#elle greenaway smut

[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.”

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[badathumanemotions]

Needy

Elle Greenaway x Gender Neutral Reader

MDNI Master List Category: Smut CW: Afab Reader, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Dom/Sub, Vibrator, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Aftercare. WC: 4,213 You've been needy all day for Elle, following her around like a lost puppy. Until finally she takes pity on you. (Not Proof Read)

You've been trailing behind Elle all day, your eyes fixed on her every move. Currently she's engrossed in her book, her fingers gently holding the book open, her eyes scanning the words. You wish those eyes would look at you, even for a moment, to acknowledge the silent plea you've been sending her way. Your body craves her touch, a craving that's been growing stronger as the day went on.

You hover at the edge of the couch, unsure if you should disturb her. It's like you're a lost puppy, hoping she'll drop her book and come over to pet you, to give you the attention you so desperately need. You've tried to be patient, to let her have her space, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.

Elle's eyes flick up from the pages, meeting yours briefly before returning to her book. She knows. She's been watching you, observing your restlessness, the way you've been trying to get her attention without actually saying a word. It's a silent dance the two of you have been doing all day, and she's enjoying it.

But now, as the shadows grow longer with the setting sun, she senses the urgency in your gaze. She sets her book down, creating the sound of pages slapping together. "You've been needy today" she says. She doesn't make it a question, but you nod anyway.

Elle motions for you to come over to her with a crook of her finger, the gesture stirring something in you. You feel your heart quicken, the anticipation of what's to come pulsing through your veins. You obey without a second thought, crossing the room to stand in front of her.

"On your knees," she says firmly. You drop to your knees, looking up at her with wide eyes that beg for more. She smiles, a knowing smile that tells you she's going to give you what you want, but on her terms.

Her hand reaches out to stroke your cheek, the softness of her touch setting your skin on fire. You lean into it, savouring the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut.

"What do you need, baby?" she asks. The question hangs in the air, loaded with meaning, a silent invitation for you to open up, to tell her exactly what it is that you crave.

You suddenly turn shy, not answering. Your cheeks flush and you drop your gaze to the floor. You're not used to being so forward, but today you're desperate for her.

Elle wasn't having it. She cups your chin, tilts your head back up to meet her gaze. "Tell me," her voice a command.

You swallow hard, trying to find the words to express the desire that's been consuming you. "I… I want to taste you," you finally manage to say, your voice barely a whisper.

Elle's smile widens, a hint of amusement sparkling in her eyes. "And why should I let you?" she challenges. Enjoying the power play, how you squirm under her scrutiny.

You promise to be good, to do anything she asks, to give her what she wants in return. The words spill out of your mouth, earnest and hopeful. You've never felt so vulnerable, but with her, it's safe to be this exposed.

Elle's eyes narrow slightly, considering your proposal. She leans back into the couch, watching you intently. "Anything?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow.

You nod fervently, your eyes steady on hers. "Anything," you reaffirm.

With a smirk, Elle says, "That's a dangerous thing to promise, sweetheart," before commanding you to strip.

You stand up, your hands shaking slightly as you pull your shirt over your head, you drop it to the floor, leaving you topless and in jeans. She watches you, her eyes raking over your body, as you undo the button and slide the zipper down. Your legs feel wobbly as you push your jeans down your thighs, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. Your panties are the last to go, leaving you bare before her.

She doesn't say anything, just continues to watch as you get onto your knees. You know what she wants, what she expects.

Elle rises from the couch with the grace of a panther, her movements slow and deliberate. She takes a step closer to you, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body. She places a hand on your shoulder, her fingers digging in just enough to make you aware of her strength, of the power she holds in this moment.

With the other hand, she unbuttons her pants and slides them down her long, toned legs. You watch, entranced, as she steps out of them, leaving herself in just a pair of panties and a white tank top.

Elle sits back down on the couch, spreading her legs open in a gesture that leaves no room for doubt. She's giving you access, inviting you in. You can see the dampness on her underwear, a sign of her arousal. Your mouth waters at the sight.

Without wasting another moment, you dive in, pressing your face between her thighs. The fabric of her panties is soft against your skin, but it's the scent of her, musky and sweet, that makes you go wild. You begin licking her through the fabric.

Even with the barrier of her underwear, you're more determined than ever to give her pleasure. You run your tongue along the seam, feeling her heat, her legs quiver slightly. You know she's enjoying it, but you want more. You want to taste her, to hear her moan, to feel her shudder with every touch of your mouth.

Summoning your courage, you gently push the fabric aside with your thumb. The skin beneath is hot and slick with anticipation. You hesitate for a moment, waiting for her reaction. When she doesn't protest, you take it as your cue. Your tongue darts out, tasting her for the first time.

You hmm happily as you lick and suck, her desire coating your mouth. Your eyes close in pleasure as you explore her folds, your nose bumping into the warmth of her sex. Her hand finds your hair, guiding you, urging you deeper.

Elle's breath hitches, and she lets out a low moan that vibrates through you, making your own arousal spike. You can feel yourself becoming pussy drunk, intoxicated by her taste, her scent, her response. Your own wetness begins to drip down your thighs as you eagerly devour her.

Her hips start to rock slightly, guiding your movements, setting the rhythm. You follow her lead, sucking harder, your tongue flicking and swirling around her clit. The sound of your wet mouth on her flesh fills the room, punctuated by her gasps and whimpers.

With both hands, you grip her hips firmly, your nails digging into her skin. The pressure you apply leaves faint white lines that stand out against her tanned skin. You can feel her muscles tighten beneath your fingers as she pushes against your face, grinding into your mouth.

You switch between quick, delicate kitten licks and sloppy, obscene slurping, your tongue swirling around her clit in a dance of pleasure. You're lost in lust, the only thing that matters is her satisfaction.

Elle's hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer as she nears her climax. Her thighs clench around your head, trapping you in a vice. You don't mind; you crave it, the feeling of her body responding to your every touch.

When she finally cums, it's with a guttural moan that fills the room. Her body shakes, her hips bucking up to meet your mouth as she rides the wave of pleasure. But even as her orgasm subsides, you can't stop. You're lost in the taste of her.

Elle's grip on your hair loosens, and she pants heavily, her chest rising and falling. She's sensitive now, but you're relentless. You keep licking, savouring her taste. She squirms under you, her legs twitching.

You can feel her starting to build again, her breath catching. She whispers, "Fuck, don't stop," and you don't. Your tongue swirls around her clit, pressing firmly before moving down to taste her deeper. You're insatiable, driven by a hunger that's only grown with each of her moans.

Her legs tighten around your head, her nails scratching at your back as you lick and suck, your tongue delving into her wetness. The sound of her breathing changes, becomes ragged, her body arching off the couch. She's close, so close, and you want to push her over the edge again.

Your tongue works in tandem with your fingers, slipping inside her, feeling her clench around you. The walls of her pussy pulse with each thrust, her juices coating your hand. You feel her orgasm building, the way her muscles tense, the way her breath turns into panting.

Elle's hands are in your hair, guiding you, her nails scraping at your scalp. It's a delicious kind of pain that only adds to the intensity of the moment. You can feel her getting closer, her hips jerking against your face, her moans growing louder.

You love when she grinds her hips against your mouth, when she takes her pleasure from you so unabashedly. It's a power play and you're all too happy to be the one serving her needs. Her legs tense around you, trapping you in place as she uses your mouth for her own pleasure.

Her moans become more erratic, her breathing hitches, and you know she's close. With a final, guttural cry, she comes again, her body shaking with the force of her climax. You don't stop, though, you keep licking and sucking, her pleasure your own. Your own pussy is throbbing now, begging for attention, but you ignore it, focusing solely on her.

Elle's grip on your hair loosens, and she slumps back into the couch, panting. But you're not done yet. You keep going, your tongue relentless as it laps at her clit, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm quiver through her. She's so sensitive now, every touch sends a new ripple of pleasure through her body.

Her hands come up to cover her face, muffling the sounds she makes. You can feel her thighs quiver against your cheeks, and you know she's trying to hold back. But you won't let her. You want to hear her scream, to feel her shake with pleasure.

Your tongue doesn't stop, it keeps moving in the same pattern, the one that brought her to the brink before. You're relentless, your mouth working tirelessly as you push her towards another climax.

Elle's hips jerk upward, her hands now gripping the couch cushions. She's trying to find purchase, trying to anchor herself as the waves of pleasure threaten to overwhelm her. But you won't let her escape. Your hands hold her hips in place, keeping her open to your relentless mouth.

The familiarity of the sensation sends her spiralling, her body responding instinctively. You feel her building again, her muscles tightening around your fingers. She's so close, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride at how quickly you've brought her to this point.

With one final, hard suck, her body tenses and she cums again, her pussy contracting around your fingers, juices spilling onto your hand. You drink her in, savouring every drop, her taste like a drug you can't get enough of.

Elle's legs fall apart, and you pull away, panting, your face glistening with her arousal. You look up at her, and she's watching you with hooded eyes, her chest heaving. "Good girl," she murmurs.

You lean back on your heels, feeling the warmth of your own need between your legs. "Elle," you breathe, "I need you now."

Her eyes narrow. "You're lucky I love that talented mouth of yours," she says. "Or else I'd punish you for being so greedy."

You whine slightly, your cheeks reddening. You know she's playing with you, but the words send a thrill through your body. "Please, Elle," you beg. "I need you."

Elle gives you a look that makes your insides flutter. "Go," she says. "Get on the bed. On your knees. And wait for me."

You scurry to the bedroom, your heart racing with excitement. You crawl onto the bed, knees sinking into the soft mattress, and position yourself at the edge.

Elle's command echoes in your mind: "Wait for me." It's torture, but you obey, your hands resting on your thighs, resisting the urge to slide between your legs.

Elle walks into the bedroom, her shirt now gone, revealing a simple black bra that compliments her damp panties. Her nipples are hard points pushing against the fabric, and her skin glows from the heat of her arousal. She's a vision of desire, and you can't help but stare.

Her eyes lock onto yours, and she smirks, then crosses the room to the dresser. She opens the top drawer, and you hold your breath. Your eyes widen as she pulls out a magic wand vibrator, the sight of it making your clit throb.

Elle saunters over to the bed, dropping it onto the mattress before walking to the free-standing mirror in the corner of the room. She positions it so that it reflects the entirety of the bed, allowing you to see every inch of yourself as she takes you apart.

Her gaze meets yours in the reflection as she orders you off your knees and into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. The authority in her voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you do as you're told. She settles in behind you, her hands on your shoulders, guiding you lean against her.

Her legs tangle with yours, forcing them apart, exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air of the room. You lean back into her, feeling her warmth, her breath on your neck as she presses kisses below your ear. Her thighs are firm, keeping you open, vulnerable to whatever she has in store.

"Look," she whispers in your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "Look at how desperate you are." Her hand cups your mound, her thumb circling your clit lazily. Your eyes widen as you watch yourself in the reflection, your cheeks reddening.

Elle's fingers dip lower, teasing your wet folds. They slide through your slickness with ease, and you can't help but gasp at the sensation. She takes her time, exploring every inch of you with gentle strokes that make you squirm.

Her touch is light, maddening, as she traces your slit from bottom to top, never quite touching your clit, which is now swollen and begging for attention. You can feel her watching you in the mirror, her eyes taking in every twitch and quiver of your body.

Elle brings her wet fingers up your stomach, painting a path of your desire on your skin. You hold your breath as she reaches your chest, your heart pounding in anticipation. She circles one of your nipples, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You arch into her touch, silently begging for more.

She picks up the magic wand vibrator from the bed. You watch in the mirror as she flicks it on to the lowest setting, the head buzzing gently. She brings it to your chest, and you jump at the sudden sensation. She smirks, then moves it down your torso, the vibrations leaving trail of tingles in it's wake.

Elle traces the toy around your navel, watching as your stomach muscles jump. She teases the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your pussy, but never quite touching it. You can feel the tension building, the anticipation making your legs shake.

Her eyes watch carefully as she drags the vibrator up the insides of your thighs, each pass bringing it closer to where you need it most. You're panting now, your chest heaving with each shallow breath. She knows exactly what she's doing, and she's enjoying every second of it.

Elle finally holds the vibrator to your clit, and you jolt at the intense sensation. It's like lightning directly to your core, and you can't help the loud moan that escapes your lips. She presses it harder, holding you steady as your body tries to buck away from the pleasure.

You watch in the mirror as her hand works the vibrator, moving it in slow, deliberate strokes. Each pass sends a shiver through your body, your pussy clenching in response. She increases the speed, the buzzing growing louder. The vibrations travel through your entire being, setting your nerves alight.

And then she whispers "You're such a needy little slut, aren't you?". You nod, unable to form coherent words, your eyes locked on the mirror.

Her breath tickles your neck as she says, "You love it when I make you beg, don't you?" Each word dripping with lust.

You whimper, nodding, unable to form words as she continues her sweet torment. "You're such a greedy little thing," she taunts. "Always so eager for more, so desperate for my touch."

The moment your eyes slide shut, her other hand comes up to grip your cheeks harshly. "Keep your eyes open," she commands. "Or I'll stop touching you."

Your eyes fly open, and you let out a whine of protest, but you obey. In the mirror, you can see the smug look on her face, the glint of victory in her eyes. She knows she has you, that you're under her spell.

"That's what I thought," she states. "Now, let's see how much of a greedy slut you really are." She increases the speed of the vibrator, and you can't help but moan louder, your body trembling with the effort of holding still.

The vibrations are intense, and your pussy is so sensitive now, each stroke sending pleasure through your body. You're so close, so fucking close. You can feel it building, the tension coiling.

And then, with a whine, it hits you. Your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, your body jerking and trembling from the force of it. Your eyes squeeze shut despite her command, but she doesn't stop. She keeps the vibrator pressing against your clit, making the sensation even more overwhelming.

"Eyes on the mirror," she orders, her voice firm. You force your eyes open, looking into the mirror. Your face is a mask of ecstasy, your mouth open in a silent scream. You can see your own eyes, glazed over with pleasure.

Elle cranks the vibrator up to its highest setting, and the buzzing turns into a high-pitched whine. You brace yourself for the intensity, but it's nothing compared to the pleasure that consumes you when she presses it back against your clit.

"Too much," you gasp out, your voice shaking. "Elle, it's too much." But even as you say the words, you arch into the sensation, your body begging for more. She doesn't ease up, instead, she uses her free hand to spread your folds, giving the vibrator better access.

Elle's voice is a dark chuckle in your ear. "Is it? Is it really, baby?" she mocks. "If you're going to act like a needy slut you're going to be treated like a needy slut." She emphasizes her point with a particularly hard press of the vibrator.

You can't argue with her. You can't even think straight. Your eyes are glued to the mirror, watching your pussy quiver with each pulse of the toy. It's mesmerizing, the way your body responds to her, the way you're spread open for her viewing pleasure.

All that comes out of your mouth are incoherent sounds of pleasure. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes glazed with lust as you watch her manipulate your body. You're a moaning mess, unable to get an intelligible word out.

Elle's grip on the vibrator doesn't falter, stroking it up and down, hitting all the right spots. She's relentless, pushing you closer and closer to another peak. "Again," she whispers in your ear. "I want to see you come again."

Your body responds to her command, your pussy pulsing. You try to resist, but it's no use. The pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming. You feel your climax trigger, your muscles tightening, your breath coming in short gasps.

You feel a sharp smack on your clit. Your eyes fly open in shock and pain. In the mirror, you see Elle's hand come down again, slapping your pussy firmly. "I told you to keep your eyes open," she says, her voice stern. You hadn't even realized you closed your eyes.

The sting quickly turns to pleasure, and you bite your lip to keep from screaming. The vibrator is still pressed to your sensitive nub, the high setting making it feel like it's vibrating through your entire body. You can't help but push into it.

Elle's hand is steady, her eyes on the mirror, watching your every reaction. She's a master at reading your body, knowing exactly when you're about to break. You can feel the tension coiling again, tightening in your stomach. It's unbearable, the way she brings you to the brink and then pulls back, only to push you over again.

Then she bites down on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. The pain is sharp, surprising, and you cry out, your body arching back into hers. It's a sensitive spot, one she knows drives you wild. The combination of pain and pleasure sends you spiralling, and you orgasm for the third time.

Your pussy clenches, your juices spilling onto the bed beneath you. The sheets are soaked, the fabric sticking to your skin. If you had the capacity for embarrassment, you'd be mortified, but right now all you can feel is the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

"Elle, I can't take anymore," you whine, your voice high and desperate. Your body is a live wire, each touch threatening to send you over the edge again. But she doesn't relent.

"You can, and you will," she whispers in your ear, the vibrations from the wand not missing a beat. The words resonate through your core, and you feel yourself submitting to her once more. You're hers to play with, to bring to climax as many times as she desires.

The next orgasm hits like a freight train, and with it come a series of smaller ones, like aftershocks. Each one more intense than the last, making your body convulse and quiver uncontrollably. You can't believe how sensitive you are, how much she's turned you into a quivering mess of pleasure.

Elle's voice is low and seductive in your ear, "One more, baby. Make it count." Her words echo in your mind as you struggle to hold on to reality. The vibrator is a constant, unyielding presence, bringing you closer and closer to the edge with every stroke.

Your eyes lock onto hers in the mirror, and you can see the challenge in them. You want to prove to her that you can take it, that you can handle whatever she gives you. The desire to please her is stronger than any discomfort.

With a final surge of willpower, you push back into the vibrator, riding the wave of pleasure as it crashes over you again. Your scream fills the room, a mix of pleasure and pain as you come for what is possibly the 7th time.

As your body goes limp, Elle finally pulls the vibrator away, leaving your clit throbbing and your legs shaking. You collapse against her, utterly exhausted. She wraps her arms around you, her chuckles vibrating against your back.

"Good little slut," she murmurs, her breath warm on your neck. The phantom buzz of the toy lingers, making your pussy twitch. You lean into her, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. She's so strong, so in control, and you can't help but feel completely owned by her.

Elle gently helps you up the bed, arranging the pillows so that you're propped up comfortably. Your limbs feel like jelly, but her touch is firm and sure, guiding you into place. You can't help but lean into her, craving the warmth and security she offers after that intense experience.

Her eyes soften as she looks at you, a hint of concern in her expression. "Are you okay?" she asks, her voice gentle. You nod, still trying to catch your breath, and she smiles before heading to grab supplies.

Elle returns with a warm, damp cloth, which she uses to gently wipe away the sweat and arousal from your thighs and pussy. She's careful not to cause any more stimulation, and her touch is soothing, almost maternal.

As she tends to you, you can't help but stare at her in awe. The way she moves with such confidence, the way she wields pleasure and pain so masterfully, it's intoxicating. You're struck by just how deeply you feel for her, how much you trust her to give you what you need.

When she's done cleaning you up, Elle leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, before finally capturing your lips. It's a gentle kiss, filled with affection, leaving you humming with content.

[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

[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.

[godsfavdarling]

friends with benefits

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3, my masterlist previous chapter --- next chapter pairing: Spencer Reid x Elle Greenaway summary: There's some tension between Spencer and Elle which might get resolved. warnings: smut (blowjob, fingering) words: 4,6k a/n: we are soooo back! If yall like it I'll keep writing! I have more free time now! As always comments are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading!

Elle sat at her desk, absently flipping through case files. The steady hum of the bullpen provided a backdrop to her thoughts, which were consumed by memories of that night with Spencer. She found it increasingly difficult to focus, her mind wandering back to the feel of his lips on hers, the warmth of his hands on her waist.

She glanced up, catching sight of Spencer as he entered the room. Her heart gave a little leap at the sight of him, but it was quickly followed by a pang of disappointment. He avoided her gaze, his eyes firmly fixed on the stack of papers in his hands.

"Morning, Reid," she called out, trying to keep her tone casual.

"Morning," he replied, his voice barely above a mumble as he hurried past her desk.

Elle watched him go, a mix of frustration and sadness welling up inside her. She knew he was avoiding her, and it hurt more than she cared to admit.

Taking a deep breath, she decided she couldn't let this go on without at least trying to address it.

Later that day, when the bullpen was quieter and most of the team had left, she found her chance. Spencer was at the coffee machine, his back to her. She approached him, determined to at least start a conversation.

"Hey, Spencer," she said softly, hoping not to startle him.

He turned, a look of surprise flashing across his face. "Oh, hi Elle," he said, his tone guarded.

"Can we talk?" she asked, trying to keep her voice gentle. "I feel like we've been... distant."

Spencer hesitated, glancing around the bullpen as if searching for an escape route. The tension in his shoulders was palpable, his eyes darting nervously from desk to desk. Finally, he looked back at Elle, his voice strained. "I'm not sure now is the best time," he said.

"Why?" Elle pressed, her gaze steady and unwavering.

"I... I have a lot of paperwork left," Spencer lied, his fingers fidgeting with the stack of files in his hand.

Elle arched an eyebrow, her skepticism evident. "No, you don't."

"You don't know that," he retorted, a defensive edge creeping into his voice.

"Yes, I do. I can see it. You finished hours ago. You're doing Morgan’s paperwork," she pointed out, her tone firm and unwavering, cutting through his excuse with a clear note of frustration.

"Exactly. As I said, I still have more paperwork," he insisted, clutching at his excuse like a lifeline.

"Spencer..." Elle's voice was a mixture of frustration and concern, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the Spencer she knew - the one who was always honest, always straightforward.

"Maybe next time," he said abruptly, turning on his heel and walking away quickly. Elle watched his retreating figure, feeling a deep sigh escape her lips. She stood there for a moment, the weight of their unresolved tension pressing down on her.

The bullpen was a blur of activity around her, agents and analysts bustling about with their own tasks, but Elle felt a world apart. She returned to her desk, her mind racing with thoughts of Spencer. His avoidance was tearing at her.

Elle tried to focus on her work, but her eyes kept drifting to Spencer. She noticed the way he hunched over his desk, the way he buried himself in files and reports, anything to keep from facing her. 

Why was he avoiding her so adamantly? Did he not like the kiss? Had she misread the signs? Obviously since he left so quickly. But she was so sure. Doubts swirled in her mind, each one more troubling than the last.

As the day wore on, Elle found herself replaying their kiss in her mind. The memory was vivid - the softness of his lips, the tentative yet eager way he had responded. There had been something real in that kiss.

She knew pushing him too hard might drive him further away, but she also knew they couldn't continue like this indefinitely. 

The silence between them was deafening, and the distance only seemed to grow with each passing day. Elle resolved to give Spencer the space he needed, but she also knew she wouldn't wait forever. Something had to give.

For the next few weeks, Spencer kept his distance from her. Their work continued as usual, but Spencer carefully avoided any situations that might lead to another moment alone with her. He busied himself with case files and research, using every available distraction to keep his mind off the kiss they had shared.

His plan of avoiding her and talking about that night so far was successful. It had been weeks, and it seemed like Elle had given up, but still, sometimes he caught her staring at him like he was a wounded animal. He hated it. 

He hated that his feelings were so transparent, that his awkwardness and uncertainty were on full display. Spencer’s mind was a tumult of confusion and longing. He replayed the kiss over and over, the softness of her lips, the warmth of her touch. It had felt so right, yet the implications terrified him. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions cloud his judgment, not when their jobs demanded clear heads and professional boundaries.

It had been a few weeks since that night, and the team found themselves in the middle of a particularly challenging case. They were in a small town in Ohio, tracking a serial arsonist who had escalated to murder. 

The unsub had already claimed three victims, each one found in the charred remains of their homes, and the pressure to catch him was mounting. The team gathered in the local police station, the air thick with tension.

Hotch stood at the front of the room, outlining their strategy. "We need to divide and conquer. Morgan, you'll be with JJ interviewing witnesses. Spencer and Elle, I need you two to go through the fire department's reports and cross-reference them with the victim's backgrounds."

Spencer glanced at Elle, his expression tense, then quickly looked away. "I can manage the reports on my own," he said, his voice a little too quick, too defensive. The room went silent, everyone exchanging puzzled glances. Morgan raised an eyebrow, and JJ's lips formed a thin line of concern.

Hotch's gaze sharpened, and his voice took on a firm edge. "Reid, I assigned you and Elle to this task for a reason. You will work together."

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on him. "Fine," he muttered, his shoulders slumping slightly in resignation. 

Elle watched him, her own heart aching at the strain between them. She knew something had to give, but right now, they had a job to do.

The rest of the team dispersed to their assignments, leaving Spencer and Elle standing together in an awkward silence. Elle took a deep breath, trying to push past the tension. "Let's get to it," she said, her voice steady but her eyes searching for any sign of the Spencer she knew.

Spencer nodded, his jaw tight. "Yeah, let's go," he replied, leading the way to the records room. As they walked, the silence between them was deafening, filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

The records room was dimly lit and cluttered with stacks of old reports and files. Spencer and Elle settled at a large, cluttered table, spreading out the fire department's reports and victim backgrounds. The only sounds were the rustling of paper and the occasional scribble of a pen.

After a while, Spencer looked up from his stack of reports, his expression determined. "I can look through these myself," he said, his voice tense. "I'll be quick. It will take me..." He glanced at the pile, running his finger along the edges of the papers, calculating. "...about 1 hour and 12 minutes."

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Elle's eyes narrowed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" she snapped, unable to keep the anger out of her voice.

Spencer flinched at her tone but stood his ground. "No, I'm just trying to be efficient."

"Efficient?" Elle echoed, her voice rising. "What are you really doing, Spencer? This isn't about efficiency. You've been avoiding me for weeks. What's going on?"

Spencer's jaw tightened, and he avoided her gaze. "Nothing's going on, Elle. I'm just trying to do my job."

"Don't lie to me," Elle shot back, her eyes blazing. "I've known you long enough to know when you're hiding something. We need to talk about what happened."

Spencer finally looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of guilt and frustration. "There's nothing to talk about," he insisted, his voice tight.

"Bullshit," Elle shot back, her gaze unwavering.

Spencer sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. "What do you want to talk about then?" he asked, his tone resigned.

"How about that night you ran out of my apartment?" Elle's voice softened, concern etched in her features as she searched his eyes.

"I had to leave," Spencer replied quickly, his words almost defensive.

Elle stared at him, her expression pleading. "Spencer... please," she implored softly. "You're my friend, at least that's what I thought. I'm sorry about that night. I'm sorry, okay? I clearly misread the signs. Let's just forget about it and let's be friends."

"Okay," Spencer murmured quietly, but Elle could see the hint of disappointment in his eyes.

"Why did you run away?" Elle pressed, her voice gentle but insistent.

"You said we should forget," Spencer said quietly.

"Forget that. I need to know. Why did you run away?" Elle asked, her tone insistent.

"I just... I don't want to complicate things," Spencer admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Complicate things?" Elle repeated, her voice softening slightly. "Spencer, ignoring this is what's complicating things. We need to talk about what happened. We can't keep pretending it didn't."

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know," he said quietly, his brow furrowed in thought. "We're colleagues, Elle. Statistics show that workplace relationships can lead to complications. Studies indicate that nearly 70% of workplace romances end in dissatisfaction or even damage professional reputations. And considering our line of work, where trust and focus are critical, the risk of distraction is even higher. It's not just about us, it's about our team dynamics, our effectiveness in solving cases…"

He paused, his gaze searching Elle's face for understanding. "I'm not saying I don't care about you, Elle. It's quite the opposite. I value our friendship and working relationship immensely. I just... I worry about the implications if we were to cross that line."

Spencer's words came out in a rush, his nervous energy palpable as he struggled to articulate his concerns. He leaned back in his chair, fidgeting with a pen in his hands.

Elle looked at Spencer, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I get it. You're right. As always," she said, her tone soft with a hint of amusement.

"Not always," he added modestly.

"Yes, always. You're always right," Elle replied with a playful smile, her eyes meeting his with warmth.

The team managed to catch the unsub after a tense standoff. It was Elle who had tackled him to the ground, subduing him just as he was about to escape. The unsub put up a fierce fight, and in the struggle, Elle ended up with a black eye. The rest of the team had arrived just in time to secure the scene, but Elle's injury was the most noticeable souvenir of their confrontation.

Later that evening, as Elle sat in her hotel room, a knock sounded on her door. She opened it to find Spencer standing there, looking concerned. He held a small bag filled with painkillers and other first-aid supplies.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes scanning her bruised face. "I brought you some things that might help with the pain."

Elle offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Spencer, but I'm fine," she replied, trying to brush off his worry.

Spencer's brow furrowed. "Elle, you need to take care of that injury. A black eye can be pretty serious. You should ice it, and take some ibuprofen to reduce the swelling. And you need to be careful not to…"

"Spencer," Elle interrupted gently, "it's okay. It's been worse before. I appreciate the concern, but I really am fine."

He hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but then nodded. "Alright," he said reluctantly.

Elle glanced at the small bottle of whiskey on the table. "How about a drink instead?" she suggested, raising an eyebrow. "I could use one after today."

"Sure," Spencer agreed, though his uncertainty was evident. He had never been much of a drinker, but he didn't want to leave her alone, especially after the day's events.

They sat across from each other, Elle sinking into the armchair while Spencer took a seat on the sofa. She poured them each a glass of whiskey, handing one to Spencer.

"To a job well done," Elle toasted, clinking her glass against his.

Spencer smiled faintly and took a small sip, the burn of the alcohol surprising him. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the tension from the day slowly ebbing away.

"How are you really feeling?" Spencer asked, breaking the silence, his eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort.

Elle sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Honestly? Tired, sore, but... I feel good. We got him. That's what matters."

Spencer nodded, his eyes still filled with concern. "You were amazing out there today. I don't know how you do it."

Elle shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "Just doing my job. We all are. Besides," she added with a wry smile, "I've had worse. A black eye is nothing. Today was a success."

Spencer looked down at his drink, swirling it in the glass. "I just... I worry about you, Elle."

She reached out, placing a hand on his knee. "I know you do. And I appreciate it. But I can handle myself. You don't need to worry so much."

He looked up, meeting her gaze. "I can't help it," he admitted, his voice soft. "I care about you."

Elle's expression softened, "I care about you too, Spencer. More than you know."

Her gaze drifted over him as he sat across from her, his lean frame slightly hunched, his neat hair perfectly in place. She noted the delicate features of his face and the way his furrowed brows framed his intelligent, earnest eyes. There was a gentleness to him, an almost fragile quality that belied the strength she knew he possessed. 

They sat in silence, the tension between them palpable. Spencer looked up from his drink, catching her stare, and for a moment, their eyes locked. She could see the uncertainty and curiosity mirrored in his gaze, a reflection of her own conflicted feelings.

Finally, breaking the silence that hung heavy between them, Elle asked "Did you like the kiss?", her tone gentle yet probing.

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. "What?" he replied, caught off guard by her directness.

"You heard me. Did you like it?" Elle pressed, her gaze steady on his.

"Um... yeah, but I don't think..." Spencer began, his words trailing off uncertainly.

"How much did you like it? A lot?" Elle persisted, leaning forward slightly, her curiosity evident.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, meeting her gaze reluctantly. "Elle..." he started, unsure how to articulate his feelings.

"Just answer me, Reid," Elle urged softly, her voice gentle yet insistent.

"Yes," Spencer admitted quietly, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I liked it... a lot."

"Hmm," Elle murmured thoughtfully, a small smile playing on her lips. "I liked it too. I'm glad."

Spencer chuckled nervously, a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression as he brushed a hand through his hair.

"You're a good kisser," Elle added, her tone warm and teasing.

Spencer chuckled again, his nerves evident but his smile genuine. "Thanks," he replied softly.

"You know... sometimes people can just enjoy themselves, have fun together and not worry," Elle continued, her tone turning more serious. "Don't worry about feelings and relationships."

Spencer looked at her, a mixture of confusion and concern in his eyes. "I worry about your feelings," he admitted quietly.

"You know what I mean, Reid," Elle said gently.

He sighed softly, his gaze dropping to his knees. 

"I like you. You like me. I can see how you're looking at me," Elle continued, her voice earnest. "We can still be friends and work together and... have some fun."

Spencer swallowed nervously, processing her words carefully. "I'm not sure I'm following," he confessed, his voice hesitant.

"Do you want to have sex?" Elle asked bluntly, her eyes searching for his response.

Spencer stared at her, flustered, his face turning a deep shade of red. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his mind raced with conflicting thoughts.

"I... uh..." he stammered, looking away as he tried to collect himself. "Elle, this is... unexpected."

She leaned back slightly, giving him space while maintaining her steady gaze. "I know, Spencer. But I'm serious. We both felt something that night. We both need something right now. Why not each other?"

Spencer took a deep breath, his eyes flicking back to hers. "But... What about our friendship? Our work? What if things get complicated?"

Elle smiled softly, understanding his concerns. "We can set boundaries. We can be clear about what this is and what it isn't. We respect each other, right? We can make it work."

He hesitated, biting his lip as he considered her words. "But what if it affects how we work together? What if it changes things between us?"

"It doesn't have to," Elle replied gently. "We'll communicate. We'll be honest with each other. And if at any point either of us feels uncomfortable or wants to stop, we will. No hard feelings."

Spencer looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or insincerity. He found none. Just honesty and a shared desire. "You really want this?"

"I do," Elle said firmly. "I think we can be adults about this. And I think it could be good for us. A distraction, a way to unwind. No strings attached, just... mutual benefit."

Spencer nodded slowly, feeling a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. "Okay," he said quietly. "But we need to promise each other, if it starts to get complicated, we stop. We talk."

"Absolutely," Elle agreed. "No pressure, no expectations. Just us, taking it one step at a time."

Spencer felt a small smile tug at his lips, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Alright then. Friends with benefits."

Elle smiled back, squeezing his hand gently. "Friends with benefits."

She stood up, taking a few steps to position herself in front of Spencer, who was still sitting on the couch looking up at her. She bent down, placing her hands on the backrest of the couch, her face inches from his. Her eyes locked onto his, and Spencer felt a flutter of nerves and anticipation in his stomach.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the room filled with a tense, expectant silence. Elle's eyes searched his, and Spencer could see the determination and warmth in her gaze. He felt his breath quicken as she slowly moved her face closer, her lips brushing lightly against his.

The initial contact was soft, almost tentative, as if testing the waters. Spencer's eyes fluttered closed, his heart pounding in his chest. Elle's lips were warm and inviting, and he responded, pressing back gently.

Their kisses were slow at first, exploring and savoring the moment. Elle's hand moved to cup the side of his face, her thumb caressing his cheek. Spencer's hands found their way to her waist, holding her gently as if she might slip away.

As the kiss deepened, a spark ignited between them. Elle's movements became more insistent, her lips parting to invite him in. 

Spencer hesitated for a brief moment before following her lead, his tongue tentatively brushing against hers. The sensation was electric, sending a shiver down his spine.

Elle's hands moved from the backrest to his shoulders, pulling him closer as she straddled his lap. Spencer's hands slid up her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through her shirt. Their kisses grew more urgent, a mix of passion and need. 

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer. Spencer's hands roamed her back, gripping her tighter as their kiss became more intense. 

He could feel the heat of her body against his, the rhythm of her breath matching his own. Their tongues danced together, exploring and tasting, the kiss filled with a hunger that had been building for months.

Elle pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against his, both of them breathing heavily. She looked into his eyes, her expression a mix of desire and affection. "You okay?" she whispered, her voice husky.

Spencer nodded, his eyes still closed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he breathed. "More than okay."

Elle smiled back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips once more before pulling away just enough to speak. "Good. Because I think we're just getting started."

She stood up and took his hand, urging him to stand up too. She leaned in and kissed him again, her lips soft and insistent against his. 

With a gentle pull, she led them over to her bed, sitting him down and then kneeling before him. Spencer's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Wait," he said, his voice trembling. 

Elle paused, looking up at him with concern. "Do you want to stop? It's okay if you do."

Spencer's face flushed, and he could feel his arousal, hard and insistent, straining against his pants. He was overwhelmed, the intensity of his emotions and the situation pressing down on him. He put his face in his hands, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Is everything okay?" Elle asked softly, her voice full of genuine concern.

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm fine, it's just... I've never been with a girl before, and it feels wrong. You… doing this, and I don't even know what I'm doing."

Elle's expression softened, and she reached out to gently cup his cheek still kneeling between his legs. "It's okay, Spencer. I'll show you. We'll take it slow. Can I keep going?"

He swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yes, please."

With a reassuring smile, Elle continued. She leaned in, kissing him again, this time more gently. Her hands moved to unbutton his pants, freeing him from his constraints. 

She wrapped her fingers around his length, feeling him shudder at her touch. She began to pleasure him with her mouth, her movements slow and deliberate, ensuring he was comfortable every step of the way.

Her lips slid over him, her tongue swirling and teasing. Spencer's breath came in ragged gasps. He watched her, a mix of awe and desire in his eyes. The sight of her, head bobbing rhythmically, sent waves of pleasure coursing through him. He couldn't help but let out soft moans, his fingers gently tangling in her hair.

The sensation built up inside him, a tension coiling tighter with each of her movements. He could feel himself getting closer, his breaths coming in shorter, sharper bursts. 

“Elle, I—” he tried to warn her, but she only intensified her efforts, her eyes locking onto his.

Spencer's body tensed as the waves of pleasure crested and then crashed over him. He let out a strangled cry, his fingers clenching in her hair as he released. Elle stayed with him through it, her mouth working expertly, not missing a beat.

As the last shudders ran through him, Elle tenderly released him, her lips glistening. She swallowed, a satisfied look in her eyes, and wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

Spencer lay back, chest heaving, staring up at her in a mix of disbelief and gratitude.

Elle stood up, her eyes never leaving Spencer's. She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, revealing her smooth, toned torso. Spencer's breath caught in his throat as he watched her, mesmerized. Next, she unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor, exposing her breasts. His eyes widened, taking in every detail, every curve.

She unbuttoned her pants, sliding them down her legs, her movements slow and deliberate. Finally, she stepped out of her underwear, standing before him completely bare. Spencer couldn't tear his gaze away. She was stunning.

With a confident grace, Elle climbed on top of him. Her eyes met his, full of reassurance and desire. She took his hand and guided it between her legs, pressing his fingers against her warmth.

"Here," she whispered, showing him how to touch her. "Just follow my lead."

Spencer's fingers hesitantly explored her, sliding through her wetness, feeling the slick heat of her arousal. Elle's soft moan spurred him on, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. He marveled at the contrast between her assertive demeanor and the vulnerability she displayed now, her body arching into his touch.

Elle's hips began to move against his hand, her rhythm slow and sensuous, guiding him. Spencer's initial hesitation melted away, replaced by growing confidence. He studied her reactions, the way her breath hitched when his fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot, the way her eyes fluttered closed as she lost herself in the sensation.

His fingers found a steady rhythm, moving with increasing certainty, sliding in and out of her with gentle yet deliberate strokes. He used his thumb to circle her clit, and Elle gasped, her grip on his shoulders tightening. 

"Like that," she murmured, her voice thick with pleasure. "Keep going."

Spencer watched her intently, his heart pounding in his chest. He was captivated by the sight of her, the way her body writhed in response to his touch. He could feel the tension building within her, her muscles tensing, her breaths coming in short, ragged bursts.

Elle's movements grew more urgent, her hips grinding against his hand, seeking release. Spencer adjusted his fingers, curling them slightly to press against her G-spot, his thumb maintaining its steady rhythm on her clit. 

The effect was immediate. Elle's eyes flew open, a gasp escaping her lips as pleasure surged through her. She leaned forward, her legs spread on either side of his stomach, moaning into his ear. One of her hands tangled in his hair while the other gripped the sheets. Spencer's other hand wrapped around her, holding her close to his chest, feeling the vibrations of her moans against his skin.

"Spencer," she breathed, her voice a mix of desperation and ecstasy. "I'm close."

He could feel it too, the way her walls tightened around his fingers, the way her whole body seemed to be coiling tighter and tighter. He continued his ministrations, his focus entirely on her, determined to bring her to the peak of pleasure.

With a final, shuddering gasp, Elle's body tensed, her back arching as her orgasm washed over her. She cried out, a raw, uninhibited sound, her inner muscles spasming around his fingers. Spencer watched in awe as she came, his hand never faltering, prolonging her pleasure until she collapsed against him, spent and trembling.

Elle's breathing gradually slowed, her body relaxing as the waves of her orgasm ebbed away. She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. 

"That was... incredible," she whispered, her voice still breathless.

Spencer smiled, a flush of pride warming his cheeks. "I'm glad," he replied softly, his fingers still resting gently against her.

[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.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

B!tch in Heat~Elle Greenaway xFem Reader

Elle Greenaway fic... Pre-Fisher King. A kind of enemies to lovers for Elle and a BAU team member reader. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, degrading kink, praise kink, lots of curses, sex, riding, doggy style, more implied sex, implied oral, sex toys, power struggle, top/bottom power play, possibly triggering criminal activity from case (mutilation, kidnapping, killing, etc.), just lots of kink and smut

about 2k words

Enjoy (;

You had been on the team for around 6 months when you meet Elle Greenaway. She was flirtatious, feisty, and not to be messed with. She quickly joined the team, which meant you had to get used to her sometimes annoying nature. She jived well with Morgan, and you just came to the overall conclusion that she wasn’t for you. She just wasn’t you cup of tea. And that was fine. She was your coworker. Nothing else.

Like any other day, you and your team had a case. You were dragged out to north east this time and it was a hard one. By the end of the day, everyone was exhausted and ready for the hotel. Just as exhausted as the rest of the team, you went to Hotch to get your room key. “We’re doubling up tonight, Y/N your with Elle”. You we’re so tired you couldn’t believe it for a second. Seriously?! Her?! You just sighed, took the key card, and accepted your fate.

You got to the room, and Elle was already somewhat unpacked, had claimed a bed thank god there were two, and was now showering in the bathroom. You went over to the unclaimed bed and began to take out your bathroom bag and your sleepwear. Elle exited the bathroom a few minutes later, her hair wet and in a towel. She was wearing a tank with sweats. “Bathroom’s yours” was all she said. You rolled your eyes a bit, but decided you were tired and just wanted to go to bed. You did your nighttime tidings, changed into your baggy shirt and sleeping boxers, and made your way straight into your bed. No words were spoken. You just went to bed. And in the morning it was similar. Few words spoken, lots of silence as you both got ready. 

You meet the team in the lobby and had a feeling that Elle’s eyes were constantly on you, or at least side eyeing you. Again, you decided it wasn't worth it. You were better than that. You didn’t want or need a cat fight with a bitch. Woah... Some strong words for your co-worker... But it was true. Elle could be a real bitch sometimes, Sometimes?? No, it was all the time. Anyway, the day went by in similar frustration to the last, not much to work with. It was getting to the whole team who were all slowly wanting to go home more and more. You wanted to spend the least amount of time with that bitch, Elle Greenaway as possible. But you were forced stayed another night. And the night had the same uncomfortable, tension filled silence. You needed to do something to get your mind off of her, god damnit.

So, you pulled out the case files to partially distract yourself, but also because the case was bothering you in how stuck your team was. This apparently was disturbing to Elle’s beauty sleep because for the first time today, she spoke, “What are you doing?” she snarked, “I’m trying to get some sleep”. You had had enough so you bit back, “And I’m trying to solve the case of girls being mutilated in pairs, which we all seem to stumped on! So if you don’t mind!?” “I do indeed mind!” she snapped back, “We can’t solve this case if were not getting any fucking sleep!” By now, Elle was out of her bed and on the edge of mine partially yelling but containing it with the strain of her jaw. “What is your problem?!” you snapped back, standing up in between her and your bed’s edge, “What is your problem with me?!” “I don’t have a fucking problem with you!” she snarked back. You had had it. “Yes you do, stop fucking lying!” She took a step back, shaking her head, “Fuck you.” she sneered.

And that’s when it clicked for you. “Is that what you want from me?” your tone turning less angry and more tauntingly playful. Elle said nothing. You stepped closer to her, farther from the bed, “Is that what you want? To fuck? No more than that... do you want be fucked?” you tauntingly purred. Elle said nothing. Instead, she crashed her lips into yours. “Fuck you...” she murmured as your tongues fought for dominance. “Hmmmm... You’d like that wouldn’t you...” you breathlessly purred. You ended up winning and tongue fucking her out a few moans and whimpers, but then she pushed you onto your bed. She crawled on top of you and arrogantly whispered while pinning you to the bed, “No. I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you hard. So hard that you won’t be able to walk properly tomorrow.” Damn was she seductive and sexy on top, but this was not how the night was gonna go. So, you slyly and expertly flipped your positions, pinning Elle in an even more tight hold. and you just looked at her, squirming to get back on top “Nice try.” was all you said, in your best seductive and dominant voice. She continued to struggle and fight, you just darkly chuckled and watched her, eyes filling with lust. “The more you fight it, the more you won’t remember your name in the morning...” you threatened in a whisper into her ear, “You think you threatened me by not be able to walk tomorrow?” you darkly chuckled again, “Love, the things I could do to you..” You went even closer to her pinned face and whispered a string of filthy actions and punishments and Elle froze up for a second and whimpered. You could still see dominance and fight in her eyes; however, it was slowly being replaced by desperate, needy lust. “Now... Be a good girl and stay. Stay. You understand?” you sternly said. She hesitantly nodded. “Words bitch.” you spat, “No one likes a brat.” She swallowed down her pride and simply said “yes”. 

You smirked as you released your body pressure from her and went up to grab your bag and go into he bathroom. You pulled your double edged strap out and pulled your shorts over it for some hidden aspect (although that thing was so massive, nothing could really hide it...). You cam out of the bathroom with Elle still on the bed, waiting for you. “Look at my good girl. See, you CAN listen and be good” you cooed. She just smirked. You climbed on top of her and kissed her hard. You tongue fucked her for a solid minute or so until you both needed to catch your breaths. You continued with a sultry, lustful tone, “Tell me what you want, bunny.” Elle looked at you desperately and almost mischievously, she suddenly ground herself against your packing heat, causing a moan to slip out of you from the dick bottoming you out. “Double sided, eh?” she smirked and whispered into your ear, “I want all our clothes off right now, bunny.” You should have called her out on the sarcasm, but you were in too much of a lustful state. And so was she. You both basically tore each others clothes off. “Please..” Elle whined desperately. “Well since you asked so nicely” you tauntingly purred. As you began to slide into her deliciously, wet pussy, Elle strategically flipped you around. Now you were in a position where Elle could ride the fuck out of your brains. This was dangerous. Too dangerous. Be rolled her hips against your body, and an unholy moan tore through your body. “I don’t want you to as nicely” she degradingly snarled, “I want you to beg like a slut. Beg me to ride your fucking brains out”. At this she started actively grinding and riding the strap, causing a string of curses and moans to leave your mouth, “God please don’t stop” you mewled. ���That’s right, I’m your God.” she spitefully spat, as she picked up her pace. Now you were both moaning and mewling messes about to cum, but she was on top. She was dominating you. And you were letting it happening. And she loved it. You both came seeing stars, legs trembling, you moaning her name. “That’s right, whore, you belong to me.” she lustfully sneered, coming down from her high. 

This was when you took your opportunity. You flipped her onto your stomach and pulled her legs up to your where you were there, kneeling and meeting her ass. You grabbed her arms with you left hand and pulled her close to you, “Such a bad girl. You don’t get to call me those things when your the one like a bitch in heat. So that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna fuck you like a bitch in heat. I’m gonna fuck you doggy style until your legs go numb and your squirting and cumming like its no ones business but mine” you threatingly taunted. Before Elle could respond you rutted into her and she moaned loudly, one you could tell was out of pain and pleasure. You used your hold on her arms to thrust into even harder and deeper. And God it felt good on your end too. But that wasn’t the point. Elle’s legs had started to really tremble, and you could tell she was on the edge. “You wanna cum bitch?” you sneered. Her response was a mix of a mewl, moan, and nod. You pulled her closer to you, achieving a whole other angle and making Elle scream in pleasure. “Then beg, bitch” you lustfully sneered. As you thrusted into her with no mercy, and you about to cum on your own as well, she managed some words together, “Please fuck, let me cum. I’m yours all night if you just let me cum this once. God please, you win.” “Good girl” you gladly purred, “Your mine. Go ahead, cum on my dick”. Elle came first, screaming your name, and you right after her. She sat there and was about to get her clothes on when you grabbed her, “What, did you think we were done? No, you belong to me now pet, on your knees.” 

The next morning you went down to the lobby to meet the team. You could see the stagar in Elle’s walk. No more spiteful from side eyes from her, you thought with a smirk was you sipped your coffee which you desperately needed as you had slept almost no wink last night. Thankfully your team solved the case and that meant you were all in the jet on the way back in no time. You decided you needed to catch up on some of your sleep and were gonna take a nap, but before you were able to close your eyes, you noticed Reid collecting money from a not very happy Morgan. You quickly piped up, “Hey, what’s the money about?” Reid blushed and Morgan miffed answered, “We had a bet about you and Elle and I lost”. Reid smirked and Morgan just side eyed him for a second and said, “I can’t believe you were right!” Now you were confused... But Elle butted in before you, “Wait what?! What bet? And who was involved?” Basically the whole bus snickered as everyone but Gideon raised their hands slightly. Now you interjected, “Ok creeps, What was the bet??” pointing to everyone in a circular motion on the jet. Morgan side shouldered Reid, “You wanna tell them kid or should I?” Reid just blushed, and JJ interupted, “We... we bet on who we thought would top each other out of the two of you” she said in her hesitant, sweet tone. Reid’s actions suddenly made sense. He had bet you would top Elle, and he had been right. But Elle interjected your thoughts, “Who bet on who?? And who do you think won??” Now it was Aaron’s turn, “Oh come on Elle, your walk, bruises, and hoarse throat this morning spoke miles.” Elle was speechless. Morgan piped up, “I bet on Elle, so did Garcia and JJ. Hotch and Reid bet Y/N. Gideon didn’t bet.” Elle just sat there with her mouth agape. You just chuckled and went over to her and purred quietly enough for only her to hear, “What’s the matter, bitch? Cat got your tongue..?”. She turned beet red which made you try and stifle your laugh by biting your lip. With that Morgan chuckled, “I can’t believe I was wrong... I’m never usually wrong with this stuff...” You just chuckled to yourself, when Reid meekly said, “Well just because someone would top you, doesn’t mean they would top everybody.” At that you and the team couldn’t contain their laughter, as Morgan sat there just speechless. 

[guiltyc0nscience]

elle greenaway and spencer reid:

[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

[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!

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— 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

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— 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

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— 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

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

[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!

[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.

[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.

[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

[godsfavdarling]

taking away all your pain

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3, my masterlist previous chapter --- next chapter pairing: Spencer Reid x Elle Greenaway summary: Elle and Spencer continue their friends with benefits affair. warnings: addiction, drugs, smut, angst, phone sex, mention of injury, nightmares, ptsd, time jumps (s3/s5) words: 4k a/n: Kind of a filler chapter. I’m not gonna lie, I was struggling a bit. I know where I want to go with the story, but I’m unsure about the road there. Also, I wrote the smut while at church on a job. Do with that information what you want.

Spencer knocked on Elle's door, his heart drumming in his chest with anticipation. 

It had been a few weeks since he had seen her, and as luck would have it, the team had a case in California. He told them he’d visit his mom, since Vegas was not far away, and assured them he’d be back next week. It was the truth, but before he went to Vegas, he stopped by San Diego to see Elle.

He took a taxi to a street not quite in the center of the city but also not in the suburbs. Her location was pretty good - convenient and unassuming. She lived in a small one-floor apartment in a building complex. The walls were probably painted an off-white shade originally, but they now seemed covered in dirt and grime. He had to take an outdoor flight of stairs to reach the second floor where she lived.

When Elle opened the door, she greeted him with a warm smile and stepped aside to let him in.

“Missed you,” Spencer whispered as he stepped in, his lips brushing against her ear.

“Missed you too,” Elle replied, pulling his face down to grant him a deep kiss that silenced any further conversation.

Their time together was always like this – intense and consuming. 

They spent the nights lost in each other, bodies entwined. If they were lucky enough to spend more time together, the mornings were no different. 

Most of their time was spent in bed, sometimes on the couch or in the shower, always together, always naked. For a few precious hours, they shut out reality. 

All that was left were their moans filling the room, the mingling scent of their bodies, the warmth of their breath on each other's skin, the sweat dampening their flesh, and the rhythmic thrum of their hearts, beating just a bit faster than when they were apart.

Eventually, they drifted off to sleep, exhaustion finally overtaking them. 

But Spencer's rest was restless. 

He woke up, heart pounding, drenched in sweat from a nightmare he couldn't quite remember. Disoriented, he glanced at the clock. He had been asleep for maybe an hour.

Elle was not beside him. 

He reached out to the empty space where she should have been, the sheets cool to the touch. Concerned, he got up and moved quietly through the apartment. He found her in the living room, sitting on the couch, staring at the wall.

"Elle?" he called softly, not wanting to startle her.

She didn't turn immediately but eventually looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were distant, lost in some thought.

"Hey," he said gently, moving closer. "You okay?"

She studied him for a moment before responding, her gaze softening slightly. "Are you okay? You’re drenched in sweat."

"I just had a nightmare. The usual," he admitted, running a hand through his damp hair. "Can't sleep?"

Elle paused for a second, her brow furrowing slightly. "Yeah."

"Something going on?" Spencer pressed, his concern deepening as he took in her troubled expression.

"No, just can't sleep," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced toward the window, where the silver glow of the full moon spilled into the room. "I think it's the moon. It's full tonight."

Spencer sat down next to her, the couch cushions shifting under his weight. "You know, there's a lot of stuff about the full moon affecting people," he began, his voice a mix of curiosity and distraction. 

"Some say it messes with our sleep cycles, makes us more restless. There are all these studies about how more accidents happen during a full moon, more hospital admissions, even more births. It's like the moon pulls at us, just like it pulls at the tides."

Elle turned to look at him, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips despite her lingering unease. "Have you ever considered you might know too much?"

"Maybe I've read too much," he chuckled softly, the sound a welcome break in the quiet room. "But it's fascinating, right? How something so far away can have such an impact on us. Maybe it’s just folklore or maybe there's some truth to it. I mean, people have believed in the moon's power for centuries. There’s something... beautiful about it."

She nodded, her eyes reflecting the moonlight as she listened. "Yeah, I guess there is."

He reached out, taking her hand in his, their fingers intertwining. "Wanna talk about it?"

Elle squeezed his hand gently, her grip warm but trembling slightly. "About what?"

Her eyes were distant, as if she were searching for words to make sense of the chaos swirling in her mind. 

The memories from her past were like dark, shadowy specters, vivid and relentless. Each time she closed her eyes, the scenes replayed with haunting clarity: the sounds, the faces, the overwhelming sense of fear. 

The nightmares weren't just dreams; they were jagged fragments of her past, cutting through her waking hours and leaving her feeling… exposed and raw.

She struggled to maintain her composure, her heart racing as she tried to push away the images that refused to fade. 

The night seemed endless, the full moon casting eerie shadows that only intensified her feelings of unease. Her trauma felt like cold fingers gripping her mind, trapping her in a cycle of anxiety she couldn’t escape.

Despite the constant state of anxiety, Elle rarely mentioned her struggles to Spencer. 

When he visited, their time together was so limited that she preferred to avoid discussing any of the painful realities of her life. 

She wanted to handle herself by herself. 

She wanted to manage her demons without burdening him. 

She wanted to keep herself together and through it on her own. 

Yet, sitting with him, in the moonlit room, struggling to keep her fear at bay, she was thankful. 

For him. 

Being here. 

“I just can’t sleep,” Elle said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The effort to keep her tone steady was almost more than she could manage. 

“I missed you,” she added, her voice soft and filled with a genuine, aching sincerity. She looked up at him, her eyes full of longing. “Just... having you here… I’m glad you’re here.”

Spencer's gaze was gentle and understanding, but he didn’t press for more. Instead, he simply wrapped his arm around her, offering silent comfort as they sat together in the moonlit quiet. 

The room was still, save for the soft rustle of the night, and peace that helped to soothe the tumult within her.

“I missed you too,” Spencer whispered. “And I’m glad I’m here”

------------------------------------

Spencer had been wrestling with a relentless craving for Dilaudid for weeks now. 

He had been clean for a while, but the memory of a young face - pale and lifeless - haunted him, a constant reminder of his inability to save everyone. The image replayed in his mind like a cruel loop, each repetition feeding his desperation and dragging him deeper into the threat of his addiction.

The nights were a constant battleground of conflicting desires. 

He wanted to escape the guilt and frustration that gnawed at him, to numb the pain and the sense of failure that clung to him. The pull of the drug was strong, a powerful force that promised a temporary reprieve from the agony of his thoughts. 

But he knew all too well how fleeting that relief would be, how quickly it would turn into shackles around his soul.

In an effort to manage the growing urge, Spencer had started attending Beltway Clean Cops meetings. 

The idea was to surround himself with others who understood the struggles of working in law enforcement while battling addiction. He hoped this would help. That hearing their stories, sharing his own, and being with those who walked a similar path might provide some solace, or at least distract him from the cravings that plagued him.

As he stood outside the meeting room, the dim light from the corridor flickered in his tired eyes. The walls seemed to close in on him, the weight of his dilemma pressing heavily on his chest. 

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Elle’s number. 

His finger hovered over the call button, hesitating. They were just friends, who had sex sometimes, but still just friends. And he wasn’t sure what calling her would achieve. 

What could she do from California to help him in this moment of crisis? 

There’s nothing she could do. 

With a frustrated sigh, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and took a deep breath. 

The meeting was about to start. He squared his shoulders and walked through the door.

As he took his seat, he tried to push away the gnawing need for relief, focusing instead on the faces around him and the hope that, perhaps, here he might find a small piece of peace.

------------------------------------

Spencer’s visits to Elle had followed a familiar rhythm for years now. Every few weeks or months, he would show up and their time together would be a whirlwind of intensity - passionate nights spent together, their bodies intertwined, and then the inevitable departure. 

No strings attached, just moments of escape and solace amidst the chaos of their lives. They kept in touch through calls and texts, but their relationship remained defined by the brief, intense nights they shared.

However, the routine was interrupted one day when Spencer was shot. The incident happened right before he was scheduled to visit Elle. 

The pain was acute, and the hospital room was a stark contrast to the comfort of Elle’s presence he had been looking forward to for weeks.

Sitting in the sterile room, he shifted uncomfortably. His leg, immobilized and propped up, ached with every shift. 

Morgan had accompanied him but had stepped away for a while to handle some personal matters on the phone. The hospital room was too quiet, filled with the distant hum of medical machinery and the occasional footstep echoing in the hallway.

Spencer took out his phone, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on him. He dialed Elle’s number, his heart pounding with a mix of pain and anxiety. 

“Hey,” Spencer said when Elle answered, his voice strained and weary. He leaned back against the hospital bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. “I... I wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to come over for a while. We have to cancel next week, and I’m not sure when I'll be able to see you.”

“What happened?” Elle’s voice was sharp with concern, the worry instantly evident.

Spencer hesitated, his hand trembling slightly as he rubbed his forehead. “Oh, nothing really.”

“Spencer…”

With a deep sigh, he finally admitted, “I got shot.”

Elle’s response was immediate, her concern palpable even through the phone. “Oh my God, Spencer! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, though his voice betrayed his discomfort. He shifted slightly, wincing as pain shot through his leg. “It’s pretty bad, though. It’s my knee. I can’t walk right now. I’m sorry, I just wanted to let you know.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and Spencer could almost hear the worry in her breath. He pictured her biting her lip, a crease forming between her brows. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do? I could come and help you.”

“No,” Spencer said gently, trying to inject some firmness into his voice. “You have a new job. You should focus on that. I’ll be okay.”

He heard her sigh, the reluctance clear in her voice. “Okay. But call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do. Thanks, Elle.” He hung up, a heavy feeling settling in his chest.

“Everything alright?” Morgan asked, his tone casual as he suddenly appeared in the doorway. Spencer quickly put his phone away, trying to compose himself.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, forcing a smile. “Just called the facility where my mom’s staying. Had to let her know I couldn’t visit.”

Morgan’s eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You know, you’re always visiting your mom. It’s like a regular thing with you. How often do you see her?”

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound mingling with his discomfort. He shifted again, trying to ease the pain. “More often than I’d like to admit. She’s been having a rough time, and it helps to check in.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, sympathy evident in his gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll be able to visit soon.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Spencer said, glancing down at his injured knee, the bandages stark against his skin. He sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

When Spencer finally made it back home, the journey from the hospital to his apartment felt like a marathon despite the short distance. 

The cast on his leg was bulky and cumbersome, propped up on a stack of pillows on the couch. He sank into the cushions with a sigh, the discomfort of his injury mingling with the exhaustion of his ordeal.

As he settled in, his phone buzzed with a message. It was from Elle. 

Are you home already?

He tapped out a quick reply, his fingers clumsy and slow due to the pain. 

Yes, just got in. It’s good to be back.

Almost immediately, his phone rang. Elle’s name appeared on the screen. He answered, a mix of relief and longing filling him. 

“Hey,” Spencer said, trying to sound as casual as possible, though his voice was soft and strained.

“Hey,” Elle responded, her voice warm and soothing. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now that I’m home,” Spencer said, glancing down at his cast. “It’s frustrating, but I’m managing. I miss you.”

There was a pause on the other end, and Spencer could almost feel her presence through the silence. “I miss you too,” Elle said softly. “and since you’re stuck at home, and I’m miles away, how about we do something a little different tonight?”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued yet laced with confusion.

Elle’s voice dropped to a more intimate whisper, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m pretty sure you can figure it out, Doctor.”

Spencer's mind raced, trying to decipher her words and the sultry tone she used. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks, unsure how to respond. “I... I don’t know what to say to that.”

“What are you wearing?” Elle asked, her voice taking on a teasing edge.

Spencer glanced down at his clothes, feeling slightly self-conscious. “Umm... a button-up shirt and a vest. And just a pair of pants.”

“Mhm... sexy,” Elle purred.

“Thanks?” Spencer replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Aren't you going to ask me what I'm wearing?” Elle's voice was playful, almost daring.

“Oh, right, sorry. What are you wearing?”

“Guess!” she challenged, her voice light with mischief.

“Umm, well, you usually wear some pants, dark ones, and a shirt,” Spencer ventured, trying to picture her usual attire.

“That’s it?” she teased.

“Well, you obviously also have underwear on, and a jacket when it’s colder,” he added, feeling a bit out of his depth.

“Spencer...” Elle's voice was a blend of amusement and exasperation, a teasing lilt that sent a shiver down his spine.

“What?” Spencer's confusion was evident, his brow furrowing as he tried to grasp the situation.

“I’m trying to have phone sex with you.” Her tone was both playful and serious, the words dripping with desire.

“Oh...” Spencer's eyes widened in realization, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He felt a mix of surprise and excitement, his body responding to her suggestive words.

“If you want to, of course.”

“Yes!” he blurted out, then quickly felt a rush of embarrassment at how eager he sounded. “Umm... yes. Yes, I would like that very much. I just... umm... I've never done that before,” he added, his voice dropping to a shy whisper.

“That’s okay. Just do what I say and what feels good,” Elle reassured him, her voice soothing and seductive.

“Okay,” Spencer agreed, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Sooo... back to what I'm wearing. You’re actually extremely wrong, Doctor Reid. Must be a first for you, sorry. I’m in my bed, under the covers, with absolutely nothing on. Nude. Naked. Alone. Thinking about you. Imagining you’re here, next to me, trying to remember how you feel.”

Spencer's breath caught in his lungs. He saw her so clearly in his mind, every detail, every curve and shape. His pulse quickened, and he felt a warmth spread through him.

“If you were here, I would help you feel so much better. That leg must hurt,” Elle continued, her voice a soft caress.

“It does,” Spencer admitted, though he would never tell Elle just how much pain he was actually in. He had refused to take any narcotics to help with the pain, determined to endure it. He wanted to tell her everything, but it felt like too much, even for him.

“I think I can help with that,” Elle said softly, her voice filled with promise.

Spencer took a shaky breath, trying to calm the fluttering in his chest. “How?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Close your eyes,” Elle instructed gently. “Imagine I’m there with you, next to you. My fingers are trailing down your arm, touching you softly, making you forget all the pain.”

Spencer closed his eyes, following her words. He could almost feel her touch, light and teasing, sending shivers down his spine. “I can feel it,” he murmured.

“Good,” Elle responded, her voice a soothing balm. “Now imagine my lips, brushing against your neck, whispering how much I want you, how much I need you.”

A soft sigh escaped Spencer’s lips. He could almost hear her breath, warm and tantalizing against his skin. “Elle...” he breathed.

“Yes, Spencer?” she prompted, her voice husky and filled with longing.

“I need you,” he confessed, his voice trembling with desire.

“I’m right here,” she whispered. “Imagine my hands moving down your chest, slowly undoing each button of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath my fingertips.”

Spencer’s hand moved unconsciously to his chest, his fingers mimicking the actions she described. He could almost feel the gentle pressure of her hands, the heat of her touch. “It feels so real,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m glad,” Elle replied, her voice filled with affection. “Now, imagine I’m kissing you, my lips soft and eager against yours, just as always, tasting you, savoring you..”

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, a soft moan escaping as he lost himself in the fantasy. He could almost taste her, sweet and intoxicating.

“Can you feel me, Spencer?” Elle’s voice was a seductive whisper, wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice barely audible. “I can feel you.”

“I want you to touch yourself,” she instructed softly. “Pretend it’s me, making you feel good, taking away all your pain.”

Spencer’s hand trembled as it moved down his body, his breath coming in short gasps as he put his hand under his underwear and touched his already hard cock.

He followed her words, his mind filled with images of her, her touch, her scent, her everything. “Elle,” he whispered, his voice filled with longing.

“I’m here,” she reassured him, her voice a soothing presence. “I’m always here.”

He squeezed himself more urgently, his body reacting to the vivid imagery and her soothing words. The pain in his leg seemed to fade, replaced by a growing sense of pleasure. “I need you so much,” he confessed, his voice raw with emotion.

“I know,” Elle whispered. “And I need you too. Imagine me there with you, taking care of you, making you feel better.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, his body shuddering with the intensity of his feelings. He could almost feel her presence, her warmth, her love. “Elle, I...” he started, but his voice trailed off, lost in the overwhelming sensations.

He could so clearly see her delicate, slender hand, smaller than his own, stroking him slowly, teasing his tip and smearing the precum. 

She always snuggled close, her lips trailing soft kisses along his skin. 

Her body intertwined with his, moving in perfect harmony as if she knew exactly what he needed. She knew precisely how to touch him, how to drive him to the edge of insanity while giving him everything he craved.

“Now, let go,” she whispered, her voice a soft command. “Cum for me handsome,”

Spencer’s body tensed, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. With a final, shuddering breath, he let go, his body releasing all the pent-up tension and pain. He lay back, spent and exhausted, his heart racing. He was silent for a while overwhelmed by both pleasure and the pain.

“Are you okay?” Elle asked, her voice filled with concern and love.

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, his voice weak but content. “Thank you, Elle. You are... incredible.”

“Anytime, Doctor,” she replied with a soft laugh. “Get some rest. I’ll be here when you need me.”

“Uh, Elle, wait!” Spencer's voice trembled with urgency.

“Yeah?” Elle's response was cool, almost detached, her tone a stark contrast to the warmth he once knew.

“How are you holding up?” Spencer asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

“I’m fine,” Elle replied curtly, her tone not matching her words.

“How’s work?” Spencer prodded gently, hoping to draw her out.

“I actually recently changed it. Again.” Elle admitted, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

“Really? Why?” Spencer knew Elle had been exploring various career paths over the past few years, from working with the government or law enforcement as a consultant to aiding victims of sex crimes. His curiosity was piqued.

“I... got fired,” Elle confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Why?” Spencer’s concern deepened. 

“I just did, Reid. It happens,” she replied, trying to brush it off nonchalantly.

“Yeah, I know, but why would they fire you? With your experience?” Spencer pressed, bewildered.

“I might have not really... been there,” Elle muttered, her voice faltering.

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked, confusion lacing his words.

“Reid... it doesn’t matter. Things like that happen, I’m fine,” Elle insisted, her tone growing defensive.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Spencer’s voice was tinged with hurt, the sting of her omission clear.

“I didn’t want to bother you, Reid. It’s none of your business,” Elle snapped back, her frustration bubbling to the surface, sharp and cutting.

“None of my business? Elle, we talk almost every day. How can you say that?” Spencer’s voice rose, incredulous and wounded.

“Because it’s true!” Elle shouted, the tension in her voice unmistakable. “We’re just friends with benefits, remember? We don’t owe each other anything.”

Spencer was left speechless, his mind reeling. He finally managed, “I just care and...”

“Well, maybe you should stop caring this much. Anyway… I have to go. Bye, Spencer.” Elle’s words were cold and final, the call ending with a click that seemed to echo in the stillness of the moment.

Spencer stared at his phone. He felt a mix of anger, confusion, and a deep sadness settle in his chest. 

His mind raced, replaying the conversation over and over, trying to understand where things had gone wrong. He just wanted to reach out, ask how she’s doing.

Elle’s words had left him paralyzed, each syllable she spoke a nail pinning him down.

His heart pounded in his chest, the ache spreading through his body like a slow poison. 

Questions swirled in his mind: What had he done to deserve such coldness? Did he say something wrong? The room around him felt darker, phone still clutched in his hand.

After that day he tried calling but Elle stopped picking up his phone calls. 

[yondiii]

SPENCER REID FIC RECS

i’ll sort them by category but prepare yourself this is gonna be a long ass list

im gonna keep updating with new fics regularly so stay tuned

thank you to all these authors for supplying these amazing fics and for feeding my fixation

ly all bbys tysm

pls like and reblog xxx

WIPS

out of convenience 2 - @qlossytbh

she blinded me with science - @whiskeyghoul

my mind turns you into folklore - @samuel-de-champagne-problems

SERIES

right kind of wrong - @incognit0slut

longing glances masterlist - @radioactiveinvisible

ANGST

the great gig in the sky - @mcntsee

chloe or sam or maria or marcus - @mariasont

don’t walk out - @railingsofsorrow

false god - @clementinegreye

doubt comes in - @/street-smarts00

FLUFF

isn’t she pretty daddy - @reiderwriter

take my breath away - @atlabeth

spencer babying reader - @/reiderwriter

nicknames - @pathologicalreid

sunflowers - @baubarbz

after getting hurt on a case - @womanmanipulator

strange perfections - @nereidprinc3ss

SMUT 18+

beyond the limit 2 - @incognit0slut

decoy (16+) - @violetrainbow412-blog

in the dead of night - @/nereidprinc3ss

whiny and spoiled - @/nereidprinc3ss

little angel - @/reiderwriter

HURT/COMFORT

clingy - @street-smarts00

growing pains - @killerlookz

from now on - @aperrywilliams

shouldn’t i want you? - @weird-is-life

OTHERS

stalker - @miley1442111

spencer comforts you (badass reader) - @luveline

don’t think i don’t like you - @/luveline

baby reid! baby reid! - @cowboyspence

so high school 2 - @bellasprettywords

curtain call - @rainydayathogwarts

pretty boy - @/atlabeth

the way i love you - @thegettingbyp2

more coming soon…..