can u write a fic where penelope is sitting on reader chest on bed doing their makeup for fun
kisses
fluff
domesticated
they have a cat 
Enjoy 😉
The sheets were still warm. Tangled. Lived in. Penelope Garcia sat perched on Y/N’s hips, her robe clinging to one shoulder and doing very little else to hide the masterpiece that was her soft, plush body.
Her thighs cradled Y/N, her favourite highlighter brush poised in one hand and her makeup palette dangerously balanced on Y/N’s chest.
At the foot of the bed, their cat, Basil, watched with half lidded judgement, tail flicking lazily. He was an absurdly fluffy ginger Maine Coon with a penchant for expensive throw pillows and batting at makeup brushes.
He had claimed Y/N’s side of the bed when they weren’t in it, and currently had his head draped over one of their discarded shirts like it was a royal pillow.
“Don’t even think about knocking that brush off,” Garcia said to Basil with a pointed look, even as her fingers titled Y/N’s chin toward her.
“And you… stay still, gorgeous. You’re about to be elevated.” Garcia smiled, Y/N grinning, hair tousled, their tattoos a map of stories across their chest.
They lay back with one hand behind their head and the other tracing idle, electric shapes into the curve of Garcia’s thigh.
“I am still. You’re the one grinding every time you shift.” Y/N mumbled, Penelope gave them a scandalised gasp, though the smirk on her lips betrayed her.
“That is slander, I’m sitting. Artistically.” Penelope giggled, Y/N shaking their head, “You’re sitting sexily, and you know it.”
Their voice was low, morning-scratchy, laced with warmth. She could feel their hands sliding slowly up her outer thighs, thumbs sweeping just under the hem of her robe.
Penelope’s breath caught slightly, but she kept her composure, tilting their face again. “Don’t distract the artist,” she murmured, brushing shimmer over their cheekbone with a feather light stroke.
“I’ll mess up and Basil will look even more disappointed in us than he already does.” She joked, her tongue poking out gently in focus.
From the foot of the bed, Basil gave a faint trill, as if in response. “He’s judging us,” Y/N said seriously. “He always is,” Garcia replied.
“He’s lived a life of crime and drama, and now he thinks our bedroom antics are beneath him.” The blonde joked, Y/N huffing a laugh.
Their hand drifted a little higher, ghosting along her waist with a teasing touch, “Maybe he just wants to be included.”
“If he tries to climb on this bed right now, I’m disowning him.” Garcia pretend seethed, Y/N laughing, head tilting back slightly, Penelope using the opportunity to sneak a kiss to their jaw before fishing the liner.
Sharp, smudged just right, giving their eyes a smokey frame that made her heart skip a beat. She reached for the burgundy lipstick next, murmuring, “Now, the finishing touch. The mouth I’ve kissed twenty-seven times today..”
Y/N smirked, “Twenty-nine. You missed two.” Garcia gave a small, delighted noise and leaned in, brushing their lips with hers before applying the deep, sinful colour.
Their fingers never stopped moving, soft along the insides of Garcia’s thighs, gripping just enough to make her hips roll slightly without thinking.
“There,” the blonde whispered, “You’re lethal.” They smiled, slow and wide, “Your turn.” Garcia quirked a brow and tilted her head, “You want to do my makeup?”
“No. I want to do you again, but I’ll settle for painting your face. For now…”
She burst into giggles, head dropping to their shoulder. “You menace.” Y/N kissed her temple, hand sliding up to rest warmly at her waist, “I’m your menace, darling.”
At the end of the bed, Basil sneeze once, yawned, and rolled over onto his back in a soft pile of fluff and disdain. Garcia looked at him, then down at Y/N beneath her.
“Our little family is so weird.”
“The weirdest,” they agreed, catching her hand to kiss her knuckles.
“And the happiest.”