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sheisnotalone · 23 days ago

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— HANDLING EMILY — e.prentiss x female reader

PREMISE: You’ve always teased Emily Prentiss about being older. About how you could handle a woman like her—experienced, commanding, devastating. But when she finally calls your bluff and takes you home, you learn exactly what it means to be at her mercy.

WARNINGS: legal age gap, oral, mentions of spit and swallowing spit, choking, scissoring, pussy slapping (once), dom!Emily, sub!reader, older!Emily, face riding, degradation, possessive behaviour, breast biting/marking, slight aftercare.

WORD COUNT: 3K

𓏲𝄢 find my masterlists

You said you could handle an older woman. Emily’s about to make you prove it.

You never meant for it to actually happen—not at first. The teasing started as harmless flirting, the kind of half-sarcastic sass you knew you could get away with when Emily would sit across from you in the bullpen, sipping her coffee, legs crossed, eyes sharp. You’d always toss something her way. A cheeky smile. A cocked eyebrow. “Sure you’re not too old to keep up with me?” Or, your personal favorite: “Bet you were a wild one in the ‘90s.”

She always gave it back just as hard. “Keep dreaming, rookie.” Or, more recently: “You wouldn’t last a minute with me.”

But god, what she didn’t know—what she probably knew, honestly—was that you weren’t just playing around. You had it bad. Hopeless crush, heart-racing-in-elevators bad. She was everything: the streak of silver in her hair, the worn leather jackets, that unreadable gaze she had when she was pissed off and trying not to show it. You’d lie awake some nights thinking about what it would feel like to belong to someone like her. To have her ruin you, command you. Praise you—or not.

So when she invited you over for “a drink” after the team closed a case, and you said yes with a grin too wide to be innocent… you kind of knew. You both did.

Her house smells like sandalwood and dark wine and something faintly smoky—like old books and danger. You pretend to admire the furniture, all dark woods and soft fabrics, while she watches you over the rim of her glass. Still in her work slacks and button-down, sleeves rolled to her forearms. Hair tied back, but loose enough to say I’ve been thinking about this too.

“You know,” you say, walking your fingers along the edge of her bookshelf, “I always figured you’d taste like scotch and sin.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And what do you taste like?”

You smile. “Come find out.”

That’s what does it.

In two strides she’s in front of you, her glass abandoned. She doesn’t kiss you yet—just presses you against the bookshelf with her body, one hand coming to rest lightly on your throat. Not tight. Not yet. Just there.

Her voice is low and rough. “You’ve got a big mouth for someone who blushes when I so much as look at you.”

Your heart is hammering. Your whole body is heat. “Maybe I blush because I like when you look at me.”

Emily chuckles—dark and amused, like she’s already decided how this night ends. “Is that right?”

Then her hand tightens—not painfully, but with purpose. Her palm wraps around your throat just firm enough that your breath hitches. Her thumb traces up under your jawline. Your knees go weak instantly. She tilts her head, eyes glittering. “You said you could handle an older woman,” she whispers, voice right against your lips. “Prove it.”

She pulls you in by the throat and kisses you like she’s claiming you—slow, deliberate, devastating. Her tongue invades your mouth with the kind of confidence only time and power can give a woman. You melt against her, moaning softly, already undone and still fully clothed.

When she steps back, her hand still holding you, she nods toward the living room.

“Strip for me.”

You hesitate for half a second—more out of awe than fear. Then, you start to move.

The fire’s burning low in the background, casting flickering gold across the walls. You make a show of it for her, because you want to. Because she’s watching you with that amused, unreadable expression like she’s deciding whether to ruin you slowly or all at once. You slide your shirt over your head, letting your fingertips trace your own stomach before unhooking your bra. You peel off your jeans, slow and sensual, keeping your eyes locked on hers.

She licks her bottom lip. “You’ve done this before.”

“Not for anyone like you,” you breathe.

Her smile darkens. “Damn right you haven’t.”

She comes to you again—pressing you down onto the couch, climbing over you like a wolf cornering its prey. Her hands move over your body like she owns it, mapping every inch. She pauses when her fingers slip between your thighs and find you soaked.

“Jesus. Look at you.” She pulls your legs apart with one hand and settles between them, kneeling on the rug. “You’re dripping. Just from a little choking and dirty talk?”

You whimper, embarrassed and turned on beyond words.

She slaps your thigh, just once. “Answer me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She groans at that—whether it’s from the title or the mess between your legs, you can’t tell. “Fuck, you are a good girl,” she mutters. “Let’s see how good.”

Then her mouth is on you.

She licks you like she’s savoring something rare and expensive, tongue slow and flat and devastating. She keeps eye contact as long as she can, even as your hips buck and your fingers dig into the cushions. Her tongue flicks your clit with maddening precision, alternating with deep, slow strokes that make your stomach clench. She moans against you—like you taste like sin. Like she’s been hungry for this.

Your pussy is swollen, glistening, and fully exposed under the flickering light. She spreads you wider, her thumbs keeping you open so she can lap at every part of you. She spits once—deliberately—and drags her tongue through the mess she’s made.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” she says, voice wrecked, breath hot. “So wet and needy. This what you’ve been thinking about while you’re sitting at your desk? Humping your thighs like a needy slut, pretending it wasn’t for me?”

You sob. “Yes, yes—Emily, please—”

“Ma’am.” Her voice cuts through the haze like a blade.

“Yes, ma’am,” you gasp, thighs shaking. “Please, I—I’m gonna—”

She pulls away just before you fall.

Cruel.

You whine, reaching for her, but she grips your throat again, pushing you back into the couch cushions.

“You don’t come,” she snarls. “Not until I say. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you whimper, every nerve lit up.

Her fingers replace her tongue—two of them sliding in to the knuckle while her mouth goes back to your clit. She pumps slowly, curling, hitting a spot that has your hips jerking with every thrust.

You're gone. Undone. A mess beneath her.

And you’ve never felt more wanted in your life.

Emily watches you squirm—your legs trembling, pussy soaked, your whole body aching for the release she just denied. You’re flushed, panting, lips parted, caught in that blissful place between desperate and obedient.

She doesn’t ease up. Her fingers stay inside you, thrusting slow and deep, curling exactly where you need them, while her mouth toys with your clit in lazy, taunting licks. She knows what she’s doing. She’s watching the way your stomach tightens, the way your eyes flutter, how your hips fight to meet every thrust even though you're not allowed to come.

"You close again?" she asks, even though she already knows.

You nod frantically, mouth barely forming words. “Please, please—I can’t—I need to—”

Emily lifts her mouth, licks her lips, and gives you a low, almost mocking smile.

“Then come for me. Now.”

Her voice is like a spell. Your body obeys instantly.

It hits like a wave—sharp and hot and all-consuming. Your back arches off the couch, legs clenching around her shoulders, the pleasure wracking through you in relentless, shuddering pulses. You cry out, a broken, needy sound that makes her groan into you.

She doesn’t stop.

She fucks you through it, tongue flicking, fingers thrusting, dragging out your orgasm until it blurs into something even messier, your body twitching from oversensitivity. You can’t breathe. Can’t think. Your hands are gripping at nothing.

Finally—finally—she pulls back.

You’re left panting, dripping, thighs still twitching. Your pussy’s pink, puffy, still clenching from the aftershocks.

Emily brings her fingers to her mouth—slick and shiny—and licks them clean, one at a time. She moans at the taste, slow and deliberate.

“God,” she mutters, “you taste even better than I imagined.”

Then, without warning, she leans in and pinches your clit—sharp and fast.

You jolt. “F-fuck—Emily!”

Before you can recover, her palm slaps your pussy once—a wet, loud sting that makes your hips jerk and your eyes go wide.

She grins darkly. “Just making sure you remember who made you come like that.”

You’re still catching your breath when she moves up your body, climbing on top of you with the same effortless power that’s been driving you wild all night. Her mouth latches onto your breast without warning—hot, open-mouthed kisses that turn into biting. Her teeth graze your nipple, then she sucks hard, making you arch in a sharp mix of pain and pleasure.

“Sensitive?” she murmurs, eyes flicking up to watch your reaction. “Too fucking bad.”

She does it again. And again. Alternating sides, biting, sucking, marking you as thoroughly as she claimed your cunt. Your nipples throb, swollen and red, but you never ask her to stop. You don’t want her to.

You’re already shaking again when she finally pulls back.

Then she stands up.

And slowly—so slowly—she starts to undress.

The way she peels off her button-down is obscene. Her eyes never leave yours as she slides it from her shoulders, revealing toned arms, a black lace bra, and the kind of quiet confidence that makes your stomach flip. She undoes her belt next, tugging her slacks down over her hips—no underwear beneath.

Her body is stunning. Real. Experienced. Power and sex wrapped in one devastating package.

She unhooks her bra last, letting it fall to the floor, and tosses it aside like she already knows she won’t be needing it again tonight.

“Lie back,” she commands. “And keep your mouth open.”

You do.

She straddles the couch again, but this time it’s your face she’s hovering over.

You don’t even get a warning.

She grinds down onto you—wet, hot, already soaked—and grabs the back of your head, holding you in place. Her scent is intoxicating. You moan into her, tongue immediately finding her clit, licking her like you were born for it.

Emily groans—deep and raw—as she starts to move. Her hips roll against your face, using you like her own personal toy. You flick your tongue faster, sucking her clit when she rocks forward, flattening it when she tilts her hips back.

“Just like that,” she pants. “Fucking god, baby. Don’t stop.”

She leans back slightly, one hand in your hair, the other gripping the armrest for balance. Her thighs are tight around your head. Her moans grow louder, sharper, filthier.

“You love this, don’t you? Love being used like this—face full of my pussy, tongue fucking me like a desperate little whore.”

You moan in response, tongue plunging deeper, licking up every drop she gives you. She tastes incredible—musky, sweet, intense. You press your hands to her ass, pulling her down harder, letting her grind against your tongue however she wants.

Her movements get rougher, more erratic. She’s close.

“So fucking good,” she growls. “Gonna come all over your face, baby. Gonna soak you.”

And then she does.

Emily cries out, voice cracking, thighs trembling. She grinds down hard, riding your mouth through her orgasm, hips jerking with each wave. You drink her in, moaning into her cunt, loving every second of being her personal plaything.

She finally goes still—shaky, flushed, breathless—and looks down at you with a wicked smile.

“Now that’s how you prove you can handle an older woman.”

Emily’s still above you, her body glistening with sweat, her chest rising and falling fast as she catches her breath. Her thighs are still slightly trembling where they straddled your face, but there’s a grin on her lips—feral, proud. You made her come. Hard. But she’s far from done.

She leans down, kissing you deeply, not caring that her own slick is still wet on your chin. If anything, it turns her on more. Her tongue pushes past your lips with purpose, tasting herself on you, groaning when you moan into her mouth. The kiss is messy, needy—more animal than anything else. It’s tongues and teeth and heat.

Then, without a word, she pulls you up into her lap—managing to keep control of the moment even as your legs wrap around her waist. Her hands are firm at your hips, guiding you as she lowers both of you onto the rug in front of the fireplace, the flames throwing flickering amber light across your skin.

She shifts, and suddenly her thigh presses between yours—and you realize what she’s doing. You gasp.

“Oh my god—Emily…”

She hushes you with a kiss to your throat. “You said you could take me,” she murmurs. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

She positions her legs, and yours, until your pussies align—slick, sensitive, bare skin pressed to bare skin. You both inhale sharply at the first touch—hot, swollen, aching.

You grind forward first. Tentative. Exploring.

Emily exhales, slow and low. “There you go. That’s it, baby.”

You keep moving—rubbing yourself against her, your soaked folds sliding against hers, clits brushing and catching, slick noises mixing with your broken gasps. Emily grabs your waist, meeting every grind with one of her own, panting, her eyes locked on yours.

You’re nose to nose. Chest to chest. Wet and wild and completely, deliciously lost in it.

She kisses you again—sloppier now, desperate—and as your moans tangle in each other's mouths, she reaches up and grabs your jaw, tilting your head back.

“Open your mouth.”

You do, lips parted, pupils blown wide.

She leans in, tongue barely out—and lets a thick strand of spit drip from her mouth into yours.

You swallow it without hesitation, moaning like it’s the filthiest, hottest thing in the world.

Emily’s eyes go dark.

“You really are my perfect little slut,” she breathes, before her hand wraps tight around your throat again. This time firmer. Possessive.

The pressure makes your vision blur around the edges, makes every rub of your body against hers so much more intense. She’s grinding up harder now—her hips relentless, chasing that edge again. And you’re right there with her, every nerve ending on fire, soaked and shaking and completely hers.

“Come with me,” she growls, tightening her hand just slightly as her pace quickens. “Let me feel you.”

Your body gives in first—heat rushing through you like a lightning strike, thighs trembling, pussy pulsing, mouth wide open but no sound coming out as you collapse into her. But Emily doesn’t stop. She thrusts against you one more time, lets out a choked groan, and her whole body stiffens beneath you as she comes with a low, breathless moan right into your neck.

You both stay there, tangled, gasping, foreheads pressed together.

Chest to chest.

Pussy to pussy.

Still pulsing.

Still connected.

Eventually, she loosens her grip on your throat and strokes your cheek instead, her thumb brushing gently across your lips.

“That,” she says, still catching her breath, “was only round one.”

And judging by the look in her eyes?

You believe her.

Even though her voice was still rough with dominance—“That was only round one”—her touch changes almost immediately afterward.

You’re still straddling her, still tangled up in heat and heartbeat and sweat, your body soft and pliant against hers, when she lets out a long breath. Her hand slips from your throat to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbone with surprising gentleness.

“You okay?” she murmurs.

You nod, still dazed. “More than okay…”

Emily kisses your temple, slow and grounding. Then she lifts you carefully off her lap, guiding you down onto the rug beside her. You watch her body move as she stands—graceful, still naked, still so stunning it makes your throat tighten.

But this time, she’s not stalking. She’s not commanding.

She disappears down the hall for a minute. You hear a faucet running. When she comes back, she’s got a warm, damp towel in one hand and a softer look in her eyes.

“Don’t move.”

You don’t.

She kneels between your legs and begins to gently clean you up—slow strokes between your thighs, catching the mess of both your orgasms with careful precision. It should feel embarrassing, being spread out and wiped down like this—but somehow, with her, it doesn’t. It feels intimate. Reverent, even.

“You were incredible,” she says softly, pressing the towel against your inner thigh one last time. “You took everything I gave you.”

You look up at her, eyes hazy, lips parted. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

She smirks, but there’s warmth behind it now. “I know.”

She rises again and tosses the towel into a nearby hamper, then offers you her hand. You take it, and she pulls you up into her arms. She doesn’t bother redressing yet—just walks with you, skin to skin, back to the bedroom, where she peels back the covers and lets you climb in first.

Then she slips in beside you, spooning behind you, her arm wrapped firm and protective around your waist.

You’re sore. Spent. Blissed out. And entirely, completely hers.

As sleep begins to pull you under, you feel her mouth brush against the back of your shoulder, and you hear her whisper:

“Next time, I’m tying you up.”

And god help you—your exhausted body still shivers at the thought.

#fic rec #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader

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sheisnotalone · 24 days ago

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𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐮

Pairing: Jennifer "JJ" Jareau x Reader (no pronouns used)

Warnings: none, this is just fluff

Word count: 937

Summary: Reader gets home from a work trip. Their girlfriend JJ missed them a lot and has to take care of them with food and cuddles

~ also posted on ao3 ~

A/N: Hello people, i know i have been MIA for the past two years and i'm sorry about that, tho i'm not really gonna be that active just thought since i maybe am getting into writing again, perchance, I'll also leave this here and not only on ao3

borders made by @enchanthings

“I missed you”, she whispers while grabbing you at your waist to spin you around.

“Hi Jayie, missed you too”, you reply with a tired smile, taking a step back to stabilize your stance.

“Nu-uh, don’t you go away again” JJ says, hooking her fingers in the belt loops on your jeans and pulling you back into her. She presses her forehead against yours and wraps her arms around your hips. You close your eyes, enjoying being so close to her. It’s true, you missed her too, a lot. Even though you were gone for barely over a week, it feels like ages ago that you had been in her arms.

“You can never leave again, you were gone for way too long”, she mumbles. When you open your eyes again you can see her pouting. It’s just so adorable you can’t help but smile at her.

“Hey don’t laugh at me, I’m seriou-” but you kiss her before she can finish the sentence. She instantly starts kissing you back softly, moving on hand from your hips into your hair while your own hands start sliding down into the back pockets of her jeans.

Both of you know it will happen again, that one of you will have to leave again. It’s just what you get for both having a job that you often have to travel for. You love your job and you know that she loves hers as well, but being apart multiple weeks a month just really sucks.

When you both pull back to breathe she smiles at you, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired”, you reply, burying your head in the crook of her neck. You inhale the scent of her body mixed with her perfume and it just feels like home.

“When is the last time you have eaten, baby?” she asks, giving you a scolding look when you mumble “breakfast” into her skin. “I’m sorry… it’s just after finishing up I just rushed to the train to get back home as fast as possible, there was no time for lunch and I also didn’t want to buy an overpriced chocolate bar or something on the train” you answer truthfully. You were so excited to finally return home, you hadn’t really noticed your empty stomach until now. Right on cue it starts grumbling causing the blonde in your arms to giggle. “Okay sweets, hear me out. I make us some dinner but we eat on the couch all cozy and you can tell me about your trip if you want”, she suggests and you nod against her neck. She tries to pull out of your hold to lead you to the kitchen, but you fasten your grip not letting her go. It startles her for a second before she realizes what you want. “So lazy”, she mumbles before positioning her hands to pull you off the ground. You wrap your legs around her waist, to stabilize yourself, still amazed by the ease with which she can just pick you up even though you have been picked up by her strong arms more often than you can count.

She sits you down on the kitchen counter after effortlessly carrying you through your shared apartment. “So, what does my love want for dinner?”, she questions, already knowing what answer to expect when she sees the expression on your face. “Surprise me” you say, beaming up at her.

“You don’t have a preference, huh? Alright then, but I’ll not tell you what i’m gonna make”

And with that she starts digging through the fridge, putting random things on the counter, cutting up vegetables and rummaging through the cabinets searching for whatever supplies she needs.

If you would pay closer attention to what she’s grabbing you could possibly pinpoint on what meal she decided on, but your eyes are switching between the concentrated look on her face and the way her body moves around effortlessly while she prepares the food.

After some time - you couldn’t have estimated it even if you tried to - she turns around to you and happily exclaims „All done!“

She has already prepared to plates and set them on the coffee table in the living, so all she has to do now is pulling you off the counter you has been sitting on, leading you to the living room and cross her legs with yours after putting your plate in your hand and making sure you are settled comfortably on the sofa.

JJ loves just being able to touch you at any time. You know she craves physical touch as much as you do, so it’s no surprise that as soon as you both have finished eating you’re curled up in her lap the fingers of one of your hands interlaced with hers, while her other hand is playing with your hair. You feel the tiredness that this stressful day left behind creeping up again and if you closed yourself eyes you would probably just fall asleep in seconds, but you don’t want this evening to end. The upcoming days will be stressful enough so you might as well spend as much time as possible right here with your person where you can ignore all the stress and struggles. You move around a bit until you can look in JJ‘s face, giving her a tired but content smile.

„Everything okay?“ she asks you, moving a loose strand of hair out of your face.

„More than okay!“ you whisper.

„Welcome home baby, welcome home!“ she whispers back to you and when you close your eyes you instantly drift off into a well deserved nap.

#jennifer jareau #jj #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jj x reader #jj x you #jennifer jareau fluff #jj fluff #criminal minds #sheisnotalone #hello?#is this thing on?#i forgot how tumblr works... did i do it right?

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