lead. “I’ll do it too.”

Hotch’s gaze softened slightly, his approval evident. “Good. Garcia will handle the backstory and setup. You’ll be moving into a rental property in a small town where the unsub has been active. The rest of us will be nearby, but once you’re in position, you’ll be on your own.”

Elle turned to you with a faint smirk as the meeting ended. “Guess we’re partners now.”

“Looks like it,” you replied, trying to ignore the knot of nerves in your stomach.

The rental house was small but cozy, nestled on a quiet street with neighbours who barely glanced your way as you unloaded your bags. It had all the makings of a perfect trap. Garcia had created a backstory that was seamless: photoshopped couple’s photos, social media accounts filled with playful banter, and a fabricated history of moving here for a “fresh start.”

Inside, Elle surveyed the living room, her hands on her hips. “Garcia really thought of everything,” she muttered, gesturing to the picture frames on the mantel. Each one showed the two of you in carefully staged moments—smiling on a picnic, laughing on a couch, holding hands in the park.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “She’s thorough, I’ll give her that.”

Elle glanced at you, her expression softening. “We’re going to need to lean into this. If the unsub’s watching, we have to make this believable.”

“I know,” you said, meeting her gaze. “But let’s be clear—this is just for the case.”

“Obviously,” Elle replied, but something in her tone felt less certain.

The bar was dimly lit, filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. You and Elle slid into a booth near the back, her hand resting lightly on your arm as you both scanned the room.

“We need to act natural,” she murmured, her lips barely moving as she leaned closer. “What do couples do on dates?”

You smirked, trying to ignore the warmth of her breath against your cheek. “Hold hands, flirt, make each other laugh. Think you can handle that?”

Elle raised a brow, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Watch and learn.”

She laced her fingers with yours, her touch both firm and surprisingly gentle. You felt a jolt of electricity at the contact but forced yourself to focus. Across the room, Morgan and Reid were stationed inconspicuously, their eyes occasionally darting your way.

Elle leaned closer, her voice low. “Smile. You look like you’re about to get audited.”

You laughed softly, her teasing easing some of the tension. “I didn’t realise you were such a comedian.”

“You’d be surprised,” she replied, her eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade.

The unsub appeared not long after—a man who blended seamlessly into the crowd but whose eyes lingered on you and Elle just a moment too long.

“He’s here,” Elle murmured, her hand tightening around yours.

The unsub didn’t approach right away. He watched from the bar, nursing a drink and pretending not to stare. You and Elle had to play your roles perfectly, every glance, every touch calculated but natural.

Elle leaned into you, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered, “He’s watching us. We need to turn it up.”

Your heart pounded as you nodded, your breath hitching slightly when she placed a hand on your thigh. It was nothing overt, but the intimacy of the gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Relax,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours. “Just follow my lead.”

You forced yourself to smile, leaning in closer until your foreheads nearly touched. “You’re enjoying this too much,” you teased, trying to keep the mood light.

Elle’s lips curled into a smirk. “Maybe a little.”

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she tilted her head and kissed you. It wasn’t a quick peck or a hesitant brush of lips—it was slow, deliberate, and entirely convincing.

Your heart raced as you kissed her back, the line between acting and reality blurring with every passing second. When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, but her composure remained intact.

“He’s biting,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the tension crackling between you.

The unsub finally made his move, approaching your table with a disarming smile. His presence was unsettling, but you and Elle maintained your facade, playing the part of a happy couple caught off guard by a friendly stranger.

Every word, every glance, every touch was a calculated move, a delicate dance to keep the unsub engaged while the rest of the team moved into position.

By the time Morgan and Reid swooped in to make the arrest, your heart was racing for reasons that had little to do with the danger and everything to do with the woman sitting next to you.

The motel room was small and unassuming, its decor an uninspired mix of beige and muted floral patterns. The adrenaline of the night had begun to fade, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that made your limbs feel like lead. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your reflection in the darkened screen of the television.

Your mind raced, replaying the events of the evening: the way Elle had touched your hand, her voice low and warm in your ear as she coached you through the act. And that kiss—God, that kiss. It was supposed to be for the case, to sell the ruse, but the way her lips moved against yours felt too natural, too genuine to be just acting.

You shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. It was the job, you told yourself. Nothing more.

A knock at the door pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. You hesitated, staring at it as if it might open on its own. Another knock, firmer this time, broke your paralysis.

When you opened the door, Elle stood there, barefoot and dressed in an oversized FBI sweatshirt and loose sweatpants. The harsh glow of the hallway light cast soft shadows across her face, making her look younger, more vulnerable.

“Elle?” you asked, your voice rough from hours of silence.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, her tone soft but edged with something unreadable. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, stepping aside to let her pass. She walked into the room, her movements slower, more deliberate than usual.

She stopped in the center of the room, crossing her arms over her chest as if to shield herself. “I just... needed to talk,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You closed the door behind her, leaning against it. “About the case?”

Elle turned to face you, her eyes meeting yours. For the first time all night, her composure cracked. “No. Not about the case. About us.”

The weight of her words settled between you, thick and heavy. You pushed off the door, moving closer but keeping a cautious distance. “Elle, I—”

She held up a hand, cutting you off. “Let me finish.” She took a deep breath, her hands dropping to her sides. “Tonight… that kiss… it wasn’t just for the case. At least, not for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, her words catching you off guard. “What do you mean?”

Elle took a step closer, her eyes searching yours. “I don’t know when it started. Maybe it was tonight, maybe it was before, but being with you... pretending to be something we’re not...” She paused, her voice trembling slightly. “It didn’t feel like pretending.”

The air between you crackled with unspoken tension. You wanted to say something, to reassure her, but words failed you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she continued, her voice stronger now. “And I know it’s complicated. We’re colleagues, we’re supposed to keep things professional, but I can’t ignore this anymore.”

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you until you were standing inches apart. Her eyes flicked to your lips, and you felt your resolve slipping.

“Elle,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “I felt it too.”

Her breath hitched, and in that moment, the tension that had been building for weeks, maybe months, finally snapped. She reached for you, her hands tentative at first as they settled on your shoulders. You leaned into her touch, your arms wrapping around her waist as her fingers slipped up the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Her lips were soft against yours, warm and inviting. It felt like coming home, like this was where you belonged. Her tongue darted out, running over the seam of your lips before dipping inside, meeting yours in a sweet kiss.

You deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, feeling the press of her breasts against yours. Her hands slid down your back, pulling you into her as her leg lifted, brushing against your thigh. You felt your pulse quicken, the heat between you building as her lips parted beneath yours.

You broke the kiss, needing air, needing to focus on her, to commit every detail to memory. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her hair a little mussed from your touch. Your eyes drifted down to her breasts, the curves pushing out against the fabric of her bra.

You moved closer, dropping a trail of kisses down her neck as she arched into your touch. You felt her shiver, her fingers digging into your shoulders. Her breath came in short gasps, her body moving against yours.

You caught the edge of her bra between your fingers, pushing it down to reveal her breasts. They were even more beautiful than you imagined, soft and round. Your mouth settled over one peaked nipple, and her hands cupped the back of your head, encouraging you as your tongue circled around her skin.

She tasted sweet, like cherries and honey. Her nipple pebbled beneath your touch, and you sucked it into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

You let out a soft laugh, smiling against her breast. She was so responsive, like her body was made for this, for you.

You trailed your fingers down her stomach, feeling her skin quiver beneath your touch. Her hips jerked, and you chuckled again, loving the way she reacted to your every move.

Your hand slipped beneath her panties, cupping the curve of her ass as you nipped at her breast. Your other hand joined in, sliding over her pussy as you rubbed your thumb over her clit. She gasped, her body jerking beneath your touch.

You felt your own arousal build, your panties growing wet as you imagined the possibilities. Elle was more than you ever could’ve asked for, more than you deserved.

But you were taking it, taking her, taking this moment to make it yours.

Your fingers slipped inside her, feeling her pussy stretch around you as you pumped in and out, your thumb still rubbing circles over her clit.

Her legs started to shake, and you could feel her pussy tightening around your fingers. “Fuck,” she moaned, her nails digging into your shoulder. “Y/N, fuck.”

The feeling of your name on her lips was the hottest thing you’d ever heard. You fucked her harder, feeling her pulse beneath your fingertips. She felt so good, so wet and tight.

Her muscles clenched, and her pussy contracted around your fingers as she came. “Fuck!” she screamed, her hips jerking as she rode out her orgasm. Your fingers stilled inside her, your thumb slowing to a gentle pet before slipping away completely.

You pulled back, giving her a moment to catch her breath before you dropped to your knees in front of her. You hooked a finger around the waistband of her panties, tugging them down over her hips, her thighs, leaving them bunched around her ankles.

Her pussy was even more beautiful than you’d imagined, pink and swollen and dripping wet. You ran your thumb along the slit, feeling your pulse quicken as you dipped it inside.

She let out a little mewl, her hand tangling in your hair. You took it as a good sign and leaned forward, running your tongue along the wet line of her pussy.

She tasted so fucking good, sweet like candy and sharp like citrus. Your mouth moved over her, licking and sucking as you devoured every inch of her. Her hands tightened in your hair, pushing you closer until your nose was buried between her thighs.

She smelled like vanilla and coconut. It made your mouth water, made you want more.

You licked harder, moving in short quick strokes as your tongue flicked over her clit. Her body jerked with every touch, her muscles tensing as she neared her climax.

Your fingers moved, joining your tongue as you fingered her hard.

She came fast, her pussy pulsing around your fingers and tongue as she screamed your name. You let her come down from her high before pulling back, your mouth moving in one last swipe before you stood.

You were covered in her arousal, but you didn’t care. Elle’s eyes were hazy, her cheeks flushed pink as she gazed up at you.

“Y/N,” she said softly.

You didn’t need her to finish the sentence. You knew exactly what she wanted, because you wanted it too.

You stripped her down, removing her dress and bra until she stood before you completely naked. It was a sight you’d never get tired of, all smooth curves and long legs that were just begging to be tangled with yours.

You took your time undressing yourself, teasing her with every movement. Her hands came up, her fingers tracing over the curves of your breasts as you pushed them free from your bra. You dropped the fabric to the floor and stood before her, letting her touch wherever she wanted.

Your body was warm from your exertions, flushed pink and trembling with desire. Elle’s hands roamed over you, feeling your every contour.

You leaned into her touch, wanting it to last forever. Her fingers teased over your nipples, and you bit back a moan.

“I want you,” she whispered, her voice low and raspy.

You didn’t know if she meant she wanted to fuck you or be with you, and for now, you didn’t care because you wanted it all.

You kissed her again, your tongue tangling with hers as you stumbled toward the bed. You fell in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, laughing and kissing as you fought for dominance.

You pinned her beneath you, your hips settling between her legs. You ground down, rubbing your pussy against hers as you kissed her neck.

“You're so beautiful, Elle,” you groaned, your body already starting to build.

You rubbed faster, your clit aching for friction. Elle’s mouth latched onto your neck, sucking and biting as you rocked over her. You felt her lips wrap around your nipple, sucking it into her mouth, and your vision started to blur.

Your hips moved on their own accord, grinding faster and harder. You were getting close, too close, and you didn’t want it to end.

Elle let out a soft gasp, her hips starting to jerk with her own orgasm. Her mouth found yours again, her tongue dipping inside as you came.

It was like the entire world had exploded in a wave of heat and colour. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but Elle and the way her pussy felt against yours.

You rode out your climax, feeling her come against you as well. The feeling of her pulsing against you was almost too much, and you couldn’t help the soft cry that escaped your lips as another orgasm hit you.

You came in waves, clenching and releasing as Elle ground down against you.

You collapsed on top of her, your body trembling with aftershocks as your breathing slowly returned to normal.

Elle’s fingers traced over your spine, petting and soothing you as she held you close. It was comfortable and intimate and everything you wanted from her.

“Y/N?” she murmured softly.

“Stay here tonight?”

You lifted your head, gazing down at her. Her hair was mussed, her face still flushed pink from their exertions. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

You settled back against her, holding her close as your bodies intertwined. For tonight at least, you’d have her, and that was all that mattered. The rest could wait until tomorrow.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙏𝙃𝙍𝙀𝙀: Threesome w/ Spencer Reid [ft. Elle Greenaway]

a/n: OKAYYY this is my first time writing for elle so please have mercy on me!! this fic is unbelievably dirty and i disappeared into my hole a time or two before finishing it, so enjoy!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

She’s watching, she’s always watching.

Spencer’s eating you out with abandon with his eyes squeezed shut, though his naked lower half is grinding desperately against the hotel bed sheets below him.

You can’t find it within yourself to warn him, to tell him that Elle hadn’t given him permission to get himself off just yet.

You were only supposed to be exchanging ideas about the case together in her hotel room, but this… this is just something that the three of you do sometimes, but never, ever during a case.

You can tell that she was frustrated as she looked between you and the boy genius that screamed the need for control, because she didn’t like being clueless, didn’t like not being able to step in when she wanted. So, why not control the two people who are more than willing to have sex with each other?

One of Spencer’s long, veiny hands were intertwined with yours, the other two fingers deep and scraping against your g-spot.

“Mmf – gah!” You cried out, back arching.

“Spencer.” Elle says in warning, her eyes locked on where his hips are gyrating on the bed. 

Spencer’s mouth disconnects from you, and he rests his cheek on the inside of your full thigh, huffing and desperately trying to take in air. His fingers don’t stop moving, but he squeezes his eyes closed in an attempt to stop him.

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry. ‘M just so hard…” His words trail off into a whine and you take pity on him, threading your fingers through his hair in support.

Elle watches for a moment before it looks like she makes a decision.

“Get up. She’s gonna ride you.”

Your body heats up at the fact that she’s talking about you like you aren’t there, but Spencer is quick to slip out of your hold, the man being sweet enough to grip you by your hands to help rearrange both of your bodies until you’re sat on top of him.

You grip his cock, eager to sit down on him before Elle goes, “Stop.”

You freeze and throw a desperate eye over your shoulder.

She’s stripping herself out of her t-shirt and jeans, leaving behind her matching black lace set. If you didn’t know her any better, you would think that she planned this. That’s the thing about your dom, she was always such a wild card.

“I’m gonna guide you and set the pace, and if you go any faster than I told you two, you both aren’t cumming at all.”

Your eyes quickly find Spencer’s and the look that you send him is pleading, because you know how needy he gets when he’s wired up, and the both of you have been edged for the past hour; you were to be eaten out without orgasming, and that went the same for him.

“Yes, Mistress.” Was Spence’s breathless reply, and you sent him a small, thankful smile.

She clambers onto the bed, a beautifully manicured hand landing on your hand, the other gripping Spencer’s dick cruelly. 

A loud whimper resonates around the room, and you trail your hands down his soft yet lean chest, a soothing gesture. She slowly lowers your body down onto him, his hardness breaching your entrance. 

You can feel every pulsing vein and ridge as he finally bottoms out, a long moan forces its way from your throat. Elle trails her lips up the side of your neck, and her other hand holds your free hip now, both of them settled on you.

“How does it feel?” She murmurs into the shell of your ear, and you shiver. “Good…” You mewl, back arching, “So good.”

“You hear that, Spence? She thinks you feel good. What do you say?”

“Th…” He gulps. “Thank you.”

She hums. “Good boy.”

Elle lifts your hips up once more and you follow her, the drag slow and merciful and you cry out on when you’re dropped back down, the tip of Spencer’s cock jabbing at your g-spot.

Spencer’s strained moan resounds from below you, his teeth clenched and hands gripping at the fat of your waist, right above hers.

“Move your hips to meet me.” She commands, and he follows.

The pace is wonky at first before a steady rhythm is established. She’s basically making you ride him, and all you could do is take it, head falling forward.

“Mistress, can I kiss him please?” You whine, eyes locked and his.

“Mm.” She hums, teasing for a moment. “Sure.” When she says so, she pushes you down by your shoulder, so you and Spencer are chest-to-chest.

You lock lips, but she sets harder thrusts that steal your breath away, practically punching sounds out of the both of you as you whimper into each other's mouths.

“Are any of you close?” She questions.

You feel Spencer nod, dislodging your kissing. “Yes, yes! ‘M close.”

She calls your name, and you crane your neck the best as you can to look at her. “Are you close?” 

“Yeah.” The words are small and meek but they’re there, and you’re falling so quickly into subspace that all you can do is trust her to get you where you need to be. “Rub her clit, Spence, and when she cums, then you can.”

He’s quick to move, reaching between your squished bodies to rub at your lower half, the woman never stopping the movement between the two of you. 

With every jab at your g-spot mixed with his bony fingers rubbing at you, you feel that familiar tightening of your gut before you call out, “Cumming!” As your warning. 

You rest your head on Spencer’s shoulder as Elle assists the genius with reaching his end with your pussy. You hear a loud, pornographic moan resound throughout the room combined with the sound of wet slapping, before your insides feel warm with his release.

You all stop and pause, both of your chests rising and falling with exertion.

“You guys did so well.” Elle praises, dragging her hand down your spine. “Are you okay?” She asks. “Mhm.” The two of you hum. 

“What about you?” Spencer rumbles from below you. “I’m fine.” She waves away his question.

“This was enough.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @khxna @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[badathumanemotions]

hiii! ur fic "greedy" was incredible omg, could u write some elle x reader smut where she just takes care of you and is very soft with you please? thank you!! 🙏🙏

Tender Love and Care

Elle Greenaway x Fem Reader MDNI Masterlist Category: Fluffy Smut CW: Smut, Massage, Oral Sex (R rec), Fingering, Bathtub Sex, TLC. WC: 4,971 I figure Americans sorely needed this considering the week you're having. (Not Proof Read)

"You look tired," she says, her voice gentle, breaking the silence of the living room.

Elle's eyes bore into yours, her gaze assessing as she takes in the dark circles under your eyes, the slump of your shoulders. It's not a surprise; the week has been unrelenting, a merciless grind of paperwork and dead-end leads that have left you feeling drained and defeated. You nod, a weary smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Just a bit," you admit, trying to keep the exhaustion from seeping into your voice.

The tension has been palpable at the office, the kind that lingers in the air after a particularly gruelling case has wrapped up and everyone's trying to catch their breath before the next storm hits. Your mind has been racing with the ghosts of the unsolved cases, keeping you up at night as you replay scenarios, searching for the threads you might have missed. And then there was the close call on the way home two nights ago, when some idiot in a pickup truck swerved into your lane almost hitting you head on, forcing you to slam on the brakes and swerve onto the shoulder. Your heart had pounded in your chest for hours after, another reminder of your own mortality.

But tonight, as you sit on the couch of your shared apartment, a warm cup of tea in your hands, you feel a gentle touch on your shoulder. It's Elle, her eyes filled with concern and care. She knows you've been going through hell and back, and she's been there for you every step of the way. You lean into her touch, feeling the warmth of her fingers seep through your shirt and into your skin, offering a bit of comfort that you desperately need.

"Why don't you let me take care of you tonight?" she suggests softly.

You look up at her, surprised by the offer but also incredibly grateful. You've been so caught up in your own head that you haven't realized how much you've been craving this, someone to take the reins and just make everything okay, if only for a little while. You nod slowly, the weight of the week finally lifting from your shoulders.

Elle leads you to the bedroom, where the scent of vanilla fills the air. She's lit a few candles, casting a warm glow over the space and setting the scene for relaxation. The soft flicker of their flames dances on the walls, creating a serene ambience that immediately starts to soothe your frazzled nerves. You can feel the tension begin to melt away just at the sight of her preparations.

You follow her instructions to undress, peeling off your clothes and climbing onto the bed, laying face down on the soft towels she put down. Elle's hands, strong yet tender, glide over your back, her fingertips tracing the taut muscles that have been coiled like tight springs for what feels like an eternity. She starts with your neck, kneading away the knots that have formed from countless hours staring at a computer screen, then works her way down to your shoulders, applying just the right amount of pressure to release the tension.

With each stroke, her touch becomes more deliberate, more focused. You can feel her working the stress from your body, her oils leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Her thumbs dig into your back, pressing firmly against the base of your spine, sending waves of relief rippling through your muscles. The pressure is just shy of painful, but oh so satisfying as it loosens the tension you didn't even know was there. Her hands move in a way that's as comforting as a lullaby, guiding your breath to deepen and slow, your heart to beat to follow.

Elle's fingers glide along your sides, tracing the indent of your ribs before sliding over your hips and down the length of your legs. She massages your calves, the pressure increasing as she reaches your feet, working out the knots from days of chasing after monsters in uncomfortable shoes. You let out a contented sigh, feeling the tightness in your body unwind with every pass of her hands.

Once she finishes with your back, she has you turn around so she can continue working on you. You comply, rolling onto your back, the soft pillows cradling your head. Your eyes follow her as she moves around the bed, her graceful form silhouetted by the candlelight. She looks at you with a gentle smile. You can't help but feel a flicker of anticipation, wondering what she has planned next.

She uses a firm yet gentle touch, working out the kinks from the tension that has built up in your body. You can feel her thumbs pressing into your muscles, applying just the right amount of pressure to coax them into relaxation. She works her way down to your shoulders, kneading and rubbing in slow, rhythmic motions that make you want to purr like a cat. You're so relaxed that you barely feel the transition when she moves on to your chest, her palms gliding over your breasts in a way that feels more soothing than sensual.

Her fingers trace the lines of your abdomen, exploring the contours of your body with a gentle curiosity that is both comforting and a little thrilling. She doesn't linger anywhere that makes you feel uncomfortable, but her touch is enough to make you aware of every inch of your skin. She continues her massage, her hands moving in smooth strokes down the length of your arms, taking her time to massage each finger and palm. Then she returns to your legs, starting at your hips and moving down to your knees, which she gently presses into, releasing the tension that's been building there.

Elle's touch is firm but loving, and you can feel yourself becoming more and more pliant under her skilled hands. It's as if you're made of warm wax, and she's sculpting you into something beautiful. Her thumbs press into the arches of your feet, and you can't help but let out a small moan of pleasure. You're practically a puddle, your body softening and giving in to her ministrations. It's been so long since someone has taken care of you like this, and you realize just how much you've needed it.

As she makes her way back up your body, you feel her breath, warm and sweet, graze one of your nipples. It's a soft caress that sends a shiver down your spine and causes your nipples to harden into tight peaks. You can't believe how responsive your body is to her, how easily she can elicit such a reaction from you.

Elle notices, her eyes flickering down to your chest before returning to your face, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She doesn't say anything, but the look in her eyes tells you that she's pleased with what she's seeing. You feel a blush creep up your neck, your heart fluttering at the intimacy of the moment. You're not used to being so vulnerable, so open, but with Elle, it feels natural.

Her fingertips skim over your thighs, causing your breath to hitch. The sensation is electrifying, sending desire straight to your core. You're acutely aware of how close she is to the apex of your thighs, and the anticipation is almost unbearable.

Elle's eyes meet yours, a silent question in her gaze. You nod almost imperceptibly, giving her the green light to continue. She starts to massage your thighs in earnest, her thumbs moving closer and closer to the juncture of your legs. You can feel the dampness between your thighs, a testament to the effect she has on you. The gentle strokes of her thumbs against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs is driving you wild.

The tension in the room shifts, charged with a sexual energy that you can't ignore. Your breathing grows shallower as her hands inch closer and closer to your centre, teasing and tormenting you. The anticipation is like a live wire, humming just beneath your skin, making you squirm and arch your back.

Her thumbs finally graze the sensitive skin just beside your pussy, and you let out a gasp that's half relief, half need. The wetness between your thighs is unmistakable now, a plea for more. You bite your lip, trying to contain the desire that's building within you, but it's a futile effort.

Without a word, Elle slides her hand between your legs, her fingers brushing lightly against your folds. The touch is feather-light at first, teasing you, making you crave more. You spread your legs wider, giving her better access, silently begging for her to touch you where you need it most.

Her fingers trace the outline of your pussy before dipping in, coating themselves in your wetness. She continues her exploration, her touch growing bolder with every stroke. She finds your clit, circling it with the pad of her thumb, applying just enough pressure to make you moan.

Then, she surprises you, her index finger slipping inside you, moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. You can feel yourself getting wetter with every movement, your body begging for more of her touch. Your breath hitches as she adds another finger, stretching you gently, filling you up.

Elle's eyes never leave yours, watching your reactions with an intensity that makes you feel like the only person in the world. She starts to pump her fingers in and out, her movements becoming more insistent as she searches for that perfect spot that will make you unravel. You can feel the pressure building, your muscles tightening around her digits as you get closer to the edge.

And then she does it – she touches you with her mouth. Her tongue darts out, a warm, wet caress that sends shockwaves through your body. She licks along your slit, tasting you, savouring you. You arch your back, your hands fisting in the sheets as the sensation sends you spiralling. The gentle prodding of her tongue against your clit is exquisite torture, and you find yourself desperately seeking more.

Elle seems to read your mind, her mouth pressing more firmly against you. She laps at your pussy with long, slow strokes, her tongue delving deep before retreating to flick against your clit again. Your hips rock in response, seeking more of the pleasure she's offering so freely. Her fingers continue their dance, curling and unfurling inside you.

"You're so beautiful," she murmurs, the vibrations from her voice adding another layer of sensation. "So strong, so brave. You're amazing." You've never felt more cherished than you do right now, laid bare under her loving touch and tender praise. Your body responds to her words, your muscles tightening around her fingers as your orgasm builds.

Her rhythm picks up, her tongue moving faster, more insistent against your swollen bud. She whispers sweet nothings into the air, her breath teasing your damp skin. "You deserve this, baby," she says, her voice a low purr that sends shivers down your spine. "You work so hard. Let me make you feel good."

Your body responds to her words, your hips moving in time with her ministrations. You can feel your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that starts in your toes and works its way up your body, tightening every muscle until you're sure you can't take any more. "Elle," you gasp, your voice a shaky plea for more.

"That's it," she whispers, her voice low and encouraging. "Let it happen, baby." Her praise is a sweet symphony, each word a caress that pushes you closer to the precipice. "You're so beautiful, so perfect. I love watching you come apart for me."

Your orgasm is a crescendo that's been building since she first laid her hands on you. It starts as a slow burn in your core, a delicious heat that spreads outward, coating your skin in a fine sheen of sweat. Her fingers are a masterful maestro conducting an orchestra of sensation, and your body is the instrument, playing a symphony of need.

"Good girl," she whispers against your thigh, her voice a soft benediction. The words send a jolt of arousal through you, making you feel cherished and desired. "You're doing so well," she says, her breath hot and sweet against your skin.

Her other hand moves to your pelvis, her hand lightly pressing into the spot just above your mound, the other side of which your g-spot is nestled. You gasp as she does this, the sensation unexpected and incredibly intense. The way her fingers inside you and her hand outside come together feels like a perfect storm of pleasure, each movement of her fingers sends bolts of lightening through you.

Your hips are jumping, your body convulsing in response to the waves of sensation crashing over you. You're moaning, the sound a mix of pleasure and surprise. It's a new level of intensity, a height you didn't know was possible. You can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter, like a spring about to snap.

And then it happens. You squirt. The sensation is like nothing you've ever felt before, a sudden gush of wetness that soaks the sheets beneath you. You cry out, your eyes flying open as your body arches off the bed. It's like a dam has broken, releasing a flood of pleasure so intense it's almost painful. Elle doesn't miss a beat, her fingers still moving inside you, her tongue still flicking against your clit. She seems to revel in your reaction, her eyes shining with pride.

The orgasm goes on and on, wave after wave of pleasure that has your entire body trembling. It's as if you're being electrified, every nerve ending alight with sensation. You're lost in it, unable to do anything but feel. The room seems to spin around you, the candlelight blurring into a haze of gold and shadow.

Elle's eyes are dark with desire, her own arousal evident as she continues to play your body like a fine instrument. She's relentless, her fingers still moving inside you, her tongue still pressing against your clit. You can feel the aftershocks of your climax, smaller waves that keep crashing into you, extending your pleasure beyond what you thought was possible.

But then, as if she knows just when to pull back to keep from overstimulating you, she slows her pace. Her touch becomes feather-light, her kisses gentle and soothing. You're a trembling mess, your body still thrumming with the aftermath of your orgasms. She doesn't push you further, instead letting you ride out the waves of pleasure on your own. Her movements are calming, grounding, bringing you back down to earth without jolting you.

While still hazy, you register Elle moving around in the bathroom. The sound of running water filters into your consciousness, and you feel the bed dip as she returns. Elle shifts on the bed, moving to hold you. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you into the warmth of her embrace. Your cheek finds its way to her chest, your eyes fluttering closed as you listen to the steady thump of her heart. You feel her breath against the top of your head, her fingers stoking up and down you arm in a soothing motion.

"You were amazing," she whispers. "It's so beautiful watching you let go like that." Her words are a gentle caress, as warm and comforting as her touch. You can't help but smile into her chest, feeling a swell of affection for her. You've never had someone praise you like this before, especially not in the throes of passion. It feels incredible, like she's not just seeing you, but truly understanding the depths of what you need.

Elle shifts again, and you realize she's standing up, the bed shifting with the movement. "C'mon," she says, her voice still soft and low. "The tub's running. Let's get you cleaned up."

You stand on wobbly legs, your knees feeling like jelly after the intense release. She takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, the candles flickering shadows on the walls. The tub is indeed almost full, the water steaming and scented with lavender. The room is a haven of tranquility, the perfect antidote to the chaos of the week that's been weighing on you.

Elle turns the water off and helps you in. You sink into the warm embrace of the water, a sigh escaping your lips as it envelops your body. She's careful not to let you go until you're fully seated, making sure you're comfortable. You feel like you're being cradled by a warm cloud, the water supporting you, the scent of lavender soothing. She grabs a washcloth and begins to gently wash away the sweat and the day's grime.

With a soft smile, you grasp her hand, the warmth of your skin against hers a silent plea. Your eyes lock, and she seems to understand. The unspoken request hangs in the air between you, as potent as the scent of vanilla and lavender. Without a word, she nods, her own smile growing. She sets the washcloth aside and begins to undress, her movements deliberate and sensual.

You watch as she peels away her clothes, revealing the soft curves and lean muscles of her body, illuminated by the candlelight. There's something about the way she moves that's both graceful and powerful. As she steps into the tub, her skin glistens with the same soft light, making her look almost ethereal.

You guide her to sit between your legs, her back to your chest. Your legs part naturally to cradle her, and you can feel the warmth of her body as it presses against yours. The water laps at your skin as you both settle into the warm embrace of the tub. Your arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer so that your face is nestled against the back of her neck.

Elle's hands come to rest on top of yours, her fingers lacing through your own. She sighs contentedly, leaning back into your embrace. The warm water feels heavenly against your skin, soothing your aching muscles and washing away the grime of the week. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the quiet sounds of the water and the occasional crackle from the candles.

With a gentle tug, you guide her to lean back further into the crook of your arms. You tighten your hold on her slightly, feeling her soft, wet skin against yours. She fits perfectly against you, as if you were made for moments like these. You place kisses on the back of her neck, soft and tender, feeling her shiver with delight. Her skin is salty from the sweat of your earlier encounter, but it's a taste that you crave.

Her breath catches in her throat as you let your hands glide up her body, sliding up to cup her breasts. They're firm and heavy in your palms, her nipples pebbling against your fingertips. Elle lets out a soft moan, arching her back to press into your touch. It's a sound that thrills you, urging you to be bolder.

Your thumbs graze over her nipples, lightly at first, teasing them until they're tight and sensitive. Then, you start to knead her breasts gently, rolling her nipples between your thumbs and forefingers. She squirms in your embrace, the sensation sending delicious ripples of pleasure through her body.

As your hands play with her breasts, you lean in to nibble at the soft skin of her neck, your teeth grazing the sensitive area just below her ear. She lets out a soft gasp, her head tilting to the side to give you better access. You take full advantage, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses along her neck, feeling the pulse of her vein as it quickens with desire.

Your thumbs continue to circle her nipples, the water making your movements slick and smooth. Her breathing grows ragged, her body tensing as you continue to tease her. You can feel her pulse racing, her heart beating in time with the rhythm of your caress. With a soft moan, she leans back further into you, her head falling to the crook of your shoulder. It's an invitation that you eagerly accept, your mouth finding hers in a deep, searching kiss.

As your tongues dance together, one of your hands trails down her stomach, the soft curve of her belly leading you to the heat between her legs. You feel her clit, already swollen and begging for attention, and you give in to the desire to touch her there. Your fingertips glide over the slick flesh, tracing her slit before settling on her clit. She gasps into your mouth, her hips jerking in response.

You start to stroke her clit with a gentle, rhythmic pressure, her body arching back into yours with every movement of your hand. Her breathing matches the tempo of your strokes, her chest rising and falling with increasing urgency. The warm water of the tub splashes against your skin as her body moves in response to your touch.

Elle's moans become more pronounced as you continue to tease her, her hips rocking slightly in the water. You can feel the tension building in her body, the muscles in her thighs tightening as she gets closer to the edge. Your other hand returns to her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

"This night was supposed to be about you," she gasps, trying to form the words between breathless moans. You hush her with a passionate kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth, silencing her protests. You know she's right, but the need to give her pleasure is too strong to resist.

Your fingers tighten around her nipples, pinching and tugging them gently. She whimpers into your mouth, her back arching further as you roll and pull them in a rhythm that matches the strokes on her clit.

You break the kiss to whisper in her ear, "Let me take care of you too, baby," your breath hot and heavy against her neck. Her eyes are half-lidded with desire, her cheeks flushed. She nods, a silent plea for you to continue.

Your hand moves faster, your strokes growing more urgent as you feel her approaching climax. Her hips start to rock, grinding against your hand as she chases the building pressure. You can feel her body tighten, the muscles in her thighs flexing. Her breath comes in short, sharp gasps, and you know she's close.

With a final, desperate push, you feel her body tense, and then she's coming, her orgasm washing over her in a tidal wave of pleasure. She cries out, her back arching sharply as she traps your hand between her thighs, your fingers still resting on her clit. The sensation is intense, almost overwhelming, her pussy pulsing with every spasm of ecstasy.

Elle's head falls back onto your shoulder, her body going limp as the climax subsides. Her breathing is still ragged, but it's slowing, her heartbeat gradually returning to normal. Your hand remains on her, your fingers still playing gently with her sensitive clit, drawing out the last tremors of her release.

But then, she has a full body shudder, so intense it's almost a spasm. It's a beautiful sight, her body quivering with the force of her pleasure. You know she's reached her limit, so you remove your hand, not wanting to overstimulate her.

Elle turns in your arms, her eyes still glazed with passion. She looks up at you with a soft smile, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving. "I love you," she whispers, her voice hoarse with desire. You kiss her forehead, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

You both sink into the water, letting the warmth of the tub envelop you like a comforting blanket. You reach for the washcloth, squeezing the excess water out before you begin to glide it over her skin. She watches you with a gentle expression, her eyes fluttering shut as you run the cloth across her collarbone, down to her breasts.

You move with leisurely strokes, taking your time to clean every inch of her body. Your movements are deliberate and tender, as if you're worshipping a goddess. The cloth glides over her belly, her hips, her thighs, leaving a trail of clean skin in its wake. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you wash away the remnants of your passion.

When you've finished, she takes the cloth from you with a gentle smile. "Now it's your turn," she says, her voice low and sultry. You nod, a shiver of anticipation running through you as you stand, the water cascading down your body. She watches you, her eyes dark with desire, as you step out of the tub.

Elle takes your place, her body sliding through the water with a soft splash. You can't help but stare at her, the water lapping at her breasts. She's like a vision, her skin slick and glowing in the candlelight.

With a gentle push, she guides you to lean against her chest. The feeling of her soft breasts against your back is surprisingly comforting. The warmth of her body envelopes you, her arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close.

Elle starts to clean your shoulders with the washcloth, her movements tender and careful. She's thorough, making sure not to miss an inch of your skin. The warm water sluices over your skin, carrying away the soap and the tension of the week.

As she washes you, her eyes never leave yours, and you feel a deep connection building between you. Each stroke of the cloth feels like a declaration of love, a silent promise to always be there to take care of you, no matter what. Her touch is both firm and gentle, a perfect balance that speaks to her understanding of what you need.

Elle moves the cloth over your chest, her eyes lingering on your breasts before she shifts to your stomach. Her touch is feather-light, as if she's afraid to break the spell that's been woven around the two of you. You can feel the warmth of the water, the softness of her skin, the roughness of the cloth, each sensation heightened by the intimacy of the moment. She takes her time, her movements a show of her love and care for you.

Once she's satisfied that you're clean, she stands up, the water cascading down her body like a waterfall. You can't help but watch as she steps out of the tub, the candlelight playing across her curves. She grabs a towel and dries herself off with swift, efficient movements before turning to help you out. Her strong arms wrap around you, lifting you effortlessly.

Elle wraps you both in the plush warmth of the towel, the fabric absorbing the water from your skin. She takes her time, ensuring not a single drop is missed as she dries you off. The feeling of her soft, warm skin pressed against yours is heavenly.

Once you're both dry, she takes your hand and leads you back to the bedroom. The candles have burned lower, casting a warm, amber glow over the room. The scent of vanilla still lingers, a sweet, comforting aroma that wraps around you like a gentle embrace.

Elle grabs a bottle of lotion from the nightstand, the cap making a satisfying click as she opens it. She pours a generous amount into her palm, warming it between her hands before she brings it to your skin. Starting at your neck, she rubs the cream in slow, gentle circles, her touch soothing the last vestiges of tension from your muscles.

You watch as her hands glide over your shoulders, the lotion leaving a trail of slickness in its wake. The scent of vanilla fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of lavender from the tub. It's a comforting smell, one that makes you feel safe and cherished. Her fingers trace the line of your collarbone, moving down to your breasts with a feather-light touch. You gasp as she massages the tender flesh, the lotion making her hands glide effortlessly over your skin.

Her touch is soft and sensual, each stroke a gentle caress that sends sparks of pleasure through your body. She takes her time, making sure to cover every inch of you with the lotion, her eyes never leaving your skin. It's as if she's memorizing the way your body responds to her, committing it to memory.

As she works her way down your torso, her hands glide over your stomach and hips before moving to your thighs. She massages them, her thumbs pressing into the muscles, working out the kinks from a week of tension. You can feel yourself melting under her touch, the stress of the week fading away with each pass of her hands.

When she's finished, she takes the towels that have been lying on the bed and carefully removes them, revealing the crisp, cool sheets beneath. You watch as she tosses the towels aside before she takes your hand, leading you to the bed.

The two of you slide into the cool embrace of the sheets. She pulls you close, spooning you from behind, her breasts pressing gently into your back as she wraps her arms around you. Her legs intertwine with yours, creating a tangle of limbs that feels perfectly natural.

Elle's breath is warm against your ear as she whispers, "Get some rest, baby. You deserve it." With a yawn, you snuggle deeper into her embrace, feeling the last wisps of your bad week fade away.

[sundrop-writes]

Pathetic

Sub!Spencer Reid x Switch!GN!Reader x Dom!Elle Greenaway

Summary:

Spencer needs to be punished, and as always, you and Elle are very creative with it. One of these days, he might learn to behave - but you hope that day is not anytime soon.

Dom!Elle Greenaway x Switch!Gender Neutral Reader x Sub!Spencer Reid. Established Dom/Sub Relationship. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 2,600

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is just straight up smut/pwp; this is a threesome/poly relationship - the characters have been in this kind of relationship for a while and they're all very comfortable with their roles; there is no mention of safewords, but it is implied that the characters are all comfortable with each other and safety nets exist in the background; Elle is dominant, Spencer is very submissive, and the reader is a switch - being dominant with Spencer and submissive towards Elle; the reader's genitals are not described in any way and the reader is gender neutral; mentions of Spencer having a humiliation kink; hair pulling (towards Spencer); mentions of Spencer being 'punished'; penetrative sex/unprotected piv sex - Spencer fucks Elle's pussy (without a condom, oops); mentions of Spencer wearing a cockring; orgasm denial/orgasm restriction (towards Spencer); light bondage - Spencer's arms being handcuffed behind his back; mentions of Spencer being spanked (does not take place during the fic); some nipple play (Spencer receiving); the reader calls Elle 'm'am' (Spencer calls her 'Miss'); at one point; Spencer is called 'pathetic' and 'a little bitch'; (so I guess degradation kink too?); the reader gives Spencer a handjob; some cumplay/cum eating; snowballing (in a kiss between the reader and Spencer; mentions of chastity belts/genital cages (not used during the fic); there is somewhat of a rivalry going on between Spencer and the reader?; the reader is kind of a brat, competing with Spencer for Elle's attention; and I believe that's it.

A/N: This could be viewed as a sequel to The Perfect Brat, or it could be viewed as taking place in the same universe as that fic - the reader character in this fic is Gender Neutral and does not have their gender described where as the reader character in that fic is female, so I wouldn't say specifically that it is a sequel - but it could be. Anyway - this is mostly inspired by my love of Spencer's slutty waist. I hope you guys enjoy it!

...

“God, he’s so pathetic.”

The words came out of Elle’s mouth as an airy chuckle, truly punctuating her thoughts on the situation. The man between her thighs was nothing but laughable - in the most pussy-wetting way. 

Naturally, Spencer let out a chest rattling moan at her comment, finding nothing but pleasure in the humiliation that she doled out. Even if he refused to admit it - it was his nature. He thrived off of being mocked and praised; punished and rewarded. 

You let out a chuckle of your own, running your fingers through his hair, a jolt going down your spine when you tugged sharply on those pretty brown locks and he let out a pretty gasp. 

Elle watched on with inquisitive eyes and swallowed up a low moan inside of her chest - controlled, composed, as she always was. 

She made a clear effort not to lose her precious composure in front of Spencer. She never needed him to think that he provided her with any kind of elite pleasure. That he could give her something that she couldn’t get from someone else. Especially not from you. He was just another tool in her belt. One that needed to be polished by her before he could be properly used. 

(He really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut, but he probably never would.) 

Even now, when he was balls-deep inside of her, her face remained smooth and neutral - not giving away a single flicker of the pleasure she might be feeling. Because it was all a big game, and she had to win. She was entirely demure as she stared up at him from her position, laying on her back in the middle of the bed. Technically, she was the lowest in the room, but always the one in the highest seat of control. Always the one with the most power in the room, no matter what. 

And unlike Spencer, you weren’t going to mess with the status quo of that power. 

“I think it’s almost… cute?” You remarked, knowing you sounded utterly condescending as you let out another giggle. (Especially if Spencer’s pleasurable gasp was anything to go by.) “At least he’s trying.” 

Spencer let out a choked whine, clearly humiliated and turned on by the way the two of you spoke - talking around him as though he wasn’t even there. As though he wasn’t important enough to even acknowledge. 

Spencer was currently stuck between the two of you, in a way that felt unfair yet perfectly and pleasurably melted his brain. 

With his cock speared deep inside of Elle’s warm, commanding pussy, while you stood behind him - a lingering presence that trapped him there, he knew that he had nowhere to go. Which he loved and hated at the same time. You were somehow still completely clothed - the fabric of your outfit feeling rougher against his completely naked body as his skin became overstimulated and sweaty, but he couldn’t escape you, not for a moment, while you crowded more and more into his personal space. 

“Please,” Spencer whimpered out.

Beneath him, Elle was clad in one of her signature bright red bras - overwhelming his field of vision with the sight of her perfect cleavage and her beautiful hair splayed out across the bed. And somehow, even as dewey sweat gathered on her skin, her makeup stayed perfectly in place, unsmudged and turning her into a goddess-like vision that only made him dissolve more into that pathetic puddle that you both mocked him for being. 

With your hands on Spencer’s hips - you kept shoving him forward harshly, forcing him to fuck into the unforgiving heat of Elle’s cunt while his cock panged with twinges of pain and pleasure, stuck pulsing through the aching restriction of a cockring. His arms were bound behind his back with Elle’s cuffs, his hands brushing against your front - but he wasn’t allowed to touch you, no. If he was caught copping a feel, then he knew that he punishment would be even more severe. His ass was already red and sore with the spanking that you had given him earlier. 

“Oh god, please.” He whined out again, not even sure what he was begging for - for this to stop, or for it to continue without the cockring so that he could finally cum. 

You were getting a great deal of joy out of this, a wicked grin forming on your lips that Elle loved to see. 

You loved using Spencer’s body like a puppet; having him acting like a ragdoll to your whims while you kept your hands tight on his hips, digging your nails into his flesh in a way that you knew would leave satisfying bruises there the next day. You loved nothing more than driving him forward, forcing him to fuck into Elle like he was nothing more than a toy - a human dildo to be used for her pleasure. 

With both of you standing at the end of the bed, Elle’s ass right on the edge of it, her legs spread wide to accommodate both of you; you were standing right up behind Spencer, not letting him go anywhere, not letting him move an inch to escape the overwhelming tight pleasure of her cunt. The feeling edged him so fiercely, that perfect vice gripping around his cock, with the cockring making him unable to cum. You gripped him tight and forced him to fuck forward into her, despite his whining protests and begging to have the cockring off so that he could cum. 

This was a punishment, after all. The punishment being - fucking her for longer than he could take it with no release. Feeling her hot, wet pussy around him and not being able to cum. 

“He’s not trying.” Elle argued in reply to your comment, sarcastic venom in her voice. “That’s why he’s so pathetic.” 

She reached up and tweaked one of his nipples hard, delivering a bit of pain to put emphasis on her words, and Spencer let out another whine. (Only further proving her point with how utterly pathetic he sounded.) 

“Please,” He said, begging once again. “Fuck, please, I promise I’ll be good, I-” 

“Shut up.” Elle barked at him. “Go harder.” She said, glancing around his body to look at you. 

She didn’t give this order for her own benefit. She wouldn’t enjoy the sex with any more heightened pleasure if his cock was fucking into her harder. She said this because if you forced his hips into her harder, then he would have to feel it more. It would be more punishing for him. 

“Yes, M’am.” You easily agreed, biting back a gleefully evil grin. 

You shoved his hips forward harder, in faster increments, pulling him back quickly and shoving him forward again. The results were beautiful - his thighs quaked and he let out a pained sound as he limply fell to the movements, like a ragdoll. Letting himself be fucking into Elle, rather than willingly fucking her himself. 

His cock was so painfully hard that this left little needles pricking up and down his shaft; sharp shocks of pleasure and pain flowing through him as the wetness coated him warmly and became tangled in his pubes - the most beautiful, mind-numbing torture he could have ever conceptualized. He needed a break - he wanted it to stop, but at the same time, he knew that he would cry and beg for more if his cock was pulled out of that warmth, a place his body knew as a home now. A place that he couldn’t leave. 

This was where he belonged. 

Stuck between two perfect people, ruling over him, taunting him. 

“Please!” He gasped out again. “Please!” 

You pushed Spencer forward again, hard, and his legs began to quake as Elle’s pussy squeezed him. 

“I can’t!” He shouted, his voice throaty and hollow, half choked in spit. “Fuck, I can’t!” 

“Yes, you can.” You said, shoving him forward again, loving the sound of his hips smacking against Elle’s inner thighs. “You’re just being a little bitch about it.” 

You leaned in, putting your body flush against his, trapping his arms tighter against his back. You used the motion of your own hips in tandem now, using your body weight to shove him back and forth - causing increasingly wet, sloppy sounds from between him and Elle as she became more turned on by his desperate, humiliated state. 

Elle let out a laugh. “It’s like we trained him for nothing.” 

“Maybe you trained him to bitch out.” You sighed. “That’s not my fault.” 

Elle glared at you - but before she could reply, you shoved Spencer forward again particularly hard, using him like a human dildo inside of her to shut her up. She swallowed down the gasp in her throat, though, biting her lip. She was trying her hardest not to let you know that you had gotten to her in any meaningful way. 

Spencer let out a throaty whine. 

“Please, let me cum.” He begged, his voice wavering and pathetic. “Please! I’ll do anything, just let me cum!” 

You grinned at Elle over his shoulder, pausing your movements and stilling Spencer’s hips for a moment. He let out a sob - even this was torturous pain, reminding him how his orgasm was like a sickness in his stomach. It was a pure, swollen ache in his balls - right there, but unable to come to fruition. He needed to cum so badly. 

“What do you think, E?” You asked, using your playful nickname for her. “Should we let this pathetic little boy finally cum?” 

You were feeling slightly bad for Spencer, so you reached around his body - thinking of something that might sway her. You rubbed your thumb over her clit, putting your powers of persuasion to the test. 

“I kinda wanna get him out of the way so I can have my turn.” You added on, pressing down on her clit harder. 

For the first time that night, Elle let out an uncontrolled, deep moan. 

“Fuck.” She sighed. 

You quickly let up the touch, knowing that teasing her would be more powerful. 

“I know what you’re doing.” She told you, throwing you a nasty, knowing smile. It was a warning. “Pull him out.” 

You were filled with a terrible excitement. Either she would punish you for trying to scam her, or she would give you exactly what you wanted. She was a lot more lenient with you than she was with Spencer. 

You backed off and put your hands on Spencer’s hips, easing him out of Elle’s pussy. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Miss, thank you-” Spencer repeated the words like a sacred mantra under his breath, and Elle quickly cut him off. 

“Shut up.” She barked at him again. “You won’t be thanking me in a minute.” 

This shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did. 

Spencer’s cock popped out of Elle’s cunt with a filthy sound, and he only made it back far enough to graze the swollen bright red head against her entrance before she sat up on her elbows and moved to grab the cockring around the base. You watched with your gaze around his shoulder in interest, your hands drifting around his waist to hold him gently from behind. You thought that she would take it off and maybe finish him with her hand to get him out of the way as you had suggested. 

But instead, she took off the cockring (which caused a wounded sound to emanate from his chest) and left his bright red, sore looking cock dangling between his thighs as a few thick strands of precum leaked from the head, dripping freely onto the bed between her thighs. 

“You feel bad for him.” Elle told you, a dark look in her eyes. “So get to work.” 

You wanted to laugh. That certainly wouldn’t be a punishment for you. 

With your arm already slung around his waist from behind, you reached down and grabbed his sensitive, achingly hard cock - at the touch, he nearly bucked out of your grip. He cried out in perfect agony and his whole body shook. 

Perhaps the punishment would be trying to hold him still. 

Elle giggled at this and you used your free hand to dig your fingers into his hip, giving his cock a firm squeeze in an attempt to make him still. 

“Stay still.” You ground out, and he quickly complied. 

You pumped your hand up and down his cock, the precum and Elle’s wetness being more than enough lube. You did have to enjoy how perfect he felt in your hand - his cock was a thing of beauty, so long and thin and so red when he was overstimulated like this. 

Your hand was fast and tight, determined to make him cum as quickly and efficiently as possible. And it took less than thirty seconds of greedy pumping to make it happen. Spencer beginning to wail like a maniac, his jaw dropped open wide and his eyes squeezed shut, his thighs shaking. 

All the while, Elle’s eyes were flickering between the sight of your hand as a blur on Spencer’s red cock and Spencer’s orgasmic face, a devilish grin growing on her. Spencer was cumming hard, his cock spurting out generous, thick ropes of cum that landed on the bed, on Elle’s strong inner thighs, and along her bare cunt and her pelvis, where she was perfectly positioned underneath him with her legs open. 

You pumped Spencer right through it, even reaching down to fondle his balls - milking him fully of a very large load that was a signature of just how long it had been since Elle had last let him cum. That thick cum seemingly going everywhere - and when he was shaking and about ready to collapse, you finally took your hand off his cock. 

“Alright, you two.” Elle announced. “Now get down on your knees and clean up your fucking mess.” 

Of course. That was the catch. That was your punishment. You had to share with Spencer. 

You wanted to complain about it, but you decided better of it. You didn’t need a vibrating plug in your ass for the better part of tomorrow because you decided to talk back. 

Spencer, still panting and dizzy, was quick to fall to his knees in front of Elle and start lapping at her pussy. He had to balance himself well with his hands still cuffed behind his back, but as usual, he was an overeager puppy. He shoved his tongue deep inside of her to taste her, rather than intentionally trying to clean up his mess. You let out a growl of annoyance and knelt down yourself, trying to shoulder him out of the way, poking your head in tightly beside his between her legs. 

“Share, asshole.” You growled, moving to grab his hair to pull him out of the way. 

“If you two don’t behave, then there’s gonna be some cages tomorrow. No keys for a week.” Elle warned in a dark voice, clicking her tongue in disappointment. 

“You better not fuck this up for me.” Spencer whispered to you, seemingly trying to talk too quietly for Elle to hear. 

“Hey-” Elle tried again, warning. 

You then decided to do something very much in the name of sharing and behaving. (You needed to act boldly, quickly - before Spencer got you both in trouble.) 

You licked a long stripe up Elle’s thigh, gathering up a healthy amount of Spencer’s cum onto your tongue before you grabbed him by the back of his hair. You yanked hard, pulling him to your mouth, shoving your tongue right into his mouth for her to see - mixing the essence of her that was already on his tongue with his cum. You purposefully made the kiss sloppy, pure tongues and very little contact of lips, like porn made for straight men. You even moaned loudly, putting on a show just for her benefit. 

Spencer easily fell for it - moaning loudly when you pulled harder on his hair, and easily following your lead as his submissive instincts kicked in. 

“That’s much better.” Elle sighed in delight.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a standalone oneshot. This fic is not intended to be continued, so please do not ask for a second part or a continuation. If you like this dynamic and you would like to see it repeated in a different fic (maybe with different kinks/different circumstances), you can definitely let me know by sending me an ask - but for now, if you're going to comment on this fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

[saltwaterburns]

even my phone misses your call, by the way

Summary: Elle knows perfectly well that it's a bad idea and that she'll probably regret it when she sobers up, but she still picks up her phone and dials the number of the one she misses the most - you.

Pairing: Elle Greenaway x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of a slightly graphic event that happened to the reader, allusions to smut, a few y/n's, no happy ending (for now?)

Author's note: It's day 3 of me watching season 2 after Elle left and it's safe to say that I'm still incredibly wounded, so what better way to project my feelings onto everyone else than writing this! :D For a girl who hates reading angst I sure do love writing it, so buckle up. I'm dedicating this to @bbbbadoobee i hope u like it pls dont hate me

Word count: 4,4k+

Elle knows she shouldn't. She left the BAU for a reason, and it's late. She glances at the clock on the wall, wincing as the time reads close to 3am. But as she sits in her bleak living room, her third bottle of vodka sitting unfinished on the table right next to her phone, she doesn't care about making good decisions. She's lonely. Desperate.

Leaving didn't make her feel any better. She's been lonely for years. She found a home within the BAU, and she doesn't think she'll ever be able to get over it. Get over her team, that at one point became her family.

She's drunk, and she's tired. She should go to bed. Instead, she picks up her phone, and calls you. She misses your voice the most.

It's been years. She doubts you'll answer. She listens to how her phone calls once, then twice, and on the third time when you pick up, she relaxes. "Y/n...it- it's me."

"...Elle?" You ask groggily, sitting up on your bed and trying to rub the sleep away from your eyes with the back of your hand. Wait, what? Elle? You voice your thought.

"Wait, what? Elle? Elle Greenaway?"

Her heart immediately lurches towards you at the sound of your sleep-ridden voice. She can see you so clearly in her minds eye, how you're sitting on your bed, the strap of your sleep top falling off your shoulder, how the freckles painted on your skin form constellations, the same ones she used to trace with her lips.

"Surprise, I guess." Elle responds, her tone a bit off in attempt to seem casual. Her heart is racing right now, but her voice remains steady. "Did I wake you?"

You stay silent for a beat. You don't notice it at first, but the hand you just used to pull the blanket tighter around you and now is resting on your lap is shaking. You can feel your throat constricting and your eyes beginning to sting, both from the lack of sleep and the emotions you're feeling.

"Yeah, yeah you did, but it's fine. Is- is everything okay? I didn't know you still had my number."

Her heart sinks, hearing how off you sound. Your voice quivers a bit, and she can only imagine your face right now, probably pinched and hurt.

"Of course I do." Elle says, and her voice softens a bit. Maybe she shouldn't have called. What was she thinking would happen?

"I just..." She struggles to articulate her thoughts as she rubs a hand over her face. "I needed to hear your voice."

"I, um, I miss you, Elle. We miss you, back at the BAU," You whisper, looking up at the pale ceiling of your room, taking a deep breath to force the tears down. "How are you?"

Your question feels like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she can't speak. Because how is she actually doing?

"Oh, I..." She hesitates, and swallows the lump in her throat. "I'm...I'm fine." After a few moments, she adds sheepishly, "And I, I miss you guys too..I miss you a lot."

"Did you continue with some sort of federal work at your new um, home?" You ask as casually as possible, the word home leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, because her home should be here, with you, not wherever she is right now.

She's glad you're not prodding her for more information, asking more questions that would be too difficult for her to answer. But she does cringe a bit.

"...No." She finally replies, and her voice is more than a bit embarrassed. "I went...in a different direction."

"That's, that's good, actually. I hoped that you wouldn't. Thought that it would be better for you to leave this life behind, get a chance to heal."

A moment of silence follows that. You don't know what else to say, so you're twisting a strand of your hair around your finger as you wait. But you've always been curious, always digging a little too deep and as you're speaking to her for the first time in years, you can't help but ask.

"Are you happy, Elle?" Was you leaving us worth it?

She listens as you speak, and her heart hurts because when you say it like that, it sounds like you know what's best for her. She thinks for a moment you might tell her to come back, to heal with all of you.

But you ask her if she's happy instead.

And her heart hurts even more because it's the most difficult question you could've asked her.

"Define happy." She says, finally.

From those two words alone you know that she isn't, not fully at least. The perks of being a profiler, you suppose.

"Can you sleep without waking up in cold sweat? Have you managed to stop reaching for a gun that isn't there? Have you stopped being hypervigilant when walking on the street?"

She swallows thickly once you ask her those questions. And the fact that she can't answer any of them with a yes makes her temples ache.

"I..." Her voice trails off, and she shakes her head as if you can see it. "I don't...no. No, not really." She finally says with a sigh. "I can't sleep, I still reach for a gun, and I'm paranoid as ever that someone is after me."

You rest your forehead against your knees that you've tucked under your chest and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood to keep your tears at bay. All that pain, and and suffering and everything that she's gone through still haunts her, as if her leaving this life behind hasn't had any impact at all.

"I haven't seen you in so long. Did you grow your hair out? Or did you keep the bangs and the bob?"

"The bangs and the bob." She says, and she winces as she realizes how much she actually misses you. If she concentrates hard enough, she can almost feel the ghost of your hands playing with her hair. "I have a few more grays now, though. I'm a real old lady."

You can't help but let out laugh at that, but it comes out wet. You cringe at that. An average person might've missed it but you know that she heard and you know that she has put it together that you're crying. You cringe even more.

"I'm not the youngest anymore either, Greenaway. Sporting a few greys myself under these luscious curls. Thankfully it's not too visible."

You're right - the wetness in your laugh doesn't go unnoticed. Her eyes immediately tear up as well, and she swallows against the lump of guilt in her throat, because she knows she's the reason you're crying right now.

"Yeah, well, you're too pretty to go grey anyway." She's teases right back, but her words are also laced in bittersweetness.

"Always the charmer, huh?" You bite your lip in a smile, feeling giddy for a moment. "Is there, um, anyone special for you nowadays? Are you tied down?"

"No one special, no tied down." She says quickly, maybe too quickly for it to be casual. After a few moments of silence, she adds, hesitantly, "Is there someone special for you right now?"

You shake your head, because how could there ever be someone who isn't her in my bed and in my heart, but then you remember she can't see you so you somehow manage to utter a soft "No."

"There isn't. There hasn't been one, really, ever since you left. You're always in the back of my mind." Your voice quietens as you say the last part.

She can feel her heart start racing when you respond, her body tensing up. She can't believe what she's hearing. There's no one special in your bed, no one in your heart...not even in these last YEARS since she left?

There's this strange, overwhelming sensation that rises up in her. One part of her wants to be angry that you've wasted away waiting for her. But the other part of her, the part that has her heart racing can't help but feel happy. Hopeful.

You keep talking, not giving her a chance to say something in between. "I know what you're gonna say. I can imagine your face and your expression so clearly. You're mad that I've wasted years waiting for you, even though I knew that the chances of me ever seeing you again were close to none. But I just couldn't help it. You can't blame me for that."

She actually laughs aloud at that, because you know her so damn well. She's frustrated, because of course, you've guessed right. She doesn't want you to have waited for her, especially in vain.

She never intended to see any of you again, especially you. And of course, you couldn't help it, because that's who you are. Loyal to a fault.

"You're right, I'm pretty damn frustrated right now." She responds, and her tone is more fond than angry.

"How can you expect me to move on after what we had, Elle? After those nights in the jet? After the nights curled together under the sheets? After we've taken bullets for each other, after I've stitched you up with my bare hands and bailed you out of jail? After that night we spent together right before you left the next morning, leaving me to wake up to an empty bed?" Your voice breaks in the middle of your ramble, and you can feel the hot trails your salty tears are leaving on your cheeks.

"How can you blame me for waiting when you're the only woman I've ever loved?"

You leave her, for the first time in a while, completely speechless. Every event you name flashes before her eyes, so familiar yet so far away. There's so much she wishes she could say, but she's always been a coward when it comes to voicing what she feels.

"Why did you call me, Elle?" You ask, your voice no louder than a gust of wind. Your bed feels extra cold tonight, too large for you to sleep in it alone. You curl up on your side, clutching your phone in your hand.

Why did she call you? She asks herself the very same question, and the guilt begins to chew on her when she realises she doesn't have an answer for you.

"I...." Her voice breaks. "I don't know. I just...I wanted to hear your voice. I missed you, I guess."

Her answer is as unsatisfying as you guessed it would be. For some reason you hoped that she'd confess her own love for you as well, telling you everything you've longed to hear for all these years. But her answer is as vague as always, and the disappointment burns.

"Did you know that Gideon left, too? And that Hotch and Haley got divorced?" You ask meekly, toying with the silky sheets under you.

She knows. She hates herself for it, but she's kept tabs on all the team since she left. She knows about Gideon, about Hotchner's and Haley's divorce, about Haley's ....

Every single time she finds herself reaching for her phone, about to type in a phone number, she has to remind herself that it's healthier for her not to reach out. But each time, it has gotten more and more difficult.

Her voice comes out soft and remorseful. "Yeah, I know, I...I've heard."

Oh.

"I got taken hostage a few months ago. Barely made it out alive, was in a coma for two weeks. Did you know that?"

Her blood runs cold in her veins as you say that, her heart rate increasing immediately. Her hands begin to shake and her eyes widen.

"No. I- no, I didn't know that. You...?" Her voice falters as she begins to ask that question, and she pauses before trying to finish that sentence. "You were in a coma? What happened?"

There's something satisfying about hearing her panic, however cruel that might be. It feels good to know that she didn't reach out because she simply didn't know.

"There was a bomb. I was too close. Hit my head against a block of concrete so hard my skull fractured and my two of my ribs broke off, piercing my lungs."

The moment you say all of that, she actually feels dizzy with panic.

Imagining you lying on the floor in pain, struggling to breathe, struggling to stay alive.. She can feel her nausea rising as her stomach twists.

Elle can't speak as she thinks about all of it. You could've died. She almost lost you and she wouldn't even have known. Would Garcia have told her?

"I'm okay now, though," You whisper softly with a smile, hoping that she can hear it through your voice. "Sometimes I get really bad migraines, but the doctors say I shouldn't have any other complications."

She tries to collect herself, steadying her breath as you tell her that you're okay. Mostly okay, she should say. But you're here, so that's what matters.

"Y-yeah?" She asks, her voice a bit shaky. "How long ago was this, baby?"

Baby. She always used to call you baby. It used to fill you with fluttering butterflies but now it just feels like swallowing acid.

"I think it was at the beginning of the year. It's July now, so 5 months at least." You hum in thought, counting back the months on your fingers. A car drives past your window, the lights flashing, and it feels melancholy. You can't help but let your mind wonder and imagine it's Elle, coming to see you. But she won't, you know she won't.

"Five months..." Her heart aches to think of you going through all of that, dealing with that alone, while she didn't even know. Didn't even check up on you. She hates herself for it, even more than usual. She feels like she's going to throw up.

"Y-you never, did you..?" She can't even get out her question, swallowing heavily. "...call me?"

"...I tried to. I asked Garcia if she could find any way for me to contact you, but she never managed to. You disappeared pretty good on us." You laugh a little, but there isn't any humour behind it. Just a little hurt.

Her heart sinks at your answer, and she closes her eyes in anguish. Goddamn it. Of course you tried to call her. Of course you wanted her there.

"Yeah, I..." She tries to speak, tries to find her words, but she can't. Not when she knows how badly she hurt you.

"M'sorry." She finally murmurs, a bitter feeling bubbling up her throat.

You coo at her. "It's okay, Elle. I'm fine now, aren't I? And you're on the other end of the phone. No need to fret about it now. I didn't mean to make you feel bad with all of this, by the way. I wasn't trying to rub it under your nose. I was just curious if you knew."

She swallows at that. Even now, even after she's abandoned you, left you behind, caused you pain, you're still trying to comfort her. Trying to make her feel better, trying to tell her what she wants to hear.

She doesn't know why she expected something else, but she hates it.

"You're too kind for your own damn good, you know that, Y/n?" Even saying that is hurting her.

You don't know what to say to that. You've never been good with compliments or praises of any sort, so you just blush and change the subject.

"Did you know that Spence and Morgan still talk about you? Oh, Elle would've known this and Elle would've liked that gets thrown around the office pretty often."

A faint smile tugs on her lips and a small laugh escapes her.

Thinking about Spencer and Morgan still having her in their thoughts doesn't make her feel exactly good, but it makes her feel something.

"Really now?" She asks, her voice still a bit rough from earlier, trying to mask her excitement. "What do they say about me?"

"They still value your opinion very highly, even after all this time. It wasn’t always like that, though. Your name has a lot of respect at Quantico now, but it was a very sensitive topic for a good while. You're missed....I miss you, too." I reminiscence, letting my eyes fall shut. If I try hard enough, I can pretend that she's here and that we're talking face to face, not thousands of miles apart.

"Where are you? Are you still in the US? Or did you leave?"

"I'm still in the US," She replies softly, the corner of her lips pulled back in a sad smile. "I'm in New York. I...couldn't imagine going farther than this from here."

"The Big Apple, huh? I've never been. It sounds awesome, though. I'd love to go one day as a tourist, not as a profiler. Fly economy and all that stuff." You laugh softly, turning to lay on your back.

She grins widely because the thought of you walking around New York, on a vacation, having a good time - it seems like a faraway dream to her.

"It is awesome.There's quite a bit to do, and to see. Especially for a tourist that's not on call."

The hours of the night are catching up to you and you can feel sleep pushing it’s dull claws into you, but you don't want to tell her that. Hanging up could mean never talking to her again.

"Is the subway really as dirty as they show in movies?"

She responds with a snort and an eye roll. "It's worse. Far worse."

"Yeah?" you ask, giggling quietly. "You're having hand to hand combat with the rats?"

"It feels like it, honestly," She grins at your question. "Fighting them for a seat, that is. I feel like I've seen more rats and roaches than human people."

You let out a loud laugh at that and cover your face, letting your phone drop from your hand, your heart feeling light.

A genuine laugh escapes her at that, and the sound of it surprises her. When was the last time she had laughed like that? Was it back when she had just started at Quantico?

For a moment, it feels like the years between the two of you have disappeared, and she's in your bedroom, laughing with you as the night deepens. As the noise calms down and both of your breathing returns to normal, you feel tears prickling in your eyes yet again.

"Will I ever see you again?"

Her body goes rigid at that. She was just having a good moment with you, giggling and laughing, and now...her stomach is in knots.

How could she answer your question? She wants to say "yes, of course", but that wouldn't be true. She wants to say "no, probably not", and that wouldn't be fully true either.

Instead, she swallows and says, "I-I don't know, Y/n. I don't know."

You expected that.

"Tell me that I will, Elle. Tell me that you'll be here tomorrow morning, that you knocking on my door will wake me up. Even if it’s a lie. Please tell me." You beg, a sense of urgency and desperation in your voice.

Her heart thumps wildly inside her ribcage as she listens to you. It's like her heart and mind are having a mental battle, because they want completely different things.

She wants to be there. She wants to be the one to wake you up by banging on the door, she wants to see you in all your glory, hair and clothes messed up from sleep, your cheeks puffy...she wants that more than anything in the world.

But it's not so simple. Her mind is reeling with all the reasons why this can't happen, why she shouldn’t grant you the peace of her saying it, but she can't help it. You’ve always been her vice.

"Please tell me that I'll see you tomorrow." you plead again, your voice cracking. Your heart is constricting inside your chest.

Her resolve begins to crumble at your desperation. God, you're begging her. And she can't find it in her to disappoint you.

"You'll see me tomorrow," She finds herself saying, her voice barely above a whisper. It hurts her to say it, because it's a lie. Because it won't be true come the morning, which means she's setting you up for that same disappointment she tried to avoid just now.

You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand, nodding along, feeling reassured. Kind of.

"Will you- will you hang up, now?"

She doesn't want to. She wants to keep talking to you, but she knows she's keeping you up. She can hear the tiredness that’s laced in your voice.

"Yeah..I should," She murmurs begrudgingly, her voice thick with emotion.

Your resolve breaks.

"I love you, Elle. I don't think I'll ever stop," You can't help but confess, the words feeling like shards of glass leaving your mouth.

Her heart shatters into dust when you say the words. It's the most beautiful and yet the saddest thing she's heard in years.

She knows, of course she does. She’s always known that you loved her. Back when you were sneaking around with each other, when you were convulsing around her fingers, your climax having you cramped up, the three words always fell from your lips one way or another. She just didn’t have it in her to say them herself. But now, she has to cover her mouth to stop herself from confessing the same. Her breathing wavers and her hands shake.

"Don't say that, Y/n. Don't say that," She all but begs, her voice strangled and strained.

"You know that I do. My heart is yours and yours only. You know that, too." you keep on going, your voice thick with emotion.

The words pierce her like a dagger right into the heart. She can't deny it and she can't tell you to stop, so instead, she responds with a soft, broken, "I know, I know you do. And you know that I feel the same.”

"Say it, Elle. Please? Say it properly." You plead her gently, toying with the straps of your sleep top. You suddenly notice that it's one of Elle's old shirts that she left here. You swallow back a sob.

She feels her heart beating erratically as you urge her to say the words. It's such a simple thing, just three little words. Three words that she's wanted to say to you for years, but always held back.

"I love you, Y/n," She finally confesses, her voice quavering. "God help me, I love you."

You laugh softly and close your eyes as you finally let the tears stream down your face freely. Hearing her finally say those three words was probably the most painful thing you’ll ever experience, but it feels euphoric. After all these years.

She isn't sure how to label what she’s feeling. Relief? Anguish? Saying that she loves you should make her happy, but all she feels is a deep aching pain because she knows that it isn't going to change anything. But what’s done is done. She can't take it back now, and she's just made the whole thing so much harder.

"I'm sorry," She apologizes, her voice cracking now. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I love you, I've always loved you, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, honey. You know I'll always forgive you, and this time it isn't even your fault. Thank you for loving me. I love you, too. I'm ready to hang up now, if you want. I know this can't be easy for you either."

She can't speak past the lump forming in her throat. How do you always manage to forgive her? Saying that this time it's not her fault. You're so kind, too kind. But you’ve always been like that, and she feels sick for taking advantage of that. She wouldn’t deserve you even in a million lifetimes.

"Yeah," She manages to croak. "I should go, and you have to get some sleep. It’s late."

"I don't know if you'll call me ever again, but thank you for doing it today. It feels nice, talking to you again. I missed you terribly."

Her heart breaks hearing that you think this might be the last time she ever calls, even though there’s a high possibility that it is. She wants to tell you that she'll call you again, and again and again, but she can't. She can't promise you that. She can't make you false promises, not anymore. So instead she just murmurs, "I missed you, too. Night, baby."

"G'night, Elle.." you whisper, barely audible, and press the end button. A small click sound echoes around the now eerily silent room and you let out a wail, falling on top of your pillows in sobs.

Elle can't move for a few moments after you hang up, just sitting and staring at the wall. She feels numb. Cold. Empty. Why the hell did she do that?

She can still hear the sound of you crying, it was so distinct and full of pain, even through the phone. She's the one that did that, she made you cry. It’s just like the day she left.

With a pained cry, she brings the phone down to her lap and buries her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

You don't know whether to hate or to love her for picking up that phone tonight and pressing that call button. Your heart feels strangely light after finally being able to free itself from all the emotions it’s had to carry over the years, but your soul feels terrifyingly empty. What now? You just go back to your everyday routine and pretend that tonight didn't exist?

The same thought is racing through Elle's mind. There's a small part of her that's glad she managed to hear your voice again, but everything else...god, she just made things so much harder for the both of you.

You're going to wake up tomorrow morning, and there won't be anyone at your door.

That realization, that she did that to you...it kills her. But right now, she can't undo it. What's done is done.

It's stupid, but as you lay on your cold sheets, alone yet again, falling in and out of consciousness, you can't help but hope that you’ll find her behind your front door as the morning comes.

hi please excuse the repetitive words and the medical talk idk if your ribs piercing your lungs is either survivable or puts you in a coma

[ellesreids]

dom!elle with a sub!fem reader? dinner date and rough sex..

date night — e. greenaway

a/n: probably not the craziest, roughest sex you'll ever read because I'm too soft for that lmao but I tried my best incorporating it. I hope you like it though anon and thank you for being my first request!! <3 cw: fingering, oral sex, use of a strap-on, not really proofread.

──── ୨୧ ────

It's a flurry of laughs and stolen kisses as the two of you make your way inside your shared apartment. Your hands wrapped snugly around her waist and pressing kisses into the dip of her shoulder as she struggles with the front door's lock. And once it's opened, you're all over her, hands wrapped around her neck as you press messy kisses to her lips and cheek.

The two of you had just returned from a date, a beautiful night that had you feeling like the only girl in the world. Elle always had that ability to make you feel special with the amount of attention and consideration she invested in you. She would sometimes be gone for long periods of time, but once she returned, she always made it up to you by tenfold. Like tonight, as she decided to spoil you with a date to some fancy restaurant after working a case for almost two weeks.

You're half frantic, hands reaching everywhere they could as you peppered her with sweet kisses. You push her hair from her shoulder to make room for your lips, moving to the special spot behind her ear, trying to coax her and leave her pliant.

"Slow down, we have all night, y'know," Elle laughs softly, hand on the back of your neck as she gently pulls you away from her so that she can look you in the eye. You smile at her timidly, already feeling shy under her intense gaze. Your eyes drift down her body, admiring the way her dress clung to her body, and also as a way to avoid eye contact. "Hey, look at me," she says softly, and at once, your eyes are on her again. "Tell me what you want."

You almost want to whine, already knowing the game she wants to play with you, but you refrain from it. "You know what I want," you say, hands wrapping around her neck to pull her impossibly closer, the sickeningly sweet scent of her perfume leaving you breathless. Her arms wrap around your waist, rubbing your lower back softly. "I don't think I know," she smiles, "need you to tell me."

"What do you want, hm?" she asks again, voice soft and alluring like a siren trying to lead you to your demise. "I want you," you say softly, and a bashful smile stretches across her face at your answer, planting a kiss to your waiting lips before quickly pulling away.

"Can you go to the bedroom? I'll be right there," she smiles, making you melt on the spot with a warmth already settling in your lower belly. You nod, making your way to the bedroom with nerves of anticipation thrumming all throughout your body. While she's away, you make quick work of your clothes, hastily tugging at your dress' zipper and stripping it from your body. You take a moment to admire the matching set of underwear you had bought specially for tonight's occasion, hands smoothing over the lace detailing on your bra.

Before you could do much else, the bedroom door opens with a creak, and Elle stands in the threshold, eyes unashamedly tracing your scantily clad body and the lacy underwear that clung to your body. She makes her way inside, placing you in her embrace as her hands rub down your arms, and her eyes take time admiring every inch of exposed skin. "You look so beautiful baby, you buy this for me?" she asks, fingers smoothing over the lace detailing that cupped your breasts. You nod, preening under her loving gaze as she takes in every detail.

"Do you like it?" you ask softly, and she nods almost instantly, giving you a toothy smile. "I love it, t'so pretty," she smiles, taking a few more moments to admire you before she's nodding towards the bed. You reluctantly remove yourself from her embrace and make your way onto the bed and shuffle across the soft sheets until you're facing her again. You watch the way she pushes all her hair to fall over one shoulder, hands then moving to unzip her dress and letting it fall to the ground in a dramatic display before stepping out of the material.

Her hands move behind her back once more, and her bra snaps open with a soft thwap before she shimmies the material from her shoulders, and it joins the dress on the ground. The bed dips as she makes her way to you, eyes locked on you in a way that has your cunt clenching around nothing. She takes her place between your already spread legs, smiling down at you before kissing you. It leaves you breathless, a boneless mess in her grasp as you moan into her mouth at the feeling of her hand grabbing onto one of your clothed breasts and gently squeezing.

She doesn't stay stagnant for long though, and soon her kisses are traveling down the expanse of your body; over your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts and down the softness of your stomach until she's finally laid between your legs with her head directly infront of your clothed cunt. She takes your legs by the back of your knees, spreading them further to get a better view, and she hums satisfyingly at the visible wet spot already staining the fabric. "Look at that," she says breathily, "You got that excited over a few kisses?"

"Elle," you say softly, voice half whining and half begging as she places soft kisses to your inner thighs. "I'll give you what you want, don't worry," she says before she's swiftly moving to remove your panties, throwing them somewhere into the room.

After that, she dives in without much of a warning, licking a broad stripe up the seam of your pussy from your hole to your clit. It makes you shiver in her grasp, but it only makes her grip on your thighs tighten. It feels like she's trying to consume you, tongue lapping at the wetness of your pussy before she's moving up to suck your clit into her mouth. You're already a mess, one hand beneath the fabric of your bra as you squeeze at your your breast while the other pushes the hair out of her face.

She pulls away after a while, hand letting go of one of your thighs before sucking two fingers into her mouth. Those same fingers make their way to your pussy, circling your entrance before she pushes in gently. She waits for you to adjust, until you start moaning softly and squirming around until she starts thrusting them in and out of you.

Her pace is brutal, borderline unforgiving as she hits that special spot inside you almost every time. Her mouth return to your pussy, gently sucking and licking at your throbbing clit as her eyes stay trained on you and your every reaction. She watches the way your breasts heave with every quick breath, the way your eyes, dilated and droopy with drunken pleasure watch her before it all becomes too much and your head tips back against the pillow with a guttural moan.

"Uh uh," she tuts, pulling away from your clit at once and slowing the pace of her fingers down dramatically. "Look at me, baby, or I'll stop." And you know she's not bluffing, so you pull your head upright again and shift your upper body's weight onto your arms. She smiles at the already fucked out look on your face, and moves to give you another chaste kiss before her fingers continue their ministrations.

Its not even long before she has you right on the edge, that delicious feeling settling in your bones as you wait for the pleasure to wash over you, but before you could get there, Elle stops abruptly, pulling her fingers from your soaked cunt and depriving you of that much needed and very anticipated orgasm.

You watch as she puts those same fingers into her mouth, licking them clean before she leans down and kisses you deeply. You taste yourself on her tongue, and it does nothing to bliss the fire burning in your gut. "Elle," you whisper between kisses, and she hums against your mouth in reply. "Please," you beg, hoping she doesn't explicitly make you say exactly what you're begging for. Thankfully, she has mercy on you, and only replies in another understanding hum before she's pulling away.

Silently, she moves off the bed and makes her way to your bedside drawers, rummaging through them until she finds what she's looking for. The sight of the box itself already has you whimpering, knowing what was in store for you and quietly watching as she takes out the strap-on and starts fastening and tightening every necessary straps until everything is secured. A bottle of lube is pulled from the drawer too before she makes her way back onto the bed and between your legs.

"Hands and knees, baby," she whispers softly, as she lubricates the silicone dick before haphazardly disposing of the bottle. She admires the site infront of her; your back arched beautifully and your pussy on full display for her, wet and ready. She bends down, pressing kisses down your back and a few more to the fat of your ass cheeks before she's moving upright and pressing the tip to your entrance. Slowly she eases in, watching intently as the silicone disappeares inside your pussy till she was flush with your ass.

"You alright?" she asks, hands gently rubbing over your hips and ass in a soothing manner. You reply with a soft yes, and when you tell her that she can start moving, she wastes no time.

She gradually builds the pace, starting out with soft half-strokes to help you get used to the feeling, and deepening each stroke with every breathy moan and whimper you let out. Soon enough she's practically wrecking your pussy, each thrust deep and fast, leaving you clawing at the sheets and drooling into the pillow. You're delirious with plessure, a loud moan escaping you at a particularly deep thrust. "D'you like that?" Elle's voice rings through the room, and you nod, unable to do anything else but moan unabashedly. She grabs handfuls of your ass and pulls your cheeks apart to get a good view of your pussy practically swallowing the silicone.

"Elle," you whine pitifully, and her ears perk up to try and hear you over the sounds of your sopping cunt. "Wanna see you," you say, looking over your shoulder just in time to see her smile at you sweetly. "Y'wanna see me?" she asks, smile widening when you nod eagerly. "Okay, baby. I'll let you see me," she says softly, pulling out before she flips you onto your back. One of your legs are placed on her shoulder, while the other goes to her side. She repositions herself before she's pushing in again and setting another brutal pace.

She watches the way your tits bounce from the confines of your bra with every deep thrust, the way your legs shake with pleasure and the way your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head, teeth biting down into your lip in a futile attempt to muffle your moans. She leans down, practically bending you along with her as her thrusts now turn into a deep grinding, pelvis rubbing against your clit with a burning friction that has you closer to cumming than you'd like to be, not willing to end everything so soon.

"How does that feel, huh? Feels good?" she asks, voice strained with effort as she works to get you over that edge, if only she knew how close to teetering over that edge you already were. "Mhm," you hum in reply, too fucked out to give an actual response but still wanting to let her know how good you were feeling. "Yeah?" she asks, and you nod without even thinking about it. "You can't even talk? Am I fucking you that good?"

Like before, all she gets in response all she gets is a hum of confirmation and another punched out moan. Its enough for her though, and she gives you a few deep, sloppy kisses that you can barely return before moving upright again. She doubles her efforts, hand moving to your pussy to rub your clit and keep that stimulation going.

It happens so fast, the pressure in your lower belly building and building until it snaps and the electric buzz of an orgasm travels throughout every part of your body. Your back arches off the bed and your legs shake violently as you cum with a drawn out whine. She guides you through it, soft words of reassurance leaving her lips as her hands softly rubs your skin. "There you go," she breaths, "you did so good, baby. Look so pretty too."

Elle watches as you come down, bordering on overstimulation as she continues to gently rub at your clit as her thrusts come to a halt. When you grab at her wrist with a soft whine she knows you're done, and she gently pulls out before deftly undoing the strap-on from her waist.

She goes to lay next to you, pulling you into her with a slow and passionate kiss that has you humming in satisfaction. Everything around you melts away and all you can focus on is Elle and the way her soft lips move against your own. In a dreamy and truly fucked out state, all you can do is cling to her as she kisses you silly.

Elle would sometimes be gone for long periods of time, but she always made it up to you once she returned.

[shinyrhinestones]

Loved in the night

Summary: Elle comforts Reader after her mother gets hospitilazed.

Pairing: Elle Greenaway X BAU!Fem!Reader.

Genre: Fluff, smut and angst.

NSFW.

Category: Oneshot

Warnings: Sickness, food, drinks. Oral (reader rec), petting, making out. Also Reader has a mum living in the US.

Also this is a draft from a long time ago. I’m not perfect at writing, and Especially not at smut, so yeah 🤷‍♀️ also this was probably written quickly so it probably feels rushed and there’s probably a bunch of grammar mistakes 🫠

———————————————————————

You’ve never really been worried about anything bad happening to your family. They didn’t live as close to you and your job, and you never really worried about their health either. Everything seemed to go well. But you never quite know what to expect. A phone call informing you about your mothers heart attack was a good way to ruin your entire day.

You got permission of your boss to leave for the day, and you rushed to the hospital. The doctor explained how it was going to be all right, and she would recover. You stayed by your mothers side for some time, even though she was unconscious. You still had some things at work to get done. Some files that hadn’t been finished up yet. And even though you were really worried about your mother, you didn’t know what to expect when your work wasn’t done. And as your mother still was unconscious, like She had been for all the time you’d been there, you figured you would hurry back to the bullpen.

You entered the bullpen walking a little slower than normally, and with a frown formed on your face. You walked over to your desk when you were questioned by a coworker. “Y/N, where have you been?” Derek asked, head tilting a little. Honestly, you really didn’t want to tell the truth. You sat down and slouched in your seat. You opened a drawer grabbing a handful of the files you needed to finish, and stuffed them in your bag. You looked up at Derek, and saw how Elle and JJ were now standing behind him aswell. “Uhm..” Was the only thing you managed to say, staring off to the side. “I..I don’t really want to talk about it” You were met with confused looks yet worried, but met with silence. Maybe because you stood up before giving them a chance to react properply, and walked over to Hotch’s office to let him know you were taking the files with you, and that you’ll finish them in time. He of course was surprised why you had returned when you had more important stuff to focus on at the moment.

“I know, Hotch, I do. But I’m so new to this whole thing I just wanna get these done and distract me from the trouble until she wakes up.” You rambled out of worry and a slight panic. “Y/N, it’s okay, go home” Hotch said in a calm yet demanding voice. You nodded and turned around leaving his office. When you walked past Elle’s desk she immediately stood up to catch up with you. “Y/N, What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Normally Elle would’ve let the person walk away. She normally would’ve shrugged, and turned her attention back to whatever she was doing before. But this was something completely different than normal to her. You stopped walking to be able to look her in the eyes, and have a normal conversation. You looked into her brown eyes, letting them study your face. Your heart almost melted at the sight of Elle being concerned for you. As a profiler, you could notice how she actually cared about you. But you never thought more of it, than just being a good friend. Because the thought of her being interessed in you was abnormal. Elle always seemed to good for anything really. And maybe she wasn’t even into girls.

You let your eyes fall down, and you bit the inside of your cheek. Debating on if you should tell her or not. “What is it?” She asked again, knowing something was wrong. Not only did she notice your behaviour, but also how you had visited Hotch’s office twice that day. “My mother had a heart-attack” You sighed, and brushed some of your hair behind your ears. Elle’s eyes softened even more. “Are you going to the hospital?” She asked, trying to meet your eyes. “Well, I have these files to finish, but I also want to be there for my mum when she wakes up, so I might do them in the hospital.” You explained, looking all over the place. Elle nodded along to your words, and almost started to frown herself. “What if I help you with that? We can just take it slow, alright? I'm sure Hotch understands.” She tried to calm you down, as you came of as very troubled and in distress. “Right, yeah. I’m sorry” You hid your face in your hands for a moment, then looked at the dark haired woman again. “Why don’t I help you? Let me take you to the hospital, and then accompany you there. You seem like someone who could do well with some support.” She said, holding your hands and then let them go, when you agreed. She quickly made sure that everything she had to take care of was done, so she could go home already.

——-

Elle went to hospital with you, and sat with you out in the hallway when your mother had to go through some tests. She sat down next to you, and reached you a waterbottle.

“Thank you.” You mumbled and accepted the bottle. But you didn’t open it. You just fiddled with the bottle in both of your hands. Hearing the water squish and the water moving fast in motion. Elle stared at you and your playing. Her eyes were studying you and she couldn’t help but profiling you. But honestly it didn’t take a profiler to know you were sad and down. Elle’s palms were sweaty and she tried to rub it off on her jeans. Elle could be quite a private person. Not one to always accept her company outside of work.

And perhaps you should’ve noticed that as a profiler. But everything in the moment was too overwhelming for you.

Elle rested a hand on your back, trying to show her support. She didn’t really know what to say. Other than admiring you, she of course tried to find the right words to say. But Elle just ended up sighing and left it at that. You didn’t wanna admit it in the moment, but Elles hand on your back made you try really hard not to smile or blush. Luckily, when you sit next to each other in a hospital, you dont see each others faces unless forced by yourselves. Would’ve been really hard to explain why you were smiling, in this situation.

————

And again, Elle wouldn’t let you go home alone. She was the one who convinced you to go home, and get some rest. That rest in the hospital wasn’t that enjoyable. Elle knew what she was talking about.

She drove you home, and while she was sitting in the driver seat, you couldn’t help but admire her features as she was so concentrated. And worried. You saw it in her eyes. It’s always the eyes. She bit her lip as a way to hide her concern.

She walked with you up the stairs to your apartment. Elle seemed like she really didn’t want to let you be alone, cause she could sense how bad you felt. I mean obviously. But between you and Elle, you knew a lot about each other. And that was also a realization for you, when you stood by your own doorstep. Yes, Elle was private, but to you she was more open. You’ve had your fair share of long conversations.

“Elle.” You said softly, looking at her confused. “Yeah.” She looked at you a little surprised, her eyes a little wide. Her mouth slightly open. “Why did you walk up with me here?”. You asked, even though you kinda knew why. “I..Uhm. I don’t know. Do you want me to leave?” She stuttered a bit, and she wasn’t really sure of what you trying to say.

“No.” You shook your head lightly. If you were to be honest, you would tell her how much you actually wanted her to stay. How much you wanted her close. That she should show you all her care and love for just one night. If that wasn’t too much to want.

But you were shy. And you also felt like it was weird behaviour. Even though, it wasn’t weird of you for wanting her.

You welcomed Elle inside and she complimented your apartment. You smiled lightly and thanked her.

—-

After a nice dinner made by both you and Elle, you decided you wanted to sleep. But you both knew you couldn’t sleep. Even after all of the good laughter Elle gave you for the evening, it was still hard not to worry. Elle asked you if she should stay the night, and you accepted. You didn’t want to be alone.

It was good that Elle distracted you with funny storytimes and jokes, making you both laugh. She made you distracted. You layed under the covers, your legs touching now and then. And everytime, you wondered how Elle felt about it. Cause to you, it wasn’t enough. Elle took your hand, when your laughter died down. And your eyes met for a moment. Elle was bold. You knew that. Elle took risks, and sometimes you could get so angry at her for it, with the job you had.

Elle was too afraid of saying anything. She let her thumb work around your hand, as a distraction for herself. You already felt like this way more intimate for two friends and colleagues. She scooted closer, and you smiled gently at her in the dark. But Elle was so close, she saw it. “What?” She smiled herself, and her eyes shined with being intrigued. “You’re close.” You answered shortly. Her eyes changed from shining brightly, to being afraid. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She tried pulling back, but you squeezed her hand in a second, and she stopped moving.

“What?” She blurted out.

“I don’t mind.” You explained. She relaxed her tensed up muscles, and you heard her sigh of relief. “Okay.” She whispered. “Elle..” Her eyes found yours again, and she could hear your soft breathing in the dark room. The only sounds besides that were the other people in the apartment block getting ready for bed aswell. But it was faint, and perhaps only your upstairs neighbour. Or the sounds of cars passing by out on street. In a swift motion, she let her lips touch yours in a gentle quick kiss. She wanted your reaction. And the one she got, was you pulling her back down, to kiss again. More this time.

Elle let her arms wrap around you. Her left arm around your waist, while your right arm took a hold of her shoulder. She sat up just a little, by supporting herself on her right elbow. She gave you a long kiss, pulled away and then curtly kissed down your neck before her fingers sneaked under the covers. She let her hand roam across your figure, before they went under your tanktop. Elle looked at you in the silence now between you, and you gave her a slight smile.

Her hand went up to your breast, letting her hand softly and quickly slide across, and then down to your abdomen. She leaned down again, to let your lips touch again. You sighed into the kiss, like everything had been resolved. All your thoughts about Elle had been answered, and now you were just lost in the moment. Elle’s fingers snuck under the waistband of your panties, and let the tip of her finger softly settle on your clit.

You had one of your hands on Elle’s cheek, by her hair. And the other hand was around her shoulderblade. She pulled away, and you both got some air, from a heated kiss. Elles kisses were steady yet passionate. Like she kissed with all of her admiration, mixed with being certain of herself and her love.

Your head rested further into your cold pillow, as Elle rubbed her finger in gentle circles. You let out almost silent whines for everytime she rubbed. Cutting yourself off. “Are you okay?” She asked, knowing that this might be too much of a step already. “Yeah, Elle. I’m okay. I just really want you right now.” You admitted honestly. And she moved up on her knees right between your legs. “Okay.” She almost smiled, but she knew this was a moment where you needed to feel serious.

She slided down your underwear completely, and reached down. Laying herself down. She kissed where she could reach before going to one of your most sensitive places. She carefully and gently, let her tongue rest against your clit. She got less and less careful as she felt like you were getting more worked up. Her hands held onto you, of course. Your hands gripped onto the quilt, she had moved to the side, before she laid down on the madrass for you. “Mhm-“ you were a little aware of your sounds, as it was getting late and you didn’t want any complaints. She kept her soft licks, roaming around with her tongue. Her fingers carefully rested at your entrance before she let the slide in.

You let out a moan louder than you meant to. But the feeling of her was too good. She looked up but didn’t even get a look at you cause it was so dark. But she could you tensing up, and at that she let her lips suck at your clit, as your hands clenched the white quilt.

Elle could only hear her name and your soft breathing and whines. She still tried not to smile too much, as she could feel you weren’t ready to let go. She let her fingers curl inside you, and find her rhythm. One of your hands gripped her hair, and you felt it all crash down on you at once, when you felt her like that between your thighs. And with a moan cutting off the other, you felt your back arch, as your muscles got tighter. You let go off Elles hair, and let your hand rest against the bed again. Elle kept going until she felt your high wearing off. You opened your eyes, which you had barely been able to keep open. Elle sat up, after her fingers slid out again, and she sat down next to you.

She gave you a long kiss, and you sighed yet again.

However, Elle didn’t think of herself in this moment, but you wanted more of her.

[guiltyc0nscience]

elle greenaway and spencer reid:

[missarchive]

dom!elle greenaway x sleepy sub fem reader? before bed sex to tire ya out?

cw; sleepy make-out, fingering, soft dom!elle, she's really the sweetest, lovestruck!reader, sleepy late-night sex.

an; thank you for your request!go easy on me, lovers, lots of praise, cuddling.

wc; 1.2k

Fresh sheets crunched beneath your skin as you settled into bed. Your lover, Elle, was lying peacefully next to you. Her lips slightly parted as she took in soft breaths. Through the crack in your blinds, you could see the faint light of the moon illuminating the side of her face, casting soft shadows of her eyelashes onto her cheeks. 

A slight stir, and then her eyelids flutter open. “Y/N?” her brows furrow together as she props herself up on her elbow. “I thought you’d gone to sleep?”

You hum softly, your hand subconsciously reaching out to connect with her skin. Her beautifully warm body, soft and golden. Trailing your palm over her arm, you feel it prickle up at your touch. “I guess I’m just not really in the mood for sleeping.”

Elle’s eyebrow quirks up ever so slightly, her eyes narrowing, lips curling up at the edges. “Oh? Mind telling me what you are in the mood for, then?” 

Your cheeks flush as you retract your hand, fiddling with the hem of your tank top. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

It’s quiet for a moment, you’d almost think Elle had gone back to sleep if you couldn’t feel her gaze piercing through you. Careful eyes examining your body language. You don’t know why you even bother denying anything anymore, it’s futile against her. 

You shiver as you feel her hand make contact with your waist, delicate fingers molding to your form. The sharp coolness of her rings contrasting with the heat of her hand, sending a shiver up your spine. 

“I think you know exactly what I’m insinuating, pretty girl,” she leans in, lips close enough to your ear you can feel every breath, every inhale. “Am I right, hm?” her hands dance up your torso, resting just below the curve of your breast. “Is this where you want me?”

Your breath hitches as you shake your head, teeth tugging your bottom lip into your mouth. 

“No? It’s not?” Elle’s lips curl up further, her perfect teeth on display, a manicured hand carding through your hair. “Mind using your words for me, then?”

Preening as she caresses you with delicate movements, you look up at her with wide eyes, slightly hazed over. “Elle,” you whine, wrapping your fingers around her wrist, dragging it back down your body. “Please.”

“Hm… I don’t know, baby. How can I give you what you want if you can’t even tell me what that is?” The tips of her fingers dip into the waistband of your sleep shorts, just inches away from where you really need her. 

Your brows furrow together, hips jolting up, reacting to her touch. Your fingers squeeze her wrist tighter, aching to tug her hand lower. That never worked out, you’d tried a few times before, seemingly underestimating her strength to hold her own against you. “Elle, please,” you beg, voice filled with a saccharine sweetness that almost makes your lover give in. “Need you to touch me, need your fingers...”

“Yeah? There’s a lot of things I can do with my fingers, sweet girl, care to be more specific?” Her voice like a siren call as her thumb rubs soft circles against your bare hip. 

“In-inside me, please Elle,” you all but whimper, reduced to a whiny mess within mere minutes. 

Elle’s lips press to the side of your head, just below your hairline. “There’s my good girl, let me take care of you, yeah?” 

Soft kisses lead a path down the side of your jaw to your neck, her tongue darting out to lick a stripe across your throat as her fingers dip between your thighs. Using her free hand to hold your legs open, she pulls a finger through your soaked folds. She groans as she gathers your slick on the pads of her fingers. 

Your hips buck as she brushes over your clit, just soft enough to make your legs quiver. “Please don’t tease… need you… please.”

Elle’s eyes soften with mock sympathy as she pouts and bats her eyes at you. “What did I just say, angel?” gentle lips make purchase near your own, kissing the side of your mouth, just light enough you swear you could’ve missed it had your body not been so reactive to everything. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t i?” 

Locking eyes with your own, her fingers trace small circles against your swollen clit, drawing airy moans from your throat. Her eyes narrow, darkening to that rich shade of brown you oh so loved. Especially when she had you like this—sprawled out and clinging to her like your lifeline. 

“So so pretty,” she whispers against your lips, finally pressing her own against yours. Your tongue darts out to lick into her mouth, smiling sweetly when you taste her toothpaste. Her lips glide against yours with nothing but tenderness, parting slightly to allow your tongue entrance. 

Elle’s fingers slip even further down, dipping the tip of her index finger into your soaked hole. She presses her finger in with ease, swallowing your breathy moans as her lips continue to hold your own. Her thumb works against your clit as her middle finger slinks in, scissoring you open as her fingers pump in and out of your slick hole. 

“C’mon, baby, you gonna cum for me?” her nose brushes your own, leaving open-mouthed kisses across the entirety of your face. Her fingers drive into you with purpose, her thumb still circling your clit, faster now. 

Arching up into her hold, you grab at her free hand, intertwining your fingers. You hold your hand against your chest, squeezing her own as you feel your walls begin to clamp around her digits. “Don’t stop, please, m so close.” She nods, continuing to suck marks into your neck. You tug against her hand. “Wanna see you.”

Her honeyed-eyes meet yours, and that’s when you feel it. Your lips part as your stomach clenches with that familiar feeling, your thighs fastening around her forearm as she rides out your high. Her fingers continuing the same thrusting motion, much gentler this time. 

When she feels you twitch against her palm, she pulls her hand away, patting your cunt softly before taking it out from your shorts and pressing her fingers to your bottom lip. Without hesitation, you draw them into your mouth, suckling round them, tasting your cum mixed with the sweet aroma of Elle. 

After a few moments, she takes them from your lips, wiping the excess against her shirt before pulling you to her chest and wrapping her arms around you securely. “My sweet girl, feeling better, honey?” she whispers, not daring to raise her voice as if to disturb the peaceful bubble you’d created. 

You let out a soft laugh, smiling as you nuzzle further into her warm embrace. “Mhm, much better.” You picture the soft grin on her face before you feel it against the top of your head. She whispers sweet praise into your ears as your eyes flutter shut for the last time tonight. 

These types of nights with Elle were one of the few things in life you’d never take for granted. The others being the way her lips curled up whenever you worried you’d rambled a little too much, or the way her eyes seemed to open up around you, as if she wanted you to see through her. 

But your favourite of all was that sweet, floral scent she’d leave behind on your pillow whenever she stayed multiple nights in a row. You hoped, that one day, that scent would linger forever, that you’d never have to worry about it disappearing after laundry day. It would simply return back, exactly the way it was meant to be.

last minute tags cause i forgot oops; @thegloryofliterature @gubesdini @reidsstargirl @dr-sunshinereid @spencellelvrr

[venusbyline]

reading or writing dirty smut in public transport is so embarrassing, i understand you hahahaha it's like opening Twitter timeline in public and being shocked by a random nude

Thrusts ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 23, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Elle Greenaway x girlfriend!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: orgasm denial + strap-on

— summary: You feel insecure and jealous when you see Elle teasing you with Morgan. However, she apologizes very well by buying a gift for your dating anniversary.

— word count: 1.0k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 23rd day, female!reader, girlfriend!Elle, shy!reader, sassy!Elle, orgasm denial, strap-on, edging play, cowgirl position, praise kink, vaginal sex, breast worship, nipple play, nipple licking, large cock (strap-on), cock worship (strap-on), experimentalist!reader, experimentalist!Elle, jealously, argument, teasing, relationship issues, light corruption kink, dumbification, reader is a member of the BAU, past Elle Greenaway x Derek Morgan, inexperienced/innocent!reader, bisexual!Elle, lesbian!reader, dom!Elle, sub!reader. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

"You look so fucking hot right now, princess...” Elle smirked with her hands on your ass as you whimpered, your breasts shaking with each ride on top of her fake cock.

Elle had bought a strap-on as a gift for your first dating anniversary. You never tested something like this yet, despite both of you being very eager into that. Elle was worried about suggesting that new experience, ever since last week, when she joked with Morgan about the only unlucky thing about dating a woman was that she no longer knew what it felt like to cum around a good thick cock.

It was just supposed to be a harmless joke, but it sounded extremely stupid after she realized your discomfort. Not only had she mocked you, as if something important was missing during your relationship, but she also joked about the topic directly with Morgan. You already knew that they had been casually involved a few times before you and Elle dated, and you always tried to take it as a normal thing, since Morgan was also one of your best friends and you trusted him. After all, their affair was just the past.

However, you could not help but feel uncomfortable and jealous. Elle noticed your thoughts and did not know how to apologize. She wanted to say it was just a stupid joke and actually you were the best sex of her whole life. She did not care about stupid penises if she already had your pretty pussy for her to taste whenever she wanted. Anyway, she was angry with herself for hurting your feelings and making you insecure, so she chose the silence.

No explanations or apologies made everything more awkward between you two and your relationship cooled. Both of you focused more on the cases and preferred to spend your free time resting rather than having sex, which was very unusual.

Until your long-awaited anniversary arrived. When Elle decided to buy a strap-on, she thought she would like seeing you using that, she thought she would like to feel a cock inside her again, even if it was made of rubber. But the moment your eyes lit up when she showed you the box, she knew she did not want to be fucked by you. She wanted to fuck you.

Your movements were soft at first. You were much shyer than Elle and you lost your virginity to her a few days before your relationship finally became official. So there were countless things to you experience yet. And one of them was the fact that you had never been fucked by a cock before, be it fake or real.

Then, when you were riding Elle, she stroked your hair, trying to soothe your discomfort as your pussy still got used to the intrusion and the new movements. Even though that cock was not real, Elle could practically feel your tight walls crushing it. Her fingers were slender and long and she never hesitated to put two or three inside you, sometimes even four, but choosing such a big and thick strap-on seemed to tear you in half.

"Hurts a lot?" Elle asked with a lovely smile, her hands moving down to your waist to help you continue riding her, but you whimpered, preventing her from cooperating.

"S-Stop! I can do it myself!" You hissed like a stubborn child and Elle chuckled, nodding and crossing her arms behind her head, just lying on the bed again and watching you on top of her lap. The view she had was perfect. Your eyes closed, your head arched back, lips parted and your breasts perked up. Damn...she wanted so badly to fuck the middle of your breasts with that cock later.

After you refused her touches, Elle bit her lip and removed her arms from under her head and moved them up to her own breasts, squeezing the large mounds and playing with the nipples, before moving her hips upward, the unexpected thrust making you scream in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your eyes opened and you whimpered at the sight of Elle giving you that teasing look while she was playing with her own body. "D-don't fucking do that again!" You tried to sound threatening, but Elle rolled her eyes, arching an eyebrow before thrusting a second time. And then a third. A fourth. A fifth...

Your eyes rolled back into your head at the deep fucking, the big cock filling you completely and hurting your sensitive core, but with a delightful way. You knew you were about to cum so quickly, maybe it was because of the resentment still built up in your mind, or maybe it was due to your pussy already being too wet and dripping before you even sat down on the strap-on.

Elle knew this too, because as soon as she made the sixth and seventh thrusts, she simply stopped, stopping your growing orgasm and smirking at the sight of you trembling, your shaky and weak legs giving out in despair, making you fall on top of her body. Elle loved denying your orgasms, you always came much better when she prolonged it all. "Not yet, princess." Elle scoffed, taking advantage of your sudden brainless for a moment so she could fuck you slowly, with soft movements, enjoying how you whimpered, your flushed face buried between her large breasts, your tongue licking her light brown nipples to pleasure her too, even though she was already enjoying herself just watching you whining and drooling while her cock moving in and out of you.

"My good girl... Always so good to me. Milking my cock and whimpering like a cute slut, desperate to cum soon around me." At that moment, Elle Greenaway was sure that she would never miss being fucked by a man. Now she would always rather fuck you with her strap-on and deny you as many orgasms as you could handle, until you finally let go and squirt all over her body at the end of the night.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[badathumanemotions]

i see an elle greenaway x reader praise kink fic in ur future... pretty please 🙌🏻🙌🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

In Her Hands

Elle Greenaway x FemReader

MDNI MasterList Category: Smut CW: Smut, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Fingering, Dom Elle, Sub Reader, Strap On, Face Fucking, Vaginal Sex, Squirting, Aftercare. WC: 6,865

Not Proof Read

You’ve been quieter than usual lately. Not exactly withdrawn—you're still present, still responsive—but there’s a faint shadow over you that you can’t quite shake. Elle notices, of course. She always does. It’s in the way her sharp eyes study you when she thinks you’re not paying attention, the subtle tilt of her head as she gauges your mood.

“Hey,” she calls from the kitchen, where she’s been rifling through the cabinets for a snack. “Come here.”

You glance up from your spot on the couch, a flicker of hesitation passing through you. But there’s something about her tone, warm yet firm, that makes you obey without question.

When you approach, Elle turns to lean casually against the counter, her arms crossing as her gaze locks onto yours. “What’s going on with you?” she asks, voice low but insistent.

“I’m fine,” you reply automatically, but you know the answer won’t satisfy her.

Elle raises an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Try again.”

Your shoulders sag slightly, and you sigh. “I don’t know. I’m just… off, I guess. Nothing’s wrong, but I feel kind of stuck.”

Elle uncrosses her arms, stepping closer until she’s well within your space, her presence grounding. She lifts a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, the gentleness of the gesture making your chest tighten.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” she says softly, her voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket. “I’m here for you.”

Her words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, and you feel your throat tighten. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

Elle’s hand moves to your cheek, her thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line along your jaw. “Good girl,” she murmurs, the praise sinking into you like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

She pauses, studying your face for a moment longer, before her tone shifts ever so slightly. “Bedroom. Now,” she orders, her voice firm but calm. “Get into resting position.”

You hesitate only briefly, the weight of her command settling over you in a way that makes it easier to move, easier to breathe. You nod, turning on your heel and heading to the bedroom. The familiar routine grounds you, even as the faint shadow of your mood lingers. By the time you’re settled—knees on the bed, undressed hands resting lightly on your bare thighs, head bowed—Elle is there, her presence steady and reassuring.

“That’s my good girl,” she murmurs from the doorway, and even before she steps closer, you feel yourself beginning to let go.

Elle walks around the room, her footsteps measured and precise. You listen to the rustle of fabric and the soft click of the dresser drawer opening and closing, each sound echoing in the quiet space. You catch glimpses of her out of the corner of your eye—the curve of her hip as she bends to grab something. Your heart races at the sight, a mix of anticipation and nerves. She’s so calm, so focused, and you know she’s going to take care of you.

Finally, she settles at the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly with her weight. You feel her eyes on you, a gentle pressure that makes you want to melt into the sheets. You resist the urge to look up, instead keeping your gaze down, breathing in the scent of her perfume as it fills the space.

Elle starts to undress, peeling away her layers with the grace of a dancer. Her shirt comes off first, revealing the smooth expanse of her stomach, the sharp angles of her collarbones. You can’t help but admire the way the light plays across her skin, casting shadows that make your mouth water. Her pants follow, and she stands in her underwear, giving you a brief glimpse of the curves of her thighs before she continues.

Her bra comes next, the clasp unhooking with a quiet snap. She shrugs it off, her breasts bouncing slightly with the motion. You swallow hard, your eyes tracing the path of the fabric as it falls away. Her panties are the last to go, sliding down her legs to pool around her ankles. She steps out of them with a practiced grace, leaving herself completely exposed.

Elle pads over to the bed, her naked skin gliding against the cool sheets. She sits against the headboard, her legs stretching out in front of her, and you can’t help but try to sneak glances. She’s a vision—beautiful and powerful and utterly in control. She’s a storm made flesh, and you’re the helpless ship caught in her path.

Currently you're facing away from her, but her words cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter. "Turn around," she orders, and you can feel the heat of her gaze on your back. You do as you're told, swivelling on the bed so that you're kneeling and facing her. Your heart thumps in your chest as you await her next instruction, the anticipation almost unbearable.

Elle's hand rests on her inner thigh, fingers drumming lightly on her skin. "Come here," she says, her voice a velvet caress that sends a shiver down your spine. You lean forward, drawn to her by an invisible thread, and place a tentative kiss to the spot she's indicated. She sighs, her hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, guiding you closer. You press your lips against her thigh, feeling the warmth of her body, the gentle throb of her pulse beneath your mouth.

Her scent surrounds you—sweet and spicy, a heady mix that makes your senses swirl. You breathe her in as you kiss higher, the soft skin of her inner thigh giving way to the dampness of her sex. She spreads her legs wider, allowing you better access, and you don't need to be told what to do next. You've been here before, lost in this sweet oblivion where all your troubles seem to melt away. Your tongue flicks out, tasting her, and she gasps, her fingers cupping that back of your head. "That's it, sweet girl," she praises.

You take your time, lapping at her pussy with slow, deliberate strokes. You're not just performing an act; you're worshipping her, giving her the release she craves, and in doing so, finding your own. Her flavour is intoxicating, making you greedy for more. You nuzzle against her, your nose brushing her clit, making her squirm. She's so wet, so ready, and the knowledge sends a thrill through you. You circle her entrance with the tip of your tongue, teasing, before delving in deeper.

Elle's breath hitches, her thighs tightening around your shoulders. You can feel her tension building, the way her body responds to every touch, every caress. It's like playing a fine instrument, knowing just when to press harder, when to ease up. You explore her with an intensity that leaves no room for thought, no room for doubt. You're lost in the slick heat of her, the way she arches into you when you hit just the right spot. Her hand is in your hair now, guiding you, urging you on. You moan against her, the vibration sending another ripple of pleasure through her body.

"Fuck," she groans out. "Your mouth feels so good, sweet heart."

Elle's praise is like a drug, each word a hit that sends warmth spiralling through you. You redouble your efforts, eager to hear more. Her thighs are trembling now, her grip in your hair tightening, but not painfully. Just enough to remind you who's in charge, who you're serving. You revel in it, the feeling of her pleasure becoming your own.

As your tongue continues to work its magic, you slowly introduce your fingers into the mix. Your index and middle digit slip inside her easily, lubricated by her desire. You curl them, pressing against her g-spot with a gentle firmness, and she jolts with a sharp inhale. You can feel her inner walls flutter around your digits, her body begging for more. You start to pump them in and out, matching the rhythm of your tongue's strokes, and she moans, her hips rising to meet your hand.

Her praise turns to urgent whispers, her voice strained with pleasure. "Faster, baby. Yes, just like that." Her hand is still in your hair, but her grip has turned into a fist, tugging you closer as if she can't get enough. The room is filled with the sounds of your ministrations—the wet, sucking noises of your mouth, the soft, rhythmic cries that fall from her lips, and the rustle of the sheets as she writhes beneath you.

Your tongue swirls around her clit in a relentless dance, the tip of it flicking rapidly like a tiny flame against her most sensitive spot. She responds with a shudder, her breaths coming in shallow pants that echo in the quiet room. Her legs tighten around you, her muscles tensing with each pass, and you can feel the first tremors of her climax beginning to build.

Then, you decide to switch it up, taking her clit between your lips and applying suction. It's a sudden, intense sensation that makes her arch off the bed, her hand in your hair tightening almost painfully. She moans your name, the sound deep and needy, and it sends a thrill through you. You keep up the steady rhythm of your fingers while your mouth worships her clit.

Elle’s praise turns into a litany of sweet nothings and endearments that float down to you, a gentle rain of words that only serve to stoke the fire in your belly. "Good girl," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "So perfect, so obedient." Each word is a caress, a gentle stroke of validation. You're doing this for her, making her feel this way, and it's the most incredible feeling in the world.

Her breath hitches as you add a third finger, filling her completely. She's so tight, so warm, and the way she's panting and wriggling against you is always like nothing you've ever experienced. You suck harder, your cheeks hollowing as you give her everything you have. "Yes," she moans, the word barely audible. "Just like that."

You can feel it in the way her muscles clench around your fingers, in the way she's bucking her hips up to meet your mouth. So you focus, really focus, on her g-spot. It's a delicate dance, one you've practiced so many times before. You know the exact angle, the exact pressure, the exact speed that will send her over the edge. And you give it to her.

Her breath comes in ragged gasps now, her nails digging into your shoulders. The sounds she makes are raw and primal, and they're music to your ears. You've always loved this moment, when you know you're about to take her apart. And you do it with a single-mindedness that borders on obsession.

You curl your fingers inside her, pressing and stroking in that sweet spot that makes her legs shake. The pad of your thumb finds her clit, circling it with feather-light precision. The combination is electric, and you can see her body tense with the effort of holding back. She's so close, so close, and you're the one who's going to push her over the edge.

Elle's praise turns into a series of incoherent sounds, her breath hitching and stuttering. Her hips buck up to meet your hand, and you can feel the tension in her thighs, the way her toes are curling. Her moans grow louder, more insistent, and you know you're hitting all the right notes. You keep up the pressure, your own excitement building with each whimper and gasp that falls from her lips.

And then, with a cry that shakes the very air in the room, she comes. Her body convulses, her muscles spasming around your fingers. You can feel her walls pulsing, the waves of her orgasm washing over you, and you keep going, riding out the storm. Her nails dig into your skin, but the pain is distant, a mere afterthought.

You watch her face, the way it contorts with pleasure, the way her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth opens on a silent scream. It's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen, and it's all because of you. You've made this happen, brought her to this place of ecstasy. And as her body shudders and relaxes, you finally release her clit with a soft pop, lapping up the juices that spill out of her.

Elle's hand slides from your hair to your cheek, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip, glistening from her arousal. "Look at me," she whispers, her voice a gentle command that you can't resist. You lift your gaze, meeting her eyes that are hazy with pleasure. They're filled with something that makes your heart race even faster—pride, love, a fierce possessiveness that sends heat straight to your core.

"So beautiful," she murmurs, her voice still hoarse from her climax. "So obedient, so eager to please." Her praise is a balm to your soul, a warm embrace that fills the void that's been there for days. You lean into her touch, craving more of her words, more of her approval.

Elle shifts on the bed, her body moving with a grace that seems almost otherworldly. "Lay down," she says, her voice a gentle command. You move without thought, lying on your back and looking up at her. She stands over you, a goddess of passion, her eyes dark with desire.

"Good girl," she murmurs, her hand reaching out to trace the line of your body from your neck to your thigh. "Now, hold the headboard for me, baby. And don't let go, no matter what."

You stretch your arms up, your fingers wrapping around the cool metal bars of the headboard. The position arches your back and lifts your breasts, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. But you don't mind; you want to give her everything she wants. You want to feel her touch, to hear her praise.

Elle starts stroking the silicone harness that she’s just stepped into with a look of pure concentration. You can't help but watch, your eyes locked on the way her fingers glide over the smooth, lifelike material, adjusting it to fit her perfectly. The sight of her, so confident and in control, sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

Then she straddles your torso, her thighs pressing against your chest, and the tip of the dildo hovers above your mouth. You don't need her to tell you what to do next; the anticipation is a silent instruction. You open your mouth and let your tongue dart out, swiping along the silky surface of the toy. It's cool against your tongue, complimenting the heat building within you.

Elle’s eyes light up, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Very good," she praises, and it's like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Anticipating my needs is what makes you such a treasure." Her voice is a purr, a sweet, seductive melody that resonates deep within you. You can feel the warmth of her praise seep into your skin, filling you with a sense of pride that swells your chest.

"Now, stick your tongue out," she commands, her voice taking on an edge of excitement. You obey without hesitation, extending your tongue like a good submissive presenting itself to its master.

Elle lowers the dildo, the tip grazing the softness of your tongue, and then slides it in, filling your mouth with a gentle pressure. You moan around the toy, the sound muffled but clear. She's so in sync with you, her movements slow and deliberate, allowing you to get used to the intrusion. You can feel the weight of it, the way it stretches your lips around the base.

Her praise comes in a steady stream, her voice a sweet symphony of approval. "That's it," she whispers, "Trust me." And you do, implicitly. You trust her to guide you through this, to take you to that place where pain and pleasure intersect and become indistinguishable.

Elle's grip on the base of the dildo tightens, and she starts to move it in and out of your mouth with more purpose. The sensation is strange but not unpleasant, and you find yourself relaxing into it, your body adapting to the new rhythm. The trust you have in her is unshakeable; it's the foundation upon which this entire dynamic is built. You know she'd never push you too far, never take you to a place you couldn't handle.

Her praise is like a warm embrace, enveloping you in a cocoon of safety. "Such a good girl," she whispers, her eyes never leaving yours. "So trusting, so eager to serve." Each word is a sweet caress, a gentle reminder that you're exactly where you're meant to be. And as she continues to glide the dildo in and out of your mouth, you can feel yourself growing wetter, your body responding to the power she wields over you.

Elle withdraws the dildo, the coolness of it leaving your mouth feeling empty, craving more. She moves gracefully, positioning herself between your legs. You can feel the heat of her, so close and yet so far. She's like a flame, dancing just out of reach, and you're the moth, desperate to get closer.

Her hand trails down your body, the pads of her fingertips lighting a path of goosebumps across your stomach. When she reaches your pussy, she pauses, her thumb resting lightly on your clit. The anticipation is agonizing, the pressure building, until finally—oh, finally—she teases you with the tip of the dildo. It's a gentle touch, almost feather-light, but it's enough to make your hips buck up into the air.

"Look how wet you are," she coos, her voice dripping with arousal. "All for me."

Elle's hand is like a brand against your skin, her thumb pressing harder on your clit. The dildo lingers at your entrance, the anticipation of its invasion making you squirm beneath her touch. You can feel the slickness of your own desire, the ache growing with every shallow thrust she gives you. She's not pushing it inside yet, not quite. She's toying with you, letting you feel the weight of it, the promise of what's to come.

The wet slide of the silicone against your clit is heavenly, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You moan out, the sound a blend of relief and desperation. It's a sweet torment, one that makes your toes curl and your grip on the headboard tighten. Each pass of the dildo is a gentle promise of the storm to come, and you arch your back, silently begging for more.

Elle leans down, her breath hot against your ear. "Beg me to fuck you," she whispers, the words a seductive challenge that makes your insides quiver. "I want to hear how pretty you sound when you beg."

You whimper, your voice a soft, needy sound that fills the room. "Please, Elle," you whimper, the words slipping from your lips like a sweet surrender. "Fuck me, I need it."

Elle chuckles, the sound low and throaty, filled with dark amusement. "You can do better than that, sweet girl."

You swallow hard, your voice shaking with desire as you try again. "Please, Elle," you whine, your voice rising in pitch. "Please, I need it so badly. Fuck me, please, I'll be such a good girl for you."

Her eyes light up with a predatory glint, and she smiles, a curve of her lips that promises everything and nothing. "That's more like it," she says, and then, without warning, she thrusts into you.

The sudden fullness makes you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as your body adjusts to the intrusion. But it's not painful, not really. It's a stretch, a pressure that makes you feel so incredibly alive, so incredibly present in the moment. Elle starts to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensuous rhythm that has your insides clenching around the dildo. Your fingers tighten around the headboard, knuckles white with the effort of holding on, just as she instructed.

The steady pace she sets is perfect, building the tension in your body with each thrust. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to her dominance, to the way she's claiming you so completely. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and her murmurs of pleasure.

"You're taking my cock so well, baby," she praises, her voice low and sultry. The words resonate through you, a declaration of ownership that thrills you. You whimper, your hips rising to meet her, eager to take all of her.

Her thrusts grow harder, more demanding, and you can't help but be transfixed by the sight of her breasts jiggling wildly with each movement. They're like two delicious peaches, bouncing with an allure that has you aching to taste them. You feel the urge to reach out, to cup their softness in your hands, but you remember her order to hold the headboard. The restraint only adds to the intensity of the moment, a silent testament to your obedience.

Elle's praise turns into a steady stream of sweet nothings and commands, guiding you through the rising tide of pleasure. "Good girl," she purred. "You're doing so well, baby. Take it all for me."

Her hand moves to your chest, her fingers brushing against your sensitive nipples. You gasp around the toy, the sudden sensation makes you gasp. She chuckles, the sound low and dark, and starts to toy with you in earnest. Her thumbs flick over the tight buds, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

Each pinch sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your back arch off the bed. You can feel your pussy clench around the dildo, eager for more, and you know she notices. She keeps her rhythm steady, her hips never pausing in their dance as she watches you with a hunger that's almost frightening. But you're not scared; you're alive, more alive than you've felt in weeks.

And then, she does something that steals the breath from your lungs. She bends down, her hair brushing against your skin like a soft caress, and envelops one of your nipples with her mouth. Her tongue flicks across the sensitive bud, and the sensation sends a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core.

Her teeth graze your skin, the slight pain only serving to heighten the pleasure. She nibbles, she sucks, and all the while, her hips keep moving, the toy sliding in and out of you with a rhythm that's driving you wild.

With her other hand, she reaches for your other breast, giving it the same loving attention. Her fingers squeeze and massage the soft mound, rolling your nipple between her thumb and forefinger. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, but you don't want her to stop. You never want her to stop.

Elle's eyes never leave yours, a silent communication that's more intimate than any words could ever be. You can see the hunger in them, the need, and it only fuels your own desire. She's like a wild animal, a predator stalking its prey, and you're the helpless creature caught in her gaze.

Her hands move from your breasts to your hips, gripping you firmly as she starts to move faster. The dildo slams into you now, the earlier gentleness replaced by a fierce urgency that has your body singing with pleasure. Each thrust hits that perfect spot inside you, the one that makes your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.

"Fuck, baby," Elle grunts. "I love seeing you like this—so open, so desperate for it."

Her words are like a match to the kindling of your desire. You can feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling tight in your belly. Each stroke of the dildo feels like it's reaching deeper inside you, unravelling the knots of stress that have held you hostage. Her praise is like a sweet, warm embrace, wrapping around you and holding you tight as the storm inside you starts to crescendo.

Elle's eyes never leave yours, her gaze a fiery brand that sears into your soul. She's so focused, so determined to give you exactly what you need. And you need this—the feel of her in control, the sound of her voice praising you, the way she takes you apart and puts you back together with each thrust of her hips.

Your body is slick with arousal, your juices coating the dildo and dripping down onto the bed. It's a testament to how much you crave her, how desperate you are for her touch. You're so wet for her, your pussy practically weeping with need, and it's all she can do to keep the toy from slipping out. She groans, her eyes darkening as she watches the slickness of the dildo slide in and out of your tight, eager cunt.

"You're so fucking wet," she murmurs, the words a reverent chant that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's like you're begging for it."

Her grip on your hips tightens, her nails digging into your skin. It's a delicious bite of pain that grounds you in reality, a stark contrast to the pleasure that's threatening to consume you. You whine, a desperate, needy sound that fills the room, and she responds by slamming the dildo into you harder.

The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful. But it's a sweet, exquisite agony that you can't get enough of. You can feel your orgasm building, a tsunami that's about to crash down on you, and all you can do is hold on for the ride.

Elle's thrusts grow more demanding, the dildo slamming into you with a force that has your whole body rocking against the bed. She's lost in the moment, her eyes glazed over with lust as she watches your face contort with pleasure. You can feel the headboard shaking with each impact, the metal bars biting into your palms as you hold on for dear life.

Her breathing is ragged now, her chest heaving with exertion as she drives the toy deeper, harder, faster. The sound of it filling you up is like a sweet symphony, a crescendo that's building to a mind-shattering climax. You're so close, so incredibly close, your entire being focused on the sensation of her fucking you into oblivion.

Elle’s eyes bore into yours, her pupils blown wide with need. "Cum for me," she growls, the command a guttural demand that resonates through your very soul. "Let me feel you come all over my cock."

You're so close, so unbearably close. The pressure in your belly is like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. You whimper, your eyes fluttering shut as you try to hold on. But then she says it again, her voice a warm caress that wraps around your senses. "You look so gorgeous when you cum, baby."

The words are like a spell, breaking the last of your resistance. You feel yourself go over the edge, your body shaking with the force of your release. Your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and making your muscles spasm uncontrollably. You can feel your pussy clench around the dildo, your juices coating it in a slick sheen.

That's it, sweet girl," she murmurs. "So beautiful, so perfect."

You lay there, panting and trembling, trying to regain your composure. The dildo is still lodged inside you, a constant reminder of the pleasure she's given you. But it's not over yet; she hasn't had her fill.

Elle's voice is a gentle command, bringing you back to reality. "Baby," she says, her tone a soft caress that makes your stomach flip. "Can you show me how pretty you look bouncing on my cock?"

You blink up at her, your eyes still glazed with pleasure, and nod. You're eager to obey, eager to show her just how much she owns you. With a strength that surprises you, you lift your hips, the dildo sliding out of you with a wet sound You feel empty without it, but the promise in her eyes is enough to keep you going.

Elle positions herself at the edge of the bed, her legs spread wide to accommodate you. She guides you onto her lap, the toy still strapped to her hips, and you straddle her, your knees sinking into the plush mattress. You feel the head of the dildo nudge against your entrance, and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the sensation that follows.

Her eyes never leave yours as you lower yourself onto her, taking the length of it in one slow, agonizing descent. You gasp as it fills you completely, the fullness making you feel so utterly claimed. "Look at me," she says, her voice a gentle command, and you do, your gaze locking onto hers as you start to move.

Your hips rock in time with hers, her praise a constant background melody that spurs you on. "Good girl," she murmurs, her eyes shining with pride. "So obedient for me." Each word is like a soft caress, a sweet reward for your submission. You can feel the power of her praise, the way it fuels your movements, the way it makes you want to do anything, be anything, just to hear her say it again.

You brace your hands on her shoulders, getting the right leverage to slam down harder onto the dildo. The headboard creaks in protest, but you don't care. The only thing that matters is the delicious friction, the feeling of her cock stretching you, filling you up so completely that you can't even remember your own name. It's like you're in a trance, lost in the rhythm of your bodies moving together.

Elle's hands are everywhere—on your hips, your ass, your breasts, her nails digging into your skin, guiding you, pushing you to go faster, harder. You can feel the muscles in your thighs start to burn, but you don't stop. You can't. The look on her face is too intoxicating—the way her eyes are hooded with desire, the way her teeth are bared in a feral grin.

"Fuck, I love seeing you like this," she groans, her voice a hoarse whisper that sends shivers down your spine. And you know what she means. You see it in the way she looks at you—like you're a masterpiece, a living, breathing work of art.

Her hands move to your waist, guiding you faster, harder, her grip tightening as she feels your orgasm building. You can see the hunger in her eyes, the way they devour you, like she's dying to get closer. And you want to give her everything, to let her see every part of you, to have every inch of you.

Elle’s gaze drops to your chest, where your breasts bounce with each movement, the sight of your hardened nipples peaking with arousal. "Goddamn, baby," she murmurs, her voice filled with lust. "Your tits are so fucking perfect."

Her thumbs graze the sensitive peaks, and you gasp, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your already-sensitive body. She smiles up at you, that knowing smirk that says she owns you, and starts to tweak them gently. The pain is exquisite, a sweet agony that has you riding her even harder, chasing the high of her touch.

"You drive me crazy, sweet girl," she says, her voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. "The way you move on my cock, the sounds you make—it's all I can think about."

You can't help but lean your head back and moan out, the pleasure coursing through your veins like liquid fire. The move exposes your throat, and Elle takes the opportunity without hesitation. Her mouth is on you, biting and kissing along the sensitive line of your neck. You feel the sharp sting of her teeth, the gentle suction of her kisses, and it's all you can do to keep from screaming.

Elle's hands are like a vice around your hips, holding you in place as she starts to thrust up into you, meeting your movements with an intensity that steals your breath. You can feel the dildo rubbing against that magical spot inside, the one that makes your vision swim and your legs go weak. Each time it hits just right, you feel a jolt of pleasure so intense it's like lightning shooting through you.

Your moans become cries, the sound raw and unbridled as you get closer and closer to the edge. She knows it; you can see it in the way her eyes darken, in the way her grip tightens, in the way she starts to pant with excitement. It's like you're both chasing a high that's just out of reach, and the thrill of it is intoxicating.

Elle's movements become more urgent, her hips bucking up to meet yours, her breaths coming in sharp gasps. "You're going to cum for me," she says, her voice a mix of command and question. "Aren't you, baby?"

You nod, unable to form words as the pleasure builds within you. She can see it in every line of your body, in every gasp and whine that escapes your lips. "Cum for me," she whispers, "cum on my cock."

And then it happens. Your pussy clenches around the dildo, and you feel the warmth of your juices spilling out and soaking the bed beneath you. You cry out, your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm takes over. It's like a dam breaking, the release so intense it feels like it's ripping you apart at the seams.

Elle's praise turns to a series of guttural moans as she watches you shatter in her arms. Her grip on your hips tightens, her nails digging into your flesh, as if to keep you there, to claim you as hers. "Fuck," she whispers, her voice thick with lust. "So beautiful."

As your climax subsides, you collapse against her, your body boneless and pliant. You're a ragdoll in her arms, utterly spent and utterly content. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you closer as she gently strokes your back, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that only serve to make your heart flutter.

"You did so good for me, baby," she says, her voice a soft caress that makes you melt. "I'm so proud of you."

With a gentle ease, she shifts your position, moving you so that you're laying back against the pillows. Your legs are spread wide, the dildo still lodged inside you, and she's kneeling between your thighs. She adjusts it slightly, the new angle making you gasp. "Relax," she murmurs, her thumbs tracing circles on the insides of your thighs. "Let me take care of you now."

Her movements are deliberate, almost ceremonial as she pulls her hips back slowly, withdrawing the dildo from your clenching pussy. The feeling of emptiness is stark, a stark contrast to the fullness that had you panting for more. But you trust her, you trust the way she's looking at you, with such care and possession.

Elle stands up, her body a work of art bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. You watch, your eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction, as she walks to the adjoining bathroom. She returns with a warm, damp washcloth, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

Kneeling beside you, she lifts the washcloth and gently wipes the beads of sweat from your forehead. The coolness is soothing against your flushed skin, the tender touch of the cloth a sweet relief. You sigh, your eyes drifting closed as she continues her ministrations. It's a simple act, but it speaks volumes of her care for you.

Moving down to your neck and chest, she traces the path of your collarbone, her touch feather-light as she cleans the remnants of your passion from your skin. Each stroke of the washcloth feels like a gentle caress, a tender promise that she's here, that she's not going anywhere. You can't help but shiver at the coolness against your overheated flesh.

"You were so good for me," she repeats, her voice a warm whisper. "Absolutely perfect, baby."

Elle shifts closer and gently presses the damp washcloth between your thighs. The soft fabric glides over your sensitive skin, tenderly wiping away the sticky evidence of your passion. You quiver under her touch, the gentle strokes sending aftershocks through your body. She's thorough, taking her time to clean every inch of you, as if worshipping you.

With a final stroke, she pulls the washcloth away, then rises to her feet. She walks to the bathroom, her hips swaying with the grace of a panther that's claimed its territory. She sets the washcloth aside and returns with a glass of water. "Here, sweetheart," she says, her voice filled with a tenderness that belies the intensity of moments prior. She holds the glass to your lips, watching you with a gentle concern that makes your heart flutter.

"Can you drink some water for me?" she asks, her hand brushing your cheek. You take a sip, the cool liquid sliding down your throat like a balm. It's a simple act of care, one that feels almost holy in the aftermath of such fiery passion.

Elle sets the glass aside and looks at you, her eyes a soft warmth that belies the fiery intensity of moments ago. "Good girl," she murmurs, her voice a gentle caress. The words send a shiver of pleasure through you.

Her hand moves to your face, her thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone before sliding down to your lips. She tilts your chin up, and you meet her gaze, the question in her eyes unspoken but clear. "What do you need, baby?" she whispers, her voice a warm caress. "Do you want me to run the tub?"

For a moment, you're torn. The thought of being surrounded by warm water, of her gentle touch and soothing words is tempting. But you know what you truly crave right now. "Maybe later," you murmur, your voice barely audible. "Right now, can you just hold me?"

The question hangs in the air, a silent plea that she hears loud and clear. Without a word, Elle climbs onto the bed, sliding in beside you and wrapping her arms around your waist. Her body is warm, her skin sticky with sweat, and it feels like home. She pulls you close, your back pressed against her chest, your legs tangled with hers.

Elle's fingers trail lazily over your arm, her touch slow and deliberate, as if she’s memorizing every inch of you. She holds you close, your back pressed against her chest, her warmth seeping into you.

“Sweet girl,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. “You were so good for me tonight.”

The words send a warmth through you that has nothing to do with body heat. You shift slightly, letting yourself sink further into her embrace, craving more of her touch, more of her voice.

She notices, of course. Elle always notices. Her arms tighten around you, holding you firmly against her. It’s not restricting, just grounding—like she’s silently reminding you that she’s here, that you’re safe.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your temple. “The way you listen, the way you trust me… it means everything.”

You exhale, your heart swelling at her words. She doesn’t rush you to respond, doesn’t need you to. She just keeps holding you, her touch soft, her praise steady.

“You take care of everyone else,” Elle continues, her voice a quiet lull. “But right now? You’re mine to take care of. My sweet girl.”

You shiver at the possessiveness in her tone, at the tenderness that coats every word.

She shifts, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your neck. “Let me take care of you,” she murmurs. “Let me love you.”

The weight of her words settles over you, warm and safe. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and she tightens her hold around you once more, as if to prove she’s not going anywhere.

“That’s my good girl,” Elle praises, her voice full of pride. “Just rest, sweetheart. You’re safe with me.”

And you believe her. Completely. The warmth of her body, the steady rise and fall of her chest against your back, the quiet strength in the way she holds you—it’s enough to melt away every lingering doubt, every ounce of heaviness that had clung to you.

A deep breath in. A slow exhale.

You close your eyes, letting yourself be wrapped in her care, her presence, her love.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel light.

[natti-ice]

BAU women p links!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

18+ minors do not interact or click the links! Each link contains porn. All links are from twitter. You must be logged into Twitter for the links to open!

all links are WLW

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Emily Prentiss

Dom!Emily using her vibrator on you while you rub her clit

taking good care of your sweet pussy

riding your face in the shower

Emily showing you how real women ride dick

visiting her on a case to let her fuck your brains out

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Elle Greenaway

taking a pit stop to have a little taste of Elle

older!Elle teaching you how to take her strap

public sex at the beach

passionate missionary after being apart for so long

tending to Elle’s needy little pussy

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Jennifer Jareau

eating Jennifer out on her boat on a hot summer day

Jennifer teasing you through your panties

both of you using your favorite vibrator at the same time

girl’s trip escalates quickly once you’re in the hotel room

making out with the milf next door

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Tara Lewis

rubbing your wet pussies together after a long day

domming Tara for the first time

late night pussy grinding

mommy!Tara teaching you how to eat pussy

cumming all in her mouth

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Penelope Garcia

tattooed!Penelope dicking you down

stripper!Penelope eating you out

having a one night stand after meeting on a case

sweet sex after getting high together

taking her strap in your ass

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

@dicephalicdoll @prettymimi @kittyanOn @criminalmindswhore @reire11 @luvmes-things @jayden-prentiss @soft-adi @d3adcup1dd @lillianblohm @langedelalune @downbad4reid @natasha-took-fall-damage @jessica-mcd @iustboredlollerz @notarieditz @littlebitchboysworld

[saltwaterburns]

elle greenaway

even my phone misses your call, by the way

Elle knows perfectly well that it's a bad idea and that she'll probably regret it when she sobers up, but she still picks up her phone and dials the number of the one she misses the most - you.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

CM Friends-with-Benefits Challenge

The following are prompts including friends with benefits/situationships!

This event is over (Masterlist here!), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

🥰 Song Prompts 🥰

"Sex" by The 1975

"Too Sweet" by Hozier

"dress" by Taylor Swift

"august" by Taylor Swift

"Casual" by Chappell Roan

"Dinner & Diatribes" by Hozier

"Close to You" by Gracie Abrams

“Stuck in the Middle” by Tai Verdes

"Good Luck, Babe!" by Chappell Roan

"I Wanna Be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys

“Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?” by Arctic Monkeys

💌 Dialogue Prompts 💌

“I’m just in it for the snacks.”

“No wonder you’re single…” (joking?)

“So... what’s the stance on cuddling?”

"You deserve something real. I want us to be real.”

“We’re just friends with benefits.” // “Right, and the benefit is being madly in love.” (sarcasm?)

“We’re… friends. With benefits.” // “Without sex? What’s the benefit?” // “My delightful company, asshole.”

"I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." // "Do you want the benefits?" // "Yes—No... I'm your fluffer!" ('New Girl')

“What is up with those two lately?” // “They’re sleeping together.” // “Yeah, right. Imagine… wait, seriously?”

General & NSFW Prompts Below!

🌹 General Prompts 🌹

Someone figures out the situation. A and B try to figure out how.

A is blindsided by jealousy when someone shows an interest in B.

A and B try to be normal so no one knows. Literally everyone knows.

A is so worried about B falling for them that A fails to realize A already fell for B.

A realizes they are happier with B than any actual significant other they’ve had.

A is totally B’s type, which has never worked out before. As a result, A keeps sabotaging things.

A agrees to a situationship with B because they think it's the only way they'll be able to have them.

A reaches out to B for a hookup but gets rejected, and they each struggle with their disappointment.

A is treating the arrangement like a formal business deal. B gets tired of it and shuts them up with a kiss.

A and B used to be friends with benefits. When they meet again later, the arrangement is still appealing.

A has to leave town for a long time. They have one last night with B but don’t tell them. They’re gone in the morning and leave B wondering what they wanted to say the night before.

Anything else you can think of!

💋 NSFW Prompts 💋

A completely defies B’s expectations of what they’re like in bed.

A and B decide to hook up one last time (or maybe not the last...)

A agreed to take B’s virginity as long as B didn’t catch feelings. It seems like B didn’t. A did, though.

A and B's no-judgment rule means they're finally comfortable to ask for what they've always wanted to try in bed.

A is annoyed with B, so they start loudly complaining/joking about their situationship. Angry/playful sex ensues.

A and B have never felt truly satisfied in bed until there were no strings attached... it definitely wasn't because of finding the right partner.

Happy Writing!

[jellesreid]

When the Music Fades

In which Autistic Spencer Reid and Neurodivergent Reader go to a Easter Party hosted by Penelope Garcia and end up having to share a bed at the end of the night where Spencer confesses his feelings. (Fluff!)

word count: 3.6k

tags: one bed trope, fake relationship/ fake boyfriend trope for a minute, autistic spencer reid, neurodivergent reader, anxiety, overwhelmed, easter, party, mentions of jelle, mentions of morcia, spring, dealing with mental health, love confession, first kiss, sharing clothes. Mentions of Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, Elle Greenaway, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi.

No warnings

notes: This fic is a request from @dearreidr I hope you enjoy this! If you have any requests feel free to leave them below or dm me!

—————————︎🩵————————-

For easter Penelope was hosting a party at her apartment. She did this for every holiday and just like every other party she had to practically beg Spencer to attend. He was shy and didn’t like drinking and something about Penelope’s parties was that there were always multiple people just as full of colour as she was which was slightly overwhelming and there was always a themed punch with way too much alcohol mixed together. 

This was the first party that you were attending, for the last one, the Christmas party, you were only two weeks into working at the BAU and felt awkward turning up at Penelope’s place for a party when you barely knew anyone. But now, just over 4 months in, you have made friends and connections with the rest of the team. You were particularly close with Penelope, Spencer and Elle. The four of you hung out often outside of work if Penelope wasn’t with Derek, Elle wasn’t with JJ and if Spencer actually left the comfort of his apartment, although you didn’t mind going over to Spencer’s and spending time in his dimly lit living room with a book each just enjoying the quiet and each others company.

The day before the party they had been called in for a case luckily it was nearby and the police department already had a lead. You, Spencer, Elle and Hotch were in one of the SUVs heading to the crime scene when Elle brought up the party. 

“What are you wearing tomorrow?” Elle directed toward you.

You shrugged, “I haven’t thought about it, Penelope said something about costumes but I don’t have anything easter themed.”

“Oh don’t worry about that just pick out a pretty dress and be yourself. What about you Spence?” 

“I wasn’t going to go.”

“What? Penelope said she convinced you!” Elle spun around in the passenger seat to see you and Spencer in the back of the car.

“I’m just not feeling it,” Spencer shrugged it off.

You frowned and faced Spencer, “Please come, I don’t know what I’d do without you there. It’s my first Penelope Garcia party.” If Spencer wasn’t going you didn’t want to go either, you liked everyone else but you felt most comfortable with Spencer not to mention your small crush on him. 

“It’s just awkward, I'm not fun, it’s overwhelming and I don’t drink; that's the whole point of a party.”

“Not to me, it’s just a chance for us to hang out. I won’t drink and the minute we both get overwhelmed we can remove ourselves for a little while. Please?”

Spencer sighed, “I suppose so, you promise right? About the overwhelming thing, not drinking you can drink if you want to I am not going to stop you.”

“I don’t want to I just want to spend time with you, I promise.”

Elle smirked at the both of you, “Alright love birds. That didn’t take much persuading did it?” 

Spencer’s cheeks flushed red as he shrugged and turned to look out of the window so he was no longer a part of the conversation.

—--------------

You threw on one of the nicest dresses you could find in your closet since you don't own many but you wanted to look nice for Penelope’s party along with a pair of white kitten heels and a white bunny ears headband you figured that would be good enough for the costume requirement, it wasn't like you were expected to show up dressed as an easter egg right? 

Anxiety was already filling your chest with the fear of not knowing what to expect and knowing if Spencer didn’t usually like these parties there was a big chance that you wouldn't like it either. 

While you were adding a small amount of pink lip gloss to your lips to go with the small amount of subtle makeup on your face you had one message from Penelope and one message from Spencer come through on your phone.

“You’re staying the night. Bring PJs and snacks and whatever else you need! Maybe a blanket too if not I've got some. See you soon, Kisses XX” -Penelope.

And,

“Hi, I suppose you received a message from Penelope about a sleepover… Are you planning on staying?”

“Would you like me to pick you up? You do not live too far and I don’t mind driving.” - Spencer Reid

You giggled at Spencer signing his message off with his full name but then more nerves overtook you, Penelope’s message didn’t reveal who was staying, what time everyone was leaving in the morning, where you would be sleeping, if there would be breakfast, if you were going to have to stay in groups because surely she didn’t have enough beds for everyone. You caught yourself just before you bit off your nails that you had been growing and doing a good job of so far considering nail-biting was something you did unconsciously when you were anxious or stressed. 

You typed a reply back to Spencer, “Um, I suppose we don’t have a choice really so I guess I am. I would appreciate you picking me up if you really don’t mind thank you. And you don’t have to sign your name Spence, I have you saved.”

You weren't expecting him to reply again, you knew he would check the message and register it but it was unlikely he would reply however this time you were wrong he did reply.

“How are you feeling? I can come sooner if you need to talk about anything?”

You smiled, you had never told Spencer that you necessarily struggled with feeling anxious and overwhelmed but you assumed he had picked up on it due to him being autistic and feeling similar things about similar situations as you did and also with his IQ of 187. 

Y/N: “I'm a little anxious about what to expect but I’m okay, Please just turn up when you are ready. How are you feeling?”

Spencer: “The same as you. I know what to expect though. Do you want a run-through?”

Y/N: “That would be great, thank you.”

Spencer: “Usually, she plays pop music, so I have been told, I think JJ mentioned Taylor Swift. It’s quite loud and the colourful lights are not a great help when It comes to not being overwhelmed but there’s a small green space outside her apartment. It's nice to sit there or in one of the bedrooms when it is getting too much. She had a wide selection of finger foods, there’s a good selection for everyone there will definitely be something you like. There will be unfamiliar faces, she has a lot of friends most with bubbly personalities like hers but they leave at around midnight sometimes even before if there’s a club open.”

Y/N: “Thank you.”

Spencer picked you up at quarter to 9, as he walked to your door he wiped his palms against his brown slacks, he was nervous about the party but in all honestly, he was more nervous to see you. Derek had been telling him for a while now to make a move because he could tell you felt the same way but Spencer would never believe that, what would someone like you see in someone like him? Yes, you had similarities but he was different and you were gorgeous there were definitely prettier men than him out there.

 

He knocked twice on the door, the knock had a certain rhythm that you used when you knocked on his door, he didn't know if it was a signal that you were at his door or if it was just something you did unconsciously like biting your nails. 

You opened the door and stepped back to give a little distance between the two of you, it wasn’t because you didn’t want to be close to him because of course you did he was your favourite person, it was because you didn’t like the feel of people breathing on you for a little while after you had surrounded yourself with people. 

His mouth opened as his eyes ran up and down you, his cheeks also blushed at the same time. You couldn't help a little giggle that escaped your lips, “Hi Spence, You look nice.”

“Hi. You look… beautiful… gorgeous um really nice?” Spencer switched between words not knowing which one would sound best for someone he liked but didn’t want to reveal that he liked you in that way, but he also wanted to make you feel good about yourself because you deserved that and he never wanted you to doubt that you didn’t look good. 

“Thank you,” You grabbed your bag from the small table beside the front door. “Oh Penelope said about snacks and a blanket but I don’t want to take mine off my bed,” You bit your lip.

“She has so many snacks she won’t realise that you didn’t bring any. I didn’t either and she has blankets too.”

You nodded, “Okay, should we go?”

“Yes,” Spencer looked to the left down the hallway before turning back to you and whispering, “Someone is watching us.”

You rolled your eyes, “Probably Steven, he lives on the other end of the floor. He waits for me and Storm, my neighbour, to leave the apartment so he can ask us on dates, he’s a little creepy.”

“Can I hold your hand?” Spencer asked.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Why? I mean yes but why?”

“So he thinks I’m your boyfriend then he will leave you alone.”

“Oh,” You put your hand out allowing him to take it and thanking him before the thoughts started circulating in your brain. Spencer didn’t hold people’s hands, he didn’t like the amount of germs that could be transferred between people holding hands. But he would hold yours?

You locked your apartment with your free hand, your other hand still occupied by Spencer’s warm large hand. You could feel Steven approaching. 

“Hey man, is something wrong?” Spencer asked as he walked over.

“Who are you? Why are you bothering her?” Steven squinted at Spencer.

“He’s not bothering me, Spencer is my boyfriend,” You smiled with a small blush.

“But I’m your boyfriend?” Steven said.

“No, we talked about this, we just live on the same floor Steven, plus you’re a lot older than me.”

“Where are you going? You look nice.”

“We are going out for dinner,” Spencer said, moving his hand from yours to circle around your lower back and rest on your hip, which he regretted when he realised he hadn’t asked for permission to do that. Once Steven nodded and returned to his apartment and you along with Spencer entered the elevator he immediately apologised.

“You have nothing to apologise for, you were helping me out and it felt nice,” You subtly tried to flirt with him. 

“Really?” He asked, opening the car door for you.

“Really,” You smiled getting into the car.

—-----------------

As you both approached the door to Penelope’s apartment the booming music could already be heard. Before he opened the door for you he offered a warm, comforting smile which you returned to signal you were ready to go in if he was. He pushed open the door and immediately you were met with an obscene amount of colourful fairy lights, a disco ball, the even louder music but luckily only around 15 people which was a lot for a small apartment but you could work with that considering most of them probably wouldn’t talk to you anyway.

“Are you okay?” Spencer checked in with you.

You felt a little bad he had his own problems with overwhelming things and adding the worry of if you were okay was probably going to be too much for him and you didn’t want to be the reason why he felt uncomfortable or stressed, “Yes thank you, Spence. Are you okay?”

Spencer nodded, “For now.”

Penelope was the first to come over to the both of you yelling over the music in her usual joyful tone but with added giggles as she had already been drinking, “Finally, I thought you guys had ditched us. Elle and JJ are on the sofa, Emily is getting more punch, Derek is dancing with me obviously and well you have eyes you can find everyone. Make yourselves at home.”

You smiled at her, “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Duh! You're one of my favourites of course you were going to be invited, don’t tell the others though. That goes for you too Smartie Pants don’t tell anyone she’s my favourite,” Penelope rambled.

“Of course, she’s my favourite too,” Spencer blushed as he spoke.

“Enough flattery. I’m going to get a drink if that’s okay?” You directed toward Penelope.

“Yes Doll, help yourself. Mi casa es tu casa,” Penelope replied in a very dodgy Spanish accent before returning to her makeshift dance floor.

You made your way through to the next room only having to weave through a few people before reaching the kitchen when you realised Spencer had followed you there, “Would you like something?”

“No, I’m good thank you, Um I don’t want to leave you but will you be okay if speak to Hotch for a bit?” Spencer asked as his left hand travelled to the back of his neck rubbing it.

“Spence you don’t need my permission you can do what you like,” You smiled picking up one of the blue plastic cups. 

“Oh okay, I’ll see you in a bit,” Spencer walked off leaving you in the kitchen alone for a couple of minutes while you poured your drink before spotting Emily and deciding to stick with her for a while. 

Around an hour later, your social battery was beginning to drain, maybe you needed another drink but you already had one and you didn’t want to risk drinking anymore and getting tipsy from god knows what was in that punch when you had promised Spencer you wouldn’t be drinking. 

A few times you had looked around the room trying to find him to remove yourself from the party for a little while since you were right in the middle of it all but he was nowhere to be seen. After finding Emily she had convinced you to go with her over to the dance floor since the majority of the team were over in that direction. 

A couple of minutes ago you had seen Hotch with Rossi but still no Spencer in sight. You looked at the time on your phone, surely Hotch would be leaving soon to get home to his wife and child and Rossi would probably be going home soon too, perhaps that would prompt other people to start leaving and everything would die down so you could find Spencer. The what-ifs and possible scenarios of how things could go started running through your brain which would cause a panic soon enough.

“Are you okay Sugar?” Penelope asked, snapping you from your thoughts.

You nodded, “Yeah, do you have somewhere I could go and sit for a little while?”

“Mhm, the spare bedroom or the green space outside but I think Spencer went into the spare bedroom not too long ago,” Penelope rubbed the side of your arm.

“Thank you,” You smiled at her and left the front room to search for the spare bedroom, you should have asked where it was, that was your fault but it wasn’t a big apartment it wouldn’t be too hard to find.

—-----------------

Once you had found the only room left with the door closed you knocked on the door lightly in the way that Spencer would recognise.

“Come in,” He called through the door before you pushed it open and closed it behind you.

“Hi, Are you okay?” You asked from the door, you didn’t want to go over to him and interfere in his personal space if he needed a break from social interaction. 

“Just needed a break,” Spencer gave you a soft smile.

“Do you want me to leave?” 

“No, you’re fine here. Are you okay?” 

“Same as you, needed a break it was getting loud.” 

Spencer patted the space on the bed beside him, You perched on the edge of the bed not wanting to be too close to him because you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

“I won’t bite,” He laughed so you moved over a little move. 

“What do you like to do when you feel overwhelmed?” Spencer asked. 

“Listen to music usually but right now I definitely don’t want to, my ears need a break, what about you?” 

“Read, usually something with a lot of facts nothing fictional,” Spencer placed his hands on his stomach intertwining both of them. 

You looked down at his hands, “I didn’t think you’d be one for fiction ever.”

“I indulge every so often, it’s good to mix things up they are mostly classics though.”

“No modern romance novels in there Doctor Reid?” You teased. 

“Uhh, I’ve read a couple, they aren’t awful,” Spencer blushed a little which caught your attention. 

“Spencer Reid! What books have you been reading!” 

“Nothing nothing, just something I found at the library once… I should have been sceptical after the 20-something librarian told me it was one of her favourites.”

“I need you to lend me this book if it’s got you blushing like that,” You laugh.

“Um, I think I still have it if you actually do want it?” Spencer said not sure if you were joking or not. 

“Give it to me tomorrow,” You laid on your side facing him. 

“What books do you like to read? I see you with romance novels sometimes.”

“Yeah, mostly romance but also horror or maybe a thriller anything entertaining,” You shrug awkwardly due to how you were lying. 

“Maybe we could both swap books, I’d like to read something you like,” Spencer’s dimples showed through his smile. 

You nodded just before the door was swung open. 

“Hi lovebirds, we are wrapping things up, I just wanted to tell you we’ve agreed to let you two take this room, Derek and I are in my room and everyone else is in the living room,” Penelope said a lot louder than she had to speak considering she wasn’t near the loudspeakers anymore.

“Are you comfortable with that?” Spencer asked you.

“Yeah that’s fine with me and you?” You asked in return out of respect.

“Fine by me, I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

“Okay great! If either of you needs anything the house is yours help yourself,” Penelope flashed a toothy smile, “Goodnight babies, no sex please,” she said as she left the room leaving you and Spencer blushing and stuttering for a response that never came. 

“That was weird,” Spencer’s cheeks were still a rosy red, “Do you want me to get your bag?” 

“No it’s okay, I forgot to pack pyjamas so I will sleep in this, I don’t know how I forgot,” You groaned. 

“Probably because you were anxious,” Spencer stated before adding, “You could borrow the shirt I brought for pyjamas, I could just wear the bottoms if you are comfortable with that?” 

“Really? Are you sure?” 

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable and I doubt you’re comfy in that, although it’s very nice, you look pretty.”

“You told me earlier,” You giggled, “Thank you.”

Spencer got off the bed taking his shirt and plaid pyjama pants out of his usual go bag for work, “I’ll let you change first uh I’ll wait outside.”

“It’s okay you don’t have to go just turn around,” You smiled to which he nodded. 

Once you were in only his shirt and your underwear you felt a little exposed but luckily his shirt was long and covered everything. You had taken off the little makeup you had on which also made you feel a little bare.

He was in his pj pants with no shirt and he looked good, really good, you both got under the covers facing each other. 

“You look even more beautiful than earlier,” Spencer said before his eyes widened a little, “Wait you always look beautiful.” 

“It’s okay I know what you meant, thanks, Spence.” 

Spencer’s hand inched closer to you, “Maybe. No would it be okay if I kissed you? I have wanted to for a while and-“ 

You cut Spencer off, “You want to kiss me?”

“Um i-if you want?” 

“Yeah… I’d be okay with that.”

Spencer leaned closer to you placing a hand on the side of your face before his eyes fluttered shut while your lips connected. 

It was a soft kiss, slow. No tongue, but it was perfect. One of the best kisses you had ever had. 

When he pulled away he kept his hand on your face, “Was that okay?” 

“More than okay,” You smiled, your eyes crinkled at the sides. 

“Could we go on a date at some point?” Spencer asked with hope in his eyes. 

“Yeah I’d like that,” You placed a kiss on the inside of his wrist as it rested near your mouth. 

His smile grew, “Do you want to sleep?”

“Yeah I’m kinda tired… is that okay?” 

“Of course! I’m going to face the other because I have a thing about people breathing on me,” he said. 

“I have that too!” You laughed, “We will both face opposite ways.” 

After you turned around it didn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep. 

———————-

9 am the next morning Penelope knocked quietly on the door, she assumed you’d be up by now and didn’t want to disturb you but wanted to make sure you were okay. 

When she didn’t get a response she quietly opened the door to see both you and Spencer cuddled together on one side of the bed and his arm draped over your waist. She snapped a picture to show you both later before calling the others who were already awake to see the adorable scene.

—————————🩵————————

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 1: Cat Adams

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4986

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you finally understand what is going on. and that leaves you more lost than ever.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

The first thing you notice is the colour of the walls– beige and cold and not green. You don’t say anything to Spencer, though; you couldn’t even if you tried. Not with all those eyes on you. Your visitor’s pass clicks and clanks against the buttons of your shirt and your hands still shake, even with how tightly they are holding onto your bag. Morgan and Spencer have been very careful to not make too many sudden moves near you, but they are not the problem, it’s the situation. It’s the fact that Spencer doesn’t tell you who is Cat Adams. Is the fact that they made you put your phone in a metal box before entering the building, and then proceed to talk about as if you are not right there. 

“She’s going to need a security detail,” Morgan sighs, sunglass finally off and it knocks your breath away how worried he looks. He can’t really hide it, you think, not with how expressive his eyes are. Spencer, on the other hand, is unreadable. His face is set and frozen in a blank expression that has all the hair on your arms standing up. He doesn’t speak, though, and that is probably the first time you’ve ever seen Spencer Reid that quiet. “Kid, are you listening to me?” 

“Security detail won’t do,” Is all he says before guiding you out of the elevator and into an open space filled with office desk, trapped inside those god awful beige walls. Fuck, you think you are starting to hate beige; that specific shade of it. You hate how it numbs out everything inside, how trapped it makes you feel. No one really talks to you, but from the way they stare, it’s quite obvious that they know what Spencer won’t tell you. 

At this point, there are various things happening inside of you and you can’t quite keep up with them all. Your stomach is roaring, sending sharp jolts of pain up and down your torso and you wince a little with each step you take. In turn, each step you take has you wobbling on unstable legs, and you take deep breaths to try and keep it together. Though every time you inhale, your lungs burn from the panic that lingers in the back of your brain. And finally, you brain, tired and overused, still seems to have an issue with processing the situation, and it takes you to a time that no longer exists– a time in which Spencer laughed at your literary themed jokes, or when he would come with coffee and nothing more than a smile. You understand now, why he kept you in the dark about his job; you understand the weight that this job has on him. 

It makes you wonder if it’s a weight you’re strong enough to carry on your shoulders.

By the time you blink yourself awake from your world of past memories, there are people around you and you don’t recognise any of them. Somehow, you are seated at what looks like a very typical office desk; the chair swivels as you look around. The copy of The Argonauts on the desk is a dead giveaway of whose desk you are on, but then why isn’t he here? Why did he bring you to this cold, cold place and left you by yourself? Why– “Y/N? It’s Y/N, right?”

There are two women next to you, one to your right and one to your left. You don’t like how they make you feel like a cornered animal, but their faces show nothing but understanding and compassion, and you don’t feel like being a bitch will help your situation. Your anger, building higher and stronger with each passing second, is not because of them, and you are many things, but you like to think you are not unfair. “Yeah,” You croak out, gulping the ball of emotions that seemed to be stuck halfway down your throat, making it hard to talk or breathe without your lower lips wobbling pathetically. 

“Y/N, my name is Jennifer, but you can call me JJ. This is Emily, we both work with Reid.” 

It takes you a second to know who they are talking about. For you, it’s never Reid. It’s Spencer when you are laughing at one of his rants about something so niche and specific that you couldn’t find it anything other than amusing. It’s Spence when you’re heart is full and the butterflies are awake. And it’s Favourite Customer when you want to tease him. It’s never just… Reid. “Spencer,” You nod, embarrassed by your own need to say his full name. You don’t want to need him, right now, but you can’t help but look around the open bullpen. His wild, shaggy hair is nowhere to be seen and you don’t understand how the sweet man that stole your heart can do something like this. You are scared and confused and he just left you with strangers. “I uh, I’m sorry, but wha-what’s going on? No one will tell me anything, and I think I have the right to now why Spence had a gun and why I was dragged away from my shop and–“

If you had anything in your stomach, you’d vomit again but all you manage is to double forward a little, the pain of your hunger and your nausea together starting to get a little too much when the added stress of being alone with strangers got added into the mix. “Here,” JJ pushes a packet of saltines towards you. “Got into them when I was pregnant with my boys and now I always keep one here. It’ll be good to eat something, Morgan mentioned you got sick.”

“Thank you, I– Penelope?” Seeing her there, with her pinks and oranges and yellows, makes as little sense as seeing Spencer with a gun. Her warmth and happiness don’t fit in a place like this, that, so far, has only brought you anxiety. 

“Y/N! Oh my god, sweet, pretty Y/N!” For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you chuckle. And it breaks you down inside, how fragile you must seem for Penelope to wobble towards you in such high heels and yet, hug you with the utmost care in the world. It’s in her arms that you start crying again. “Oh no, no no no, don’t cry, it’s okay… You’re safe here.” 

“Safe from what?” You wail, and if Spencer had bothered enough to be there, that would’ve been the first time he would have seen you raising your voice. 

Ever since you were little, you never raised your voice. As an adult, it has happened once or twice, but never at someone specifically. Your nature is that of a more reserved person, someone who enjoys the spectator role a bit too much and prefers to observe from afar. There is power in knowledge, and it shouldn’t be surprising to anyone that you value the little bit of it that you have– so much so, that you built a business in which you could gather all the knowledge you deemed special and worthy and important, and then you could share with other people. Sure, you don’t always feel like your job is significantly important for the betterment of the world, but every time a client leaves with a smile, you know you’re doing your part. 

“Cat Adams.” 

The name alone is enough to make you fall onto the chair again, body limp and drained. Spencer is back, but he’s off. His lips are pursed in that way he does when he is unsure of what to say and he’s hidden his hands inside his pockets. It’s his own way of keeping secrets, hiding his hands from you… and you don’t like it. For as long as you have known him, his excitement shone through his hands; it’s the fast movements and the wiggle of his fingers that always make you smile. It’s how he best communicates and now it’s how he pushes you away. “Miss Y/L/N,” There is a man in a suit standing next to him, and you shrink in your chair under his stare. It’s heavy and cold, and you think that if he looks at you for a second longer you might start crying all over again. “My name is Aaron Hotchner, I’m the unit chief for the BAU. Please, come with me and I’ll explain everything. JJ and Spencer, you too. Penelope, prepare to brief the team in 20.”

Part of you wants to tell him no just to see what would happen. It’s clear, from more than just his title, he’s in charge. Your one and only connection to these people and this place is Spencer, so he is your tell-tale. He is your magic ball. It’s a skill, rather than a gift, being able to sense people like this– it’s something that years in retail and sales have taught you– and right now, you see how Spencer shifts his weight from one leg to the other while looking at his boss, waiting for instructions as if he couldn’t come up with them himself, and that, more than anything else that has happened today, is what scares you the most. 

Because if a man like Spencer can’t come up with an answer for this specific issue, you are not sure anyone else can. 

—————————————

“Can someone please tell me what is going on?” You are not above begging, hands balled into fists on your lap as you look up at Aaron Hotchner with pitiful eyes. You probably look messy, at this point, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you care about is you. And your store. And the fact that an hour has passed since you first got to that godforsaken office and no one seems to care; no one seems to care about your time or your personal affairs. 

They only care about that stupid package. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I apologise for the confusion we’ve caused, but I guarantee that everything that has been done so far was to keep you safe,” His words, as strong as they sound, don’t feel any more assuring than then tentative glance Spencer throws your way. 

“Oh god,” You breathe out, eyes wide while your mind ran circles around you. It is a dangerous thing, to let a literary lover imagine– your brain, filled with epic tales and unforgettable real stories, starts rushing towards the worst case scenario and you find yourself reaching out to hold at something, anything, that might make you feel grounded in reality again. It’s how soft Spencers suit feels in your fingertips that makes you realise you reached out for him. “Oh god, was that like, a bomb? Did I sign for a bomb? Oh god, Spencer, do people send you bombs? I didn’t know, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Spence, I–“ 

“It wasn’t a bomb,” Spencer is quick to interject, hands finally out of his pockets when he reaches out to hold your shoulders. His thumb gently caresses your arm and you try to breathe somewhat regularly, imitating the rise and fall of his chest like he is the beacon light bringing you back home in treacherous waves– like he is the only one you can trust in that place. “Y/N, it’s okay, it wasn’t a bomb. The contents of the package are not important and they were harmless. But we need you to focus. I know I scared you and that this is all very overwhelming, but you need to listen to Hotch. Please.” 

In your mind, you keep repeating those words to yourself– Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch.

“Cat Adams is a prolific serial killer,” Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. “We’ve arrested her a few years ago and we believe she has resurfaced.” 

Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch.

“And that she has been targeting Reid.”

With one panicked look his way, you say what the words stuck in your throat can’t convey– I can’t listen to Hotch anymore. “She… She is a serial killer,” You whisper, eyes focused on Spencer in search of a nod or a shake of his head. This is the FBI, but you only trust him. “And she is after Spencer. Okay, I uh– I need– I don’t know what I need.” 

If you asked Spencer, he would tell you that you have a certain something about you whenever you are tired. Your shoulders slump forward and your head fall on your hands in a desperate way to keep your neck upright. The lack of energy is almost visible in you, and sometimes he has to fight the urge to hold your head up for you. 

But you don’t ask Spencer. Actually, you don’t say anything at all; you let people talk about you and around you, but your brain shuts down with each and every word, unable to retain any more information. “Can I go home?” There is a minute of silence before Hotch sighs, shaking his head. “But you said you arrested her, correct? Therefore I shouldn’t be in any immediate danger. I mean, it’s not like she has access to USPS delivery data from prison, right?” The more you speak, the faster you try to get up. You’re not thinking straight, and with all due reason– there is no power left in you to do this. There is no energy, no will, no strength to keep on going because it feels like you’re running in circle. 

Spencer notices it, too, and in what can only be interpreted as a daring attempt to calm you down, he let his hand rest on your shoulder for a second. It’s a subtle way to tell his team to go easy on you, almost like he’s having a full conversation with Hotch without opening his mouth. You, however, don’t catch it, and you continue to try and push yourself upright and away from them. You need to get away from them.

“So she has no clue who I am and I have nothing to do with this because I’m just a bookseller! And I just happened to sell Spencer some books and we’re just friends!”

A wave of shame downs on you when the words leave your mouth, like you are admitting to failure when  you haven’t even had the chance to try it to begin with. It’s like you deny Spencer’s presence in your life as a whole, like he has no significant place or role next to you, and you can’t seem to meet his eyes even when he starts speaking. “Y/N, I am so sorry,” The choked out sound that escapes him is the only thing that makes you look, makes you raise your eyes to meet his and you gasp when you notice he is holding back tears. “I’m so sorry, I thought she was gone, that she was not a threat anymore, I–“ 

“Reid,” JJ sighs, and you see something in her that makes you shift in your chair, a bit uncomfortable with the way his name sounds coming from her lips. “Reid, she’s going to be alright. We will get some officers to keep watch by her place, and we can file a request for protective detail during the day.” 

“You know as much as I do that none of that will help!” Spencer’s voice gets higher and louder with each word and his hands are back at it again, flying around the room in frustration. You have never seen him like that before, and it scares you more to see him scared than to hear that you might now be placed under protective custody. 

“Spence,” This time, when your voice wobbles in fear, it’s not because of him. “Spence, is it really bad?” 

When you were little, you used to refuse to admit your were scared. You’d use any other word– frustrated, spooked, uncomfortable– but you would never admit fear. Your dad always thought it was the cutest thing, though, because despite you puffing your chest out and crossing your little arms over your chest, the one thing that always gave you away was the way your lips wobbled. Right now, you feel like that little kid again, refusing to admit to how you really feel but giving it all out anyways. 

Spencer’s eyes read you like a book. You can feel the weight of them, moving across your face, taking in the lines and expressions you make without even realising. It’s like every part of you is a new chapter, telling him more and more of a story he is yet to finish, and with a sigh, sad and defeated, he nods. “It’s really bad, Y/N, I’m so sorry… this is all my fault. I should’ve been honest with you, I should’ve told you what I did and who I worked for and all that it brings with it.”

“No, Spencer, this is not your fault,” You breathe out, reaching for him in a moment of weakness. Your anger is still there, still simmering at the way that, in a sense, this is very much his fault, but you manage to rise through it when his nervous hands try to reach for you but fall nimble by his sides instead. “I mean, it kind of is, but it isn’t. And it’s okay. I’ll be okay. Right? I’ll be–“

“You’ll be just fine,” Hotch interrupts. His brows are slightly raised and from the way he looks at Spencer you think he knows something you don’t, but you’ve been feeling like that ever since you’ve stepped into that office. Everyone around you knows something you don’t– they know things about each other, about Spencer, that you simply don’t, and that you think you never will. Because after this– this betrayal, this hurt, this fear– you just don’t think you and Spencer can coexist anymore. You don’t think you can forget, as hard as you might try, the sight of him holding that gun to your head. So for now, you try to calm down. For now, all you can do is try to calm down. “Miss Y/L/N, we need to asses the situation, understand if you are in any kind of immediate danger. While our team works on this, we will ask that you relocate. Do you have relatives you can call? Friends?”

Technically, you do. Your parents live in New York and so do most of your friends– all it takes is one call. But that is one call you really don’t want to make. “I don’t want to leave my store,” Looking down at your hands, you wonder how easy it is for them to see right through you. “I just moved here. I know it might sound stupid, specially considering the… you know, this whole situation. But my life is here now and I would rather stay, if, if that’s okay, of course, I mean, you know… best.” God, you look so uncomfortable trying to stand up to his boss that the pity in Spencer’s face is almost palpable. “Please.”

“Hotch, she can stay with me.”

“Do we think that is a good idea?” JJ frowns, and you can’t help but nod, looking at Spencer as if he’s insane.

“I– That’s a very kind offer, but isn’t she after you?” You manage to ask, looking around for any clue their team might give you. These guys are professionals, though, and they know how to keep up their masks of indifference. 

“Yes and no,” He explains, sighing before crouching next to where you sit. “Y/N, this woman– Cat– she is psychology disturbed. She is what we call a black widow, do you know what that is?”

You nod, blushing a little with how close he is to you. “I uh, I read a book that the main character was a black widow. Butter, by Asako Yuzuki.” 

His smile makes you melt a little, and you hate how weak you are to the little windows of personality he allows you to see from time to time. “Yeah, I like that book too. But… this is real life. Cat Adams goes after cheaters, liars.” 

“Then why is she after you?” 

“Because I lied to her,” He admits, your eyes stuck on his expression and if you were anyone else, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his jaw ticks in response to what you can only assume to be anger. But you are not, anyone else, you are very much so yourself, an observer, a quiet listener, and it just so happens that your favourite person to observe and listen to is Spencer Reid himself. “I was our decoy to capture her and now she sees me a as a game. Almost like, like a game of wits, to see who’s smarter, to see who will win. Is this making sense, Y/N? Do you need a break?”

“I just, I don’t understand where I fit. I was just housesitting for you, I could’ve been a complete stranger.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Hotch interrupted, leaning forward in such a somber way the hair on your arms stand up. “You have managed to get something she never did. Cat Adams is acting out in jealousy.”

“What did I get? I’m sorry, I don’t–“

“Me,” Spencer said, eyes piercing into yours. “You got me.” 

—————————————

By the time you make it back home, the moon is high and the roads are clear. It has been a while since you last got out of the house at the early hours of the morning. Fresh from the move and focused on your new store, making friends wasn’t at the top of your priority list when you landed, a year and something ago. Without someone to drag you out to bars or bribe you to go to clubs, you don’t really leave the house much at night, preferring the comfort of your own couch and the company of a book in the weekends. 

“You know,” For a second, you almost forget that he is right there behind you, and you jump a little when his voice echoes in your empty apartment. “You’ve been to my place so many times, but I never really even seen your apartment.” 

How do you tell him that there is not much to see, anyways? How do you tell Spencer that, in the time you’ve been here, the 365-plus-something days, you just never really thought about your apartment the same as your home? Your walls are empty, and it’s a little embarrassing, the way his brows shoot up when your turn on the lights. Besides your couch and a centre table, the place is almost empty. The TV stands on an old piece of furniture, a unit too dark and too classic to match with the rest of the things you have, and it’s a little too obvious that it came with the place and you were just too lazy to get rid of it. There is a singular throw pillow on the couch and a blanket, with a pile of books standing by the foot of it. But what really strikes him as odd, what really makes Spencer look around and make sure that yes, this is your apartment, is the fact that there are no shelves. There are no books, besides the four or five pilling up on the rug. 

“You know, for a book lover, you have… no books,” He mumbled, hands on his pocket as he offered you that smile you used to adore so much, but that now makes you a bit uneasy– tight lipped, never really reaching his eyes. “Why do you have no books?” 

“They are all downstairs,” You say, marching straight to your room to grab a backpack. “How many days do you think I’ll be staying with you?” 

“Honestly? Until we solve this.”

“…And how many days is that?”

From where he stands, he can’t see your sagged shoulders, trembling hands holding onto the blue backpack you had laying around the back of your wardrobe. “Pack for as long as you can,” He shouts from somewhere deep inside your place. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Too late for that,” You mumble to yourself, grabbing the closest items your found– a couple of shirts, sweaters, and jeans. After today, it’s not like you have much energy left to try and plan outfits ahead, so anything will do. 

It’s borderline funny, when you think about it… Just yesterday you were worried about what to wear, nervous hands sifting through your endless collection of sweaters to try and find just the right one for the day. Spencer visits you everyday, so everyday is a new day to impress him. You even start wearing makeup; a bit of mascara to make your eyes shine behind the glasses you refuse to wear, some blush to make the natural flush you get whenever he’s around seem more normal. It’s vain and futile, you know, but it makes you feel a tad more confident. A tad more… colourful. Like Penelope. “I think I’m ready,” You say once you’ve gathered all items you might need from the bathroom. “I’ll still be good to work, right?”

He nods, a smile on his face as if this is good news to him too. “Yes, we will have men stationed outside your store all day, so you don’t have to worry about anything while I’m away at the BAU. I’ll personally drop you off and pick you up myself.” His words don’t make you feel any more confident, hands fidgeting with the straps of your backpack. “Y/N, I promise, we will get to the bottom of this as fast as possible. This is temporary, and uh… I’d like to think that, you know, staying with me is not all that bad. You’ll get the bed and you are comfortable in my apartment, anyways, right? And, and! And we can have movie marathons and talk about books, cause I have a lot of books! You know that, of course you know that, you sold me half of them.” Clearing his throat when you just stare at him, you can see how Spencer is ranting. But you don’t mind the rant, actually; oddly enough, his nervous words are the one thing giving you a sense of normalcy right now. “Cat won’t come to you personally, if that helps. She is in federal prison, we’ve confirmed it yesterday, and anyone that comes in and out of your shop will be checked. Y/N, we– I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you need to trust me.”

“I do,” And you don’t mean to sound so sad, but you can’t help it. Right now, he’s the only person you can trust, and for you, that is one of the saddest things you’ve ever experience, because even though you know you need to pull away from him, that you need to put some distance between yourself and the man standing right in front of you, you just don’t trust yourself to be able to do it. “Anyways, can we go? I’m really tired, it’s been one hell of a day.” 

The walk over there drains the last bit of life you still have in you, foot dragging and tripping on the road, and you hate that this is how Spencer holds you for the first time– stopping you from falling on your face. “Sorry,” You mumble, following him once you’re on your feet again. The way his hands hover around you while you slowly make your way up the stairs of his apartment is adorable, and each and every time your heart skips a beat for him, it also breaks for yourself. You are digging your grave, and the worst part is that you don’t seem to care. You’re weak, you think to yourself, exhaling heavily when you finally walk inside the familiar apartment. 

You are so tired that you don’t really think about things too much, dragging yourself to the armchair you adore so much and sitting down. The way you kick your shoes off isn’t very polite, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow; for now, all you want is to shut your eyes and drift off to sleep, lulled by the muted green walls and the stories they told. While you slip into the hypnotic pull of a dreamless slumber, you can hear shuffling in the background, and later on, much later into the night, you don’t feel it, but Spencer covers you with your favourite blanket– the wool one his mother gifted him ages ago, the one you always leave tossed aside on his armchair. And you don’t see the way he smiles at you either, like he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders and doesn’t mind; not as long as you get to sleep as soundly as you are then. 

Actually, when it comes to Spencer, you are blind. To logic, yes, but to him, too. For someone as observant as yourself, it’s a little ridiculous how oblivious you are to the looks he send your way when you’re not paying attention. They linger, and he smiles in a way you’re yet to witness, but they are all for you. It’s the one bit of him that Spencer can give you, and you’re not even aware of it enough to take it and keep it safe. 

But maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better to not have hopes. 

Sometimes, Spencer thinks, fixing your blanket so that it tucked under your chin just right when your curl into a small, defenceless ball of exhaustion, it’s better to never have loved, then to have loved and lost.

He would know. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

aaaahhhh this is really happening! it's now official: a muted shade of green is an active series :D sorry if it felt like it took so long for an update, I just don't have much time to write recently, but I'm working on it! hope you like it <3