pairing: f!reader x emily prentiss
summary: after pining for too long, reader and emily decide it’s time they get down to business (and emily gets down on her knees).
c.warning: mdni, oral sex (reader receiving), bit of a biting kink, bit of bruising too, i guess, wet kisses, emily eating box like a pro and praising you every two seconds.
a/n: first time posting smut in here #scared #embarrassed i hope this is good if not i fear i’ll have to disappear forever 🤟🏻 also notice the ts reference? yeah. enjoy!!
hope you enjoy it <3 likes & reblogs are appreciated !!
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the club is packed, electronic music blaring, people dancing all around you. your hips sway to the beat, a thin coat of sweat making your skin gleam under the purple and pink lights. jj says something and you tilt your head back and laugh at something jj just told you. emily doesn’t catch it, though, she hasn’t been paying attention to anything but you all night.
from the moment she saw you step out of your apartment in that tiny black dress that hugged your figure so damn well. it clings to every single curve, tightening in all the right places. garcia, sitting next to her in the passenger seat, had to snap her fingers in front of her face just to bring her back down to earth and remind her to unlock the car door for you.
from that moment on, emily hasn’t been able to take her eyes off you, sipping her drink as she follows every single move you make. the way you raise your arms above your head, flipping your hair back and forth, the slow show you make of circling your hips. that damned dress has started riding up, and up, and up… and now she can almost see the curve of your ass peaking from underneath.
and if she can, that means anyone else who looks at you can too. sure enough, a couple of guys were ogling you from where they leaned against a tall table. they elbow each other, as if daring the other to go dance with you.
emily turns her body in their direction, sending a glare in the direction of the one who has dared to walk towards your group. the look in her eyes is enough to make him throw his hands up and turn away in defeat.
“emily! there you are!” you yell over the music when you return to your table. you immediately throw an arm over her shoulders, and the touch alone makes emily shiver.
get your shit together, prentiss. she just touched your shoulder, for fuck’s sake.
“where the hell were you?” garcia asks.
“i needed a breather. sorry, girls.”
“well, you’re back now. let’s dance,” you chirp, finishing your drink in one gulp and setting the empty glass on the high table.
emily groans. “you know i don’t dance.”
“tonight you do.” you give her your best pout when she starts shaking her head. “for me?”
and because she hasn’t been able to say “no” to you since the moment she met you, she takes your hand and walks with you to an the same open spot on the dance floor where you’ve been dancing with the other girls for the past hour. this time, when you sway your hips, she tries to mirror you with her own. when you throw your hands in the air and tilted your head back, she takes her time shamelessly staring. she traces the curve of your nose with her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek when her gaze falls on your bright smile. that lipstick you were wearing really suits you. and now all she can think about is how good it would feel to kiss it off your lips.
this longing had gone on for far too long. always staring from afar. drinking up every single one of your laughs, but always as a friend. she wanted—no, needs—for every touch to mean something. she wants to be the first thing you think of in the morning, and the last name you whisper before falling asleep.
emily has never believed in love at first sight. instant attraction, sure. she has felt that before. but never what she has felt the first time she laid eyes on you. one night, jj introduced you as an old friend of hers, and when you lifted your eyes to hers and let out a soft nice to meet you, emily’s heart skipped a beat.
it might sound ridiculous, but it felt exactly like one of those cheesy romance movies, when the protagonist sees their love interest for the first time. the scene playing in slow motion, inexplicable wind blowing in their hair. that’s what meeting you had been for emily.
that night, when she finally got home, she went to bed thinking of you and your smile. and that was exactly when she realized exactly how screwed she was.
“i’m so glad jj convinced me to come tonight. i almost stayed home watching tv and eating my weight in candy.”
that made emily smile.
“i’m glad you came, too.”
before she can even register it, you step closer, closing any distance between you. now your hips press against hers, and when you look at her, your mouths are only a breath apart. emily’s eyes darken, heat flashing in them.
the hands on your hips tense, restraint clear in every line of her body. she’s trying to be polite. but you aren’t looking for politeness tonight. no, tonight is all about seeing how far she is willing to go with you.
taking her hands in yours, you push them a little lower. she mutters a curse under her breath, but doesn’t pull away. slowly, her slim fingers trace the hem of your dress, barely brushing the curve of your ass.
leaning down, she nuzzles your ear and, with a voice that sends goosebumps racing over your arms and neck, whispers, “we’re playing a dangerous game.”
“are we?” you shoot back, one hand sliding up until it tangles in her hair, tugging gently until she’s facing you again, so close that when you speak, she can practically taste your words on her lips. “good thing those are my favorite kind.”
this time, you can see it more clearly, the way her dark eyes light up with fire. her tongue sweeps across her lips, slow and deliberate, and you follow the movement. emily notices, and grins.
“well, then…”
“girls, i think it’s time to call it a night.” penelope’s voice comes from behind emily’s back. she’s holding up a very drunk jennifer under one arm.
“i don’t wanna go,” jj complains, trying to wriggle out of garcia’s grasp.
“you’re gonna regret that last extra-large margarita in the morning, mark my words.” penelope turns her attention back to emily, her eyes apologetic. “sorry to ruin your fun.”
“no, that’s okay.” emily sighs, pulling away from you. your hands drop to your sides, curling into fists as if to stop yourself from reaching for her again. “i promised i’d drive you home the moment you asked. it’s fine. are you ready to head home too?” she asks, turning to you.
you nod, mouth dry and hands still shaky. “yeah, totally.”
you all get into emily’s car. this time, you take the passenger seat, while penelope stays in the back with jj, who is now cuddled up against her friend, head resting on garcia’s shoulder while she stroked her hair. glancing back, you smile fondly at the sight. garcia smiles back at you, though hers looks a little more mischievous, a little too knowing. your cheeks flame red as you turned back forward.
the silence in the car is thick, charged. and it only grows heavier after emily drops jj and garcia off. she drives without a word, humming faintly under her breath to a song only she can hear. at a red light, her eyes drift to your bare legs. when you shift slightly, your dress riding up higher, you hear her breath hitch.
you decide to take your chance when you see her turn onto the avenue where your apartment building is.
“actually, i was hoping we could head to your place instead,” you say, your voice trembling now, all the bravado from the dance floor gone. “if that’s… if that’s okay with you?”
emily lets out a low chuckle, a cocky smile tugs at her lips. “that is more than okay with me, princess.”
you are embarrassed to admit to yourself what that pet names does to you. biting the inside of your cheek, you push your thighs together, tightly.
the drive to her place feels agonizingly long, every minute weighed down by the static between you. in her head, emily keeps repeating don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up. she’s been waiting too long to waste the chance now. in yours, you can only think of all the places you want to kiss her.
when you finally make it to her door, emily fumbles with her keys, hands shaking and missing the keyhole a couple of times. it makes you laugh, and emily shoots you a glare over her shoulder, although you can see a smile start pulling at her lips.
“don’t tell me i make you nervous, prentiss,” you whisper next to her ear.
the lock finally clicked, and emily pushed the door open with her shoulder, stepping aside to let you enter first. as you walked in, she stole another glance at your ass, biting her lip as she closed the door behind her.
there was something about having you here, in her hallway, looking deliciously shy as you glanced around, that lit something primal inside her. before you could take another step, her hand circled your wrist, pulling you flush against her chest, her mouth hovering just above yours.
“you make me nervous,” she admits, your name rolling off her lips like something sacred. “i’ve been craving you all night. ever since you walked out of your door in this dress.”
she tugs at the fabric, fisting it.
“you like it?” you whisper, leaning closer, so close her lips grazed yours when she answered.
“do i like it? baby, i should send whoever designed it a thank you card. you look absolutely stunning.”
“good, because i bought it just for you,” you confess. “i wanted to look hot for you.”
“hot?” emily chuckles, cupping your cheek. “hot doesn’t even cover it. you look like a dream.”
her fingers trace the neckline of the dress, following the soft fabric as it clings to your chest. slowly, she cups one breast, brushing her thumb over your hardening nipple. you let out a shaky breath.
“though as much as i like this dress, i think i’d like you even better without it.”
you huff out a laugh. “good. because i bought it hoping you’d end up taking it off.”
emily’s breath catches. this was really happening. you are in her arms, wanting this just as badly. she believes she might explode with happiness.
“i need you to understand something,” she says suddenly, pulling her hands back a little. “this will change everything for me. i don’t think i could go back to just being friends after tasting you.”
you reach for her hands, holding them gently in yours. your eyes spark as they lock with hers, a wide smile spreading over your lips. “i don’t want to be friends, emily. i want to be yours.”
those words are enough to tear the walls of the small room where she had storage all her desire for you since the day she met you. her lips come clashing into yours like a wave in a stormy night. with her body pressed to yours she pushed you into the nearest wall, hands traveling all over your body with need.
instantly, you become a mess of hands in hair, teeth and tongues clashing. emily’s hands grip your hips pushing you against the wall with an urgency that has you moaning. she swallows it, her own groan of pleasure vibrating from writhing her chest.
you’re the first to break the kiss, gasping for air, and emily takes the opportunity to turn her attention to your neck. she leaves open-mouthed kisses all over your skin, biting at your collar bone and tracing the spot with the tip of her tongue right after.
“em…” her name slips from your lips like a prayer. she hums in response, kissing you again.
the kiss is ravenous, the clash of two souls that have waited far too long. she bites your lower lip, tugging until sparks race down your body, pooling hot between your thighs.
“that color looks good on you,” you murmur when she pulls back, her lips stained with your lipstick.
grinning, she runs her thumb slowly across your mouth, wiping the smudge but lingering, taking her time. you squirmed under her touch. she nuzzles the crook of your neck, decorating your jaw with kisses, leaving behind a mark of your own lipstick. meanwhile, her hands busy themselves tracing patters across your belly, up your sides. when her thumbs trace the undersides of your breasts you arch your back, as if offering them to her. emily chuckles.
“can i?” she asks, pulling at the straps of your dress.
“please.” it comes out as nothing more than a sigh.
“begging already?” emily taunts. “i haven’t even really touched you yet.”
her hands slide the straps of your dress down your arms. emily licks her lips when the fabric finally lowers enough to show your tits. your nipples already hard. she looks you in the eyes and you see it, the hunger, the plea. you nod slightly, leaning your head against the wall. and in mere seconds emily is lapping at your breasts like an madwoman. she bites and licks and kisses your skin. and you feel it then, in the way her hands caress you, the way she plays with one of your nipple as her tongue flicks the others.
this isn’t just sex, you realize. you’ve had enough of that to know the difference. the way emily touched you, kissed you. it’is full of adoration. she’s worshiping you.
“i’ve…” she mutters against your skin, dropping a soft kiss above your heart. resting her chin on your chest, she continues. “i’ve dreamt about this so many times. about touching you. tasting you. it feels unreal. i’m afraid i’ll wake up and it’ll just be another fantasy.”
you run your hand through her hair, and she sighs in bliss.
“it’s real. and tomorrow, when we wake up, it’ll still be real. i’ll still be here. i’ll still be yours.”
“oh, god.” the sound she makes is almost primal.
she leans down once more, tracing a wet line down your chest with her tongue. her hands start dragging the fabric of the dress down your torso as she lowers herself to the ground. and you’ve always thought emily is gorgeous, with eyes dark like the night and long eyelashes, a beautiful nose and her lips—god, those lips—. like her, you had dreamt of a night like this for a long time, and in those dreams her lips always seemed to be the main attraction. her mouth on your neck, teeth scraping the delicate skin; on your chest, leaving red marks behind; and between your legs, devouring you until you melted.
your dress hits the floor with a dull thud. emily’s mouth goes dry at the sight of you hovering above her in just your underwear.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” she whispers, hands running up and down your thighs.
grinning, she slides her hands around to grab your ass, fingers digging in. before you know it, she has turned you toward the wall.
“this sweet ass…” her voice is playful. “i couldn’t stop staring all night. i’ve been dying to do this since i saw you dancing.”
before you can ask what she’s talking about, you feel the sting of a bite on your left cheek. you let out a low moan, resting your forehead against the cool wall. emily then kisses the skin that’s starting to redden, the soft mark of her teeth almost making her roll her eyes with pleasure. in all honesty, this is the most turned on she’s ever been. and she hasn’t even gotten to taste you yet. she fears the moment she finally gets her mouth on you she’ll combust.
she repeats her ministrations with the other cheek, this time making sure the mark will be visible tomorrow morning.
when she guides your body to turn again you look down at her at the same time she looks up at you. there’s a playful glint in her eyes as she bites her lips. and what emily sees are your blushed cheeks, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. she leans closer to your center, just to pull away again, teasing.
“emily…” you groan, eyes closing.
“what, baby?”
“i need you now.”
“oh, but i’m having so much fun taking my time.”
“em…” this time her name comes out in a ragged breath. “please.”
that makes her smile. she kisses you over the thin fabric of your thong. it’s not nearly enough, but still, it makes your legs falter. quickly, emily grabs your thighs securely, pushing them farther apart to make room for herself.
“holy shit,” you mutter with anticipation.
she drops another kiss, this time on the inside of your thigh. then a little bit higher, and higher, and…
she kisses your pussy again, followed by a single swipe of her tongue. she can already taste you through the fabric, and it makes her moan in unison with you.
“you’re so wet already, princess,” she says, voice thick with lust.
“emily, i need your mouth. now.”
but she’s decided she wants to savor this. instead, emily twists the fabric around her finger once, twice and pulls until it disappears in between your folds. you gasp, eyes fluttering closed again as she begins to rub the fabric against your clit, creating a sort of friction that has you seeing stars.
meanwhile, emily watches in awe as the fabric grows wetter and wetter, grinding her own hips against the seam of her jeans for relief
“fuck!” you cry. “emily… please.”
and because she can’t deny you, she finally pulls the thong down your legs. you then kick it with your feet, not really caring where it ends up. emily takes that same leg and quickly pulls it over her shoulder, opening up more space for her really explore.
“holy shit,” she echoes you, spreading you open with two fingers, staring at your glistening pussy. “you’re…”
she looks up at your flushed face, your lips parted in anticipation.
“fuck me, you’re gorgeous.”
and then she dives in. the flat of her tongue runs bottom to top, gathering all your wetness. her grip on your legs tightens when she feels them shake. emily continues lapping, groaning and moaning. she murmurs praises against your core, and every time she hums you feel the reverberations zap across your spine.
it’s entirely filthy, the wet sounds, her words. you never knew emily prentiss would be this dirty in sex, but fuck, she’s good at it.
“baby, you taste so fucking good.” she glances up at you, her lips wet, they glisten as if she had just applied your favorite cherry flavored lipgloss.
with two of her fingers spreading you wide, she gives one full lick with the flat of her tongue again, only to finish by sucking your clit into her mouth.
“oh fuck!” you cried, nearly buckling. your scream serves emily as motivation to repeat it one more time. “holy fuck, emily. i’m—”
“no, not yet. i’m having too much fun.”
emily rocks her hips back and forth, having finally found the perfect spot for the seam of her pants to offer her the pressure and friction she needs right now. without her mouth ever leaving your core, she dives one finger into you, slowly pumping in and out. when she hears your soft moan, she dips a second finger.
“oh, god! emily!”
“i know, baby.”
with the tip of her tongue, she flicks your already throbbing clit a couple of times and the pression builds up, and up, and up… and you swear you’ve never felt this high during sex. the way emily keeps praising you every time you moan and whisper her name like a prayer. the way her free hand remains holding onto your thigh, fingers digging into your skin. only for that same hand snakes up your torso, landing flat over your belly, where you take the opportunity to intertwine your fingers with hers.
“emily, i can’t… i’m coming, baby. i… i can’t hold it…”
the two fingers inside twist and push at that soft spot inside of you, and you scream emily’s name at the top of your lungs. the tension building up inside of you finally snaps, a familiar sparkling feeling returning tenfold and washing over you..
“that’s it, baby,” emily whispers barely above your pussy. “come for me. just like that.”
your head falls back against the wall, eyes rolling to the back of your head. you grip her hand as you finally explode with her name at the top of your mouth. she grins against your skin, proud as ever, tongue lazily swiping back and forth as you come down from your high, drawing out your orgasm until you sag against the wall, twitching. finally, she pulls back, licking her fingers clean with her eyes locked on yours, and you swear it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. when she gets up, she grips your jaw and, without a word, kisses you hard.
if your previous kisses had been frenetic and wild, this one is close to madness. emily devours you, tongues clashing and teeth nipping. she’s a starving woman who’s just been offered her favorite plate for dinner. you hum, tasting yourself in her tongue, digging your hands into her hair and gently pulling at the strands.
“that was…” you pant against her mouth when she finally pulls away.
“just the beginning,” she rasps, voice hoarse as she dives in once more, hands gripping your waist and pushing you towards the open doorway to your right.
her bedroom.
thanks for reading <3 likes & reblogs are appreciated !!
a/n: some emily spice for you all. sorry for the inactivity, i’ve been busy preparing exciting new things but should be back to regular posting now👀
This fic was requested through the Ice Cream Parlour. Why not take a look at the menu for yourself?
It was supposed to have been simple.
Both of you being agents at the BAU, your work schedules meant you didn’t have time for dating.
But, you both still had needs.
The logical thing, for you and Emily, had been to have a friends with benefit arrangement. Blow off some steam, and go on your merry way. Simple.
But, things had been different lately. You’d been craving her constantly. You were getting greedy.
Her hand would brush yours at the bullpen or her dark eyes would linger on your mouth for too long and you were pulling her aside to have her all to yourself.
You told yourself it didn’t mean anything, but you really couldn’t be sure anymore.
When she’d texted you last night, asking about drinks at your place, you hadn’t hesitated, for even a second.
One glass of wine had turned into two, two turned into three until the alcohol was tasting like she should “just crash here,” and now the morning sun was peeking through your blinds, painting Emily in soft, gold shadows, and you couldn’t stop staring.
She looked nothing like Agent Prentiss in this light. Dark hair mussed, lips parted, lashes brushing her cheeks as she slept. Here, she was just Emily.
And maybe that’s why you leaned in. Why you let your lips brush her shoulder, why your hand slid down until you felt the first shiver run through her body.
Maybe that’s why you whispered when you asked:
"So, is this all we are?" you trailed your lips along her collarbone, “Fuck buddies?"
Her fingers dipped down your thigh and inside of your already-wet slit, "That’s what you wanted, right?” she taunted.
Her nails dragged lightly down your spine with an air of casualness that did not match the way that you were trembling beneath her.
"You wanted to fuck me. No strings attached.”
“We can fuck,” Emily nodded mockingly, “I love taking care of you, when you’re needy like this, too much not to.”
You couldn’t even catch your breath before her hand was between your thighs again, her fingers plunging deeply and rhythmically inside of you.
Your head fell forward against her neck, your moans being muffled. Emily thrusted her fingers inside of you more ruthlessly, working you closer and closer to the edge.
She kissed along the line of your jaw, her hair brushing your shoulder, and your breathing grew heavy, your eyes rolling back. You were so deliciously close and-
Emily’s phone rang.
She pulled back, dragging her fingers out and taking any chance of your orgasm with her. You whined in protest, but one cock of her eyebrow had your mouth snapping shut.
“Yes. This is Agent Prentiss.” she said, holding her phone up to her ear.
You crept forward on your knees until you were between her thighs again. Emily tried to twist herself away, the decision of you or work becoming increasingly harder to make.
“Hotch,” she said tightly, forcing her voice to stabilise, “Hi. Yeah.”
You laid your palm over her thigh, your fingers digging into her skin, just enough to make her twitch. She gritted her teeth, eyes narrowing in warning, but that was all the motivation you needed.
With a deliberate tug to her red, lace panties, they fell from Emily’s hips.
“No, yeah, I can be there in twenty,” she answered Hotch on the other line.
You highly doubted that.
Emily inhaled sharply, “No-“ she hissed under her breath, shaking her head, her free hand darting down to grip your hair and pull you away.
“Off,” you mouthed back at her, smiling away.
She dropped her head back against the pillow, exhaling hard through her nose in contemplation, before she nodded once.
Your grin could’ve rivaled the Cheshire Cat’s as you pried her legs open and tossed the panties aside. They were pretty, your favourite, actually, but even they couldn’t compare to what waited for you underneath.
Glistening, swollen and entirely yours.
Emily reached down to hold your hair back on reflex, as you closed your eyes and nestled your face against her wet folds, like you belonged between them.
“Uh…” Emily’s voice hitched audibly, “Y/N? No- I haven’t seen Y/N today, no.”
Her hips began to grind, just barely, against your face.
You almost laughed, as you watched her word-vomit her way through a lie. For someone who’d faked identities for years, she was terrible it when she was distracted.
“Why?” Emily swallowed, “Is she not there?”
You hummed against her, which earned you a glare that promised retribution later as she continued, “No, right. I can-“
Her words dissolved into a gasp as you flattened your tongue against her clit, looking up at her like the cat who’d gotten the cream.
“God dammit,” she muttered, top teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
Hotch’s concerned voice crackled faintly from the phone. Emily scrambled for the first excuse she could find:
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sergio… bit my hand. He’s still learning. He’s only a baby.”
That little jab didn’t stop you. In fact, it only encouraged you.
She’d see just how punch-y Sergio could be.
There was something so dirty and delicious about going down on Emily whilst Hotch got her up to speed, completely unaware of the mess you were making of her cunt.
You ate every drop of her up like a woman starved and you swore you’d never tasted anything more heavenly than the sweet honey that was pouring from the woman who claimed she was only your “fuck buddy”.
Noticing the way that Emily’s breath was beginning to stutter, you slipped your hand, beneath where your tongue was swirling over her clit, and into her pulsing cunt.
Her sharp cry broke into the open air. She fumbled, her thumb slamming the mute button.
“Oh, God-“ she groaned, throwing her head back and sending her phone tumbling from her grip.
Her hips arched up against your face and you only forced your tongue and fingers deeper inside of her, tongue swiping up the insides of her walls.
Emily grabbed you by the hair, forcing you down against her harder, moaning unrestrictedly, as Hotch’s voice yelped from inside of her phone.
You pulled back, lips wet with slick and smirking proudly, “Answer him, Emily.”
For a second you thought she’d tell you to go to hell. Instead, thanks to the sinful way that you drew out every syllable of her name, she folded and grabbed the phone with shaking fingers, pressing it to her ear.
“Yeah. Hotch, listen...” her voice cracked beautifully, and you dove back in, “I’ll be there in thirty. He’s fussing, but I can sort him out. I’ll be there.”
You heard some form of agreement from Hotch’s end and then something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Tell L/N to come in too’ before the line went dead.
Emily didn’t seem to care. The phone slipped from her hand and hit the mattress, as she let out a pornographic moan, rolling her hips against your face.
You were the happiest woman on Earth crushed between her milky white thighs and drinking her up.
You licked a few more strips up her cunt, before Emily’s orgasm came crashing down over her and thick, warm waves of her release trickled down your tongue.
When you finally surfaced, Emily collapsed against the pillow, throwing one arm over her eyes.
“I cannot believe that just happened,” she panted, pressing her palm to her forehead, “On the phone with Hotch, of all people.”
You kissed her hip sweetly, feigning innocence, “What do you mean? From where I’m standing Sergio was the one acting out. Nothing happened between us whatsoever.”
“Oh wow,” she smiled sarcastically at you, tugging you up to her height, “Is that right, sweetheart? Nothing at all?”
“Your words, not mine.” you replied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
She smirked, wrapping her arms around you, “Oh, I’ll show you nothing.”
“You won’t be leaving this bed until you’ve run out of all those little quips of yours.”
“In twenty minutes?” you teased, raising your eyebrows at her.
summary: a dinner date with olivia ends with her taking you back to her apartment—and pulling out a new toy she’s been dying to use on you.
———————————————————————————
It starts the way it always does—with her eyes on you like you’re already undressed.
You’re seated across from her in a cozy, dimly lit restaurant. Candles flicker on the white tablecloth, wine glasses half-full, and the soft murmur of other patrons is barely noticeable over the jazz trickling through the speakers. Everything feels intimate. Enclosed. Yours.
Olivia’s dressed in dark navy—button-up shirt slightly open at the collar, blazer slung over the back of her chair. Her sleeves are rolled to the elbow, revealing forearms you’ve thought about kissing more times than you’ll ever admit. Her hair is pinned up messily, a few strands falling loose and wild. And that smile? Crooked. Dangerous. Patient.
She’s watching you swirl the last of your wine, her expression unreadable—but her eyes are dark.
“You know you’ve been teasing me all night,” she says eventually, her voice low and velvety.
You blink up at her. “Me?”
“Mmhmm.” She leans in. “That little dress. Those legs. The way you keep biting your lip.”
You look down at your drink, flushed, smiling despite yourself.
“And now,” she adds, her voice dipping even lower, “I’m wondering what I’m going to do about it.”
Your stomach flips.
She doesn’t break eye contact when she downs the last sip of her wine, then gently sets her glass aside. Her fingers slide across the table and take your hand—strong and firm, warm and certain.
“You’re coming home with me,” Olivia says simply.
You’re not sure if it’s a question. You don’t care. You nod anyway.
Her apartment smells like her—sandalwood, leather, and the faintest hint of vanilla.
The door shuts behind you with a click, and before you can turn around, Olivia’s there—her hands on your hips, lips brushing the side of your neck.
“You look so good, baby,” she murmurs into your skin. “All fucking night I’ve been thinking about getting you out of this dress.”
Your hands reach behind you to touch her thighs, her waist, anything solid. You lean into her, exhaling shakily.
But she pulls back.
“Bedroom,” she says with a quiet authority. “Now.”
You obey.
By the time you step into her bedroom, your pulse is racing. The lights are dim. The sheets are turned down. And sitting on the bed like it was waiting for you—is a small pink box with clean, expensive packaging.
Your brows lift. “What’s this?”
Olivia steps around you, undoing the top button of her shirt with one hand, casually.
“I got something new,” she says, walking past you toward the bed. “Wanted to try it on you.”
She lifts the lid of the box.
Inside, nestled in velvet, is a brand new rose toy—soft silicone, sleek, and blushing pink.
Your throat goes dry.
She turns toward you with it in her palm, brows slightly raised. “Ever used one?”
You shake your head.
“Good.” She sets it on the bed and walks slowly toward you, eyes scanning your face. “I want to see how you fall apart for me.”
“Take off your dress,” Olivia says softly. “And lie back.”
Your breath hitches. That voice—low and sure, no room for argument—sends heat rushing through you. You step back, unzipping the side of your dress with trembling fingers, and let the fabric fall around your ankles.
Her eyes trail over you slowly, hungrily, as if she’s been waiting for this all night.
Maybe she has.
You lie back on the bed, heart pounding in your chest, and she walks around to the side table where she’s set the toy. She picks it up like it’s something precious, testing the weight of it in her palm.
You’ve never felt this vulnerable. This seen.
“I’ve done the research,” she says, amused, running her thumb along the silicone rim of the rose. “It’s supposed to feel… intense.”
You swallow. “Yeah?”
She looks at you, smile softening. “If it’s too much, you tell me.”
You nod. “I trust you.”
That changes something in her expression—something deeper. Her dominant edge never fades, but for a second, there’s something tender in her gaze. Something reverent.
“Good girl.”
Your body lights up.
Olivia kneels on the bed beside you and gently nudges your legs apart with her hand. She doesn’t rush. She watches your reaction with every movement, enjoying the anticipation stretching between you like silk.
Then she leans in, lips brushing your inner thigh. “You’re already wet for me.”
You let out a soft, broken sound as she places a slow, open-mouthed kiss over your panties. Her nose nudges you through the thin fabric before she sits back, sliding them down your legs.
The air hits your skin, and then—Olivia lifts the toy.
“I want you to relax,” she murmurs, thumb brushing the outer button before she presses it.
A soft hum fills the room. Gentle at first.
And then she brings it to your clit.
The sensation is instant. A fluttering suction, rhythmic and warm—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Your hips jump, and your eyes fly open.
“Oh my god—Liv—”
Her hand presses lightly to your thigh, keeping you still.
“That’s it,” she whispers. “Take it for me.”
Your mouth falls open, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. The toy pulses again, soft and focused, and your spine arches. It’s like her mouth, but somehow deeper—more insistent. Constant. Unrelenting.
She watches you squirm beneath her, eyes glued to your face, lips parted slightly as if she’s memorizing the exact second your control snaps.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” Olivia says, voice thick. “Falling apart and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
She increases the intensity—just one button tap.
Your legs shake.
“Too much?” she asks, tilting her head.
You’re not sure you can speak, so you just shake your head hard, jaw slack. “No—fuck—don’t stop—”
She leans down, mouth to your ear. “Beg for it.”
The suction pulses again—sharper this time—and your whole body jerks.
“Liv—please, please, I’m so close—”
“Mmh. I know, baby.” She kisses your neck, the underside of your jaw. “You sound so good like this.”
Her free hand trails up your thigh and rests gently over your stomach, grounding you, as the toy continues its merciless rhythm.
“You gonna come for me?” she asks, low and steady. “Soaked and shaking, right onto my sheets?”
You nod desperately. “Yes—yes, I—fuck—”
And then it hits.
Your whole body locks up, thighs clamping around her wrist, hips rolling uncontrollably against the soft vibration. The orgasm takes over like a wave—crashing through you in hot, endless pulses as you moan her name over and over, half-sobbing into the sheets.
She never stops watching.
Even when your body finally goes still, trembling, breathless, Olivia gently turns the toy off and sets it aside.
You’re panting, skin flushed, eyes glassy—and she climbs up beside you, pulling you into her arms like you’re something breakable.
“You okay?” she asks softly, lips to your temple.
You nod into her shoulder, body limp but warm. “More than okay.”
She laughs gently and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Told you.”
She’s still holding you when the idea comes.
Your breathing is slower now, the buzz of the orgasm still pulsing faintly in your limbs—but your mind is sharp. Sharp enough to realize: she’s fully clothed. And watching you with that smug satisfaction like she hasn’t been silently begging for your touch all night.
You lift your head from her shoulder and meet her gaze. Her pupils are dark. Lips parted.
And maybe it’s the high of her taking you apart like that—but you want to see her lose control too.
Your fingers ghost over her collarbone, down to the buttons of her shirt.
Her brow lifts. “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”
You smile. “Returning the favor.”
Her tongue flicks across her lower lip—curious now, maybe even a little amused—but she doesn’t stop you as you unbutton her shirt slowly, one after another. You push it off her shoulders, kissing the skin there as she watches you from beneath heavy lashes.
When your fingers go to her belt, she exhales—just the smallest sound.
“You’re getting bold.”
“Maybe I want to see how you sound with this thing.”
You reach beside her and pick up the toy—still slick with you, still warm from use. You give her a look, deliberate and slow, and she tilts her head, eyes narrowing.
She lies back against the pillows, arms behind her head.
“Well then,” she says, that same dark grin tugging at her mouth, “Show me what you’ve learned.”
Your pulse pounds as you settle between her legs, pulling her slacks down along with her black lace underwear. She’s soaked—of course she is—and the sight makes your throat dry.
You kiss the inside of her thigh first, just to see her twitch. She hums.
“Don’t get shy now, baby.”
You smile up at her—and press the toy to her clit.
She gasps.
Even Olivia Benson can’t hide it when she’s caught off guard. Her hips jerk, her thighs tense around your shoulders, and her head drops back against the pillow.
“Fuck—”
You adjust the angle, letting it settle into that same pulsing rhythm she gave you earlier.
Her breath starts coming quicker.
“Oh, that’s—” she bites her lip, jaw flexing. “Shit, that’s good.”
You watch her come apart slowly, savoring every twitch of her, every tremble in her thighs. You ease the toy against her, building the pressure in waves, and her hands shift—gripping the sheets now instead of resting lazily behind her head.
“Look at you,” you murmur. “So cocky at dinner, and now you’re shaking.”
Her eyes flicker open, half-glazed. “You better finish what you started.”
“I plan to.”
You increase the intensity by one notch—and Olivia moans. Full-bodied, low, deep in her throat.
It sends heat right back between your legs.
“Come on, Liv,” you whisper, pressing a kiss just above her mound. “I want to watch you fall apart.”
“Goddamn you—” But her hips are rolling now, breath ragged, hands clenching into fists. She’s holding herself together by threads.
You lean closer, lips brushing her inner thigh. “Let go for me.”
And that’s all it takes.
Her body bows off the bed, a choked sound breaking from her lips as the orgasm hits. It rips through her, raw and unrestrained—hips jerking, legs shaking, hands gripping anything within reach. She says your name, half-growled, half-moaned, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.
You turn the toy off gently and toss it aside, crawling up beside her as her breathing slows.
She’s flushed, damp, trembling with aftershocks—and grinning lazily now, her eyes still closed.
“Well, damn,” she mutters, one arm flopping over her eyes. “That was…”
“Good?”
She huffs a laugh, turning toward you. “Fucking amazing.”
You curl into her side, resting your hand over her chest where her heart still pounds.
And then—softly—she kisses your forehead.
“Next time,” she murmurs, voice rough and low, “I’m tying you up.”
You smile against her skin. “Can’t wait.”
Her body is still warm beside you, flush with the aftermath of everything you just did to her.
You lie tangled in Olivia’s sheets, one of her arms thrown around your waist, fingers splayed possessively over your stomach. Your legs are still tangled with hers, your cheek pressed to the curve of her shoulder.
Neither of you says anything for a while.
The room is filled with only the soft sound of breathing, the occasional rustle of cotton as one of you shifts slightly. The air smells like sex, skin, and something faintly sweet—vanilla from her lotion, maybe, or her hair.
Her hand drifts lower over your stomach, slowly circling your navel, dipping teasingly toward the waistband of the sheets.
“Don’t get cocky just because you made me come once,” she murmurs, voice still scratchy from earlier. “I let you.”
You turn into her, smirking. “Let me?”
“Mmhmm.” Her lips graze your temple. “Could’ve stopped you at any time.”
“But you didn’t.”
She doesn’t answer. Just slides her thigh between yours again, slow and casual.
You close your eyes, exhaling shakily. Your body is still buzzing, oversensitive and aching in the best way. “Olivia…”
“You were a mess under me earlier,” she reminds you softly. “Squirming. Practically begging.”
Her fingers trace light, lazy circles on your inner thigh now. Not pushing. Just reminding.
“I could’ve made you come again. And again. Until you cried.”
You shiver.
She shifts closer and kisses just beneath your ear.
“But I wanted to see what you’d do to me. You always get like this when I give you control for a minute. It’s cute.”
You snort. “Cute?”
She grins against your skin. “Hot, too. But mostly because it makes me want to flip you over and ruin you again.”
You go silent.
Your heart skips at the way she says that—like it’s a promise, not a threat.
Then her voice changes—still low, but slower, more sincere.
“I love the way you look at me,” she murmurs. “Even when I’m bossing you around. You look at me like you’re proud to be mine.”
You open your eyes and meet her gaze. She’s close, her face serious now, lips parted like she’s waiting to speak again but doesn’t need to. You reach for her hand and lace your fingers together.
“I am,” you whisper. Her throat works once. Her fingers squeeze yours. Then she pulls you tighter, like the idea of you being anywhere but here is unbearable. “I don’t share,” she says into your hair. “You know that, right?”
You nod against her chest. “Good. Because the way you moaned my name earlier?” She kisses your forehead. “That belongs to me.”
You smile. And maybe it’s the wine, the afterglow, or the way she’s holding you like you’re something sacred—but you want to stay here forever.
“You’re mine too,” you murmur, tracing slow shapes on her ribs. “Even when you pretend you’re the one in charge.”
She laughs. “Pretend?”
You yelp as she flips you onto your back again, hovering over you in one smooth, effortless motion.
“Say that again,” she warns, voice rough, playful. You laugh, breathless, heart thudding all over again. “I dare you.”
PREMISE: Olivia comes home after a long day to find you wearing her old academy shirt, and the simple sight of you wrapped in her clothes reminds her just how much you belong — sparking a quiet, tender moment of possessive love and cozy domestic warmth.
It was one of those days where Olivia’s entire body ached. Not from anything dramatic, just the endless, low-grade, soul-deep exhaustion that came from too many hours on the clock and too much human ugliness crammed into one shift. Every case felt heavier lately. Every corner of the city a little meaner. She could feel it in her shoulders, tight and sore beneath her leather jacket as she climbed the stairs to your apartment.
Her apartment, technically, but you were there so often now, it felt ridiculous to call it that. It hadn’t felt like just hers in months. The space had softened in small, imperceptible ways since you. The lights were warmer. The fridge wasn’t empty. There was a ridiculous soft pink throw blanket she never would’ve picked for herself draped over the back of the couch, and her bedroom smelled faintly like your vanilla lotion. Every time she noticed those things, it settled something in her she didn’t realize was restless.
She fumbled with her keys and nudged the door open, already pulling in a breath to tell you she was home and froze when she caught sight of you.
Curled up on her couch like you belonged there. Which, okay, you kind of did at this point. Bare legs tucked under you, hair messy, a pint of ice cream balanced on your thigh, spoon halfway to your mouth as you watched some awful crime doc on TV with the volume too low to actually hear. And the thing that made Olivia’s stomach flip wasn’t any of that. It was what you were wearing.
Her academy t-shirt.
Not just any shirt. Her old, faded, seen-better-days academy shirt, the one she’d dragged through training and hung onto ever since. The one she hadn’t been able to find for weeks. Now here it was, hanging off one of your shoulders, hem brushing your thighs, the collar stretched from years of wear and now probably from you tugging at it in your sleep.
Olivia just… stood there for a second. Let herself take you in. God, you were so effortlessly beautiful in the soft light of the apartment. The quiet hum of the city outside, the flicker of a candle you’d lit on the windowsill, your face soft with whatever case was playing on screen. Her chest tightened in that good, terrifying way it always did when it hit her just how easy it was to love you.
She finally stepped inside, setting down the bag of takeout and shrugging out of her jacket. Poured herself a glass of wine one-handed, eyes never fully leaving you, a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"You know that’s mine, right?" she teased, her voice low and warm as she leaned a hip against the counter.
You glanced over at her, all wide eyes and the start of a grin tugging at your lips. "What is?"
She nodded toward you, the wine glass gesturing vaguely in your direction. "That shirt. My academy one. The one I’ve been searching for like a lunatic."
You looked down at yourself like you were just realizing it, then back up with a shameless smile. "Oh. Thought it was ours."
Olivia laughed under her breath, setting down her glass and crossing the room to you. She dropped onto the couch beside you, the sofa dipping beneath her weight as she tugged you effortlessly into her lap.
Your legs draped across hers, your ice cream abandoned on the coffee table, your hair brushing her jaw as you settled against her like you’d been waiting for her all day.
"You’ve got a whole collection of my clothes by now," she murmured, one hand warm and steady on the back of your thigh, the other slipping beneath the hem of the shirt to splay across your lower back. "I’m starting to think you’re running some kind of con."
"Maybe," you hummed, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth. "But you haven’t stopped me."
"I like it," she admitted, quieter this time, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I like seeing you in my stuff. Makes it obvious you’re mine."
There it was again.
That offhand, unguarded tenderness she only ever let slip when she was exhausted and half-distracted by you being too close. It made your stomach flutter, the kind of warmth that crept up your spine and settled somewhere behind your ribs.
"You say that like it isn’t already obvious," you murmured against her neck, nuzzling closer.
"Mmm." Olivia grinned and ran her fingers up your back, enjoying how easily you melted into her. "I need it to be obvious to everyone."
You laughed, the sound soft and a little breathless as she kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then the sensitive spot behind your ear that always made you shiver.
"God, you’re ridiculous."
"And yet, here you are," she murmured, pulling back to look at you properly, her thumb brushing along your cheekbone. "Stealing my shirts, my hoodies… don’t think I haven’t noticed my leather jacket’s been hanging in your closet for the last week."
"Okay, to be fair," you grinned, "that jacket basically begged me to wear it."
Olivia snorted, shaking her head as she leaned in to kiss you again, slow and sweet and lingering like she wasn’t in any rush to be anywhere but right here.
After a minute, you broke the kiss, forehead resting against hers. "I’m keeping this one, by the way."
She sighed like it was a burden but smiled, her hand tracing lazy circles on your lower back. "I figured."
"And probably your jacket next."
"You’re relentless," Olivia groaned, though she didn’t let you go.
"You love it," you grinned, tipping your head to kiss her jaw.
"I do," she murmured, soft and serious, like it slipped out before she could stop it. And maybe she didn’t want to.
Neither of you said much after that. The crime doc droned on in the background, the vanilla candle flickered, and Olivia held you a little tighter than usual, like something in her had finally, finally let go of the day.
Eventually, she let out a contented sigh and pressed another kiss to your hair. "One day," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I’m gonna marry you. And then you can have a legal claim to my wardrobe."
You smiled against her throat, your fingers curling into the fabric of the shirt. "Can’t wait, Liv."
And for the first time all day, Olivia felt warm in a way the city never managed. Because you were here, and you were hers, and no matter how ugly the world outside got, she’d always have this.
a/n: Emily Prentiss smoking makes my ovaries explode. SMOKING IS NOT CUNTY! unless Emily is doing it.
The first time you smoke together. It’s late. Music is low, the city lights are bleeding into the room, and she offers you one like it’s a secret. She lights it for you, cupping the flame with her hand, gaze flickering up to yours. There’s something slow and seductive in the silence that follows — like this is a ritual, not a habit.
She smokes like it’s cinematic. Emily leans back against the balcony railing, one leg crossed over the other, head tilted toward the moonlight. She smokes like a femme fatale in a noir film — unfazed, composed, almost dangerous. The way her lips part, the way her fingers flick the ash — you’re entranced.
The kiss-after-a-drag moment. She exhales the smoke to the side before pulling you in. The kiss is hot, smoky, a little dizzying. She always hums against your lips like she’s addicted — but not to the nicotine, to you.
“You taste better than the cigarette,” she murmurs after.
She teases you about coughing. If you choke a little? She chuckles and rubs your back with faux pity.
“Aww, baby… first time?” she teases, voice husky with smoke. But then she takes your hand and shows you how to hold it, how to inhale slow. You’re flushed — but not from the smoke.
It's lazy, intimate. She takes a drag, passes it to you. You inhale, hold it a moment, pass it back. It’s like sharing a secret with every exhale. Like telling each other something without ever speaking.
There are moments where she takes a hit and then tugs you in by the jaw, presses her mouth to yours, and breathes the smoke between your lips.
It’s hot. Messy. A little wicked. You gasp into her mouth and she just hums — “Thought you’d like that.”
She loves the soft, lazy intimacy of passing a joint between you while you’re draped across each other on the couch. Her hand strokes your thigh while the other holds the joint between her fingers.
You giggle at something stupid and she says, “God, I love you like this.”
Sometimes you two sneak outside just before bed, wrapped in oversized sweaters, sharing one cigarette under the stars. The city’s quiet. Her voice is low, her hand warm on your back. She tells you things she wouldn’t say in the daylight. It’s not just smoking — it’s soul-baring.
She never lights up around you unless you’re okay with it. Even if you do smoke, she’ll instinctively blow it away from you, always checking if you’re alright. If you say your throat hurts, she puts it out immediately.
“Not worth it if it bothers you.”
If you ask for a light and she smirks, flipping open her zippo with one smooth flick like a damn magician. The flame catches, and she watches you as you inhale — like she’s memorizing your silhouette.
“Dangerous little thing, aren’t you?”
Smoking + records. She’s got old vinyl playing — maybe Patti Smith or Leonard Cohen — while she leans against the window, hair messy, smoke curling around her like a halo. You’re tucked into her hoodie, watching her with your chin on your knees. You’ve never felt more at peace.
The post-sex smoke. Nothing compares. You’re breathless, sprawled, sheets tangled. She reaches for the pack on the nightstand, lights up, offers it to you first. It’s quiet. Her hand is in your hair. The smoke is slow and sweet and heavy with satisfaction.
“You always ruin me,” she says with a grin, dragging you closer.
you’re half-delirious from late-night scrolling and a brain full of trivia, and emily’s half-asleep beside you, barely clinging to consciousness as you whisper the most ridiculous facts you can find. she nods along, dead tired but listening, always listening — until she mumbles something back that’s not a fact at all, just soft and sleepy and entirely unfair to your heart.
You weren’t even tired. Your body was still wired from the case — too much caffeine, too many suppressed adrenaline crashes, too many hours pretending not to stare at Emily across the jet while pretending not to care.
So instead, you were doing what any sane person does at 2 a.m. in bed with the woman they can’t stop thinking about.
Googling random facts.
"Hey," you whispered, glancing down to make sure she was still awake. "Did you know octopuses have three hearts?"
A soft, sleepy murmur: "Mm?"
"Two pump blood to the gills, and one pumps it to the rest of the body," you explained, proudly. "But the one that pumps to the body actually stops when they swim. Isn’t that kinda sad?"
Emily didn’t even lift her head. "So they die a little every time they move?"
"Basically."
"Relatable," she mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt.
You grinned and scrolled again. "Also? They have blue blood. Copper instead of iron."
"That’s disgusting," she yawned.
You giggled. "No, that’s science."
She just groaned and pulled the blanket higher up her shoulder.
A moment passed. Then—
"Hey," you said again, a little louder.
Emily didn’t move.
"Did you know wombats poop in cubes?"
That got her.
She shifted just enough to peek up at you with one squinted eye. "You’re making that up."
"I swear to god," you said, laughing. "Perfect little cubes. Scientists think it helps keep it from rolling away. Like, territorial reasons."
"Mm," Emily hummed, settling back down. "Gotta respect that level of architectural commitment."
You scrolled again.
"Did you know bananas are technically berries?"
"Please stop."
"Or that sharks existed before trees?"
Emily groaned dramatically into your neck. "If I agree to marry you, will you shut up?"
You paused.
Looked down.
Smiled. "That a proposal?"
She just snorted, soft and sleepy. "That’s a desperate attempt to get some rest."
You turned off your phone. Set it on the nightstand. Slid your arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer.
"Okay, fine. I’m done," you said.
"…But did you know sea otters hold hands when they sleep?"
She reached up blindly and covered your mouth with her hand.
"I will sedate you."
You laughed into her palm. "Fine. Goodnight, Agent Prentiss."
Emily was already asleep again, breath evening out.
You stared at the ceiling for a moment, heart weirdly full.
Then whispered:
"Also… ducks have corkscrew dicks."
And from beneath the blanket, she kicked you.
a/n literally what was i even thinking while writing this?? yet they are SO cute i can’t
| TW: there’s like one making out scene towards the end lol
| Emily overworks herself and Y/N stops her before she’s basically Elizabeth 2.0
| I had no idea what to call this fic otherwise
| 1665 words
| masterlist
Emily sat in her home office, she had once again snuck out of bed to go into her home office and work, but as the sunlight approached near and fast, she sighed deeply, rubbing her temples as she realised that she had stayed up working until sunrise once again.
Y/N knew this, she knew who she married, she knew that Emily threw herself into the deep end of every single project she worked on, she also knew that she would not come up out of the water to take a breath until she had to do what needed to be done.
Emily glanced over to the clock on her desk, the red numbers of "6:03" mimicking her, she pushed her hair back and roughly pushed her hands over her face, the worst and best thing Emily Prentiss has ever done is put a coffee machine into her office at home, deeming it easier than going up and down the stairs for every single cup of coffee.
She had just sat down when she heard the scrape of the door, two little hands pushing the door open, Emily grinned "hi baby"
"Mama mama mama" her daughter, Ellie, smiled, reaching her hands out for Emily to pick her up.
"Oh? And just how did you get in here?" Emily teased as she placed her on her hip, walking back to her desk.
"Door" Ellie shrugged and Emily laughed at the misleading question.
"Of course, you're smart, Ellie, just like your mommies"
"Smart" Ellie repeated and nodded like she knew what the word meant.
She sighed as she sat down, Ellie now on her lap, tucked into Emily's chest and Emily carried on working, Ellie started playing with her necklace, twisting it around her fingers, the one that you gave her on Emily's birthday from Ellie, Emily smiled gently as she started singing gently, a French lullaby which she learned when she was very young, which she sang to soothe herself and to Y/N, and now her beautiful baby girl Eleanor.
She hummed gently, stroking Ellie's head as she was leaning against her chest, the pen in her hand twisting at every thought.
"Mommy should be waking up soon" Emily smiled.
"Mommy sleepy?" Ellie asked.
Emily chuckled lightly "yeah she is baby, mommy is not a morning person" Emily chucked in good nature.
"Ellie sleepy" Ellie grinned.
"Oh you are bug?" Emily smiled "if you were mommy I would've made you a cup of coffee but I'll make you a juice? How does juice sound Ellie-belly?"
"Juice! Juice" Ellie beamed, crawling off Emily's lap and running out of the door.
"Okay, okay" Emily laughed, chasing behind her.
Emily sat Ellie in her high chair and made her juice when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and into the kitchen
"Good morning" Emily smiled.
You pouted "hmm it was until you weren't next to me in bed when I woke up" you replied sleepily.
Emily kissed your pout and handed you a cup of coffee "this is why I love your mom" you grinned to Ellie "thank you baby" you smiled, kissing Emily's cheek as you walked over to Ellie.
"Mommy mommy" Ellie reached out to you, you kissed the top of her head, Emily gave you both toast, hers much more cut up than yours.
"Hi bug" you grinned "nice toast"
"Mama toast" she handed you a slice and you grinned.
"Ellie eat it, mommy has her own"
"I'm sorry that I didn't wake up next to you" Emily whispered as she bent down to take the plate of toast you had finished.
"Emily, we'll talk later okay" you tilted your neck to kiss her cheek.
"I'm sorry" Emily said.
"I know, honey, I know you are" you sighed "sleep okay?" You asked sipping your coffee.
"I-"
"Tell me you slept at least a little bit" you said as she realised that she had been awake longer than you were expecting her too.
"A little bit"
"Emily Elizabeth Prentiss" you chided "take a nap" Emily laughed "no I'm serious, take a nap on that couch right now"
"I'm fine"
"Im sure you are, but please you can't keep doing this, you can't keep overworking yourself"
"But my mom-"
"You, Emily Prentiss, are not your mom and I mean that, you are so much more than her, you do not need to overwork yourself to this point to make you feel worthy"
"Babe-"
"Emily, listen to me-" you grabbed her hands "you are so much more than whatever Elizabeth had told you, you're the best wife, you're the best mother, and you're the best unit chief, BUT and this is a very big but, I am never going to stop loving you the minute you're struggling and when you admit that you need help, I didn't marry you because of your last name Emily, I didn't even marry you because of your name, I married you because I love you, I love you, I love this Emily, the Emily that I get to see- that Ellie gets to see and no one else does, I married the funny, silly, the childlike, the naturing Emily, I didn't marry you because of your last name or your money, at all, those are the least important things to me, but baby, I know there's been so much walls that you've been putting up recently and Ellie and I will knock them down, whether we take the bricks off one by one or bulldoze it, whether we do it fast or slow, we will be there for as long as it takes, I love you so much Emily"
Emily took you in for a hug, a gripping hug that, she sobbed into your neck to the point where she almost fell asleep standing upright, she had loved you so much and you the same.
She had taken her place on the couch and you draped a blanket over her, you had let her sleep for however long she needed, Ellie was a very happy and calm baby so you could manage her without waking Emily up.
A few hours later, you had been sitting on the floor in front of her, tangled on repeat for the million time, Emily has opened her eyes to see you two on the floor.
"Look who's up" you whispered to Ellie who smiled and climbed up on Emily's stomach.
Ellie lay flat on Emily's stomach, you sat next to Emily stroking her hair out of her face "sleep okay?" You whispered.
Emily smiled "yeah, yeah I did, thank you" she said genuinely.
"Mama Sergio" Ellie pointed to Sergio who had a crown on and a one of Ellie's tutu's
Emily chuckled "he looks absolutely beautiful baby, I think he loves it" you all looked at Sergio who was just lying down and stretching in the costume.
"What time is it?" Emily asked after a while.
"Almost 12" you nodded.
"I really slept that long?" Emily asked confused.
"Afraid so boss" you humoured.
She smirked gently "alright" she said sitting up, holding on to Ellie as to not make her fall.
"Mommy and mama?" Ellie sighed.
"Yeah hon?" You answered, stroking her hair out of her eyes.
"Love you" she grinned, leaning against Emily's chest but facing you.
"I love you" you grinned.
"And I love you" Emily said.
"Gio too" Ellie nodded.
"You love Serg' too?" Emily smiled.
"Yeah! Yeah!" Ellie nodded furiously which made you both chuckle.
"Sergio loves you too babe" Emily noted and Ellie laughed and nodded.
"Ellie loves tangled" Ellie nodded "Ellie loves bed, Ellie loves mommy reading, Ellie loves mama singing" Ellie listed everything she loved until she fell asleep in Emily's arms.
"Come on, let's get her to bed, when she naps you and I can talk" you said.
Emily kissed your head and you walked up to Ellie's nursery and put her in to bed, you went downstairs and sat Emily on the couch, you made her a cup of coffee and you sat down next to her, the remaining hour of Tangled still playing in otherwise complete silence.
"I miss you" you said slumped against her shoulder, you and her both watching as Rapunzel was singing 'I've got a dream'
"I'm right here" she said.
"I know that, but sometimes it just kinda feels like you're not" you sighed "I don't know I'm being selfish"
"No, no Y/N, the way you feel, your emotions do not make you selfish, I'm really sorry that I haven't been spending as much time with you lately"
"The work will always be there Prentiss, I just don't want you to miss anything Ellie does" Emily put her coffee cup down on the table and sighed gently, her arm coming around your shoulder.
"You're right, you're completely right" she agreed and you looked up at her and smiled "what about a weekend away?"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, there's a house in the French Alps with our name on it, stunning views, a huge garden for Ellie to play in, a hot tub, and we can even bring Sergio, no one else, just the three of us, how does that sound baby?"
You placed the coffee cup down and swung your leg over hers so you were in her lap "so good" you spoke into the kiss "when do we leave?" You pulled back, your arms around her neck and hers on your waist.
"Maybe when Ellie wakes up?" She whispered and blushed.
"Did you? Did you plan this before?" You asked, completely shocked.
"Yeah I- yeah I kinda did, I knew that I've been spending a lot of time in the office and I knew I needed to take a break"
You kissed her again "I am so in love with you"
"Mhm" Emily smirked.
"Should we start packing?" You asked looking around.
"Mhm" Emily shook her head "I did it last night when you were sleeping" you both laughed.
Emily with places she will do the devil's tango head canons?
𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐬 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐨
1. Her office : late at night, the door locked & the blinds drawn. There's something about the risk that turns you both on. It never happens as a planned thing. It just sort of happens. You show up & give her that little smile & sit on her desk & give her a little kiss. & suddenly, you're tugging at each other's clothes, moaning into her mouth.
2. Hotel rooms: if you guys share a room on a case, she slides up behind you in bed, attempting to cuddle, but then her hands start wandering & well...
3. The shower: she loves it when you join her in the shower after a stressful case. The hot water & the steam washes away the stress of the day & her hands start moving over you. Less in a lust filled way, more in a reverent way. To ground herself after what she's seen.
4. The BAU elevator: (this only happened once) it was your fault, really. A lingering kiss + the close proximity & she's pressing the emergency button on the elevator & lifting you up onto her hips, your legs locked behind her back as she kisses you. By the time people come to help, you're both flushed & giggling like teenagers.
5. Your childhood bedroom when you're both staying at your parents': it's thrilling, the fact that you have to be quiet (you fail miserably, of course, because this woman is snatching your soul). Maybe she'll shove something in your mouth to keep you quiet (your underwear, her fingers, etc)
6. The Kitchen, obviously: there's food on the stove, but you're sitting on the counter looking so pretty & smiling at her that she just has to have you. It starts with you taste testing the sauce & there's a little sauce on your mouth & she kisses it off & then...
7. The bedroom ("no shit, kay." HEAR ME OUT!): Emily is the bedroom is softer than all these other places because your bedroom is sacred & more intimate. A space just for you both. Her touches are light & slow & soft. And she's taking her time with you. She's making you feel special. She's touching every scar, every birthmark, every curve. (I could write an entire separate headcanon on this, grah)
Hi! What do you think about writing Emily and reader singing Bruno Mars new song tgt?🤭
Anyways hope you're doing well!!
heey! sorry for the wait on this, i hope this was the song you meant!
also please enjoy :)
tags: die with a smile, established relationship(secretly), karaoke, matchmaker!garcia
wordcount: 0.8k
All mistakes are my own.
Next To You
“Absolutely not.” Her voice was resolute, arms crossed over her chest as you held the microphone out to her. “Oh, come on, Em! Just one song, please!” You whine, batting your lashes and giving the biggest puppy eyes you can manage. Emily glances at the rest of the team, cramped into the karaoke room, each wearing a smug grin as her resolve cracks.
She could never say no to you.
With a resigned sigh, she takes the microphone from you, dragging herself up reluctantly. You grin at her, impressed with your ability to bend her to your whim. “So, what are you forcing me to sing?” she asks, doing her best to calm her nerves. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Garcia with the tablet, a scheming smirk betraying her thoughts as she tapped away, her eyes lighting up when she selected a song.
The familiar tune flowed through the speakers, turning your cheeks pink at the blonde's obvious implications. Emily nods towards the screen to say–you’re up first.
“I, I just woke up from a dream
Where you and I had to say goodbye
And I don't know what it all means
But since I survived, I realized”
For weeks, Garcia and the team had been teasing you about your crush, trying to hint to Emily that you were interested. Constantly going out of their way to put the two of you in a ‘meet-cute’, as Penelope had coined it. Unfortunately, you and Emily had already been dating for the past eleven months, unbeknownst to them. It had become a little joke for you both, watching as they schemed and whispered in corners, trying to figure out how they were going to parent trap you.
Like now.
“Wherever you go, that's where I'll followNobody’s promised tomorrowSo I'ma love you every night like it's the last night
Like it's the last night”
The familiar words fell from your lips, and you shot Emily a small smile. The older woman couldn’t take her eyes from you, her heart clenching as you sang only for her. Because you were. The moment you had started, the others had been forgotten; only you and Emily were here. By the end of the chorus, she was all-out grinning at you. Her nerves were long gone as she held her mic up, the lyrics on the tip of her tongue.
“Ooh, lost, lost in the words that we scream
I don't even wanna do this anymore
'Cause you already know what you mean to me
And our love's the only war worth fighting for”
The team shared a look, watching the exchange between you. For almost two years, they had watched you dance around each other, both too scared to commit–but tonight was different. “Is it just me, or do they look super in love right now? Like, way more than usual?” Penelope whispered to JJ. The two blondes looked at you quizzically, heads tilting as they analysed the warm smile that filled your face–the pure unfiltered love that poured from your eyes. They turned to Emily, who wore a similar look. A soft smile, the softest they had ever seen on her, replaced her usual frown.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think your plan has actually worked…” JJ said in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape as Emily started the chorus, her fingers gently linking with yours. She tugs you gently until you take a step closer, your arms brushing together.
“If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you
If the party was over and our time on Earth was through,
I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile
If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you”
When the two of you finish the final chorus, you barely have time to catch your breath before Emily pulls you in for a kiss. You lean into her body, curling an arm around her waist, smiling against her lips; the team cheering you on from behind. Emily pulls back with a smile, “next to you is the only place I want to be.” Her words make your heart soar and your cheeks flush, “I’ll be next to you for as long as you’ll have me,” you answer.
“Wait one gosh darn minute!” Penelope squeals.
All eyes turn to the blonde, “have you been together all this time?” You hold back a chuckle as she pouts, JJ patting her back as she openly laughs. “Sorry Pen, but if it makes you feel any better, your attempts were very cute.” Emily remarks, her arm slides around your middle and holds you close. “Our favourite was the dinner you conveniently forgot about, at Firenze’s?” You muse, recalling the dinner you’d been set up on only a few months ago.
“So, how long..?” Rossi gestures between you.
“Almost a year now,” Emily answers, her voice filled with pride.
“A YEAR?!” It’s safe to say you never kept anything from Penelope again.
lottie matthews x fem!reader x natalie scatorccio (adult timeline)
although you’re looking for a fresh start, you reconnect with your favorite married couple at the wellness center (plane crash reader). 2.6k words. NSFW at the end. im taking it back to season two rn oopsie poopsie I miss the cult!
“Don’t,” Lottie throws open the kitchen window. “Not inside.”
Natalie makes no move to put out the cigarette. She takes a drag, savoring the bitter smoke. It’s an old habit, one she has failed to drop, though cigarette supply is meager here.
Lottie pulls the cigarette from her hands. She moves to put it out — yet after a moment she pauses, leans back against the kitchen counter, and takes a drag herself.
“What?” Nat tilts her head. “Ashwagandha can’t fix this, too?”
Lottie doesn’t respond. She turns her gaze out the window to the wellness center beyond, to the cabin that you’ve been set up in.
“You didn’t kidnap her,” Nat tries again for a reaction. “You have that going for you.”
The cigarette burns between Lottie’s fingers. Her gaze is still fixed on the cabin.
Nat sighs, stepping forward and taking the cigarette back. She puts it out on an ashtray Lottie has told her an excruciating amount of times is unsanitary to keep in the kitchen, takes Lottie’s hands in her own and at last finds solace when Lottie’s eyes meet hers. She runs her thumbs over the rings adorning the woman’s hands. The newest addition: a band on Lottie’s ring finger with a small diamond, courtesy of Natalie herself.
“Go talk to her,” Natalie urges.
“Talk to her?” Lottie echoes. “And say what?”
Natalie shrugs. “It’s been years. Ask her where she’s been, what she’s done.” Natalie smiles, “explain the benefits of maca root.”
“I never knew you were so socially adept,” Lottie snaps. “Why don’t you go talk to her?”
“Am I looking out the window woefully?”
You’re given a start by a knock at your cabin door. You stand over the bags you brought in the small bedroom, now deprived of any clothing that’s not heliotrope, organizing your belongings in the bare space.
Another knock at the door — you abandon the mess, preparing yourself for another neighbor coming to welcome you.
Lottie looms over you in the doorway. She bears a look of unsureness, uncharacteristic of her usually tranquil manner, and it only seems to grow when you welcome her inside.
Lottie scans the cabin — everything is in place, untouched, yet it holds a different air now that you occupy it. It smells of your perfume, and the curtains have been opened to let in the sharp afternoon light.
You sit down at the small dining table by a window, but Lottie stays standing. She looks you over. The years have changed you, sharpened your features with age and put new wisdom in the way you watch her. She wants to know where it comes from.
“We haven’t gotten a chance to catch up yet,” she starts. She feels the silence heavily between you, years lost and alienating. “I haven’t seen you since…”
Since we were rescued.
“How have you been?” Lottie asks, a more casual way of saying: What have you done with your life?
“I started my own business,” you try. It’s anything to sound extraordinary, as if your grand enterprise wasn’t a shitty coffee shop that had barely scraped by until you closed it a few years ago and moved on. “I’ve been working, trying to move past what happened, like the rest.”
“Is that why you’re here? Are you still trying to move past it?”
You can’t answer. You don’t have a good reason yet for why you’re here, why you have come back to a remote location at the edge of the wilderness in an attempt to escape from it. You can’t tell her either that you never realized she owned the wellness center, and that the whole reason you came here was to evade the rest of your life in the closest portal to isolation.
“It will never leave us,” Lottie says. You try not to hear the reverence in her voice. “As long as you run, it will follow.”
The cabin door opens again, and someone else joins you.
“Natalie,” you stand. You don’t know how to speak to her, either of them, or how to comprehend how small you feel in contrast — you remember the harsh winter they led the rest of you through. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“This doesn’t seem to you like a place I would naturally be swayed to?” Natalie asks playfully. “I don’t look like the smoothie-sipping type?”
You catch a flash of her wedding ring, and instinctively you scan Lottie’s hands as well — a matching ring, and if it weren’t enough for you to draw conclusions with, Natalie confirms your suspicions.
“Lottie roped me in,” she says. “Turned me into a hippie.”
“You’re still a long way from tree hugging,” Lottie retorts. The way she gravitates towards Nat is natural, domesticity reflexive when she takes Natalie’s hand. Something aches in you at the sight.
“How about you?” Nat asks you. “Why a wellness retreat?”
“I wanted a fresh start,” you say. Yet as you consider them, symbolic of every haunting remnant of your past, you know a fresh start won’t find you here.
Natalie has read your mind. “This hasn’t turned out to be the best place for a fresh start so far, has it?”
You look between them anxiously.
“If you give up on that,” she continues, “on wanting a fresh start, then come by sometime. I’ve figured out a system of smuggling liquor in here.”
“Look at me,” Natalie orders. As they lay together Nat holds herself up on an elbow, looking down at Lottie. “What are you thinking about?”
Lottie reaches up, a hand trailing over Nat’s features, pushing a strand of short brown hair behind her ear.
“For someone who runs self-reflection, peace and love, express-yourself-openly programs, you’re not much of a communicator,” Natalie murmurs.
Lottie smiles softly, brows furrowing. “What does that mean?”
“You’re thinking about her again.”
“You have been thinking about her, too,” Lottie says, tone newly defensive.
“I have,” she agrees. Before she can speak again, Lottie weaves a hand into her hair and pulls her down to kiss her. Nat shifts, straddling her waist, breaking away from the kiss to nip at her jaw and neck.
“She hasn’t mentioned anyone,” Lottie says, gasping when Nat bites down particularly hard on a previous and fading mark on her chest from the other night. “A wife, a husband…”
Natalie hums in response, moving back up to kiss her. Her hands trail along the other woman’s body, casual as they map their way down, almost domestic. Comfortable — yet she still feels her own heartbeat pick up in the way Lottie’s breath hitches at her touch.
You take Natalie up on her offer of ‘smuggled’ alcohol a few nights later. You last through one group meditation at the wellness center before you’re meeting her in the cabin at sunset with a bottle between you. It’s not your proudest moment, the best coping mechanism — but after attempting Lottie’s for an hour, Natalie’s is worth a try.
“Group meditation isn’t your thing?” Natalie asks. “You don’t like to… what does she make you do? Count sheep?”
“How are you evading the meetings?” You ask, taking a sip of your drink. “You’re married. I would think Lottie would have you signed up for everything.”
“Marriage condition,” Nat smiles. “I get to make fun of her wellness center. She gets to shame me for smoking and drinking.”
It’s that rhythm you find yourself drawn into — meditations with Lottie, drinks with Natalie, finding space with them together in between. Over the weeks you grow closer to them, a fate you rue and one you feel inexplicably whole in. Your desire for a fresh start has been nearly abandoned under their attention.
You suspect it is far from one-sided, however. Lingering touches catch your breath. The way they always seem to hover over you, studying you, drinking in your presence as something new to indulge in.
It comes to a head after you join them for dinner one night, a few weeks into staying at the wellness center. Drinks are passed around as you sit at the dining room table, an expensive wine Lottie opened in a celebration of your time here.
“After the first couple of weeks, most people find an excuse to leave,” Lottie explains. “They’re scared of what they will find in themselves if they stay. You persist.”
“Like you always used to,” Natalie says, a soft smile gracing her lips.
You take a sip of your wine as you try to formulate a response — you don’t want to talk about the past, but it chases you. It is represented in the two women in front of you, whom you feel closer to now than ever and have found a home with again. It comes natural to you to share your life with them — it did in the wilderness, and it does now.
“It brought you here,” Lottie says suddenly.
You shake your head. “I don’t believe in it.”
“You don’t have to.”
Even if you were brought here by divinity, you are blind to it. Maybe that is why you are here: to find it again, to feel it in the love they gaze upon you with, to reconnect with what you have been running from, to see it in the eyes of the two who led you through the wilderness and know that to some extent it has chosen you, too.
“It’s all bullshit, right?” Natalie smiles, standing and coming over to lean against the table next to you, between you and where Lottie sits at the head of it. “Who believes in divine guidance?”
“That’s not fair. Divine guidance is different from the wilderness. In any case, you don’t believe in any of it.”
She shrugs. There’s too little skepticism in her face to really convince you of your own claim. She sighs, looking between you and her wife wordlessly.
Lottie stands, and so do you. You are not entirely sure what’s happening, but you want to be on your feet for it.
“What do you believe in?” Lottie asks. She stands too close, watches you too profoundly, reads you in a way so intimate — your thoughts are laid bare and betrayed by your own eagerness for the unnameable thing that grows between the three of you. She already knows.
You kiss her. Gently but with desperation until a wave of panic rushes through you at the possibility of her disapproval and you pull back — but then her hand loops to the back of your neck and demands you back to her. Hunger burns in her touch, less restrained than yours, pulling you against her and doing all she can to persuade you to stay.
“Infidelity!” Natalie exclaims. You pull away and look beside you. She still leans back against the table. She catches your gaze and raises her eyebrows. “You just kissed my wife.”
“No,” you panic, “I didn’t mean—”
“I should divorce you right now, Lottie.”
“Fuck, Nat,” Lottie steps back. “Stop it, you’re making her nervous.”
Natalie comes toward you, and without a second thought she kisses you, hands planting at your hips. In the force of it you falter back a step but she follows, guiding you into a state of mindlessness as her lips claim yours.
“Infidelity,” Lottie’s claim breaks up the kiss and distracts Natalie just long enough for her to pull you back to her. She is less gentle than last time, only breaking to guide you into their shared bedroom.
You’re so blinded by them that you’re not sure who pulls off your shirt or unclasps your bra or who pushes you down onto the bed, but it doesn’t matter — your only concern is them, that tonight you make up for a lifetime of feeling so distant from their love, and that finally it washes over you.
Natalie nearly shoves Lottie off of you to take her place straddling you, hands roaming your body as she kisses and bites down your chest, sucking one of your nipples into her mouth and eliciting a soft gasp from you.
When you glance at Lottie beside you, her expression is displeased — she is used to being the one to guide and demand, and to be shoved to the side in Nat’s pursuit of you has stirred something in her. Yet your attention is pulled away from her by the way Natalie moves down further, kissing down your abdomen in a hurried but still reverent manner that has a new boost of adrenaline coursing through you. You don’t notice Lottie get up from bed as Natalie reaches your thighs, sucking and biting marks into them as she tries to hold you still beneath her.
“Hold still,” she threatens, “or I’ll stop.”
“Good,” Lottie says from somewhere across the room. “Stop and let me have her.”
Natalie bites down hard on your inner thigh before her restraint is broken and she can’t resist the craving to taste you, tongue running through your folds before focusing on your clit. Her tongue against you pulls a sharp moan from you, and you try your best to keep from squirming, but every moment you spend beneath her lets your euphoria grow. She works a finger into you, and then another, working you with her hunger.
You register Lottie coming up onto the bed beside you again. Instinctively you reach for her, but instead of joining you she shifts over to Nat, and that’s when you notice the harness around her waist and what has been strapped to it, bigger than you can usually handle.
Lottie runs a hand down Nat’s back, giving her pause, and you release an impatient sigh. Lottie meets your eyes, pulls Natalie up by the hair until she’s sitting up on her knees, and kisses her. She moans into it, tasting you on her wife’s lips, until in a not-so-subtle motion she pushes Natalie aside in the same way Nat had done to her.
Lottie comes up to kiss you, bathed in new serenity now that she has you to herself. “You’re ours, now,” she murmurs, before repositioning to line up to you with the strap-on. Her hands run over you softly now that she has what she’s wanted, pushing into you gently and savoring the moans you bless her with.
When morning comes, you find yourself tangled in the two of them. No one took care to shut the curtains before you went to bed, leaving the sunrise visible when you sit up from between them and look over Natalie’s shoulder. Deep crimson shades burn onto the horizon as the sun claims a new day, and as you watch its ascent an overwhelming sense of peace takes hold of you.
You unwind yourself from the two of them. Carefully you slide out your legs, and though it’s hard to find a way out of bed with them on either side of you, you manage to slip away into the hall without waking them. You tell yourself they won’t mind you using their coffee pot to brew you a cup or ten, and once you’ve borrowed a mug you find your way out to the back porch.
The porch faces the woods, quiet in the morning apart from the birds calling through the trees. You were right in coming here, you suspect — these woods are nothing like what you knew before. These trees are peaceful, they do not scream.
After a while you hear kitchenware clinking from inside. A minute later the glass patio door slides open and Lottie joins you with her own cup of coffee. In the face of your exhaustion she looks rejuvenated, at peace as she takes a seat in the wicker patio chair beside yours.
She takes a sip of her coffee before turning to meet your gaze. “Are you still searching for it?”
You tilt your head in question.
“Your fresh start.”
You smile. You sigh, and though your resolve has been broken a thousand ways, you shake your head. “No… Not anymore.”
HI thank you for reading :) im so happy yellowjackets is back to post for wtf???
and now my favs ever the yellowjackets taglist: @webism @chaithetics @ahauandthesun whenever I add a taglist to smut I feel like im standing naked in someone’s house but we persevere.
that’s all that’s all comments and reblogs are always appreciated and pls send any yellowjackets thoughts in my inbox it has awakened my autism once more!
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