she doesn't know i'd let her ruin all my days
emily prentiss x f!reader
tags: developing relationship, insecurities, hurt/comfort, body worship(?), smut, bottom!emily, top!reader, age gap not specified, smut with feelings, no use of yn
warnings: explicit content, minors please dni <3
summary: you don't understand why emily won't touch you.
word count: 4.5k
request: hiii, so for a fic request i was thinking something along the lines of unit chief emily and younger reader and they’ve been going out or dating for a little bit (...) and they haven’t done anything more than makeout because Emily’s a little insecure about being older (...)
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a/n: um im such a liar i said this would take a few days but i couldnt stop writing it so here it is ! ty for requesting <3 i had so much fun !!! hope u like it
Emily is obsessed with touching you any chance she gets.
It's surprising, really, the way she starts clinging to you when she finally feels like she's allowed to. When you're at hers, she keeps a hand on your hip while you cook dinner, she likes laying on the couch with you on top of her as you watch some random reality show. Emily keeps her face pressed into your neck, breathing you in, whenever she can.
And it's good. God, it's great. You want it all the time, you love how much she enjoys it, how close she keeps you. There's only one problem.
You want her. Constantly. And it seems like every time you try to move on to something more, she retreats. She kisses your cheek, your forehead, ending the makeout session as soon as it starts.
You don't push, you haven't been going out that long, anyway, and maybe she's still uncomfortable. Maybe you thought she’d be fine with it earlier because you were friends before, yet that might be the reason she's still uncertain, you're not sure. Although trying not to take it to heart is hard, especially when it seems like she doesn't want you as much as you want her, and you don't know if that's because she doesn't see you as her equal.
Being younger than her never really mattered to you. Ever since you started at the BAU you thought she was beautiful, attractive, sure, but she treated you like a colleague worthy of respect, even as her subordinate. Emily never made you feel like you were less than her or your teammates, which is why you never really thought about her age or yours as anything of a problem.
Perhaps you were wrong and she sees yours as a problem.
But there are moments in which you can't believe these conclusions. There are moments, when you're having dinner or just talking on a rare free night, that she looks at you and you can swear she wants you, too. At this point, anything could be true. You enjoy spending time with her, you care about her, and this one thing won't put you off a relationship that you believe can be really good, for the both of you. But this liminal stage ends up confusing you anyway.
Sometimes, your frustration gets the best of you.
You're on her couch, after dinner on a night when you're mercifully still in town. Emily never kisses like she doesn't mean it. She grips your hair and holds your jaw with her other hand, she tilts your chin slightly lower so she can get her tongue into your mouth. Emily sucks on your bottom lip like she's starved for it, then dives back in, leisurely feeling as you open up for her.
Scratching the back of your neck, she lets out a surprised sound when you pull her closer by the cheeks. When you get a leg thrown over her lap, though, she lays a hand on it softly, touching your thigh as if she's afraid you might break. Emily slows the kiss, kisses your chin, then your cheek, and still, with her lips swollen and cheeks red from effort, she smiles like nothing's happened.
“We should watch a movie,” she says, reaching over for the remote. You grip her arm, not letting her get away that easily.
“You're kidding me, right?”
Emily frowns, seemingly genuinely confused — if you weren't so frustrated you might've even found it cute. “I don't know what you mean.”
You chuckle humorlessly, resigned. This is fine. It's just something you'll have to get over. “Never mind,” you say, bringing your leg back from where it still rested over her, almost managing to stand up before she touches your hand.
“What's happening?” She asks, so lost that you actually feel bad. Seriously, what is she doing to you? “Did I do something?”
“No,” you sigh, “it's me. Pick a movie, I'll be right back.”
Emily's still frowning, but you get up, turning away from those sorry eyes. You can't help but feel bad that you put that look on her face when she hasn't done anything to earn it.
In the bathroom, you throw some water on your face. Chuckling ironically at yourself because the feel of the lace lingerie you have on is starting to annoy you. Lately, you've been choosing aesthetics over practicality with your underwear, just in case. Apparently, it was futile.
Reaching under your shirt, you remove your bra, tired of the uncomfortableness it brings. In a t-shirt of Emily's, you can barely tell you're not wearing it, anyway. Since you came straight from work, all you have is your laptop bag, not even pajamas in it, so she's lended you some. You figured you'd keep the lingerie on, again, just in case. Deciding it doesn't really matter, now, you get out of the bathroom and throw it in your bag, cursing the fact that you can't do the same with the bottom piece currently digging into your hips.
Back in the living room, Emily is sitting in silence. She's got a silk set on, some button-up shirt and pants that feel as soft as they look. You like seeing her this casual, comfortable at home, with you. Knowing you should focus on that, you smile at her when you sit back on the couch, your arms touching so she knows you're not upset.
“I couldn't choose,” she says in a low voice, sounding oh-so-dejected, pointing at the television.
Okay, does she have to make it this hard?
“I’m sorry, Em, I was just… upset about something else.” You try, touching her shoulder, letting her silver hair slip through your fingers. “I didn't mean to take it out on you.”
Emily shakes her head, a soft, yet genuine, smile on her face. “Don't worry about it.”
Biting your lip, you nod, still unsure but deciding to take her word for it. “There's a new thriller I thought you might like,” you change the subject, taking the remote from her hand and delighting in the fact that she snuggles up against you, her head on your shoulder, one of her arms around yours.
This is fine. This can be enough.
In bed, Emily has a terrible habit of scrolling through her work e-mails before you turn the lights off.
It usually ends in her getting annoyed at something or someone. She sighs, mutters about how she needs to stop looking at her phone before bed, then does it again then next night.
Tonight's no different. The only different thing is you're sitting next to her, leaning back against the headboard and reading a book, one you've read a thousand times. More passing your eyes over the words than actually absorbing them.
Emily huffs, takes off her glasses, places her phone on the nightstand, screen turned down. She turns on her side, still half propped up by pillows, and scoots closer. Her arm finds your waist, her head leaves the pillow to rest on your shoulder.
“Read it out loud?” She asks, her voice muffled against your skin.
You don't add anything, only start reading to her from the top of the page. You know she's not asking to know the story, she just wants to hear your voice.
“As the king made no answer, the little prince hesitated a moment. Then, with a sigh, he took his leave. // ‘I make you my Ambassador,’ the king called out, hastily. // He had a magnificent air of authority…”
The cold tip of Emily's nose touches your skin where your shirt’s moved a little. She presses it closer, breathes you in. Leaves a featherlight kiss on your shoulder.
You close the book harshly in the middle of a sentence.
“You must be tired,” you say, placing Le Petit Prince on the nightstand. “We should get some sleep.”
Emily frowns, “you're acting weird.”
You look away to turn off the lamp. She catches your hand.
“Talk to me.” She asks, her voice so syrupy as it usually is this time of night. “Please?”
Taking a deep breath, you buy some time. Not nearly enough.
“Did I do something?” She asks again, crestfallen now. Your chest physically hurts.
“No, you didn't do anything.” Taking her hand, you lace your fingers together. “I mean it, Emily. This is my issue, I'll get over it soon.”
Frowning, “I’d like to help.”
You shake your head, kiss her cheek. “I think,” you whisper, “no, I know, you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time.”
Emily only looks at you, eyes big and searching. Her profiler skills working at full speed and, still, she can't figure you out.
“I don't want to ruin it,” you finish. Squeeze her hand for good measure, to let her know you're there.
“I'm so confused,” Emily says, sitting up properly. “Why won't you tell me what's wrong?!”
“Why won't you have sex with me?!”
Alright, blurting it out was not how you wanted to do this.
You close your eyes, cheeks flaming. “Forget I just said that.”
When you look up, Emily looks… stunned. Her lips are softly parted and her eyes are wider than usual. Too bad you really want to kiss her.
“Let's go to sleep.” Imploring now, you try to pull your hand away. She doesn't let you.
“I'm sorry-” She starts, but you interrupt her.
“No! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that, I was-”
Emily shuts you up with a kiss. Pressing your lips together, she holds your face in place as she kisses you. She doesn't deepen it, but she lingers, then softens.
“Stop talking,” she murmurs against your lips. “Please.”
You nod, pressing your lips together.
“I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was weighing on you.” Her voice is collected, like she sounds in the conference room. You want to shake her, tell her to yell or show that this is affecting her, too. “I never wanted to make you feel unwanted.”
“I don't-” You interrupt yourself before she can because, really, what can you say to that?
“I do want to have sex with you,” she says, calmly, but there's a light rubor to her cheeks, like it's hard for her to say it.
“Then- Why? Do you think it's too early? We've known each other for over a year.”
Emily nods, moving the hands that were resting on your shoulders to grip your own hands. “I don't think it's too early, I…” She shakes her head. “I don't know how to explain it.”
“Emily,” you say, finding that you really want to get that disheartened look off her face more than you want an explanation. Trying to convey in your tone what you feel about her. “You don't have to explain anything. We’ll do it when you're ready. If you're never ready, we'll never do it.”
“Simple as that?” She asks, slightly incredulously.
You shrug, “simple as that. I just wanted to know why, but that doesn't matter.”
Emily smiles, a small thing that you might've missed if you weren't paying attention. “You're so young,” she starts, confusing you again. It must show on your face because she quickly continues. “I'm not. And I don't look like I did at thirty anymore, or even forty. And maybe you should be with someone like that.”
Scoffing, you can't believe what she's saying. “You think I want to be with anyone else? I've been crawling up the walls because you won't touch me!”
Emily shakes her head negatively, “I believe you. When you say you want me, I can trust it. But I don't think you should.”
You cross your arms, dislodging her hands from yours. “That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but nothing really comes out.
“I don't care that you don't look like a wax figure. Do you care that my stomach isn't perfectly toned? Or that I have acne scars on my back? Cellulite?!”
“Of course not, but-”
“Emily!” You interrupt her. “I love you. God, why is that so hard for you to understand?”
She blinks. Silence engulfs the room.
“I was gonna wait, because we've only been together a month or whatever… But we've been friends for so long, and fuck it, it's out there now.” Holding her face between your hands, you bring it close to yours. “I love you. And I want you like I've never wanted anyone in my life.”
“I love you,” she whispers back. But you don't have time to react before Emily kisses you, holding you in place by the shoulders, forcefully pressing your lips together like a woman starved.
Moving a hand over her side, she grips it before you can leave it there, holding it in her lap and pulling back from the kiss. Emily touches her forehead to yours, breathing hard with her eyes closed.
“Sorry, I-” She gasps out. “I didn't think it'd be this hard.”
You nod, placing a comforting kiss to the side of her mouth. Pushing her softly against the pillows, you lean over her a little, but not enough to completely cover her body. Trying your best not to be overwhelming, you look all over her face, taking note of her breath coming in hard pants and her hands clenched in the fabric of your shirt.
“Emily.”
She opens her eyes, not realizing she'd even closed them in the first place. They're wide, searching your expression.
“Take a deep breath,” you suggest, touching your cheek to hers when she does so. “Again.” Matching her breaths, you keep her under you for a moment, hoping she can finally relax. “I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm going to do, and if you need me to stop, tell me, alright?”
Lifting your head, you lock eyes. Emily nods, pressing her lips together and managing to keep her breathing normally paced.
“I'm going to kiss you, now.”
And you do exactly that.
At least this is familiar territory. Emily quickly melts into you, her mouth welcoming your tongue in a practised move. You don't touch her anywhere else, only keep one of her hands in yours, the other resting by her head on the mattress. She lets out a small sound of approval, her neck lifting to get closer, head tilting for the best fit.
When she comes up for air, you lower your face into her neck. “Here,” you whisper. “Okay?”
Emily hums a consent. You kiss below her ear, slow and wet, enjoying the taste of her skin in the way she hadn't let you before. You've been dreaming about this for weeks, months, and the reality of it is better than you expected.
Placing kisses down her neck, you reach the base of it, right where it meets the skin of her shoulder. A particularly hard kiss there leaves a slightly red flush in the shape of your mouth. Emily gasps above you, her free hand moving to grip your shoulder. You let her hold onto you, let her feel the assurance of your body over hers.
You take your time exploring her skin. The exposed area of her chest glistens and flushes where you've kept your lips on it, enjoying the taste and the way she shudders, her back unclenching, lowering back onto her soft sheets.
“Can I take your shirt off?”
Not even having dared to undo a button, you wait for her approval. Emily looks up at you, an ethereal vision with her cheeks red and her lip swollen where she bit it to contain her own whimpers. She doesn't say anything, so you move your hands to your (her) own shirt, slowly lifting it off yourself. For a second, you'd forgotten you'd taken your bra off in the bathroom, but the chill in the room quickly reminds you of it.
Emily looks at you intently, her eyes mapping every bit of exposed skin. She licks her lips, placing her hands on your waist and squeezing softly. You nod at her encouragingly.
Dragging her hands up, she keeps her palms under your chest, not going further. You feel your skin heat up at the attention, but don't move to cover yourself, letting her look as much as she wants to.
Emily looks into your eyes again, "take it off.”
You don't waste any time. Swiftly opening the buttons on her silk shirt, you lower your head to breathe in every amount of skin that is gradually shown. When it's completely open, you kiss her sternum, the valley between her breasts, her stomach, but you don't move to push it off her body. Slowly, you taste every bit that's uncovered, feeling as Emily's hips move on their own accord, lifting up from the bed ever so slightly, a sight that you'll soon learn means she's aroused.
Getting your arms under her back, you pull her up, touching your uncovered chest to hers. “I'm going to take it off, now.”
Everything is said in your lowest tone, as if you're trying not to spook a scared stray. When Emily nods, you finally rid her of her shirt, throwing it somewhere on the floor and not caring to look. There is a much more interesting view right in front of you.
She lies back down, her eyes locked on yours, her hands gripping you at the height of your ribs. You move down with her, trying to stifle a smile but losing the battle, kissing her chest so she can't feel embarrassed.
“You're perfect,” you murmur against her skin, causing her to shiver at the warmth in your voice. Keeping your promise, you continue, “I'm going to taste you, now.”
Taking a nipple into your mouth, you smile around it when she whines. Sucking slightly, the sounds she lets out spur you on. This is so, so much better than you could've imagined. Emily moans when you move to her other breast, the cool air causing even stronger shivers on her wet skin.
After a while, when Emily's breathing is labored for an entirely different reason, you bring your face up to meet hers. You can never get enough of the way she kisses, so you ask for it again. A thumb on her chin, pressing it down to guide her jaw, loving the way she relinquishes her body to yours. Your tongues meet heatedly, and you moan at how she tastes, yet again. She groans in the back of her throat, gripping your hair strands and keeping you exactly where she wants you.
You touch her chest, taking care of it with your hands this time as she kisses you oh-so-sweetly, in that way only she can.
Coming up for air, you smile at the expression on her face, dazed and relaxed, at last. Surprisingly, Emily smiles back, a small tilt of her lips but a smile nonetheless.
“Can I take your pants off?”
She nods, running fingers through your hair to move it away from your face. Twisting it onto a low ponytail to keep it there, she runs her hands down your bare back, then your chest, mapping your body with her fingertips as best as she can reach.
You remove her pajama pants, leaving her underwear on for now. Closing your eyes, you try to center yourself. She's everything and she really has no idea.
“I really didn't plan for this,” Emily murmurs, pulling you back to the moment. She's gesturing at her underwear, you notice, a simple, black cotton pair.
“It's perfect.”
Standing up, you take off your, also borrowed, sleep shorts. Emily lifts her eyebrows at the sight of your lace bottoms.
You smile, “just in case.”
Emily, mercifully, laughs. A loud, free thing that settles your worry.
“You can stop narrating now,” she says, pulling on your hand so you straddle her hips.
“You sure?”
She nods, pulling on the back of your neck to kiss you.
As you kiss, you feel her hips bucking up into yours. Your hands find her body again, relearning every curve that you, for a while, thought you'd never get to see. Finding the edge of her underwear, you only look at her, waiting for a sign of discouragement. Emily only nods.
“Fucking hell,” you whisper unconsciously after finally, finally, getting her naked. “I've been wanting to do this for months.”
Emily lifts an eyebrow, “months?”
You hum in agreement, growing more speechless by the second. Kneeling between her thighs, you stare at her unabashedly, earning an impatient look from Emily, who clears her throat. “Sorry,” you grin up at her, delicately lifting one of her legs onto your shoulder. Emily closes her eyes as her cheeks heat up.
“You're perfect.” It feels like you can't say anything else. You desperately want her to understand that you've never meant anything more than this. “Fuck, Emily, you're stunning.”
She opens her eyes, looking away quickly when she notes the flame in yours, her face turned to the ceiling. You let her have it, not wanting her to be uncomfortable, and start kissing the inside of her thigh where it's resting near your face.
Her skin erupts in goosebumps. You can smell her so strongly from where you lay, your mouth starts salivating almost immediately.
In the end, you don't know if you taste her more for her pleasure or yours. Every minute that passes with your head between Emily's thighs, you feel yourself get more and more aroused. You know you're just about to become addicted to her, you'll want to do this every hour or every day and it's gonna be so hard to not jump her every morning in the office.
The sounds she lets out are a spectacle apart. Her throat raw from moaning, the whimpers and gasps that she produces every time you find just the right spot. Every time that deliciously raspy voice hits your ears it spurs you on, when she calls please! into the ceiling, when she keens as you slip a finger into her.
Two fingers pulling forward, your mouth sucking precisely on her clit — you learn that's the perfect recipe. Emily cries out, telling you not to stop, telling you it's exactly right, and just like that, don't stop, fuck.
There's barely a breathy, broken, “baby, I'm so close” before she comes into your mouth. Her thighs shake and her hips try shooting up as you hold her down, keeping her close and still with your tongue on her, tasting as she comes down. Her back arches in the most stunning arch and you want to do it all over again, keep doing it, all night, all week, if she'll let you.
When she pulls your face away, gripping your hair strands and trying to stop you, you whine at the separation.
Once you're face to face again, you pout jokingly at her. “I was enjoying that.”
Emily smiles, “yes, well, I need a minute.”
She brings you in for a kiss, groaning as she tastes herself on your tongue. You feel the wetness on your chin passing onto her face, your kiss messy in the best way possible. Emily nips on your bottom lip, then beams at you.
“I don't know why I was so worried.”
You shrug, “I don't know, either.” But your eyes soften in understanding. A kiss on her cheek to tell her you've got her.
“Your turn?” She asks, grabbing your hips with her hands already under the waistband of the lace. Emily keeps them there, giving you the same time you gave her. It's sweet, even if you've told her you were crawling up the walls, and that she can probably feel the damp spot on her thigh from where you straddle her.
“I'm not done yet.”
Getting up again, you remove your underwear, then sit down next to her and pat your lap playfully. Emily rolls her eyes, but complies, straddling your own legs this time.
Gently moving her legs where you want them, you get one thigh over hers, the other under, and she swiftly adjusts herself when she gets your intention. She keeps herself lifted, not resting her weight onto you yet, leaning down to touch her forehead to yours, more easily as you're slightly propped up against the headboard.
You hold her hips firmly, guiding her down to bring your centers together. Emily closes her eyes, shivering.
Kissing below her ear, you whisper, “ride me?”
Emily sighs next to your face, hiding hers in your neck. “I'm not twenty anymore.”
“That doesn't mean anything,” you say, taking her earlobe between your teeth and enjoying the way she shudders. “I'll guide you, hm?”
She doesn't say anything, but she nods, and her hips give a slight, barely there, thrust forward. You both moan in unison.
Keeping a tight grip on her hips, you encourage her to move.
It's dramatic, sure, but you feel like you've died and gone to heaven in the span of a few seconds.
Murmuring in her ear about how good she looks, how well she rides you, you delight in her needy whimpers. Emily lets out these enticing little gasps where she hides her face in your neck.
Still guiding her movements with a hand, you take another to touch her back softly, caressing the skin and feeling as beads of sweat start to form from the exertion. You don't stop praising her out loud, the vibration of your voice emboldening the undulation of her hips, and Emily grips the hand that's resting right there, a bruising hold that keeps you anchored.
It takes a little trial and error, but you find the perfect rhythm together. She lifts her head when she's getting close. Her neck strains as she approaches orgasm, you've noticed, her entire body tensing in expectation.
As her breathing gets more labored, her brows furrowing from the effort, you think you've never seen someone this beautiful, and you tell her just so. Her cheeks flame, still so unused to praise, but it still spurs her own, her thighs burning now from the merciless pace she sets. With a particular twist of her hips, she slightly moves off where you need her the most, but she looks so ruined, so gorgeous, almost reaching her peak, that you don't say anything. You have time. Now, you only grip her harder, letting her take what she needs from you.
Telling her how good she rides you, how perfect she looks above you, you watch in ecstasy as her back arches and she comes again, an almost sob of relief leaving her lips.
When she falls forward, spent, you wrap your arms around her and kiss her temple, then wherever you can reach. You whisper that you love her, she answers with a squeeze of your arm, still catching her breath.
“You've ruined me,” she says when she finally finds her voice again.
“I did no such thing.”
Turning her face to look at you, your noses brush together. “You probably fixed me.”
“Don't be silly,” you joke, nipping at her nose. “There was nothing to fix.”
“Huh,” she considers, pressing your lips together sweetly, like she can't get enough. “Somehow, I almost believe that.”
Olivia Benson x fem!reader x Emily Prentiss
warnings: language, smut, threesome, daddy!olivia, mommy!emily, derogatory talk, dirty talk, oral, fingering, rough sex, a little bit of slapping, some pussy spanking, a hint of brat!reader, some minor cum play.
safe to say this one got away from me.
somewhat hilarious that House Tour was stuck in my head while i wrote half of this.
6.5k
Over the years Olivia had become accustomed to the feds crashing in and taking over a case, what she wasn’t used to was them sticking around and actually using NYPD to help solve it. The BAU was a welcomed change in her squad room, seamlessly fitting in with her team, cooperating to the tasks at hand. Emily Prentiss was a welcomed person in her office, slowly pacing back and forth while spit balling ideas as Olivia watched from behind her desk.
It was only when a knock came from the door that Emily stopped, turning on her heel to face the noise and Olivia leaned back with a sigh. Both sets of eyes were locked on you when you stepped through the doorframe, navy pant suit perfectly fitted to your frame, hair swept back into a styled bun. An air of confidence came into the room as you did, barely noticing Olivia had company, or if you did, you didn’t care, whatever you needed was clearly more important.
“You know normally when detectives are so stubbornly annoying about getting a warrant they actually show up to pick them up.” You stated, dropping papers down onto Olivia’s desk.
“We were a little pre-occupied.” She replied, her voice stiff as she gestured to the other woman and out to the bull pen bustling with people.
Your eyes finally slid from the woman behind the desk to the silver haired stunner also in the office and you flashed her an apologetic grin, “sorry. I’m their ADA, Parker.”
“Emily Prentiss.” She stuck out a hand that shot a spark through both of you when you took it, “Unit Chief of the BAU.”
You let out a low whistle, “BAU…” you glanced between the two of them, “the big guns… you two must have your hands full.”
“Only because you decided to walk in the door.” Olivia shot back and you gave her a side eye before perching yourself against her desk.
“So, tell me Agent Prentiss, first time in the city?”
“Won’t be the last, that’s for sure.” The grin on her cheeks spread, corner of her lips curling up almost into a smirk.
“Hope you get some well deserved time off before having to jet home.” Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and Emily felt herself pulse at the sight, “I’d love to show you around.”
“You like playing tour guide?”
A shoulder raised then lowered, the grin spreading on your face, “for the right people.”
Behind you, Olivia rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. You hated galivanting around the city and she was more than well aware of it. If she’d knew you any better, she would have thought you forgot she was in the room, but that was the thing, she knew you all too well and knew what kind of a game you were playing.
And it was totally working.
You were chuckling at something Emily said, a coy smile on your face as your gaze dropped to the floor, feigning the shyness so you could drag your eyes up her entire body. Somehow while doing so, you’d managed to lightning fast adjust your shirt, tugging the hem of it just right so the swell of your chest was teasing the other woman. When Emily’s eyes lingered a little too long, pupils darkening as a carnal look took over her features, Olivia couldn’t take it anymore, loudly clearing her throat.
“Counsellor, you have anything else for us, or are you just here to gossip?”
A puff of air resembling a laugh left your lips, your arms crossing over your chest as you turned over your shoulder to look at her, “and here I was thinking you loved it when I came by.”
“Not when you’re being a brat.” She raised a brow in challenge and you rolled your eyes, hopping off the corner of her desk.
“I guess I’ll be on my way then” You pulled a business card from your bag, flourishing it between your fingers to extend towards Emily, “call me if you get bored.”
With a flash of a glittering smile, you were gone from the office and Emily was left glancing between the piece of cardstock in her hand and Olivia.
“Well… she seems like a shark.” She finally settled on.
“In the courtroom maybe.” Liv glanced up with a knowing smirk and Emily balked.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t…” she felt the pink creeping its way onto her cheeks, sucking her lower lip into her mouth.
“What?”
“You two…” She gestured between Olivia and the direction of the door.
Liv shrugged, “have history. Nothing serious. You’re more than welcome to call her.”
“Oh, I, no, that’s not—”
A laugh burst from Olivia’s lips as she slid her glasses back on, “please. You didn’t need to be some fancy, specially trained profiler to pick up on the tension in the room.”
Emily, still chewing on her lip looked through the glass window into the bullpen, that familiar pulse between her legs when you felt her gaze and looked up from Bruno’s desk, locking eyes with the woman. There was a sparkle in your eye that was incredibly intriguing and definitely had her wanting to know more.
“Well…” her head tilted, mouth drying when you winked at her before sauntering out of the squad room.
“No harm in having a little fun when you’re away from home.” Olivia suggested.
“I suppose there isn’t.”
“But don’t let the upfront behaviour fool you…” Olivia chuckled darkly, “she’s a pretty little mess of a slut. Doesn’t take much to fuck her dumb.”
Emily felt her stomach drop, a pulsing between her legs growing stronger with each beat of her heart and her mouth went dry. She’d been fiddling with the business card but her hands froze before she pivoted back to face Olivia.
“Oh?”
“Seems like that piqued your interest.”
“It certainly did.” Emily slid the card into her back pocket, “be a shame to leave you high and dry though, it’s been a long stressful week for both of us.”
“Oh…” Olivia leaned back in her chair, a wicked grin forming on her lips, “now there’s an idea. As long as you’re not thinking this is some good cop, bad cop routine. If she has the audacity to come into my office and eye fuck you so boldly, she’s gonna answer for it.”
“You always play this ruthless Captain Benson?”
“When it’s deserved.”
“And let me guess, it always is with her?”
Laughing, Olivia closed her laptop, “our case is solved, but by all means if you need to hurry on back to D.C…”
“You know… I’ve been thinking my team needs a little break… a little fun.”
“Without you?”
“If I leave them my credit card they won’t bother asking any questions.” With a smirk she settled into a chair across from Olivia’s desk, “now tell me… how far can we push her?”
**
The knocking on your apartment door roused you from the agonizing paperwork in front of you and you glanced over your shoulder to the noise. With a soft sigh, you rearranged the confidential information and flipped the file closed as you stood before padding through the room to pull the door open.
“Liv?” Your brow raised at the two women standing on the opposite side, “what’re you doing here?”
There was a dark look in her eye, a mischievous glint in Emily’s as you stepped back from the doorframe, Olivia pushing past you, letting herself into your apartment while you left the door to swing shut behind Emily. Liv chuckled, already stepping out of her shoes, tossing her blazer over the back of your couch before invading your liquor cabinet.
“What do you think? You were a fucking brat today.”
A shiver ran through your entire body, your shoulders dropping as every muscle seemed to relax, already turning to mush after just one sentence and a look. You glanced between the two of them, picking up your abandoned wine from the coffee table as Emily crossed the space to accept the glass of whiskey Olivia was offering.
“And you brought the fed?” You raised a brow and Liv looked over the rim of her glass at you.
“Well, I thought maybe I should, considering you were so busy eye fucking her in front of me earlier. Thought maybe that was the sneak peek of the show you wanted to put on for me,” she drained her glass, leaving it on a spare table before she crossed the room toward you and you felt yourself already fluttering. She watched your tongue dart out to wet your lips, the almost silent whine that followed making her chuckle, “figured I could let her have her way with you before Daddy does.”
This time your whimper was audible, Olivia’s hand tangling into your hair, yanking your head back to gain access to your neck. Her teeth scraped over your skin, lips leaving a trail of messy kisses before she husked into your ear.
“What do you think of that? Hmm? Are you gonna play nice for Agent Prentiss and be a good girl?” Her hand gave your hair a harsh tug and you did what she wanted, dropping to your knees in front of her, “or are you gonna be the dirty slut Daddy knows you want to be?”
“I can be good.” You panted, eyes darting between them as Emily approached from the side, glass of liquor still in her hand.
She laughed darkly, “somehow I doubt that.” Her free hand reached out, stroking the side of your face before pulling back, slapping the apple of your cheek, “colour?”
“Green.” You replied, already aching between your legs.
Emily smirked, “dirty girl.” She took a sip of her drink and Olivia’s hand dropped your hair, shifting around your face so her thumb could trace your lower lip.
“Open.” Oliva instructed, pulling your lips apart and you tilted your head further back, “good girl.”
Emily leant forward, parting her lips and letting the amber liquid trickle from her mouth into yours, watching it drip down your tongue, pooling in the back of your throat. Your tongue twitched, a droplet escaping the corner of your mouth and trailing down onto your neck. Emily was quick to duck down, catching it with her tongue and licking her way back up to your open mouth, her hand slid up your throat, replacing Olivia’s in keeping your lips parted and as soon as her tongue was sucked back into her mouth her jaw shifted then spat onto your waiting tongue.
“Swallow.” She tapped your chin twice, humming happily as you did as told, tongue sticking back out to prove it. She glanced over to Olivia before looking back down at you, “so obedient so far…maybe she’s just more of a Mommy’s girl.”
You couldn’t help the shiver that travelled up your spine, you pussy clenching around nothing as your thighs rubbed together and both the women took the time to laugh.
“I told you she was a little whore.” Olivia clicked her tongue, “now are you going to stay on your knees for us or should we move to the bedroom.”
“Bedroom.” You nodded a little too fast, a little too eager, your eyes begging as you looked up at them with a pout, “please. Use me.”
Olivia’s hand circled your throat once again, gently tugging you up to your feet before nudging you towards the hall, “well… you better start stripping then princess.”
With an eager nod you darted down the hallway, removing clothes as you went, tossing them in the direction of your closet once in the bedroom. Your body was so alit you couldn’t even risk a glance over your shoulder when you heard the other two talking softly, a chuckle you now could recognize as Emily’s echoing down the hall. The sound made you shiver, a tingle starting between your legs at the husk of her voice. Your thighs squeezed together, the damp spot in your underwear growing right before you peeled them off, leaving you fully bare in the cool room. Footsteps got closer, and not wanting to disappoint, you positioned yourself on your knees on the bed, ready and waiting for the two other women.
Olivia stepped into the room first, her grin widening at the sight of you, eyes raking over your body as she moved slowly through the room, beginning to unbutton her shirt.
“What a good girl you are.” She praised, “you must be eager tonight.”
“Sitting so pretty.” Emily purred, her eyes lingering on your bare chest, “shame you aren’t all on display though.”
“Mmm.” Olivia nodded to her before glancing to you, “lie back and spread your legs, let us see that greedy, dripping cunt of yours.”
Your eyes darted between the two of them, heat crawling its way up your neck as you leant back into the pillows, slowly opening your legs. Your hands smoothed down your body, cupping and pinching at your chest before sliding over your stomach, pressing your thighs further apart, your knees falling open on the bed.
“Fuck…”
Emily couldn’t help it, the word slipped from her lips before she realized she’d spoken, her eyes trained on your pussy, glistening in the low light of the room. She hadn’t expected you to be so wet already, so pliant and needy, aching to be touched, to be tasted, stretched and filled like the dirty little slut you were. She was suddenly very happy for sticking around a little longer than needed.
A sense of pride flooded your system at the way she was watching you, a smirk finding its way onto your lips as your cockiness returned. Your hand moved between your legs, fingers swiping over your clit before spreading your pussy lips open, wetness slicking your fingers as you angled your body towards Emily whose eyes darkened at the sight.
Olivia watched with a smirk of her own, letting her shirt drop to the floor before unbuckling her belt and she beat you to the punch.
“Looks like someone likes what they see.” She teased and Emily was finally able to tear her gaze away from between your legs.
“Yeah.” Her voice was a husk of a breath as she sucked her lower lip between her teeth, feeling the desire throbbing between her own legs.
A satisfied hum came from the back of your throat as your fingers rubbed your pussy lips, smearing wetness around, your back slowly arching off the bed, putting on a little show for them.
“Well…” Olivia lifted a shoulder, a grin on her lips as she slid her pants down her legs, “get comfortable. And have a taste.”
Emily felt like she couldn’t move fast enough, tearing off her shirt and bra, kicking her way out of her pants as she crawled onto the bed. The pulsing between her legs growing stronger when her hands finally met your burning skin, cooling paths as they made their way up your legs.
Your breath caught in your throat, your body arching into her touch as your eyes began to flutter shut, her fingertips left sparks beneath your skin, ones that sent tingles throughout your entire body. You felt your nipples harden, your clit pulsing as your heart began to race, and she’d barely touched you. Your head lolled to the side, your eyes cracking open just enough to see Olivia watching with a grin on her cheeks. You struggled to form a thought as Emily’s hands traced up your thighs, drawing patterns across your skin and just as you were about to get a sassy remark out, Emily’s tongue swiped through your pussy.
“Oh god!” Your entire body spasmed, your head thrown back into the pillows at the feeling of her mouth on your most sensitive spot. Your hands shot downward, fingers threading into her silver locks and she happily let you nudge her deeper into the apex of your thighs.
Emily’s tongue sunk as deep into you as it could, savouring your taste, lapping as much wetness as she could into her mouth, her nose bumping your clit, eliciting a gasp from you. Her mouth moved against your pussy with such ease that you just knew this was one of her favourite pastimes, that she was a woman who absolutely adored the taste of another woman. This was the type of woman who could read you in a millisecond, know just by the way your thigh twitched exactly what it was that made you come undone, the type of woman who was going to make you come faster than anyone else ever had.
It was like your body was on high alert, ultra-sensitive, as if you hadn’t been touched in years, pent up frustration, yearning and need all bursting at the seams. As if the two of them had been riling you up throughout the entire day with dirty words and naughty images playing through your mind. You weren’t quite sure what had come over you, but you weren’t about to complain.
Certainly not when Emily let out a low groan into your cunt, the noise vibrating through you, pulling shudder after shudder from you, your nails digging into her scalp. Her mouth shifted up, the tip of her tongue flicking your clit and you cried out, back bowing as your head and shoulders lifted off the bed, hips dipping deeper.
“Fuck…” You gasped out, eyes cracking open just enough to catch Emily smirking up at you from between your legs. The gleam in her eye was so seductive you barely even felt Olivia take advantage of your altered position, sliding onto the bed behind you.
It was only when her hands yanked you back toward her that you realized you were slotted between her legs, her breath hot on the back of your neck as you settled back against her.
“That’s it pretty girl.” Liv cooed, her hands ghosting around your sides, fingers moving to pinch at your nipples, pulling a whine from you. “That feel good?” Another pinch, “You like what mommy’s mouth feels like?”
Emily’s lips wrapped around your swollen clit, sucking it into her mouth and your head fell back onto Olivia’s shoulder as you let out a moan. Your hips jumped up off the bed, eager for more, you were certain you were so incredibly close it would only take another flick of her tongue to have you seeing stars.
“Answer me.” Olivia’s hand suddenly came down over your chest, spanking at one side and then the other, her lips brushing at the side of your neck, “or are you being a fucking brat?”
“No daddy.” You groaned, body trembling again as Emily continued her movements, “f—eels, so good!”
A second later and the damn was breaking when Emily’s teeth ever so gently nipped at your clit in the same moment that Olivia began rolling your nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.
“Fuck!”
Your body arched off Olivia’s, thighs shaking as your orgasm burst through you, one hand clenching around Olivia’s wrist while the other tugged at Emily’s hair. You could feel your wetness smearing down Emily’s chin as your pussy pulsed around nothing, begging to be filled despite the pleasure soaring through you.
“Oh my god…oh my god…” You shivered, your eyes fluttering open in time to see Olivia grinning down at you, a darkness in her eyes before her gaze flicked down to Emily who reluctantly pulled her mouth off you.
“Such a sweet girl.” Emily purred, nipping at your inner thigh, “with such a greedy little pussy.” Her eyes trained between your legs, a smirk pulling up her lips as she watched you pulse.
“She came so quick I think maybe she needs another one.” Olivia suggested, kissing at the side of your neck, earning a soft sigh from you.
“What do you say, princess?” Emily asked, tongue laving over the bite mark she’d left on your thigh, “you want another one?”
You sucked in a breath, barely able to get out a nod much less real words right now, your lips parting to try and form something but only a gasp came out when Emily’s hand spanked your cunt.
“Answer me.” Her voice hardened, spanking you once again, this time harder than the last.
“Oh fuck,” your hips jolted off the bed, juices dribbling out of your pussy and Emily chuckled, the desire burning deeper in her at the sight.
Olivia’s hand closed around your throat, fingers squeezing to get your attention, “don’t be fucking naughty now you little slut. Answer her.”
“Y—ye—s.” Through half open eyes you looked down at Emily, “please Mommy. Make me come.”
“Mmm.” Emily’s hand pressed against your pussy, giving just enough pressure to tantalize you, to bring the heat prickling back under your skin, “good girl.”
“Hit her again.” Liv suggested, and the other woman smirked before spanking your clit.
“Oh god!” Your hips jolted up off the bed, wetness pooling between your legs.
“God that’s fucking hot.” Emily mused, tapping her fingers against the pulsing nub, “just a little bit” rough tap, “more” tap, “wet,” tap, “with every touch.” Spank. She looked up to Olivia, “I take it she can squirt?”
Olivia laughed and there was almost a hint of darkness to it as her fingers squeezed at your neck, “she can make quite the fucking mess. Can’t you sweetheart?”
“Mmhmm.” You nodded eagerly.
“Messy little whore she is.” Liv pressed a kiss to your lips, her tongue plunging into your mouth and you couldn’t help but surge upwards, eager for more, to be lost to the two women currently in your bed.
You groaned into the kiss when Emily’s tongue swept through you again and Liv was quick to pick up on it, her free hand returning to your chest. Squeezing and groping at your body, pinching your nipples as hard as she could one at a time before letting them release in the cool air. You whined against her lips, trembling as Emily’s mouth wrapped around your clit once more. Though this time you felt her fingers pressing against you, ever so slowly inching into your drenched cunt until they were buried inside you.
Head falling back you let out a groan, “fuu-ck.”
“Yeah?” Olivia asked, “you like your pretty pussy being stretched out?”
“Yes Daddy.”
Emily’s lips curved up against your skin at your response and she began slowly moving her fingers in and out of you, relishing in the way your breath would hitch, the little twitches of your lower stomach, the sudden jump of a thigh muscle as she brushed back and forth inside you.
Your teeth sunk into your lower lip in a feeble attempt to hold back whatever noises were trying to come from the back of your throat. Your entire body was glistening with sweat, tingles and jolts spreading further and further until you could feel them under every inch of your skin. Emily’s mouth was like fucking heaven, her tongue swiping patterns over your clit while her fingers began to curl. It only took her a few passes to find the sweet spot on your inner walls, a high pitched whine coming from you when she did.
She laughed softly, her mouth lifting off you as her hand continued its movement, “there it is.” She teased, finger tips pressing into the spot again, watching the way you scrunched your nose up, your pussy clenching around her fingers. “You gonna come again for Mommy?” She fucked into you harder, swirling her fingers around, her knuckles brushing the spot on the way out, “squirt for me? Make a mess of yourself like the dirty girl you are?”
“More!” You cried out, “please!”
Her free hand spanked down on your throbbing clit, “please, what?”
“Please, Mommy.” You whimpered, “p-please! Need your mouth.” Your hand reached downward and she turned her face, sucking two of your fingers into her mouth at the same pace her fingers moved inside your cunt. “Fuck...” Your head dropped back onto Olivia’s shoulder, letting your eyes shut, your pussy throbbing.
Satisfied, Emily let your fingers go with a lewd pop, unsurprised when your hand instantly tangled into her hair again as she moved her mouth back to your body. She felt the way you jumped at the contact, how tightly you were squeezing around her, how with every push of her fingers the noises from your pussy got wetter and louder.
It was downright filthy and she absolutely loved it.
“Such a fucking dirty girl.” Olivia husked into your ear, teeth nibbling at your earlobe, “are you gonna come, little slut?” Her mouth latched onto your neck, “pussy’s so nice and loud for us, you must be close now.”
She sucked on your neck, teeth sinking in right as she squeezed your chest again and that was all it took, a strangled moan built its way from the back of your throat, echoing out into the room as your orgasm burst through you. Juices spilling out of your cunt, dripping down Emily’s wrist as she fingered you through it, her own lips parted, slightly out of breath, watching you come down.
“That’s it,” Emily praised, her fingers sliding out of you, groaning over the juices that pooled between your legs. “Good girl.” Her fingers gently pushed back into you, as if she was fucking her own cum deeper into your pussy, “just fucking soaked.”
“And yet,” Olivia nipped at your neck, her hands smoothed down your body, palm coming to rest just above your clit, “I guarantee you she still wants more.” Her hand pressed against you and your breath hitched, your gaze stayed locked on hers as she dared you to look away, her hand moving between your legs. “Isn’t that right, slut?” Her hand slapped your pussy; a lewd wet sound accompanied the whimper you made but you still managed to not look away. “You want daddy’s cock?”
“Yes!” You probably replied too fast, too eager, but you didn’t care. Still trembling from your last orgasm all you could think about was the feeling of being stretched around Olivia’s favoured dildo as she pounded deep into you.
“I think she’s about earned it.” Emily commented, sitting up on her knees, her eyes dark while she watched Olivia toy with your body.
“I suppose.” Liv leant down, pressing a kiss to your lips, “greedy girl’s already got two, you want one from Daddy?” Her hand closed around your jaw, tilting your gaze towards Emily, “how about you show her how good you are with your mouth while I fuck you? Hmm?”
Nodding, you scrambled up to your knees, letting Olivia slide off the bed behind you while Emily shifted toward you, pulling you into a deep kiss. You moaned over the taste on her tongue, sucking it deeper into your mouth to get as much as you could. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to her as the two of you fell into the pillows. Your hands slid up, exploring her body, groping at her tits, pulling a low groan from her when you did. She broke the kiss, her head falling back and you were able to smear messy kisses down the column of her neck.
The bed shifted behind you and you knew Olivia was ready, cock thick in her hand as she smeared lube up and down the toy between her legs. With Emily on her back, you crawled down her body, sucking one nipple into your mouth, flicking at it with your tongue before repeating the motion on the other side. The grin on your face grew wider as she fell under your spell, her skin flushing, heat creeping through it as her breathing picked up, perfect tits swaying when her back arched, her body shifting on the bed. Your fingers slipped into the waistband of her underwear and tugged them down her legs, eyes immediately jumping to her pussy.
She was already soaked, pussy glistening as if it was calling to you and your mouth practically watered at the sight. You felt Olivia’s hands on your waist, nudging you forward, one slid up your spine, pressing you towards Emily’s pussy while the other slipped between your legs.
“God she really made a fucking mess of you, didn’t she?” Liv chuckled, fingers spreading open your folds and you nodded, “well, get going.” She spanked you, “make it up to her.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
You dropped to the bed, hands sliding up Emily’s legs, a thumb tracing through her cunt, gently rubbing her clit, a satisfied smile on your lips when she let out a soft moan, her body pushing towards the touch. Your fingers toyed with her only a little longer, tracing her pussy, listening to the little noises she was making that were getting breathier, louder, you felt yourself pulse at the sight of her getting wetter, knowing it was your touch and the anticipation of your mouth that was turning her on.
Behind you, Olivia’s fingers pressed into you, slowly inching in, then pulling out all the way again, teasing you in an attempt to get you to hurry up. When her fingers disappeared from your body all together you whined, your thumb pressing against Emily’s clit, pulling a gasp from the other woman. Then you felt the nudge of Olivia’s cock pressing against your pussy and your entire body melted, aching to push your hips back. She always chose the largest toy, the one she could fill with lube to coat your greedy little cunt when she was finally done fucking you. The one you loved the most, the one that was almost too big some days.
Tearing your head from the clouds, you surged forward, finally getting a taste of Emily’s perfect fucking pussy and you couldn’t help but groan. She was fucking incredible, your tongue traced every inch of her that you could, not letting a single drop of her wetness go to waste.
“Oh my god.” She groaned, your mouth was so warm against her, moving with precision she barely needed to guide you when her hand tangled into your hair.
You wasted no time, knowing the faster you got Emily panting, the faster Olivia would finally fuck you. Her cock still just nudged at your entrance, heavy and waiting, slowly getting slick with your juices. There were days you were absolutely amazed at Olivia’s self-control and today was certainly one of them. If the roles had been reversed you would have been buried as deep as you could inside her the second she was on her hands and knees.
“Shit!” Emily swore, “right there, oh fuck yes.”
Olivia chuckled, “she’s good at that, isn’t she?” Her cock shifted, nudging just the tip inside your waiting pussy.
“Yeah.” Emily managed to gasp out, right as your tongue flicked across her clit, “oh fuck.”
“Such an eager slut.” Olivia mused, her hands squeezing around your waist and with one fast, heavy thrust you were shoved deeper between Emily’s legs, a muffled cry escaping your lips at the sensation of finally being so full.
“Fuck.” You whimpered, pussy fluttering around the toy, your walls squeezing and dripping as you tried to focus on eating Emily out.
“Don’t stop.” Liv ordered, her hands on your hips, holding you in place so you couldn’t start fucking yourself on her cock. She stayed still, buried deep inside you, stretching you out until Emily was gasping, a hand clawing at the bedspread, every second breath a curse on her parted lips.
“Shit, fuck. Fuck.” Emily’s nails dug into your scalp and you doubled down, sucking her clit into your mouth, groaning around it, the noise vibrating through her. Her hips jumped off the bed, juices dribbling into your mouth, smearing across your chin as she hit her peak, chest heaving, fingers twitching. “Oh my god…”
You kept your mouth on her, gently cleaning her up and Olivia patted your ass, “good girl.”
Then she began to move, her cock slowly dragging against your walls, leaving you empty and stretched before pushing all the way back in. Your hands clenched into Emily’s thighs and you risked slowly rocking your hips backwards, sinking down onto the toy.
“God,” Emily breathed, “she wants it bad.”
“Doesn’t matter how many times you fuck her.” Liv’s hips snapped forward and your body jerked, “she always wants more.” Her hand slid into your hair, yanking your head back, “isn’t that right?” She circled her hips and you gasped, “dirty girl who can never get enough.” She pulled all the way out of you, laughing darkly as your pussy clenched around nothing, cum already dripping down your thighs.
“Daddy, please.” Your whine was high pitched, body trembling, hands still grasping at Emily’s thighs. Olivia’s grip on your hair tightened as she leant over you, teeth sinking into your neck.
“Suppose you want it hard and fast, don’t you?”
“Yes!” You did your best to nod with the vice grip she had on your roots.
“Dirty slut.” Olivia husked before plunging her cock back into you as deep as she possibly could; the front of her thighs meeting the back of yours.
“Oh my gooddd!”
She set a relentless pace, the one you’d asked for, the one you craved, one that it seemed only she could truly master. Having dropped your hair, her hands were squeezing your waist, pulling you back to her faster and harder, pants of air leaving her lips as whimpers left yours. Her cock stretched you out so perfectly, you always felt so full when she fucked you like this, leaving no room for tenderness. Her palm spanked the globe of your ass and your pussy throbbed. You could feel how drenched you were, the apex of your thighs slick with arousal, the sound almost sticky each time Olivia’s body met yours. She shifted her weight just right and the head of the toy pressed into your g-spot on her next thrust.
“Fuck!”
“Yeah?” The cocky tone returned to her voice, “right there?” She pushed into you again with such force that you fell into Emily, barely able to keep yourself from being fucked into the mattress.
“Yesss…” you groaned, voice muffled by the sheets, body trembling as she continued to pound into you. A gasp left your lips when hands were suddenly groping at your chest, sneaking between the bed and your body. A second to open one eye and you found it was Emily, watching with a heavy gaze.
“God the sound of her fucking cunt.” She murmured and Olivia chuckled.
“Desperate little slut,” her thrusts slowed ever so slightly so she could plunge into you with full force, “with the messiest fucking pussy. Just fucking sopping.”
“Pull her up.” Emily suggested and Olivia’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck, yanking you flush to her as she continued to fuck you.
The new angle had you gasping for air, you could feel every single thrust down to your bones, your vision blurring as the head of the toy pressed harder and deeper against your g-spot each time it passed. A second later and Emily’s hands were on you again, pinching your nipples before one sunk lower.
“Fuck.” The word barely made it past your lips as Emily’s fingers started toying with your clit.
“Faster.” Liv instructed the other woman, “she’s so fucking close.”
Emily hummed, watching your face as she increased the pace and pressure, fingers almost slipping with just how slick you were. She felt herself beginning to pulse with need at the sight, at the noises coming from both your lips and your cunt, her free hand quickly sliding down her own body. A low moan broke free of her lips when she began to play with herself and your vision managed to come back just enough to watch.
“Jesus…”
“So pretty when you come.” Emily murmured, “makes me hot.” Her fingers slipped down, sinking two digits into her wet cunt, “oh god, yes.”
Olivia’s hand slunk up your body, closing around your neck as Emily’s fingers pressed harder against you and your body began to shake, there was no chance of even trying to form words any longer. Emily rocked her hips in the same rhythm she rubbed your clit; her lips parted in a silent ‘O’ as she fucked herself faster. She was so ready, half of her thought maybe she could have gotten off without even touching herself, just the sight of you so fucking wrecked enough to drive her mad.
“Daddy…” you managed out, the word slurred on your lips and Olivia’s hand squeezed around your neck.
“That’s it baby,” Emily cooed, fingers moving faster, “come with me.”
“Make a mess sweetheart, come all over Daddy’s cock.” Oliva panted, “I know you want to, little cock slut.”
A strangled cry left your lips and your body thrashed, juices dripping down around the dildo as you almost forgot how to breathe. The only thing left holding onto you, the only thing that didn’t make your vision white out completely was the sight of Emily coming on her own fingers right in front of you. That she was coming because of you, because of how messy and horny you were. She let out a low groan, her thighs trembling and her hand vanished from your clit before she fell back into the pillows with a very satisfied sigh.
“Shit.” She muttered, watching with half open eyes as Olivia’s grip on you dropped and you fell back onto your stomach.
“Need your cum.” You moaned into the sheets, body still quivering in aftershocks.
Olivia chuckled, somehow, she still hadn’t stopped moving, her cock pushing in and out of you at varying paces, watching how much cum smeared across it each time she pulled out. She thrust her hips sharply, once, twice, then a third, a small groan leaving her lips when she squeezed the base of the toy and lube coated your insides.
A dreamy sigh caught on your next exhale, lips curving up into a smile at the sensation. Olivia slowly pulled out, watching the lube mix with your juices as it dribbled out of your used cunt.
“Such a dirty girl.” She said, fingers scooping up the mixture and fucking it back into you, “greedy for Daddy’s cum.”
“Mmhmm.” You did your best to nod, humming at the gentle hand smoothing your hair off your face.
“Did so good for us.” Emily cooed, thumb brushing across your cheek.
“Perfect little whore.” Olivia murmured, leaning over your back to press a few kisses between your shoulder blades before she shifted off the bed to deal with the toy.
“Who knew you were such a good tour guide.” Emily said with a tease, pulling a small laugh from you as she helped you settle against the pillows.
“You, can come back anytime you please Agent Prentiss.”
𝑨𝒔𝒌 𝑴𝒆 𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 ~ Chapter Twelve (Emily Prentiss x Fem Reader)
emily prentiss x fem reader
content warnings: abduction, drugging, implied violence, extreme distress, mentions of crime scenes, case details (not graphic), emotional stress, hospital setting, medical trauma, trauma recovery, romantic/sexual tension, soft but horny
i haven't updated this in a while, but i hope there are still a few people here interested in where this story will go :) <33
word count: 5.5k
The case is closed, the danger contained. The aftermath lingers in bruises, silence, and the way they can't stop reaching for each other.
Read on AO3
𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆 - 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑾𝒆 𝑩𝒆 𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑵𝒐𝒘?
Emily wakes in fragments.
First sound. The steady, mechanical pulse of a monitor. Not alarming. Not urgent. Just there. A quiet metronome keeping time when her own sense of it feels warped.
Then light. Soft and thin, slipping past the blinds in pale bands that stripe the floor and the edge of the bed. Morning light. Real morning. The kind that only comes after a night that refuses to end.
Her body follows last.
Stiff neck. Pins and needles in her hand. A dull ache in her jaw from clenching it for too long. She inhales slowly, deliberately, grounding herself before she opens her eyes, because for a few suspended seconds she doesn’t remember why she’s here.
Her eyes snap to the bed.
You’re still there.
Breathing. Chest rising beneath the blanket, shallow but steady. The kind of steady that feels like permission to breathe again, even if Emily doesn’t quite take it yet.
She shifts closer, careful not to jostle the bed. The chair creaks softly beneath her weight, a sound that feels too loud in the small room. She freezes, eyes flicking to your face, waiting for any sign that she’s disturbed you.
Nothing. Just the faint twitch of lashes against your cheek, the slow fog of sleep and medication holding you under.
Emily lets her shoulders drop a fraction.
You look different in the hospital light. Too pale. Lips dry, a faint split at the corner she doesn’t remember being there before. Bruising blooms in soft, ugly colours along your collarbone, your ribs, your wrists. Evidence. Proof. Things she catalogues without meaning to, the profiler in her refusing to switch off even now.
She forces herself to look at your face instead.
There’s an IV taped to your hand, clear tubing snaking down to a bag that drips rhythmically. Saline, she thinks. Fluids first. Rehydrate. Stabilise. Her gaze tracks the line up your arm, to the bandage at your elbow, to the faint yellowing bruise beneath it.
She swallows.
Emily rests her forearms on her knees and leans in, close enough now that she can hear your breathing without the help of the monitor. Each inhale sounds like an effort. Each exhale feels earned.
“You’re safe,” she murmurs, so quietly it’s barely a sound at all. “You’re here.”
The words aren’t for you. Not yet. They’re for her.
Time stretches strangely. She watches the rise and fall of your chest, counts it without realising she’s doing it. Her hand hovers once over the blanket, hesitates, then settles gently near yours. She doesn’t touch you yet. Not until she’s sure. Not until she trusts her hands to be steady.
The door opens softly.
Emily straightens on instinct, spine going rigid as a nurse steps in, her movements calm and practised. She offers Emily a small, reassuring smile, the kind meant to anchor people who look like they’re holding themselves together with sheer will.
“Morning,” the nurse says quietly. “She’s still sleeping. That’s good.”
Emily nods. “She hasn’t woken yet.”
“That’s expected,” the nurse replies, moving to check the IV, the monitor. “Between the drugs in her system and the surgery, her body needs the rest.” She glances at the chart. “I’m going to give her some pain medication now. It might make her a little more drowsy, but it’ll keep her comfortable when she does wake.”
“Okay,” Emily says, the word coming out hoarse.
The nurse works efficiently, adjusting the drip and checking your vitals with gentle hands. Emily watches every movement, every tiny change in the monitor’s rhythm, her pulse matching it without permission.
“She’s stable,” the nurse adds, quietly, as if she knows Emily needs to hear it more than once. “The doctor should be by shortly to give you an update.”
Emily nods again, fingers curling into the fabric of her pants to keep them from shaking.
The nurse finishes, gives Emily another look. Softer this time. “You can talk to her, you know. Hearing is usually the last thing to go.”
When the door closes behind her, the room feels smaller. Quieter. Like the world has narrowed to the space between the bed and Emily’s chair.
She exhales slowly and finally, carefully, reaches for your hand.
Your skin is warm. Not feverish. Just warm enough to be real. Her fingers close around yours, tentative at first, then a little firmer when you don’t pull away.
“There you are,” she whispers, voice breaking despite herself. “I’ve got you.”
Her thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles, over the faint imprint of where restraints had been, the skin still tender over your hands. The anger flares then, sharp and sudden, but it burns out just as fast, leaving behind only exhaustion and relief tangled together so tightly she can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
A small shift. A soft sound in the back of your throat. Your brow furrows, as if you’re fighting your way up through deep water.
Emily stills instantly.
“It’s okay,” she says, low and steady, anchoring herself so she can anchor you. “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe.”
Your fingers twitch in her grasp, your lashes flutter.
Emily’s breath catches, sharp and involuntary, and for the first time since the warehouse, she lets herself smile. Not wide. Not yet. Just enough to let the relief crack through.
She leans in, eyes locked on yours as they begin to open, both of you suspended in that fragile, quiet moment right before everything changes again.
Your eyes don’t open all at once. They drift, unfocused, lashes trembling as if the effort alone costs too much. The room seems to reach you in pieces. The low hum of machines. The antiseptic sting in the air. The unfamiliar weight of blankets tucked too tightly around you.
And then there’s warmth. Pressure. Something holding your hand.
You frown faintly, a soft sound escaping you, more breath than voice.
Emily leans closer immediately. “Hey,” she murmurs, careful, grounding. “Easy. You don’t have to do anything yet.”
Your eyes crack open at last. Glassy. Confused. They don’t quite land on her face at first, drifting past her shoulder, taking in the pale wall, the IV pole, the dimmed lights. Panic flickers there, quick and sharp, before she can stop it.
“No, no,” Emily says quickly, thumb brushing your knuckles in a slow, repetitive motion. “You’re safe. You’re in the hospital. You’re not alone.”
Your gaze finally finds her.
Recognition doesn’t hit immediately. It seeps in. Slow and uncertain. Your brows knit together, lips parting as if you’re trying to remember how to speak.
“Em…” The sound is barely there. A breath shaped like her name.
Her chest tightens so hard it almost hurts. “Yeah,” she answers softly. “I’m here.”
Your grip on her hand tightens, sudden and desperate, like instinct has beaten thought to the punch. Your breathing stutters, shallow and uneven, and Emily can see the moment the memories start knocking. The way your eyes darken. The way your body tenses beneath the sheets.
She shifts closer, standing now, her free hand coming to rest gently on your forearm. Not restraining. Never that. Just there. “You’re okay,” she repeats, low and firm. “They can’t hurt you. It’s over.”
Your throat works. A tear slips free from the corner of your eye without warning, trailing back toward your hairline. Emily swipes it away with her thumb before she can stop herself, the gesture instinctive and tender and maybe a little reckless.
“I’ve got you,” she says again, quieter now. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You blink slowly, another tear following the first. Your grip loosens a fraction, exhaustion dragging you back under even as consciousness tries to hold on.
The door opens softly.
Emily looks up, unwilling but alert, as a doctor steps in, chart in hand. He pauses when he sees you awake, offering a gentle nod.
“Good timing,” he says quietly. “Welcome back.”
You shift slightly at the sound of his voice, eyes flicking toward him before drifting back to Emily, as if she’s the only fixed point you trust.
“She just woke up,” Emily says, unnecessarily. Her voice is steady, even if everything inside her is not.
The doctor steps closer, checking the monitor, shining a light briefly toward your eyes. “That’s expected. You’re doing well.” He looks between you and Emily. “She had internal bleeding from blunt force trauma. We took her into surgery to address it. The procedure went smoothly.”
Emily nods, every word carving itself into her memory.
“She’s dehydrated and malnourished,” he continues. “There are signs of repeated sedation over several days, which explains the seizure earlier. We’ve stabilised her, and we’re monitoring closely. The next twenty-four hours are important, but she’s out of immediate danger.”
Out of danger, the phrase lands like something she’s been holding her breath for.
Emily exhales slowly, her shoulders sagging for the first time since you opened your eyes. “Thank you,” she says, meaning more than she can fit into the words.
The doctor gives a small smile. “We’ll keep her comfortable. A nurse will be back shortly with additional pain management. Try not to overwhelm her. Short conversations, lots of rest.”
He leaves as quietly as he came.
The room settles again.
You’re already fading, eyelids growing heavy, breaths evening out under the weight of medication and exhaustion. Emily squeezes your hand gently, just once.
“That’s okay,” she whispers. “Sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up again.”
Your fingers twitch in response, as if you’re answering her in the only way you can. Your eyes close, lashes resting against bruised skin, and this time the stillness that follows isn’t terrifying. It’s peaceful.
Emily stays standing for a moment longer, watching you, memorising the way you look alive in a hospital bed instead of motionless on concrete. When she finally sits back down, she doesn’t let go of your hand.
Time in the hospital didn’t move forward so much as it pooled. It gathered in the soft hum of machines, the shuffle of nurses’ shoes, the steady rise and fall of your chest as your body remembered how to breathe without fear.
Emily marked the hours by changes.
By the first time your eyes stayed open longer than a few seconds. By the first spoonful of broth you managed without nausea. By the way your voice sounded when it finally came back. Hoarse. Thin. Real.
Doctors came and went. They spoke in careful terms. Recovery. Monitoring. Surgery had gone well. Internal bruising, dehydration, malnutrition, elevated toxin levels from repeated injections. They used clinical language, but Emily heard the gaps between their words just as clearly.
You should not have survived this as intact as you did.
By the second morning, you were allowed to sit up with help. A tray arrived with toast you barely touched and fruit you picked at slowly, methodical, as if proving to yourself that eating was still something you were allowed to do. Emily sat close, pretending to read reports on her phone while watching every movement like it mattered more than anything else in the room.
Fragments came back sideways. The smell of bleach. The weightlessness of being lifted. A humming voice you couldn’t quite place. The flash of light that made your vision bloom white behind your eyes.
The doctors said memory would return unevenly. That your brain had been protecting you, and Emily hoped it would stay that way
The third afternoon brought quiet footsteps and a familiar knock.
JJ hovered in the doorway before entering, coffee in one hand, a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She looked tired in the way that came from adrenaline wearing off rather than lack of sleep.
“Hey,” she said gently. “I hope this is okay.”
You nodded. Emily shifted slightly to give her room, though she didn’t move far.
JJ took in the sight of you sitting up, colour slowly returning to your face, and something in her shoulders eased. “You look… better. Still tired. But better.”
You gave a small, careful smile. “I feel like I got hit by a truck and then politely asked to stand up again.”
JJ huffed a quiet laugh. “That sounds about right.”
She lingered for a moment, glancing between you and Emily, clearly weighing something. Then she stepped closer, resting her coffee on the counter. “I was actually here to check in. See how you were doing. And to let you know, things are… moving.”
Emily’s jaw tightened just a fraction.
“Moving how?” you asked.
JJ didn’t answer immediately. She met Emily’s eyes first, a silent question. Emily gave a small nod.
You deserved to know. At least some of it.
“He’s in federal custody,” JJ said carefully. “Multiple charges. Kidnapping, aggravated assault, unlawful restraint, use of controlled substances, attempted murder. There are others, tied to previous victims.”
Your fingers curled slightly into the blanket.
“He confessed,” JJ continued softly. “Not immediately. But once the evidence was laid out, he didn’t fight it. He was… disturbingly calm about it.”
Emily’s voice was low. “Did he say why?”
JJ hesitated. “He talked about control. About preservation. He believed what he was doing was… meaningful.” She chose the word deliberately. “He didn’t see himself as violent. He saw himself as careful.”
A chill crept up your spine.
“What about me?” you asked quietly.
The room went still.
JJ’s voice dropped another degree. “He said you were ‘special.’ That he intended to keep you longer than the others.”
Emily inhaled sharply through her nose.
“For what?” Emily asked, her tone even but razor thin.
JJ didn’t look away from you when she answered. “He wanted to document you. Photograph you. He believed you fit his pattern perfectly. He never planned to let you go.”
Silence settled heavy between them.
You stared down at your hands, at the faint bruising still blooming along your wrists. “So… he was always going to kill me.”
JJ nodded once. “Yes.”
Emily’s hand found yours without thinking. This time, you didn’t hesitate before curling your fingers into hers.
“Is he… sorry?” you asked after a moment.
JJ shook her head. “He’s angry. Not at himself. At us. He said we ruined something important to him.”
Emily’s grip tightened, protective, grounding. “You don’t owe him anything,” she said firmly. “Not fear. Not understanding. Not forgiveness.”
You looked up at her then, really looked. The dark circles under her eyes. The way she hadn’t let go of you since you woke up. The tension she was still holding in her shoulders, like she hadn’t quite accepted that this was real yet.
“I know,” you said softly. “I just… needed to hear it.”
JJ watched the exchange quietly, something like relief crossing her face. “You can ask questions whenever you need to,” she said. “Or you can not ask at all. Either way is okay.”
She straightened slowly. “I’ll let you rest. Morgan and Garcia send their love. Hotch too.”
When she left, the room felt smaller again. Quieter.
You leaned back against the pillows, exhausted in a new way. The kind that came from surviving something you were never meant to survive.
Emily stayed where she was.
Neither of you spoke for a long moment.
Then, quietly, you said, “You were there.”
Emily looked at you. “Always.”
And for the first time since you’d woken up, the fear loosened its grip just a little.
Morning arrives gently, if such a thing is possible in a hospital. Not with sunlight exactly, but with air moving through vents, carts whispering past the door, the low, constant murmur of a building that never truly sleeps.
Emily is the first thing you register. She’s already on her feet, moving slowly across the room, eyes flicking from you to the clock to the door like she’s taking inventory of the day. When she cracks the window open, the sound is small but decisive. Cool air slips in, carrying something cleaner with it. Outside smells. Morning.
“There,” she murmurs, more to the room than to you. “That should help.”
You shift under the blankets, testing your body. Everything answers back with stiffness, soreness, a reminder written in dull aches instead of sharp pain now. Progress, apparently.
“They’re coming today,” you say. It’s not quite a question.
Emily nods, turning back toward you. “Garcia and Morgan. Late morning.”
You hesitate, fingers worrying the edge of the sheet. “Can you… help me freshen up a bit before they get here?”
Her brow creases instantly. “You know they won’t care what you look like.”
“I know,” you say. “I just… I want to feel nice. Or at least less like a hospital.”
That seems to land. Emily’s expression softens, and she nods once. “Okay. Yeah. Of course.”
She lowers the bed and helps you swing your legs over the side, steadying you when the floor feels a little too far away. Once you’re up, she turns back to the bed, straightening the sheets, fluffing the pillows, making it look less like a place someone’s been stuck inside of for days.
“Let’s get you sitting up,” she says. “That way it feels less… clinical.”
She helps you sit on top of the bed instead of in it, pillows arranged behind you so you’re upright, supported. It helps more than you expect.
Emily rummages in her bag and pulls out a small collection of things she clearly planned ahead of time. Dry shampoo first. She asks before she sprays, waits for your nod, then works it through your hair with careful fingers, lifting at the roots, making sure not to disrupt the natural shape too much.
“I’m not trying to restyle you,” she murmurs. “Just unflatten.”
You huff a quiet laugh.
She follows it with lip balm, holding it out until you take it, then adds a light spritz of body spray to the air instead of directly on you, letting it settle around you instead of overwhelming the room.
“That okay?” she asks.
“Perfect,” you say.
She hands you face wipes next, using one herself to gently wipe your neck and collarbone, the places where the hospital smell seems to cling the longest. The gesture makes your throat tighten in a way you don’t comment on.
“Bathroom,” you decide. “I should do a bit more.”
Emily helps you up again, slower this time, walking you to the door. “Take your time. I’ll be right here.”
You hobble to the sink, grateful for the small, familiar motions. You wipe beneath your arms, splash cool water on your face, take a second to just breathe. When you look in the mirror, you still look tired, still pale, but you also look present. Like yourself, just a little battered.
When you come back out, Emily’s waiting, exactly where she said she’d be. She helps you back onto the bed, sitting you comfortably upright again.
“There,” she says softly. “You look good.”
You search her face, then nod. “I feel better. That counts.”
A knock comes not long after. Two taps, a pause, then one more.
Emily opens the door as Garcia’s voice drifts in first, bright and familiar. “Okay, quick question, why do hospitals all smell like sadness and hand sanitizer?”
Garcia appears in the doorway, scarf vivid against the sterile hall, grin ready but softening the moment she sees you. Morgan follows, relaxed but alert, eyes scanning you in that protective way he can’t seem to turn off.
Garcia beams. “You’re upright. I love that for you.”
Morgan grins. “Look at you. Sitting up like you own the place.”
You smile despite yourself. “I set rules.”
Garcia gasps. “I adore rules.”
“No health talk. No unsub talk,” you say firmly. “You can ask how I am once. Then I get to complain.”
Morgan chuckles. “Deal.”
They ask how you’re doing, gentle and brief. You answer honestly. Then you complain.
About the food. About the socks. About how everything smells faintly wrong no matter how much you wipe it down. Garcia reacts with exaggerated horror. Morgan shakes his head like the universe personally wronged you.
Laughter comes easier than you expect. It still pulls at your stitches, still makes you wince, but Emily notices immediately, her hand finding yours without a word.
For a while, the room doesn’t feel like a hospital, It just feels like people who showed up.
Conversation drifts the way it’s been drifting all morning. Easy. Ordinary. Blessedly small.
You complain about the IV pole that seems to hate you personally. About how the hospital socks slide no matter what you do. About the way every surface feels either too clean or not clean enough, no in-between.
“And don’t get me started on the food,” you add. “I swear the mashed potatoes are mostly air.”
Morgan nods gravely. “Hospital cuisine. Designed to keep you alive, not happy.”
Garcia leans forward conspiratorially. “I once smuggled hot sauce into a recovery ward. Changed lives.”
Emily watches you talk, watches your hands move, your voice steady. She looks… lighter. Not unburdened. But breathing.
Garcia tilts her head, eyes flicking between the two of you like she’s piecing together a puzzle she already knows the answer to. “So,” she says casually, like she’s asking about lunch plans, “when you get discharged– are you going to have someone staying with you for a bit?”
You blink. “I… I hadn’t really—”
Garcia smiles, warm and unassuming. “Just thinking out loud. You’ve been through a lot, cupcake.”
Emily stiffens for half a second before she can stop herself.
“Oh,” she says, then clears her throat. “I mean. I can. If you want. Just to help out. Make sure you’re okay.”
You look at her, really look at her. The careful neutrality in her voice. The way she’s trying not to assume anything.
“I’d like that,” you say softly. “If that’s okay with you.”
Emily exhales like she’s been holding her breath for days. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Garcia’s smile turns positively radiant. She presses her hands to her chest. “I love when the universe makes good choices.”
Morgan doesn’t even wait two seconds.
“Oh, I’m thrilled,” he says. “Really. Because that means we need to establish very clear house rules. Strict ones.”
Emily squints at him. “Derek.”
“I’m serious,” he continues, unfazed. “For example, no strenuous activity while recovering. Doctor’s orders. Which rules out lifting, running, and whatever that face means.”
Garcia lets out a noise halfway between a gasp and a laugh. “Oh my god, Morgan.”
You choke on a laugh, clutching your side. “You’re terrible.”
“Am I?” he asks innocently. “Because I’m just saying, internal stitches plus… enthusiasm? Bad combo.”
Emily groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I hate you.”
Garcia is fully cackling now. “I love him. This is why we can’t take him anywhere with medical equipment.”
You’re laughing despite the pain, breathless. “Please—please stop—”
Morgan lifts his hands in surrender, still smiling. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave. But for the record, Emily, I expect you to be very attentive.”
Emily finally cracks, a laugh slipping out before she can stop it. “Get out.”
Garcia wipes at her eyes. “I missed this. Near-death trauma really brings people together.”
The laughter eases, leaving warmth behind it, the kind that settles deep. The kind that reminds you that even now, especially now, you’re still surrounded by people who won’t let the darkness have the last word.
Time loosens its grip after that. Minutes blur into something softer, the sharp edges of the day rounding off as conversation drifts from one thing to the next. Garcia perches on the edge of the chair, animated hands painting stories about flight delays and questionable airport snacks. Morgan sprawls like he owns the place, stealing sips of water and pretending he’s not watching you every time you shift, gauging pain levels with quiet care.
A knock interrupts them mid-sentence.
The nurse sweeps in with practiced calm, the soft rustle of gloves and the gentle clink of a medication cup. She smiles at the little cluster of you. “Time for your next round.”
Emily’s already moving, adjusting your pillows, steadying your elbow as you take the pills. Her touch is automatic now, muscle memory born of the last few days. The nurse checks your chart, murmurs reassurance, then glances at you. “Bathroom before these kick in?”
You nod. “Probably a good idea.”
Emily helps you up, slow and careful, her hand firm at your waist. The world tilts a little, manageable but noticeable. Garcia and Morgan both look away with exaggerated politeness as you shuffle toward the bathroom, Emily guiding you like a quiet anchor.
The door closes softly.
Morgan exhales. “She’s tougher than she thinks.”
Garcia nods, then turns to Emily, her voice dropping. “And you? How are you doing?”
Emily blinks, like the question catches her mid-step internally. She hesitates, then shrugs, the movement stiff. “I’m managing.”
“That wasn’t the question,” Morgan says gently.
Emily presses her lips together. “I don’t know how to stop checking if she’s breathing.”
Garcia’s expression softens, something tender and knowing. “You don’t have to do this alone. If you need a break, food, sleep, someone to step in for you—”
“I’m okay,” Emily says, quicker than intended, then sighs. “I will be. I just–need her awake. Talking. Normal.”
Morgan nods. “We’ve got you. All of you.”
The bathroom door opens before Emily can respond. You reemerge, a little pale but smiling, and the moment shifts back into lighter gravity.
Emily helps you settle again, tucking the blanket around your legs. She doesn’t let go of your hand right away.
Another stretch of time passes. The meds soften the edges of everything, warmth spreading through your limbs. Garcia is halfway through a story about a disastrous attempt at baking when the door creaks open again.
JJ slips inside like she’s sneaking into a movie theatre, jacket zipped halfway, eyes bright.
“I come bearing gifts,” she whispers dramatically.
From inside her bag, she produces a paper parcel that smells like heaven itself. Hot chips.
Morgan’s eyes widen. “You are a hero.”
Garcia gasps. “Jennifer Jareau, you absolute menace.”
JJ grins. “Eat fast. I bribed a nurse.”
They crowd in closer, passing chips hand to hand, salt and grease and laughter filling the room. You steal a few, careful and delighted, moaning softly at the taste like it’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten.
“Hospital food could never,” Garcia declares.
Emily watches you eat like it’s proof of something sacred. She finally grabs a chip herself when Morgan nudges her. “You too, boss.”
For the first time in days, the room rings with easy laughter. No radios crackling. No maps. No timelines. Just people teasing each other, trading stories, bumping shoulders.
JJ wipes her fingers on a napkin and looks around, smiling. “This is nice. We should do this more often. Minus the trauma.”
“Hard pass on the trauma,” you say, mouth full.
Emily squeezes your hand under the blanket, her thumb brushing slow, grounding circles against your skin.
For now, the worry stays outside the door.
Two mornings later, the day finally arrives quietly.
The knock comes just after sunrise. Not urgent. Not sharp. Just a polite rhythm against the door.
The doctor steps in with a tablet tucked to her side and a smile that reaches her eyes before she even speaks. That alone makes Emily straighten, hope flickering before she can stop it.
“Well,” the doctor says, glancing between you both, “I like how this looks.”
Your vitals are steady. Bloodwork improving. Pain controlled. No fever. No complications from the surgery. She talks through it all calmly, methodically, like she is laying bricks instead of delivering relief.
“You’ll be discharged today,” she finishes. “After the nurses go over your medications and post-op care.”
Emily lets out a breath she has been holding for days.
The nurses arrive soon after with a neat stack of papers, bottles labeled carefully, instructions repeated twice just to be safe. They hand Emily a canvas bag full of gauze, antiseptic wipes, extra dressings, and a printed schedule taped to the inside.
“She’s your keeper now,” one of them jokes gently.
Emily nods like it is the most serious assignment she has ever received.
There is another small jump after that. Paperwork signed. A wheelchair ride down bright hallways. The scent of disinfectant giving way to fresh air at the entrance. The sun feels too real, too bright, like the world has been waiting.
That night, your apartment feels different.
Clean, for one thing. Shockingly so.
Emily has set everything up before you even fully notice. Pill bottles lined neatly on the counter. A glass of water already waiting. Fresh blankets folded at the end of the couch. Soft lighting instead of the harsh overheads.
And dinner.
Your favorite tacos sit warm on the coffee table, carefully assembled, nothing too spicy, nothing too heavy. Just right.
Emily settles beside you on the couch, close but not crowding, watching your face as you take the first bite.
You hum softly. “I could cry.”
“Please don’t,” she says, smiling. “The stitches will hate that.”
You laugh, a real laugh, and lean back into the cushions. The pain is there, still, but it is distant now. Manageable. The fog has lifted enough that everything feels sharper, clearer.
“You know,” you say between bites, “the place looks amazing.”
Emily glances around, casual. “Yeah. They didn’t want you coming home to dust and reminders.”
Your brows knit slightly. “They?”
“Morgan vacuumed like his life depended on it. Garcia reorganized your entire kitchen. JJ did the bathroom. I think Hotch wiped down surfaces and pretended not to.”
You shake your head, warmth blooming in your chest. “That’s really nice of them.”
“They care,” Emily says simply.
Dinner passes slowly. No rush. Just soft conversation, the clink of forks, the quiet comfort of being home. Your body feels tired but not fragile anymore. The worst of it has passed.
Emily watches you eat like she is memorizing the moment.
For the first time in a long while, the night does not feel dangerous.
The apartment is quiet in that soft, end-of-day way. The kind of quiet that settles after something monumental has passed.
You shift closer to Emily without really deciding to. Your shoulder fits against her chest like it always has, familiar even after everything. She smells clean, faint soap and something warm underneath it, and when you tilt your head back to look at her, it hits you all at once.
She looks fresh. Rested in that post-shower way, hair still a little damp at the ends, sleeves pushed up, skin warm beneath your palm.
And for the first time in days, you feel clean too. Your own shower. Your own soap. Your own space. The hospital haze finally rinsed away.
You exhale, slow and shaky, and curl into her properly this time, cheek pressing against her collarbone.
“Emily,” you murmur.
Her arm tightens around you immediately. Protective without thinking. “Hey.”
“Thank you,” you say quietly. It feels too small for everything you mean, but it is the truest thing you have. “For… staying. For not letting go. For all of it.”
She tips her head down, forehead brushing your hair. “There was never another option.”
Your chest feels warm. Too warm. A flush creeps up your neck, into your cheeks, and you know exactly what it is before you let yourself name it.
Love. Clear and terrifying and suddenly impossible to ignore.
You pull back just enough to see her face. Her eyes soften instantly, searching yours, steady and patient as always.
“Can I–” Your voice wobbles, then steadies. “Can I kiss you?”
Something shifts in her expression. Not surprise. Not hesitation. Just relief, deep and quiet.
“Yes,” she says. Soft. Certain.
You lean in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She doesn’t.
The kiss is gentle at first. Careful. Emily’s lips are warm, grounding, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. She kisses you like she is reminding herself you are real, like she is counting heartbeats with her mouth.
You melt into it.
Then the want creeps in. Unavoidable. Your hand slides up to her shoulder, fingers curling into fabric. You tilt your head, deepen the kiss, a soft sound slipping from you before you can stop it.
Emily laughs quietly against your mouth, breath warm, amused and breathless all at once. “Easy,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb along your jaw. “You’ve just had surgery.”
You huff a laugh, forehead resting against hers. “I’ve been very patient,” you whisper. “I don’t think I can help it anymore.”
She’s still smiling when you shift, slow and careful, moving onto her lap with deliberate gentleness. You brace your hands on the back of the couch, testing your balance, your body, making sure you don’t push too far.
Emily’s hands come up instantly, hovering at your waist, steadying you without pressure. Her breath catches anyway.
You feel it. The tension. The spark. The way being this close is suddenly everything.
You roll your hips just enough to feel her beneath you, nothing reckless, nothing rushed, but enough to make the air change between you.
Emily exhales sharply, her laugh gone now, replaced with something darker, warmer. “You’re going to get us in trouble,” she murmurs.
You grin, flushed and bright, forehead dropping to hers again. “Worth it.”
She looks at you like she might kiss you or stop you or do something in between, and the moment stretches, electric and unresolved.
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