criminally-chill

[criminally-chill]

hey i am obsessed with your work!! could you write emily x fem reader where it’s the reader’s first time with a woman and emily talks her through it with sub dom themes?

thank you!! <3

Without Warning

Emily Prentiss x Fem Reader

MDNI Masterlist CW: Smut, Fluff, Questioning Sexual Orientation, Losing Lesbian Virginity, Sex Dreams, Dom Sub Undertones, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Scissoring/Tribbing, Morning Sex. WC: 21,247

(Not Proof Read)

You hadn’t expected to be assigned fieldwork so soon. Still new, still learning the way the BAU functions differently than anywhere else you’ve worked before. Most days you feel like you’re treading water, smiling when spoken to, staying quiet when you’re unsure. Which is often.

You’ve only been with the BAU a few weeks, still trying to keep pace with the way things move here. The others talk in shorthand, finish each other’s thoughts. You spend most of your time watching, listening, trying not to say the wrong thing.

Trying not to stare when Emily Prentiss walks into a room.

You don’t know what it is about her. It started on your first day and hasn't let up since. There’s something magnetic about the way she carries herself, so in control, like nothing phases her. She’s all dark eyes and sharper edges, long legs and measured steps, and when she smiles—it knocks the air right out of you.

This case came fast. A series of murders across the county. Women targeted, all with backgrounds in foster care. The kind of pattern that makes your stomach knot. You’d sat in the briefing room with your notes clenched too tightly in your hands, trying to keep your face neutral while Hotch laid out the facts. When he said you’d be riding with Prentiss, something in your chest tightened before you could stop it. She glanced at you across the table, unreadable as ever, then gave the smallest nod.

You’re meant to be interviewing a witness. A neighbour. Someone who might have seen something near the last crime scene. That’s what you were told, anyway.

The house is about fifteen minutes outside of town, tucked along a wooded edge of the road. The lawn hasn’t been mowed in weeks, and the shutters sag unevenly over dirty windows. Emily doesn’t say much during the drive, just keeps her eyes ahead and taps the steering wheel with her fingers now and then. She doesn’t need to fill silence. You’re not sure if you find that comforting or unnerving.

The woman who opens the door looks ordinary. Thin, tired. She wipes her hands on her jeans and glances between the two of you with a smile that feels too practiced.

Emily speaks first.

“Ma’am, we’re with the FBI. Just a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

The woman nods, steps back to let you in.

You follow Emily through the threshold, scanning the space instinctively. The air smells like dust and something chemical underneath. It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust. Then it happens.

The shift.

You see it before you understand it. The woman’s hand reaching for something near the couch. A glint of metal.

“Knife!” you shout, but she’s already moving.

Emily doesn’t hesitate. She’s there in a flash, intercepting the woman mid-swing. The force of it knocks the end table over. You try to step in, try to flank the attacker, but the unsub spins fast and lands a solid hit across your ribs that sends you sprawling to the ground.

Your vision jars for a second. Everything tilts. You can hear the fight still going.

Emily is relentless. She meets the next attack with a brutal elbow to the woman’s jaw, takes the knife with her free hand and tosses it aside. She moves like she’s been trained for chaos, like her body already knows what to do without needing to think.

She’s beautiful in motion.

Focused. Fearless. Her shirt pulls tight across her back as she pins the woman to the floor, muscles flexed and body pressed down with a kind of effortless control that leaves no room for argument. There’s a cut blooming red at her temple, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

The cuffs snap around the unsub’s wrists before you’ve fully caught your breath.

Emily straightens, breathing hard, hair falling over one shoulder as she looks toward you.

“You good?” she asks, voice low and calm but still edged with adrenaline.

You nod, already scrambling to your feet, breath shaky. “Yeah. She hit harder than I expected.”

Her gaze lingers on you a moment longer. She closes the space between you and checks your side with a light touch, fingers grazing the curve of your ribs. It sends a jolt through your entire body.

“She got you good,” she says, almost under her breath. “But you moved quick.”

You manage a faint smile. It feels like your skin is buzzing under where her hand just was.

Emily looks at you like she sees something she hadn’t before.

You don’t trust yourself to hold her gaze.

The walk back to the SUV is quiet. Your heartbeat hasn’t slowed since the moment she took that woman down. You tell yourself it’s just the adrenaline. The shock.

But the truth sits heavy in your chest.

It wasn’t fear that made your breath catch.

It was her.

Emily had barely looked at you after the takedown. She drove back in silence, one hand loose on the steering wheel, window cracked just enough to pull in air. Her face stayed calm, unreadable. You couldn’t stop looking.

Now you’re watching her through the glass.

She’s in the interrogation room with the woman she cuffed not even an hour ago. Your unsub. She doesn’t raise her voice. Doesn’t need to. Her tone is measured, even — but there’s something underneath it, something unshakable. She leans forward just slightly when she speaks, her fingers pressed lightly against the table. Her body language says she’s in control. Always has been. The unsub shifts in her seat, eyes darting. Emily doesn’t blink.

It’s not the first interrogation you’ve watched since joining the team. But it’s the first time you’ve felt something hot pool in your stomach over it.

You don’t understand what’s happening.

Your pulse has been out of rhythm since that fight. Since her hand touched your side, steady and sure, like it belonged there. You told yourself it was nothing. Adrenaline. The crash of the moment. But now, with Emily poised in the chair, gaze sharp, voice low and unrelenting — something inside you clenches again, and this time there’s no excuse.

She’s breathtaking like this. Commanding. Composed. Completely focused, like the rest of the world has narrowed into one point in front of her.

You’ve never looked at a woman this way before. Not like this.

And she’s not just any woman. She’s your colleague. She’s Emily Prentiss.

You drag your eyes away, force your gaze down to the file in your lap. Your skin feels too warm. You flip the page even though you haven’t read the one before it.

You’re not supposed to be thinking about her like this. You’ve never thought about any woman like this. And yet—

You glance up again before you can stop yourself. She tilts her head, studying the unsub, waiting out the silence in a way that makes it clear she’s already won. There’s something in the way she holds herself. Like she was built for this kind of pressure. Like she likes it.

And you? You’re losing your mind a little bit.

You cross your legs and press your thighs together, hoping no one notices the way your breath keeps catching in your throat.

She’s not even looking at you.

But she doesn’t need to.

She already has you.

It takes another couple hours to wrap the scene. The local police thank the team, their tone shifting now that the case has been closed. The unsub finally cracked under Emily’s calm pressure, laid everything out with the weary defiance of someone who knows they’ve already lost. There’s still paperwork to coordinate, final reports to skim, chain of custody confirmations. You try to focus. You really do.

But she’s still in your head.

You keep catching yourself watching her. Emily, standing by the whiteboard with her arms crossed, nodding at something Morgan says. Emily, phone tucked to her ear, jaw tight, eyes moving as she listens.

By the time you’re in the SUV again, you’re overtired and wound tight in a way that makes your thoughts feel like static. JJ rides up front. You sit behind her, your cheek resting briefly against the window until the cool glass becomes uncomfortable. Emily’s beside you. Not quite close enough to touch, but you’re hyper-aware of every movement she makes. The way her knee shifts. The way she exhales. The quiet clicks of her fingers unlocking her phone.

Back on the jet, there’s a lull. Hotch gives his usual rundown before sitting down to start on paperwork. Morgan and Rossi talk quietly over coffee near the back. JJ stretches across two seats and closes her eyes. Spencer is nose deep in a book. The cabin dims. Someone puts on music low enough not to disturb anyone. You sink into a window seat with your legs tucked under you and stare into the dark.

Emily slides into the seat across from you. Not next to you, not far away. Just close enough to look up and catch her eye if you’re brave enough.

You’re not.

She crosses her legs, opens a folder, reads by the low amber light above her. You try not to stare at her hands. Try not to wonder what it would feel like to be touched by them. The thought comes uninvited and too vivid, and it makes your skin prickle.

This isn’t you. You don’t feel things like this. At least, you didn’t.

But watching her fight today, watching her interrogate, watching her be — it unlocked something that hasn’t let go since. And the worst part is you’re not even sure you want it to.

You try to close your eyes.

Try to forget the heat of her body close to yours, the way her voice dropped when she asked if you were okay, the way her touch lingered for a breath too long.

But it follows you all the way home.

You barely register unlocking your front door. Just enough focus left to turn the deadbolt behind you and shuffle into the dark. The apartment is quiet, still smelling faintly of whatever coffee you brewed before leaving for the case. You drop your go-bag near the couch, strip down in the hallway, and leave your clothes in a trail to the bedroom door.

You don’t even shower. Just strip down to your underwear and crawl into bed, limbs heavy and sore from the day. You blink at the ceiling, trying not to think about the way your body reacted to her earlier. Trying not to remember how her voice sounded through the glass, calm and sharp and deliberate. Trying not to remember the heat that bloomed low in your stomach when her hand found your side.

You think of her.

The way her breath caught after the fight. The way her fingers brushed your skin like it was nothing. Like she didn’t even notice.

You do.

Sleep drags you under before you can stop thinking about her. Now, you’re dreaming, though it doesn’t feel like a dream yet.

It feels like warmth.

Like silk under your bare feet. Dim light flickering at the edges. The air smells faintly of something sharp and floral. You know it’s not your bedroom. Not your sheets. But you don’t care.

Emily stands in front of you.

Her black blouse is unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves cuffed to her elbows, hair swept back like she’s just taken it down for the night. She looks at you the same way she did in the field. Confident. Composed. Her hands rest on her hips, her weight balanced easily like she could lunge forward without warning.

You should say something. Ask what this is. Why she’s here. But she tilts her head, and you lose the thought.

“You keep staring at me,” she says, her voice lower than usual. Smoother. “At work. In the car. Even after the fight.”

You try to speak. Nothing comes.

She steps toward you. One slow step, then another, until the space between you disappears. Her fingers brush your chin, tilting your face up to meet her eyes.

“You think I don’t notice?”

Your heart pounds. You know you’re dreaming now, but that doesn’t help.

Emily’s mouth curves into something wicked.

“You like watching me,” she murmurs. “Don’t you?”

She reaches out, hand sliding just under your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone.

“I don’t mind,” she says. “But if you’re going to look at me like that…”

Her other hand touches your hip, grounding you. Her thumb presses in just slightly, then drifts up your side, tracing the curve of your waist. Her touch is light. Teasing.

“I want to hear you say what you’re thinking.”

You shake your head, breathless. She smiles.

“Oh, you’re shy here too?”

She leans in, not to kiss you, but to whisper against your mouth.

“I like shy. I like making them squirm.”

Your breath catches. Her lips trail down the side of your neck, slow, deliberate. A kiss just below your jaw. Another at your collarbone.

Your hands twitch at your sides.

She takes your wrist, guides your hand to her waist.

“You can touch me.”

You do. Lightly, afraid you’ll break the illusion. Her body is warm beneath the fabric. Solid.

Emily pulls back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are sharp, hungry.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” she says. “If you don’t want that, stop me.”

You don’t move.

She kisses you like she owns the moment. Her mouth opens over yours, tongue teasing, never giving too much. You try to keep up, but she controls the pace. Every time you lean forward, she pulls back slightly, letting you chase her. Her hands slide down your sides, over your hips, grounding you again.

Her thigh presses between yours, slow pressure building.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

You shake your head.

She hums, pleased.

“Good.”

Emily kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. Her fingers skim under the hem of your shirt, warm and steady. You flinch at the touch, but not from fear. Your stomach coils tight. Her hand moves lower, easing across your waistband.

“You want me to touch you?” she whispers. “All you have to do is say yes.”

Her fingers dip—

You jerk awake.

It’s instant. No slow rise to consciousness. One second you’re under her touch, her mouth, her grip. The next, you’re staring at your bedroom ceiling, heart hammering like you’ve run a mile.

Your thighs are clenched tight. Your underwear is damp. Your whole body feels strung out, like it didn’t get the memo that it was a dream.

Your hands tremble as you push the blankets off.

It wasn’t real. But it felt real. And god help you, you want to go back.

Your hands tremble. You wipe sweat from your brow and flop back against the pillow.

You can still hear her voice.

All you have to do is say yes.

And fuck, you almost did.

Coffee doesn’t help.

You’re on your second cup by the time the bullpen starts filling in, but the lingering heat from last night clings to your skin like static. You slept maybe four hours. Every time your eyes shut, she was there again. Hovering just out of reach.

You try not to think about it.

Try not to replay the way her voice had dropped. The feel of her mouth, her hand sliding down, the pressure just before

You take a longer sip. Burn your tongue. Serves you right.

Emily walks in fifteen minutes later.

You feel her before you see her. A shift in the air. A scrape of her boots on the polished floors. When you look up, she’s already mid-conversation with Rossi. Her blouse is black today. Tucked in, sleeves rolled once. Her hair is pulled back in a clean, effortless effortless pony tail, bangs framing her face. She laughs at something he says, then glances around the room, scanning.

Her eyes meet yours.

You look down too fast, like a rookie. Your cheeks are on fire.

You pretend to read your file. The words blur.

The team is catching up on paperwork from the field. No fresh case. Low energy. Just the low hum of keyboards and the occasional sound of turning pages. And her voice, when she picks up the phone.

You try not to watch her. Really, you do.

But when she leans back in her chair to reach for something, when she adjusts the collar of her shirt, when she lifts her cup to her lips and your brain betrays you, imagining what she can do with that mouth.

You squeeze your thighs together under your desk.

This is bad.

Because you can’t act normal around her. Not today. Every word she says hits too deep. Every movement feels deliberate, even when it’s not. You half expect her to walk over and whisper something filthy in your ear, even though she’s been nothing but polite. Professional.

And that makes it worse.

You’d almost be less embarrassed if she did say something. If she teased you. If she acted like she knew.

But she doesn’t. Or maybe she does and just enjoys watching you squirm.

It’s a long, unbearable day.

Emily brushes past you in the kitchen and your entire body goes still. She says excuse me like she always does, but the way her hand settles lightly at the small of your back nearly makes your knees give out. You nearly drop your mug. You thank her too quickly, too breathlessly. She raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

Back at your desk, you can’t even focus on your screen. Your report’s half-finished and riddled with typos.

At one point, JJ leans in and asks if you’re okay. You nod, but your voice cracks when you answer, and she gives you a weird look.

You want to go home.

You want to sleep without dreaming. Or maybe you want to dream again, but finish this time.

And through it all, Emily doesn’t say a word. Just works like she always does, calm and in control, like she has no idea what kind of chaos she’s left you in.

But there’s something in the way she looks at you now. Just for a second, now and then. Measured. Knowing.

The bullpen is quieter in the late afternoon. Case files have thinned out. The air smells faintly of burnt coffee and recycled air. You’re at your desk trying to focus on paperwork, but your brain’s been unreliable ever since you got back. Every time Emily walks past, your thoughts scatter. Every time she speaks, something in your chest stirs. It’s getting harder to pretend it’s not happening.

You’re so deep in a sentence you barely notice her at first. Emily curses under her breath, smacks the side of her monitor once, then crouches beside the CPU tower under her desk like she’s debating violence.

“Need help?” you offer, already on your feet.

She waves a hand at the frozen screen. “The damn thing won’t stop glitching. I’ve restarted it twice and Garcia’s not answering.”

You drop to one knee beside her and tap a few keys. Then you reach underneath, flip a switch tucked behind the port box, and press a command to reboot it in safe mode. Emily leans close enough to see what you’re doing, then blinks when her desktop flickers back to life.

“What the hell did you just do?”

“I’ve seen Garcia fix it like that before.”

There’s a pause. You expect a thanks or a joke about turning it off and on again. Instead, Emily smiles—slow, curious—and says, “You’re a quick study. Makes me wonder what else you’re eager to learn.”

Your breath catches. You know it’s probably nothing. Just something people say.

But she holds your gaze for a second too long.

You retreat to your desk before your face gives you away. Your skin feels flushed, and the words won’t stop repeating.

Makes me wonder what else you’re eager to learn.

You don’t get much work done after that.

That night you dream of Emily again.

You’re in her apartment, though you’ve never seen it. You just know. The lighting is low, amber and soft, and she’s already moving toward you like this has happened before, like this is inevitable.

She touches your waist first. Fingers sliding under your shirt, nails grazing your ribs. She kisses your throat and says it again, voice velvet-smooth and far too steady.

“You’re a quick study,” she murmurs. “Makes me wonder what else you’re eager to learn.”

Your mouth opens to answer, but nothing comes. There’s no room for words when her lips are on yours.

It’s slower than the last time, more confident. Her hands explore like she's travelling familiar terrain. She lifts your shirt with practiced ease, unclasps your bra without asking, watches your reaction as she exposes you inch by inch. Her expression is the same one she wore in the field—focused, calm, in control.

“You’ve thought about this,” she whispers. “Haven’t you?”

You nod. It’s the only thing you can do.

She backs you toward the bed, and you let her. She pushes your pants down your hips, strokes your thighs with deliberate care, like she’s taking her time just because she knows you’ll let her.

“You have no idea how many things I could teach you.”

Then her hand is between your legs. Not teasing this time. Not suggestive. Her fingers sink into you and you gasp—sharp and wanting—hips instinctively bucking.

She’s murmuring something you can’t quite hear, something low and indulgent, while her fingers curl and stroke and build pressure in slow, devastating waves. Your breath is hitching. You reach for her arm, not to stop her but to anchor yourself.

You’re close. So close. The kind of edge that burns in your belly, your thighs shaking, your body begging for release.

And then—

You wake up.

Sweaty. Gasping. Alone.

You grab the nearest pillow and drag it over your face, half hoping it’ll smother the need still pulsing between your legs.

This is getting dangerous.

You don’t sleep much after the dream.

You spend the morning pretending you’re fine. Coffee in hand, files under your arm, your polite smile locked in place like it might save your life.

But Emily’s already in when you get there. Sitting at her desk, legs crossed, eyes scanning something on her screen. She looks up when she hears you. Her eyes meet yours and for one terrible second, you're sure she knows. That she can somehow see it, smell it, read it all over your face.

“Morning,” she says, calm and even, lifting her coffee in greeting.

“Morning,” you manage, voice tight.

She doesn’t ask if you’re okay. She doesn’t need to.

You don’t miss the slight tug of her mouth. The way her eyes linger for a beat longer than necessary before flicking back to the screen.

You go about your day like you’re not constantly thinking about the way she’d looked in your dream. The way her voice had dipped low. The way her fingers had felt curling into your body.

You keep replaying the moment she’d said it. “You’re a quick study. Makes me wonder what else you’re eager to learn.” That line. That smile. That impossibly smug, impossibly sexy way she’d said it.

You spend most of the morning trying not to stare at her. You fail. Often.

And she doesn’t help. Not even a little.

She finds reasons to come by your desk. Small things. Asking for an old file she could easily grab herself. A question about phrasing in a report she definitely already knows the answer to. Leaning over your shoulder to look at your screen, close enough for you to smell her perfume.

Every time she speaks to you, it’s like your brain short circuits. You nod too fast. Laugh too loud. You keep hoping she won’t notice. But you see the way her mouth curves every time. Like she does. Like she’s clocked all of it and is just waiting to see how long you’ll last before saying something.

At one point in the afternoon, you pass her in the corridor near the break room. She’s just exiting, sipping from a fresh cup of coffee, and steps aside slightly to let you through. Her hand brushes your arm—light, barely anything—but you swear your heart stops.

“You alright?” she asks. Innocent. Friendly.

You nod. “Fine.”

She watches you for a second longer than needed. “You look a little warm.”

You freeze. She gives a small shrug, lifting her mug toward her lips.

“Maybe it’s just me.”

She walks off without waiting for a reply.

You stand there with your face on fire, wondering what the hell that even meant. Was it nothing? A throwaway comment? Or was it the kind of thing someone says when they know they’ve been starring in your dreams two nights in a row?

The rest of the day is no easier.

Emily is sharp as ever in the briefing. All business. Until she glances your way while talking and catches you mid-drift. Her brow lifts, just a little. You snap back to attention like you’ve been smacked.

After lunch, you’re alone in the kitchenette when she steps in behind you. You’re pouring coffee, nearly spilling it when she speaks.

“That one’s strong,” she says. “Might keep you up tonight.”

Your hand trembles slightly as you set the pot down. You don’t dare look at her.

She hums lightly, then steps past you to grab a stir stick. “Unless that’s what you’re hoping for.”

You glance up at her, throat dry. But she’s not looking at you. Not really. Just giving the smallest smile, amused, unreadable. Then she turns and walks off.

You sink into your chair at your desk five minutes later and stare blankly at your screen for a good ten minutes before remembering how to type.

By the time the day finally ends, you feel wrung out. Strung up. Like your skin is one touch away from betraying you completely.

You wait a few minutes longer than usual before packing up. Just in case she’s hanging around. You can’t take another smirk. Another sideways look. Another maybe-provocation.

You’re halfway through shutting your monitor down when you hear her voice behind you.

"Hey," she says, voice easy. "You doing anything tomorrow night?"

You turn, pulse already picking up. Emily's standing by your desk, coat folded over one arm, phone in hand. She looks casual. Relaxed. Like she didn’t spend the whole day getting under your skin.

Your brain stutters through about four useless answers before you manage a shrug. "Not really. Why?"

She smiles, and it’s just crooked enough to be distracting. “I’m having a few people over. JJ and Garcia. Just a casual thing. Wine, pizza, a movie if we get around to it.”

You blink. “Oh. That sounds fun.”

"You should come," she says, like it’s nothing. Like she didn’t just casually throw your whole weekend off-balance with four words. "Girls night. I figured it might be good for you to unwind."

There’s a warmth in the way she says it. Not pity, but familiarity. Like she remembers what it’s like being new to all this.

You smile before you can help it. “Yeah. Sure. I’d love to.”

Emily gives a little nod, eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “I’ll text you the details.”

She’s already turning to go when she throws one last glance over her shoulder. “Wear something comfortable.”

And then she’s gone, striding off with that same infuriating confidence she carries everywhere. You watch her disappear around the corner and only then realize your heart is doing that fast, flustered thing again.

You gather your things slower than necessary, replaying her voice in your head. The invitation. The glance. The way her mouth pulled into a smirk like she already knew you’d say yes.

You don’t know if it’s meant to be anything more than friendly. You don’t know if she’s toying with you or just being nice.

But you know one thing for sure.

You’re definitely not going to get much sleep tonight either.

That night you dream of Emily again.

There’s no lead-in this time, no hazy slow burn. Just the sharp snap of awareness that you’re dreaming, and she’s already there — already touching you.

You’re on your back, half-dressed, her fingers working at the button of your jeans like she’s done it a thousand times before. Your breath catches when she tugs them down your hips and lets them fall to the floor, taking your underwear with them. The air is cool against your skin. Her hands are anything but.

She pushes your thighs apart and settles between them with a steady, deliberate motion that steals the words from your mouth. You reach for her without thinking, fingers twisting in the dark fabric of her shirt as her mouth finds the inside of your thigh. She doesn’t speak. Just kisses, slowly, higher, higher, then pulls back with a smile like she’s savouring how much you want this.

When she finally licks into you, it’s not tentative. It’s hungry. Like she’s been thinking about this just as long as you have.

Your hips jerk. She doesn’t stop.

She keeps you open with her hands, tongue moving in long, teasing strokes that make your head fall back against the pillows. Every flick, every press, pulls you closer. Your breathing turns shallow. One of her hands slides up your side, under your shirt, palm pressed flat just beneath your ribs to hold you down when you start to squirm.

It’s too much. Not enough. You gasp her name but it comes out half-broken.

She hums low against you like she enjoys the sound, and the vibration shoots right through your core. Your legs start to tremble. You're trying to hold still but your body’s acting on its own now, chasing what she’s building.

You’re so close.

So close.

Your fingers dig into the sheets. Your whole body coils, desperate for release.

And then—

A car horn blares outside your window, loud and jarring.

You jolt awake with a choked breath, your body arching slightly off the bed.

You’re in bed. Alone. The ceiling spins above you, and your skin is hot and flushed and painfully untouched.

“Fuck,” you whisper, hoarse and furious.

You fling an arm over your eyes, the throbbing between your legs bordering on unbearable now. Your whole body had been ready to let go. It felt like you were seconds away from unravelling completely and now you’re just… left with nothing.

Just wet underwear and frustration sharp enough to bite.

You lie there, fuming, breath ragged, heart pounding, thighs still twitching with the ghost of her mouth.

This is getting ridiculous.

You spend most of the day avoiding your own thoughts.

The dream won’t leave you alone. It follows you like static, clinging to your skin, fuzzing around the edges of everything. You can still feel her mouth on you, phantom pressure between your legs, your body remembering all the things your mind is trying not to.

You clean your apartment even though it’s not dirty. Wipe down surfaces that don’t need wiping. Rearrange books, scrub the inside of your fridge, throw out condiments that expired two years ago. You take a shower that’s too hot and too long, hoping it’ll burn away the tension lodged deep in your muscles.

It doesn’t help.

Neither does changing outfits five times or spending an hour trying to decide if doing your makeup would seem like trying too hard. You tell yourself it’s just a casual girls’ night. Drinks and snacks. Probably a movie or some gossip. Just JJ, Garcia, and Emily.

Emily.

You blow out a sharp breath and lean your hands on the edge of the bathroom sink, staring at your reflection like you might be able to talk some sense into yourself. But the thrum under your skin has only grown stronger since last night. A nervous energy that won’t quit. You hate how jittery you feel. Like a kid with a crush. Like a live wire waiting to spark.

You almost text Garcia to cover for you. Twice.

But you don’t.

When you finally leave the apartment, it’s almost an hour earlier than you need to. You kill time driving around for a bit, windows down, music low, trying to steady your breathing. When that doesn’t work, you park outside Emily’s building and just sit there in the car, hands gripping the steering wheel.

You tell yourself to relax. It’s just a night with friends. You’ve done this before.

But you haven’t. Not like this. Not with her.

Emily’s apartment is warm when she opens the door. Not just in temperature, but in atmosphere. Soft yellow light spills from the lamps instead of the overheads, and there’s something cooking that smells spicy and homemade. Music hums from speakers in the living room — something mellow, mostly instrumental, just loud enough to fill the space without needing to talk over it.

“Hey,” she says, stepping back to let you in. “You’re early.”

You hand her the bottle of wine you brought. “Sorry. I can leave and come back in five minutes if that helps.”

She smirks, one brow lifting. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re just in time to help me set up.”

You follow her in, trying not to get distracted by how relaxed she looks dressed down in comfortable clothes. Her hair pulled back loosely, some strands already escaping. She’s so casual like this, off-duty but still in control of every detail.

JJ and Garcia arrive together not long after, arms full of bags and containers, both already laughing about something before they’ve even made it through the door. And just like that, the night begins to take shape.

You find your place easily among them. It surprises you — how natural it feels. No one treats you like the new one tonight. The conversation starts with food, then slides into favourite shows, bad dates, and what it’s like trying to explain your job to people outside the Bureau. Garcia keeps steering things into more risqué territory when she can, and JJ just laughs and eggs her on.

You mostly listen at first. Not out of discomfort, just curiosity. You like watching the way they interact, the rhythm they’ve built over years of knowing each other. You’re new, but they don’t make you feel like an outsider.

Still, it’s impossible not to track Emily in every room she moves through. She’s magnetic, even when she’s not trying to be. Even when she’s just leaning back on the couch, ankles crossed, sipping her wine like she isn’t completely occupying your every thought.

Even off-duty, she moves with purpose. When she sits, she leans into the conversation fully. When she makes a joke, her eyes flick toward yours. When she laughs — deep and unfiltered — it lands somewhere right beneath your skin.

You wish your brain would behave itself.

You’re too aware of how she sits next to you, thigh brushing yours when she shifts. Of how her arm sometimes stretches along the back of the couch, resting just behind your shoulders. Of how her laugh — sharp and full and real — sends a little ripple down your spine every time.

When you glance at her, sometimes she’s already looking. Sometimes she just smirks like she knows something you don’t.

Garcia’s halfway through a story about a disastrous first date involving a karaoke bar, a broken heel, and a man who tried to freestyle a love song in Spanish, when you realize you’ve stopped tracking the words entirely. You’re smiling, nodding along, but your head’s somewhere else. Caught again in that low, persistent buzz under your skin that’s been there since you watched Emily take that unsub to the ground like it cost her nothing.

You’re not used to feeling like this. Not with a women.

You laugh when you’re supposed to. You sip your wine and nod and ask questions and smile like nothing’s wrong. Like you’re not coming apart over a crush.

Emily nudges you lightly with her elbow, her voice low against your ear.

“You okay over there?”

You blink. “What?”

“You’ve gone quiet. That’s all.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Just listening.”

She holds your gaze for a second too long before nodding, turning her attention back to JJ and Garcia. But the corner of her mouth tugs upward, like she knows you’re lying.

You sip your wine too fast and feel your face heat.

You need to keep it together. Tonight is just drinks with friends. You’re imagining things. You have to be.

The shift in conversation happened somewhere between a shared laugh and the clink of glasses against the table. Garcia stretched out on the floor, head propped on a throw pillow, and sighed dramatically.

“Alright. Worst sex.”

JJ nearly choked on a chip. “What?”

“Worst. Sex.” Garcia grinned, pointing lazily between them. “We’ve all had at least one disaster. Let’s normalize the cringe.”

Emily lifted her brows. “What is this, trauma bonding?”

Garcia grinned wider. “Exactly.”

JJ rolled her eyes but smiled. “Okay. I’ll go first, just to get it over with.” She reached for her drink, took a sip. “There was this guy in high school. We were both… enthusiastic. But he had no idea what he was doing, and I didn’t know how to say no. It was quick. Really quick. And then he cried.”

You winced sympathetically as they all burst out laughing.

Garcia twirled the stem of her glass, eyes bright with mischief. “Okay, so mine wasn’t horrifying, but… deeply, deeply uncomfortable.”

JJ grinned. “Go on.”

“There was this guy I met through a tech networking event. Tall, kind of hot in a twitchy coder way. We go back to his place, everything’s going fine, until he—” she paused dramatically “—starts narrating.”

“Narrating?” you echoed.

Garcia nodded. “Like, full-on audiobook-style. In the third person. ‘She gasped as he caressed her supple thigh.’”

You blinked. “No.”

“Oh yes. ‘Her breath came in shallow pants as passion overtook them both.’”

JJ nearly choked on her drink. “Did he stop at any point?”

“He only got more into it. Switched accents halfway through. By the end it was like being seduced by a very confused Shakespearean pirate.”

Even Emily laughed at that, covering her mouth briefly with her hand.

Garcia shrugged, mock-tragic. “I faked a leg cramp to make it stop. Haven’t read erotica the same way since.”

You laughed along with them, warm from the company and the low hum of vulnerability that had snuck into the room.

Emily leaned her elbow on the arm of the couch. “I had a one-night stand once who asked to be called Commander.” She held up a hand. “Not ironically.”

“Commander of what?” JJ asked, half laughing.

“No idea,” Emily said. “He wasn’t commanding much.”

The group laughed again. You looked down at your drink, rolling the cool glass between your palms.

When the laughter faded, Garcia’s attention flicked back to you. “Alright, quiet one. Let’s hear it.”

You glanced up, considered your words. “I don’t know if I have a worst. They’ve all kind of… blended together.”

JJ raised a brow. “That bad?”

“Not terrible,” you said slowly. “Just… average. Fine. No horror stories, but nothing worth remembering, either.”

Garcia made a sympathetic noise. “A sea of beige.”

You smiled faintly. “Pretty much.”

When you looked up again, Emily was watching you. Not overtly, not pointedly. Just something about the angle of her gaze, the way her attention lingered a half-second longer than necessary. Like she’d filed your words away somewhere quiet.

She didn’t say anything, but you felt the weight of her silence.

Not judgment. Something else.

Curiosity.

It settled in your chest, heavy and strange. You weren’t used to being the one looked at like that.

Garcia grinned over the rim of her glass and said, “Okay, I want to raise the stakes. What’s the most adventurous place you’ve ever had sex?”

JJ leaned back with a small groan. “You’re going to make us admit we were once young and stupid, aren’t you?”

Garcia raised her hand. “Guilty as charged.”

“I’ll go last,” Emily said with a slight smirk, and the way her eyes landed on you made your stomach tighten.

JJ sighed. “Alright. I’ll bite. Um... college, football stadium, upper bleachers. It was freezing, and I remember being more worried about getting caught than actually enjoying it.”

Garcia gasped. “JJ!”

JJ held up her hand. “I was nineteen and dating a linebacker, okay? Not my finest moment.”

“Mine was more recent,” Garcia said proudly. “Well, recent-ish. There was this guy I met at a cybersecurity conference in Denver. We both ditched a keynote, ended up in one of the demo rooms—”

“No,” JJ said, already laughing.

Garcia beamed. “Yes. On the table. Right next to a whiteboard that said 'penetration testing'.”

JJ nearly spat her drink. “You're kidding.”

“I never joke about puns and sex,” Garcia said solemnly.

The room was warm with laughter again. Then eyes turned to you.

You hesitated, cheeks hot, but didn’t look away. “Mine’s not that exciting. Nothing too wild. Honestly, probably... not worth mentioning.”

Emily tipped her head, amused. “Really?”

You shrugged with a vague smile. “I mean, if we’re being honest? I think I’ve had more mediocre sex than anything worth retelling.”

That quieted things for a beat.

Garcia looked at you, softer now. “That’s more common than people admit.”

Emily, though, didn’t speak right away. Her gaze was steady, one brow raised ever so slightly, a flicker of curiosity behind it. You could feel her attention settle on you in a way that made your breath catch, your skin go warm.

When she finally did speak, it was low and almost teasing. “Sounds like you’re due for a better story.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Not with your heart thudding the way it was.

Garcia moved the conversation on, asking JJ if her college boyfriend was any good, and the room filled again with laughter and chatter. But you stayed quiet a beat longer, eyes fixed on the edge of your glass, trying not to think too hard about what Emily had said. Or the fact that her gaze hadn’t quite left you yet.

The lull that had followed Garcia’s last story hung in the room like something warm and heavy. The laughter had softened into quieter smiles, everyone a little sunk into the couch cushions now, a little more relaxed. That particular kind of ease that only came from hours of comfort and a touch too much honesty.

Garcia stretched her legs out, nudging JJ’s foot with hers. “Okay. We’ve covered bad and weird. Now the real question. Ever hooked up with a woman?”

JJ gave an incredulous laugh. “Seriously?”

Garcia nodded, completely unbothered. “We’re in too deep now to play modest. Spill.”

JJ groaned lightly but gave in with a shrug. “I made out with a friend once in college. It was a party thing. We were drunk. It didn’t mean anything and we never talked about it again.”

Garcia grinned. “I knew it. You’ve got repressed college chaos written all over you.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “It was barely anything. Just curiosity and too much tequila.”

Garcia turned her smile on herself. “I’ve kissed a girl. Truth or dare, senior year of high school. Lots of lip gloss, zero follow-through. Pretty sure I just wanted to prove I’d do it.”

She looked over at Emily. “I’m guessing you’re going to outdo us all.”

Emily didn’t answer right away. She took a sip from her glass, her expression unreadable until her eyes cut sideways in that deliberate way she had when she was about to say something that might shift the room’s temperature.

Emily raised an eyebrow, slow and deliberate. “You’re assuming I have some kind of wild story.”

“You definitely do,” Garcia said with a smirk.

Emily tilted her head slightly. “Fine. I’ve been with a few women. A couple casual. One serious.”

JJ blinked. “Oh.”

Emily gave a small shrug. “I don’t really see the point in limiting myself. I like who I like.”

Your stomach fluttered. No one else reacted much. Garcia gave a satisfied little “knew it” noise and JJ just nodded but your whole body felt like it had tilted toward her.

Garcia then gave a low whistle. “That’s the coolest thing anyone’s said all night.”

JJ nodded, recovering with a grin. “Yeah. That tracks.”

Garcia didn’t hesitate. “What about you?”

You felt the question hit before you even registered the words. It took a second too long to realize she meant you.

“Me?”

Garcia raised her eyebrows, amused. “Yeah, you. Don’t try to dodge now.”

You shifted in your seat, suddenly aware of your posture, your hands, your breath. “Um. I… no. I haven’t.”

JJ’s head tilted. “Never?”

“Not like— I mean— no. Not really,” you said, voice pitching higher with every word. “I just haven’t. It’s never come up. Or… maybe it has, but not in any way I would’ve actually—” You stopped, blinked hard. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Garcia smiled gently. “You’re saying you haven’t.”

“Right,” you breathed. “Exactly. That. I haven’t.”

JJ gave a little shrug. “That’s fair. I mean, it’s not like most people go around collecting experiences just to check boxes.”

You nodded too quickly. “Right, yeah, and not that I wouldn’t— I mean, it’s not about not being open, it’s just—”

Your words collapsed on themselves, and you caught them too late. The heat climbed up your neck like wildfire.

“I mean, I guess I’ve just never been in a situation where— it’s not that I’m not curious or— no, not curious, that’s not— I mean—” You groaned softly, pressing a hand to your temple. “Wow, I need to stop talking.”

Garcia laughed, not unkindly. “Babe, you’re spiralling.”

JJ grinned. “It’s endearing though.”

You gave a strangled laugh, trying not to bury your face in a cushion. “That’s a generous word for it.”

But Emily hadn’t said anything.

You didn’t dare look at her, not yet, but you felt her. Present. Still. That heavy awareness crawling up your skin. When you finally glanced her way, she was already watching you.

Emily leaned back in her seat, slow and smooth. One arm draped over the back of the couch. She was still watching you. You could feel it, heat blooming along your skin in the places her gaze didn’t even touch. She didn’t press. She didn’t tease. She just looked.

And smiled.

It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t surprised. It was something else entirely.

A smile that knew something you didn’t.

She looked at you like she saw something she hadn’t expected but found… interesting.

Her voice was low when she finally spoke.

“Good to know.”

The words curled around your spine.

JJ and Garcia moved on quickly, bickering over something else. Another story, another joke, another ridiculous confession. The moment passed for them.

But not for you.

Your stomach flipped, something twisting tight and warm and impossible to name. You swallowed hard and turned back to the others, trying to tune back in, but everything else felt dim now. All you could feel was Emily’s eyes on you and that little smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

Like a challenge had been issued.

And accepted.

Something shifted after that.

The easy warmth that had carried through most of the night was still there on the surface, in the laughter and teasing that followed, in the half-hearted debate over who was finishing the last of the snacks and whether Garcia’s playlist was too chaotic for the mood. But under all of that, something else simmered. Something quieter. Heavier. Charged.

It was the way you became hyper-aware of Emily’s presence—every time she leaned forward to grab something off the table, every subtle brush of her hand near yours, every glance that lingered just a second too long.

It was the way you found yourself watching her mouth when she smiled. The way you couldn’t stop wondering if she was still thinking about what you’d said. About how you’d said it.

And most of all, it was the way she didn’t look away when she caught you looking.

When Garcia finally stood with a stretch and a yawn, claiming she had brunch plans in the morning, JJ followed with a murmured agreement, both of them already slipping into the familiar rhythm of gathering their things. You stood too, out of habit more than anything, but your feet felt strangely heavy.

“I’ll walk out with you,” JJ said as she grabbed her coat. “You staying?”

You gave a small shrug. “Thought I’d help Emily clean up.”

Garcia glanced over, smiling like she couldn’t help herself. “Of course you would. Teacher’s pet.”

You scoffed under your breath, not bothering to argue.

Emily called from the kitchen, her voice dry, amused. “You do realize I grade on a curve.”

JJ chuckled and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Don’t let her rope you into reorganizing her spice rack.”

“I only did that once,” Emily said as she stepped into view, a dish towel slung over her shoulder. “And it was deeply satisfying.”

Garcia laughed. “Okay, now I’m leaving before I get recruited.”

You smiled and hugged them both on their way out. JJ offered a quick “See you Monday,” and Garcia added a sing-song “Good luck.”

Then the door clicked shut behind them.

The silence that settled after they left wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t the same as before either. There was a stillness to it that made your skin feel just a little too warm.

“I can grab the glasses,” you offered quickly, a little too quickly, already halfway to the table before Emily could respond. You needed something to do with your hands.

“Be my guest,” she said lightly, her voice floating in from the kitchen.

You scooped up the glasses, including the ones that were still half-full, focusing too hard on the way they clinked together. When you brought them into the kitchen, Emily was rinsing out a bowl, her sleeves pushed up, forearms damp. She didn’t look over as you set the glasses down beside her.

She handed you a dish towel without a word, and you took it with a nod, beginning to dry them one by one. The silence wasn’t awkward. But it wasn’t exactly easy, either.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter than before.

Emily glanced your way. “I’m glad you came.”

You gave a tight nod, folding the towel in half. “It was really nice. I don’t know. I haven’t had something like this in a long time. Just… laughing, relaxing. Not thinking about work for once.”

She hummed in agreement but didn’t fill the space with anything more. She didn’t need to.

Your fingers fumbled slightly on the rim of a wine glass. You cleared your throat. “I, um… Can I say something kind of dumb?”

Emily leaned back slightly, drying her hands on her own towel. “Sure.”

You focused on the sink instead of her. “Earlier. When Garcia asked about, you know, hooking up with women. I think I made it weird.”

Her lips twitched, just slightly. “You didn’t sound like an idiot.”

You shook your head. “I just… I wasn’t expecting the question, and then I was thinking too much, and I couldn’t shut up, and then I realized I probably sounded like I was twelve and—”

“You were honest.”

You blinked. Her voice was steady. Still soft, but more certain than yours had been all night.

Your breath caught. You glanced down at the counter, your fingers tracing the edge of the towel. “I guess I was.”

Emily was still watching you. And the space between you suddenly felt smaller than it had been a moment ago.

You took a breath. “That’s not the stupid part.”

She tilted her head slightly, curious. “No?”

“No,” you said, almost too fast. You looked up at her again. “The stupid part is that I’ve spent most of tonight trying to work up the nerve to talk to you. Just you. And now this is what I’m going with.”

Emily didn’t speak right away. Her gaze flicked across your face, slow, measured. Then she straightened from the counter, took a step forward.

You pressed forward before you could lose your nerve. “I’ve been noticing things. About you. Or maybe just noticing you more, I guess. And I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Only that I think you’ve noticed it too.”

Emily smiled, slow and deliberate. “I have.”

You weren’t breathing right. “And that’s not a problem?”

She stepped closer. Not dramatically. Just enough that you felt it. The shift. The heat.

“No,” she said, soft but definite. “It’s not.”

And the air between you, impossibly, thickened again. This time with something unmistakable.

The silence stretched, but neither of you moved.

Then Emily took a slow, measured step forward. She didn’t reach for you. She didn’t speak. Just shifted closer in a way that didn’t ask anything of you but offered something all the same.

Your heart was hammering now, the rhythm loud in your ears. You watched her, not even pretending not to.

She stepped in again. Still careful. Still giving you space to stop her. To say no. You didn’t.

Your breath hitched, not out of nerves now but something sharper. Want, maybe. Anticipation. You weren’t sure you’d ever wanted anything the way you wanted this.

Emily’s gaze dropped to your mouth, then lifted to meet your eyes. Her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded before she even finished the sentence.

When she finally closed the last bit of distance and kissed you, it was soft and slow, like she meant to memorize the shape of your lips. You leaned into her without hesitation. Her hand came up to your jaw, gentle but sure, anchoring you in a way that made your knees feel unsteady.

It wasn’t rushed. There was no urgency. Just the quiet, certain heat of something new beginning.

You weren’t thinking anymore. Not about the girls’ night. Not about what you had or hadn’t said. Just her mouth on yours, warm and sure, and the quiet way her thumb brushed your cheek like she was still asking. Still waiting to see if you’d pull away.

Emily kissed you like she had time. Like there was no pressure to rush. But something in you cracked open the second her lips met yours. The restraint, the caution you’d been clinging to all night dissolved in an instant.

You pushed in, kissed her harder, like your body had finally caught up with everything your brain had been trying to suppress. A soft sound escaped you, half relief, half disbelief, and your hands moved on instinct, unsure where they were supposed to go but desperate to touch something. You caught the edge of her shirt, fingers curling there, grounding yourself.

Emily didn’t pull back. She made a quiet noise against your mouth that felt like approval and let you take the lead for a second. Let you show her how much you wanted this. How long you’d been holding back.

But once that first burst passed, the panic of inexperience caught up with you. You faltered just slightly, breath stuttering as the kiss slowed. Your hands hovered at her sides, unsure, like you’d just realized you were way out of your depth.

Emily eased off enough to rest her forehead against yours. Her breath was warm, shallow, matching yours. She gave you time, didn’t speak right away, just let the space pulse gently between you.

Your voice was barely there when it came. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Emily’s fingers brushed your wrist, her touch light. “That’s okay.”

You swallowed. “I want to. I just… I don’t know how to…”

“You don’t have to know anything,” she said, soft and even. “You’re doing fine.”

You let out something close to a laugh, nervous and breathless. “I feel like I’m going to forget how to breathe.”

Emily smiled against your cheek. “That happens.”

Her hand slid down to rest at your hip, steady and sure.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” she murmured, voice low, “but I do.”

Her fingers curled lightly around you, and before you could answer, she tilted your face up with gentle authority.

“That’s why I’m going to take care of it. Take care of you.”

Your stomach flipped. You held her gaze, caught between nerves and something far deeper.

“I’m going to tell you what I want,” she continued, slower now. “And you’re going to listen. You’ll let me show you.”

You nodded, maybe too fast.

Her hand tightened lightly at your hip. “I need to hear it.”

“Yes,” you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

That earned the smallest smile. Not sweet. Satisfied.

“Good girl.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Your face went warm. You didn’t look away.

Emily leaned in just enough to speak against your ear. “Come with me.”

You didn’t ask where. You didn’t have to.

She took your hand without waiting and turned, leading you down the hallway like she already knew you’d follow. You did. Silently, pulse pounding, the air between you tighter with every step.

She didn’t rush. Her fingers stayed curled around yours, grip firm, grounding. When she pushed open the bedroom door, she didn’t look back.

You stepped inside after her. The door clicked softly shut behind you.

Emily turned, and this time, when she looked at you, it was unmistakable.

“You’re mine tonight,” she said, voice velvet and steel. “You do exactly as I say.”

You swallowed hard, heart threatening to spill over. “Okay.”

Her smile deepened, slow and sure. “Take a breath.”

You did.

Then she stepped in close and kissed you again, and nothing in you wanted to stop her.

Emily’s lips met yours again, slow and deliberate. Her hands slid to your waist, steady but gentle, pulling you closer just enough to erase the space between you. The kiss deepened, but there was softness beneath her confidence, like she was carefully testing the waters.

Your hands trembled, hovering uncertainly before settling lightly against her sides. You weren’t sure what to do next, the flutter in your chest mixing with a growing heat.

She broke the kiss just enough to murmur against your lips, her voice low and coaxing.

“Don’t rush. Just follow me.”

Her fingers traced a teasing path along your ribs, then moved to peel back the fabric of your shirt slowly, as if savouring the moment. Every touch was deliberate but gentle, coaxing you out of your hesitation.

Her eyes met yours, glinting with something mischievous and a little wild.

“You’re new to this. That makes it all the more fun.”

You swallowed hard, breath hitching.

Her hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingers cool against your skin, exploring carefully.

“You’re safe with me,” she whispered near your ear. “Let me show you how good this can feel.”

Her touch grew bolder, sliding lower toward your waistband, teasing but patient.

“If anything feels too much, you tell me. But I have a feeling you’re ready to see just how far this can go.”

You couldn’t help the small, nervous laugh.

Emily’s smile deepened, half encouragement, half challenge.

“Good girl.”

Emily kissed you like she had all the time in the world. Then she pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. There was heat there, sure, but also something steadying. Grounded.

“Take my shirt off,” she said, voice low and certain.

Your breath caught. You nodded, hands already lifting, though your fingers trembled slightly as you reached for the hem.

She didn’t move. Didn’t help. Just watched you. Let you do it.

You pushed her shirt up slowly, knuckles grazing her skin. It slid easily up her torso, revealing pale, warm skin inch by inch. You tried not to stare, tried to keep your breathing even, but she was right there, and every part of her you uncovered felt like something you weren’t supposed to see. Not because it was off limits. Because it was sacred.

Emily’s voice came soft but firm. “You can look, sweetheart.”

You did.

She smiled, not smug but knowing. Like she’d seen the hesitation in your fingers and wanted to give you permission. Like she already knew this was new for you and wanted you to sink into it anyway.

“Now the rest,” she said.

A soft line of muscle curved beneath her ribs. A faint scar ran just above her hip, a pale streak your fingers almost followed. Her skin looked impossibly smooth, touched here and there with freckles you hadn’t noticed before.

When the shirt bunched at her shoulders, she raised her arms for you, slow and unhurried, eyes still on your face. You peeled it the rest of the way off, careful, reverent without meaning to be.

You stood there holding it for a second, unsure what to do next.

Emily took it from your hands and let it fall to the floor. Then she stepped in, close enough that you could feel the heat of her body. Her hands settled lightly at your waist.

“You can touch me,” she said, voice low. “Anywhere you want.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came.

She smiled, soft and knowing. “You don’t have to ask.”

Your hand rose like it belonged to someone else. You brushed your fingers along the slope of her collarbone, watched the way her skin warmed beneath your touch. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t move away. She let you explore, let you linger.

You traced down the curve of her shoulder, then across the edge of her bra, skin to fabric. Her breathing changed slightly. Not loud, but noticeable. She was letting you affect her.

“You’re doing fine,” she murmured.

Your fingers trailed lower, over her ribs, along the bare skin just beneath the band of her bra. Every place you touched felt new. You’d never seen a woman like this, never touched anyone like this, not like it meant something. And definitely not someone who looked at you the way Emily was looking at you now—like you were allowed to be bold. Like she wanted you to be.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” you whispered.

She tilted her head. “Like what?”

“Like I don’t want to stop.”

Emily smiled. “Then don’t.”

You leaned in, heart hammering, and kissed the base of her throat. She let her head fall back, giving you more. And when your lips brushed lower, across her chest, her fingers tightened lightly at your hips.

Still steady. Still letting you lead.

But her voice was lower now, more sure than ever. “Take the rest off.”

You hesitated, but she didn’t rush you.

So you did.

Hands trembling, heart full, eyes locked to hers. Undressing her like you were peeling away something holy. And all the while, Emily just watched, calm and quiet and entirely yours.

Emily’s hands found the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing your sides. She didn’t rush. Just that small touch was enough to make your breath catch.

“Arms up,” she said softly, a faint smile tugging at her mouth.

You obeyed without thinking. She pulled your shirt over your head, slow and smooth, her fingertips grazing bare skin on the way up. Her eyes stayed on you as she dropped the shirt to the floor. Her gaze wasn’t harsh or assessing. It lingered, deliberate, taking you in like she wanted to memorize every part of you. The thrill of it hummed under your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, not as a compliment, but as a fact.

Your stomach flipped. You started to speak, but her fingers skimmed along your waistband and you forgot how to form words. She didn’t reach for the button. Not yet. Just let her knuckles trace the edge of your jeans, featherlight and maddening.

“Can I?” she asked, voice lower now.

You nodded too quickly. “Yes.”

Emily’s fingers dipped to the button and slid it open, then slowly tugged down your zipper. Her hands brushed your hips, then slid the denim down your legs with aching patience. Each inch of skin revealed felt like it was being unwrapped for her and her alone.

She helped you step out, then her hands smoothed back up your thighs, dragging the faintest touch behind them. She didn’t reach for your underwear. Not yet. Her thumbs traced the curve of your hips, your waist, the dip below your ribs.

Her mouth came close again. “Touch me,” she said, low and coaxing. “Anywhere you want.”

You exhaled shakily, your fingers lifting to her skin, unsure where to start. She guided your hand to her waist, and the moment you felt the heat of her there, under your palm, something in you settled. She was solid. Warm. Real.

“You won’t get it wrong,” she whispered.

Your fingertips wandered. Her side. Her stomach. The soft skin just above the band of her underwear. She let you explore, let you learn her, while her hands kept wandering over your own bare skin, teasing, coaxing, always just enough to leave you aching for more.

You didn’t know how far she’d take this. You only knew you didn’t want it to stop.

Emily’s lips brushed your jaw, then down your neck, slow and deliberate. Her fingers kept tracing along your bare skin, touching just enough to make you tremble. You were warm all over, flushed and breathless, your hands resting uncertainly against her sides.

“Look at me,” she said, voice a little rough now.

You did. Her eyes held yours like a tether, steady and inescapable.

“Take off my bra.”

Your fingers shook slightly as you reached behind her, fumbling just once before the clasp came undone. The soft stretch of her bra gave under your touch, and Emily held your gaze as the straps slipped from her shoulders. She didn’t move to cover herself. She let the bra fall away.

And your breath caught.

You hadn’t expected to be so overwhelmed by the sight of her, but there was something dizzying about it. Her breasts were full and natural, everything about her unapologetically real, the gentle swell of her curves pulling your eyes with magnetic force. You hadn’t meant to stare, but your gaze lingered, helpless.

Emily tilted her head, and her smile was quiet but unmistakably knowing. She saw it all—the stunned look in your eyes, the flush creeping up your neck.

“You like looking at me,” she said, not a question.

You nodded, mouth dry. “You’re beautiful.”

She stepped closer, closing the space between you. Her hands found your wrists, and she brought them slowly upward until your palms hovered just in front of her chest.

“Then touch me,” she said, voice lower now. “Here.”

Your breath hitched. Your fingers curled slightly, brushing the warm skin just above the soft curve of her breast. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t push. She just waited for you to want it enough.

And you did. God, you did.

You let your hands settle there, the weight and heat of her beneath your palms making your whole body buzz. Her nipples were already peaked, and the contrast of softness and firmness under your fingers sent a jolt through your core. You felt clumsy, heart racing so fast it was hard to think.

This wasn’t just curiosity. This wasn’t just exploration.

This was hunger, finally given permission.

Emily let out a quiet hum, her eyes half-lidded as she watched you. Her hands slid to your waist, thumbs stroking bare skin.

“You’re doing so well,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. You were drunk on the way she felt, the warmth of her, the way she leaned into your touch without hesitation. And the more you touched, the more you wanted.

You didn’t know exactly what came over you. Just that touching her wasn’t enough anymore. That the sound of her breath catching, the way her eyes fluttered when you brushed your thumbs across her nipples, had lit something up inside you.

You wanted more of that. Needed it.

Your mouth found her collarbone first, uncertain but eager. A kiss. Then another. Emily’s skin was soft beneath your lips, tasting faintly of salt and skin and something entirely hers. You trailed slowly lower, guided by instinct, spurred on by the quiet sound she made when you grazed your teeth lightly just below her neck.

Her fingers tightened at your sides, not harsh but anchoring. She wasn’t stopping you. If anything, she was letting you take what you wanted.

And you wanted everything.

You dipped lower, kissing down her sternum, pausing just above the swell of her breast. You hesitated for half a second, looking up.

Emily met your eyes. “Go on,” she said, breathier than before. “You can taste me.”

That was all the encouragement you needed.

You closed your mouth around her nipple, tentative at first. The moment you did, she let out a soft moan. Low, real, impossibly beautiful. Your body pulsed in response. That sound undid you. You sucked gently, then swirled your tongue, just to see if she’d do it again.

She did.

Her head tipped back slightly, lips parting as another soft moan escaped. And you felt it everywhere. Like electricity under your skin.

You kissed and licked and sucked until you were shaking with the need to hear more of her. The sounds she made were delicate but raw, encouragement in every breath, every subtle shift of her hips toward you. She threaded her fingers into your hair, not controlling, just holding you there, as if she didn’t want you to stop either.

You shifted to her other breast, more confident now. Greedy for more of her. You loved the way her breath hitched when your teeth grazed lightly, the way her back arched the slightest bit when you lathed her with your tongue.

God, she was beautiful. And you were making her fall apart.

The power of it sank into your bones, heady and wild. You wanted to worship her. To make her keep making those sounds for as long as she’d let you.

You stayed there a little longer, mouthing at her skin like you could commit the shape of her to memory. You dragged your tongue slowly across the soft curve of her breast, kissed the underside, then pressed your lips to the spot just above her heart. She made a sound again, breathy and quiet, like she was feeling everything you were giving her.

Her fingers slid from your hair, tracing lightly along your jaw, then down your neck. “You’re doing so well,” she said, her voice low and warm.

You swallowed, flushed with the praise, and kissed your way back up to her mouth. She kissed you like she already knew exactly how you liked to be kissed. Deep and unhurried, her hand settling at the base of your throat.

When you finally pulled back to breathe, she looked at you with heat that made your stomach flip.

“Now,” she said, with a touch more certainty, “take off my panties.”

You nodded before you could think. Your hands drifted down to her hips, fingertips brushing the waistband. She didn’t move to help. She just watched you, letting you fumble your way through, your fingers snagging slightly as you eased the lace down over her thighs.

You kept your eyes on the fabric at first, too focused to look up, then finally you dared.

She was beautiful.

Your gaze flicked over the dark hair between her legs, the softness of her skin, the quiet confidence in the way she stood, letting you see all of her. She didn’t flinch or hide. She wasn’t performing either. She was just… letting you look. Letting you want.

Emily’s fingers trailed from your wrist up the length of your arm, slipping over the curve of your shoulder. Her touch was featherlight, deliberate, like she was studying the way your skin responded to her.

“You’re still wearing too much,” she said quietly.

You shivered.

Her hand settled at the base of your spine, the heat of it making your breath catch. She leaned in, her mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “Let me see you.”

You nodded, unsure if your voice would work even if you tried.

She took her time. Her fingers found the clasp of your bra with ease, not fumbling, not asking, just knowing. She didn’t undo it right away, just let her knuckles brush across your back. You could feel her breathing behind you, calm and steady, grounding.

Then she unhooked it.

You felt the fabric loosen across your chest, her hand guiding the straps down your arms one at a time. She let it fall between you, her eyes lowering as she took you in.

Her gaze was careful but unflinching, like she didn’t want to miss a single detail. Her hands rose again, slower this time, fingertips brushing the sides of your breasts, light enough to make your skin prickle.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, not as a comfort, not as a line, but as a truth.

You tried to respond but couldn’t. Your mouth had gone dry. You couldn’t remember how to stand still, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move either.

Her hands dipped lower. She traced the waistband of your panties, her thumbs brushing over your hips, smoothing along the edges like she was testing how much you could take before unravelling.

“You want me to keep going?”

You nodded, eager and breathless.

Emily’s voice was quiet but firm. “Use your words.”

Your breath stuttered. “Yes. Please.”

Emily smiled, soft but sure, and knelt just enough to ease the last barrier down your thighs. She didn’t rush. Her palms dragged slowly over your legs as she pulled the fabric away, and you swore every nerve in your body sparked to life under her touch.

When she stood again, her gaze swept over you without hesitation.

And you let her look.

Because in her eyes, you weren’t something to be embarrassed about. You were something to be savoured.

Emily leaned in, pressed a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another at your jaw. Her voice was low when she spoke. “Get on the bed.”

Your legs moved before your brain could catch up. You climbed onto the mattress, heart still pounding, skin warm and bare beneath the dim light. You sat back on your heels, unsure what to do with your hands again, unsure of anything except that you wanted her.

Emily joined you without hesitation, kneeling close, the mattress shifting beneath her weight. Her body was all soft skin and quiet strength, and when she reached for you, it was to draw your hand into hers again.

“I want you to touch me,” she said, clear and calm. “Anywhere you want. However you want. You have permission.”

You swallowed hard. “You’re sure?”

Her hand lifted to your cheek, thumb brushing gently over your lips. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded, pulse racing. “Okay.”

She leaned back slightly, giving you room, her expression soft with patience. The invitation was real. She was offering herself to you. Not just physically, but with trust, with confidence, with the kind of permission that made your stomach flip and your fingertips itch to move.

You reached for her slowly, starting with the curve of her shoulder, your hand gliding down the length of her arm. Her skin was warm, smooth. You traced the line of her collarbone, watched the way her breath hitched slightly when your fingers grazed just beneath it.

Your other hand found her waist, and you leaned in closer, letting your fingertips explore the dip of her side, the curve of her hip. Her skin tightened there, a slight shiver running through her.

You looked up, half-questioning.

Emily’s eyes were darker now. “Keep going.”

So you did.

You ran your palms up her sides, over the swell of her breasts, careful at first. She inhaled slowly when you cupped them, the weight of them perfect in your hands. Her nipple hardened under your thumb, and the quiet sound she made in response made your stomach twist with need.

You did it again, slower this time, and she let her eyes flutter shut for a second.

You kissed her collarbone, then lower, your mouth moving with growing confidence as you explored every inch you could reach. Her reactions—small gasps, sharp intakes of breath, the way her hips shifted subtly toward you—became their own kind of map.

You learned quickly what made her sigh, what made her arch into your touch, what made her fingers grip the sheets without meaning to.

And you wanted to learn everything.

Your hands moved with more confidence now, your mouth pressing slow, open kisses over the swell of her breasts, down the plane of her stomach. Every sound Emily gave you in return felt like reward. Encouragement. Proof that you were doing something right.

Emily’s breath hitched, and she looked down at your hand, then back up at you.

“Massage them,” she said, voice quiet but sure. “Not too soft. I like pressure.”

You adjusted, cupping her fully, watching the way her chest rose under your touch. Her skin was warm, her nipple tightening against your palm. You glanced up again, gauging her reaction.

She gave you a small, wicked smile. “They’re sensitive.”

You let your thumb drag over the peak and she inhaled sharply.

“Pinch a little,” she said. “Not too hard. Just enough.”

Your fingers obeyed, slow and careful. Her eyelids fluttered, lips parting as she let out a low sound that lit something hot in your chest.

“Good,” she breathed. “Now your mouth.”

You didn’t hesitate this time. You leaned in and took her nipple into your mouth, sucking softly first, then harder when she guided you with a whispered, “More.”

Her hand came to rest lightly in your hair, not pushing or holding, just staying there while your tongue moved and her back arched under you.

“That’s it,” she said, voice raspier now. “Just like that.”

You didn’t know you could make someone sound like that. And now that you had, you needed to hear more of it.

Your mouth moved with more confidence now, lips sealing around her nipple, tongue circling before you sucked again, just like she’d asked. The sound she made in response was low and breathless, and it thudded through your chest like a heartbeat.

Her fingers curled a little tighter in your hair, not controlling, just anchoring, her body shifting beneath yours. You could feel how her breath stuttered when you scraped your teeth ever so lightly, how her hips gave a tiny, involuntary twitch when you pinched the other nipple between your fingers.

“Keep going,” she said, a little rough now, voice deeper. “You’re doing so well.”

Your pulse was racing, your nerves strung tight with the weight of her body and voice. Every sound she made, every flicker of pleasure across her face, pulled you deeper. You kissed down her chest, your mouth trailing slow heat along the curve of her breast and back again. You wanted to explore more, to find out what else made her gasp like that.

Your hand slid down, tentative, brushing over her side and across the dip of her waist. Emily shifted slightly, parting her legs just enough to guide you where she wanted you.

She met your eyes, gaze dark and certain. “You can touch me wherever you want… but if you really want to make me feel good, I’ll show you how.”

You nodded, breath shaky, fingers trembling a little as you rested your palm on the inside of her thigh.

Her voice dipped even lower. “Start slow. Use your fingers. Just there.”

She guided your hand again, her own resting lightly over yours for a beat before letting you continue on your own. Her thighs parted more, and you followed the direction of her gaze, your fingertips brushing over soft hair and flushed skin.

She gasped quietly when you found her, and your whole body warmed with it.

“Just like that,” she said, her hips tilting up to meet your touch. “Now rub in slow circles. Gentle.”

You followed her words, watching her reactions, studying every shift of her body. She kept whispering what she liked, what she wanted more of. You were listening so closely you felt like you could hear her heartbeat under your skin.

“Good girl,” she breathed when you did something right, her voice curling around the words like a reward. “Keep going. You’re making me feel so good.”

You brushed over her clit gently, testing, and the sound Emily made—low and pleased—went straight through you. You circled there, light and careful, your fingers gliding over her with an ease that made your own thighs clench. She was soaked, velvet and heat beneath your touch, and the realization of just how wet she was because of you sent a pulse of arousal between your legs.

You couldn’t help it. The more she shifted into your hand, the more you felt how her body welcomed you, the more turned on you became. You ached, breath shaky as you focused on her reactions, trying to memorize what made her sigh and what made her hips twitch. Your whole body buzzed with it, a thrilling hum under your skin that left you needing friction, contact, something to ground you.

“God,” you whispered without meaning to, breath hitching as your fingers traced her again. “You feel so good.”

Emily’s hand touched your shoulder lightly. “So do you. You’re doing perfect.”

You nodded, lips parted, every nerve lit up. You kept circling her clit slowly, your fingers moving more confidently now, watching the way she tilted her hips, chasing the pressure. You could feel her getting even wetter under your touch, and it made something hot pool low in your stomach. Your own arousal dripping between your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t stop your fingers from exploring every inch of her.

“Inside,” Emily said softly, her voice steady but lower now. “Slip your fingers inside me.”

You dragged your fingers down, collecting the slickness there, and pushed in carefully. She was hot and tight, her walls hugging you, and the feeling of being inside her made your head spin.

You let out a shaky breath. “Oh my god…”

Emily gave a soft moan, one that made your pulse pound harder. “Keep going.”

You added another finger, her body stretching around you, welcoming you in. Your thumb returned to her clit, rubbing it in slow circles as your fingers curled gently inside her, and the sound she made—throaty and desperate—was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“Just like that,” she said, her voice breathless. “Don’t stop.”

Emily's breath caught, hips rolling into your hand, and she reached down, her fingers brushing your wrist. Not to stop you, but to guide. Her touch was gentle, instructive, the way she always was when teaching. Steady. Sure.

"Slow your fingers just a little," she murmured, her voice low and coaxing. "Feel how wet I am? You don't need to rush."

You adjusted your rhythm, letting your thumb move in slower, more deliberate circles over her clit while your fingers curled inside her. The change made her inhale through her teeth, and that sound sent another surge of heat through you. You felt her tighten, pulse around your fingers, and your heart kicked in your chest.

You could barely breathe, mesmerized by the way she felt. The way she responded to you. Slick heat clung to your fingers, and the way she opened for you, the way she moved with you, made you feel like you were learning a secret language only the two of you could speak.

"Try pressing harder now," she said, her voice dipping slightly, threaded with a restrained sort of hunger. "And angle your hand up, just a bit. There. Feel that?"

You did. The soft spot inside that made her gasp when your fingertips brushed it. You felt your own breath stutter, desire tightening through your belly.

You couldn’t speak. Your mouth was dry, your body flushed with heat. But you obeyed, pressing into her with more confidence now. Each roll of your fingers inside her, every slow swirl of your thumb over her clit, pulled more sounds from her. Soft moans. Sharp sighs. Her thighs quivered beside you, her belly tight with pleasure.

"You can go a little harder," she encouraged, her tone more breathless now but still holding that note of control. "A little faster. There. God, yes."

You could feel her getting closer. The way her muscles tensed, the way her hips chased each thrust. It made you hungrier, more desperate to push her over that edge.

"You like making me feel this good, don’t you?" she asked, her hand cupping your jaw, tilting your face to look at her.

You nodded quickly, eyes wide, your voice catching in your throat. "Yes. I… I really do."

"Then keep going," she whispered, her lips brushing your temple. "Don't stop until I cum on your fingers."

That command lit a fire under your skin. You tightened your focus, fingers working her just right, thumb slick and steady on her clit. She was soaked, impossibly warm, her body drawing you in and clenching around your fingers in waves.

You wanted more. Needed more. Her moans had rooted deep under your skin, blooming in your chest like something wild. You stayed with your fingers for a moment longer, feeling the slick heat of her, the way she clenched around you, but the ache inside you pushed harder.

And you wanted her praise again. Needed her to tell you you were doing good.

So you leaned down.

Your mouth found her, and you sucked her clit gently between your lips. The moment it happened, she gasped, hips twitching under you.

"God," she breathed, her hand tangling in your hair, not guiding, just holding. "Yes… yes, just like that."

You moaned into her, the sound vibrating softly against her. Her taste coated your tongue, and the way her body reacted to every careful suck, every swirl of your tongue, sent sparks down your spine. You wrapped your lips tighter around her, letting your tongue flick slow circles before sucking her clit into your mouth again, holding it there until her thighs trembled against your shoulders.

"You're doing so well for me," she said, voice rough with pleasure. Her praise was like gasoline to the fire already tearing through you. "So eager. So fucking sweet."

You pushed in deeper with your fingers again, curling them just right while your mouth stayed focused on her clit, and that pulled another cry from her. Her hand tightened slightly in your hair.

"You wanted this, didn’t you?" she asked, breathless. "You wanted to hear me fall apart for you."

You nodded against her, mouth still moving, tongue pressing and swirling, trying to learn every inch of her. The softness of her skin, the subtle scratch of hair under your fingers, the heat that seemed to pulse harder with every second.

"Don’t stop," she said, voice breaking just a little. "Make me cum, sweetheart. Show me how badly you want it."

You moaned again, pressing in harder, lips slick, chin wet, every muscle in your body focused on giving her everything she asked for.

Emily's voice wavered above you, breath catching as her hips rolled in time with your mouth. You didn’t slow down. Couldn’t. The taste of her, the feel of her body under your hands, the way she responded to every flick of your tongue—it had you spiralling.

Her hand cradled the back of your head now, fingers threaded gently through your hair. Not holding you in place, just feeling you there.

“God,” she breathed. “You’re a natural.”

The praise hit you like heat rushing down your spine. You moaned into her, lips tightening just slightly around her clit, your tongue circling in response.

She let out a sharp breath, pleasure etched into her every word. “You really didn’t know what you were doing, huh?”

You shook your head, the motion slight, your mouth too full of her to speak.

She laughed, low and wrecked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Your heart thudded, everything in you pulling toward her voice, her pleasure, the praise she gave so easily. Her thighs trembled again, and you shifted your fingers, curling them deeper, more confident now, coaxing her toward the edge. You’d never wanted anything more than to give her exactly what she needed.

You sucked her clit into your mouth again, slow and deliberate, and the sound Emily made was nothing short of wrecked. Her hips bucked in response, legs tightening around you just enough to make you feel surrounded, grounded in her body and her need.

She was soaked beneath your fingers, your knuckles slick where you kept curling them up into her heat. The warmth of her, the way she pulsed around you, the taste of her on your tongue—it made your whole body thrum. You were soaked, throbbing, every nerve pulled tight with how much you wanted her praise, her pleasure, the feeling of giving this to her.

Emily’s breath caught as your tongue moved in tighter circles. “That’s it,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “You’re doing so well.”

Your heart skipped. You could feel yourself clench around nothing, her words alone making you ache. You wanted more of them. Needed them. You curled your fingers just right again, angling upward the way she’d shown you earlier, and her hips jerked.

“Mmm—yes. There. Right there,” she panted.

You kept going, pressing deeper with your fingers while your mouth worked her clit in slow, rhythmic suction, your tongue flicking at the swollen bundle of nerves. You could feel how close she was. The way her thighs trembled. The tension coiling tighter in her stomach. You were learning her like a language, and she was teaching you everything with each gasp, each twitch, each instruction.

“Look at you. You want to make me come, don’t you?”

You moaned softly, mouth still on her, and her whole body responded, hips canting forward. You pressed harder, tongue swirling around her clit as your fingers pumped deeper, steady and slick.

“Good girl,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Don’t stop. You’re going to make me come just like this.”

And you would. You wanted that more than anything. To feel her fall apart from your mouth, from your hands, from the way you were learning every inch of her. Your own thighs rubbed together, aching from how turned on you were, but you didn’t care. You were completely focused on her—on the way she started to lose rhythm, gasps breaking apart, her moans high and desperate now.

You could feel it. She was right on the edge. And you were going to take her over.

Her body arched under your mouth, her hips jerking forward as your tongue flicked faster, more focused, your fingers curling up with deliberate pressure, just the way she liked. Emily’s breath caught in her throat, a strangled sound that turned into a low, drawn-out moan.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, her hand fisting in the sheets, the other trembling against your shoulder. “Don’t stop. Right there, right there.”

You kept the rhythm steady, your lips sealed around her clit, sucking gently, tongue circling, fingertips pressing deep inside her heat. She was so wet now, your hand soaked, the slick heat of her dripping down your wrist. Your whole body ached with how much you needed her to fall apart. You wanted to be the reason she lost control.

Then her moan broke into something sharper, a high cry that sounded like it surprised even her. Her thighs clamped around you, shaking.

“I’m—fuck, I’m cumming,” she choked out.

She shattered against you, her body jerking with each wave of it. A hot rush slicked over your hand, sudden and intense, and you felt her tense again with the force of it, hips lifting off the bed. She was gasping, half-laughing, completely undone as her orgasm crashed through her, and your hand was still moving, fingers soaked and still inside her, tongue slowing as you rode it out with her.

The wet sound of her release filled the air, and you didn’t stop until she was pulling back, trembling, breathless, her body still twitching beneath your hands.

You lifted your head slowly, lips slick, blinking up at her.

Emily let out a breathless laugh, collapsing back onto the pillows, one arm thrown over her eyes.

“Jesus,” she murmured, voice low and wrecked. “You really are a fucking natural.”

Emily was still catching her breath, chest rising and falling with each slow exhale. Her hand drifted down from her face to trace lightly along her belly, then lower, as if to remind herself she was still there, still real. Her eyes found you again, half-lidded and warm, a lazy, sated smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“You were perfect,” she said, her voice rough and low. “So eager.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You were buzzing, flushed with heat and pride, and the taste of her was still warm on your lips. You looked down at your hand, fingers slick and glistening, and something bold in you stirred. Slowly, you raised them to your mouth. Your tongue darted out first, then you took them between your lips, sucking gently, tasting every trace of her.

Emily watched you with a look that changed as you did it. That satisfied softness sharpened, her eyes darkening with something hungrier. She sat up slowly, one hand reaching out just as you let your fingers fall from your mouth.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, voice rough around the edges.

Her hand slid over your belly, fingers curling tight around your hip as she pushed you onto your back. The shift was effortless, like claiming what was hers. Her body came with it, following you down, the weight of her pressing into your skin just enough to leave your breath shallow.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” she whispered, mouth brushing your cheek before trailing to your ear. Her breath was hot. “I’m not done with you.”

Her hand trailed lower, slipping between your thighs. The sound she made when she felt how wet you still were—deep and guttural—pushed your knees wider without her having to ask.

“Fuck,” she muttered, fingers teasing through your slick. “You’re soaked. All for me.”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough.

Emily pulled back just far enough to look at you. Her hair was wild now, her lips flushed, and her stare pinned you in place. “You’re going to rub that sweet little cunt against mine,” she said, low and slow. “You’re going to let me feel you cum like that.”

Your breath caught, body already shifting under her words. The heat in her voice spread through you like a slow current, waking something deep in your belly.

“But first,” Emily said, bending to press her mouth to your collarbone, “I want to feel you a little longer.”

Her tongue traced a warm line against your skin before she kissed you there, slow and wet. Her fingers glided through the slick between your thighs, knuckles dragging just enough to make you twitch. Every pass was measured. She could’ve gone deeper and faster but she didn’t. She played, brushed her fingertips over your entrance, circling just inside without giving you the pressure you craved.

You whimpered, hips tilting in a silent plea.

Emily’s lips curved. She nuzzled against your neck, voice all silk and sin. “Look at you. Barely even touching you and already so desperate. Is that for me, baby?”

You nodded fast, breath catching again. “Yes. Please, I need—”

She slid a single finger into you, the movement slow and deliberate. It had your mouth falling open, your legs parting wider around her.

“There it is,” she whispered, mouth dragging up to your jaw. “God, you feel so fucking good around me.”

Your hands found her shoulders, clutching at bare skin. “Emily—”

Her teeth grazed your earlobe. “You gonna tell me what you want? Or do I have to keep teasing you until you forget how to speak?”

“More,” you gasped. “Please, more.”

She gave you a second finger, curling them inside you, her thumb pressing lightly against your clit—not enough, but enough to make you whine.

“Good girl,” she breathed, pumping slowly. “So wet. You like having my fingers in you like this?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes. Yes, I—fuck—yes.”

“Thought so,” she said, lowering her mouth to yours for a kiss that was all tongue and heat. “Now lie back. Let me see you.”

You shifted, spine arching as you settled into the pillows. Your legs stayed open for her without thinking. Emily sat up just enough to look you over, her hair messy, lips kissed red, eyes dark with hunger.

“You’re unreal,” she said. “Every fucking part of you.”

Then she moved—slow and smooth, her thigh slipping between yours, her hips lowering. You felt the heat of her before you felt the slick glide of her against you, wet and soft, her skin sticking to yours in the most delicious way.

You both gasped, the contact sparking low and deep.

“Oh my god,” you breathed.

Emily moaned softly, grinding in slow circles. “You feel that? That’s us. That’s what I’ve been thinking about since the second I saw you.”

She adjusted the angle, and the drag of her clit against yours made you jolt.

“There it is,” she whispered. “Don’t hold back. I want to feel everything.”

Your body bucked on instinct. You ground down again, chasing that flash of friction. Your thighs tensed around hers, desperate to pull her closer, to trap her right there and keep her locked against you.

“Fuck, yes,” Emily gasped. Her hands grabbed at your waist, dragging you tighter until your soaked skin pressed flush to hers. You both hissed at the contact, wet and slippery, Too much and not enough.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Every shift of her hips rubbed your clit against hers, sending sharp jolts through your nerves. The drag of her heat over yours was filthy, obscene, perfect.

She moved harder, sloppier, chasing it with you. Your moans tangled together in the hot air between your mouths. You clutched at her ass, pulling her in, rolling your hips like you needed to fuse your body to hers.

“Just like that,” she panted. “Fuck yourself on me.”

You were already there. Mindless with it. Sweat clung to your skin, her thigh slid against yours, everything wet and slick and pulsing.

You whimpered and rocked harder, your rhythm messy now. Her hand slid between your bodies, fingers catching where your clits met. She didn’t do anything with them. She just held you there, pressed firm so every grind sent heat shooting up your spine.

“You’re gonna cum like this,” she breathed, voice cracking at the edges. “Fucking soaked, fucking desperate. I can feel you shaking.”

You couldn’t even answer. Your whole body was locked in it, your breath caught, nails digging into her hips, legs shaking.

Emily ground down harder, pace rough and frantic now, her body shuddering every time your clits dragged together.

“God, you’re hot like this,” she said, mouth finding yours, swallowing every cry, every gasp. “Don’t stop. Rub that pretty pussy against me until you cum.”

And you were so fucking close. Right there. Thighs trembling, everything inside you wound tight and screaming.

“Please,” you gasped, voice cracking.

Emily groaned. “Please what?”

You could barely form words. Your body was shaking, your clit throbbing where it dragged over hers. Every motion was soaked and slippery, the obscene squelch of it only making you wetter, needier. You choked out a moan.

“Please, Emily, I need it. I need to cum.”

Her laugh was breathless and low. “You do? You that close already?”

You nodded frantically, grinding up into her. The movement made you sob, your stomach tightening.

“Then earn it,” she said, voice thick with arousal. “Show me how bad you want it.”

You whined, high and broken, and did exactly that. Your hands gripped her ass, dragging her harder against you, the press of your hips relentless. The grind of her against you was so slick, your clits slipping and catching over and over in that perfect, swollen rhythm. You could feel how wet she was, how swollen and hot, and it only made you push harder.

You cried out, your thighs trembling, the friction sharp and pulsing. She wasn’t teasing anymore. She was grinding right back, riding the pace you set, chasing her own release while coaxing yours out of you.

“Emily—please—fuck—I need it—” It came out as a sob, a moan, everything tangled.

“I know, baby. I can feel how close you are. That little clit’s throbbing, isn’t it? You can barely keep going.”

You gasped, nodding helplessly, hips jerking as your whole body wound tighter. Your hands clutched her waist, fingers digging into the slick heat of her skin, and you didn’t care that your rhythm had gone frantic. You didn’t care that you could barely breathe. You just needed it. Needed her.

The pressure broke all at once.

Your hips jerked, mouth falling open on a strangled cry as your orgasm slammed through you. It wasn’t slow or soft. It hit like lightning, raw and electric, rolling through every muscle and setting your nerves on fire. Your thighs clamped around Emily’s, the only thing grounding you as you came hard, grinding through it with desperate, stuttering movements.

Emily didn’t let up. She kept moving with you, kept the slick friction between you going as you writhed beneath her. Her hands held your hips down, guiding your motion even as your body trembled uncontrollably, dragging out the pleasure until it felt unbearable.

“That’s it,” she groaned, watching you fall apart. “So fucking beautiful like this. Look at you. Can’t stop cumming, can you?”

You whined something broken, maybe her name, maybe nothing at all. Your fingers dug into her arms, eyes squeezed shut, tears slipping free from the sheer intensity of it. Everything pulsed. Everything clenched. Your clit throbbed with every roll of her hips, every brush of slick heat against you, and you couldn’t stop moving. Couldn’t stop chasing it even as it shattered you from the inside out.

Emily leaned over you, close enough to pant against your cheek, her voice soft and low. “You feel so fucking good. Making a mess all over me. You came so hard for me.”

Emily was panting now, loud and ragged, her rhythm falling apart as her slick body slid against yours. Her grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place while her thigh flexed under yours. Every grind of her body sparked another jolt deep in your core, the mess between you only heightening the urgency.

Her moans were getting louder, rough and unfiltered, like she couldn’t control them. Her movements grew frantic, your soaked cunt dragging against hers in wet, desperate strokes that made both of you shudder.

"Fuck," she choked out, voice breaking on the edge. "You're making me lose it."

Your legs trembled around hers. You felt everything. The tension coiling in her body, the slick slide of your clits catching just right, the heat rolling off her skin in waves. You couldn't stop, didn’t want to. Your hips moved on instinct, chasing it again even as you throbbed with oversensitivity.

Emily’s head tipped back, hair sticking to her damp shoulders, her mouth parted in a gasp. Her fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you tighter against her, grinding until her whole body seized up.

You watched her come apart.

She arched hard, her thighs trembling as a guttural cry ripped from her throat. Her hips bucked once, twice, then stilled in a slow, grinding push that kept you locked together. Her orgasm ripped through her like it had been waiting, building under the surface, and now it flooded out all at once.

She cursed under her breath, barely coherent, her body twitching through every wave of it. Her hands were still on you, still gripping, like she needed to feel you under her to survive it.

You were shaking too, lips parted, watching the way she unraveled. There was no control left in her. Just raw need and overwhelming release, her body slick and flushed and beautiful in the afterglow.

When her breathing finally slowed, she slumped forward slightly, not close enough to kiss you, but her hand found yours. She laced your fingers together, squeezing tight, grounding herself even as both your thighs still twitched from the lingering heat.

Emily eventually shifted, sliding her thigh out from between yours with a slow, deliberate motion. Her body was still warm, still humming, but the tension had melted away. She collapsed beside you with a satisfied groan, dragging a hand lazily up your stomach.

Neither of you said anything right away.

The room was quiet except for your breathing, still slightly uneven. Sheets tangled loosely around your legs, the air thick with sweat and heat, but not uncomfortable. Your skin buzzed with aftershocks, the ache between your thighs grounding you even as your mind started to slip.

Emily reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed and tugged it over both of you, her hand brushing over your hip as she settled back. Her bare arm curled around your waist, guiding you closer until your body pressed against hers, skin to skin. Her breath tickled the top of your head when she spoke.

“You’re something else,” she said softly, almost a laugh.

The corner of your mouth lifted, but you didn’t say anything.

Her fingers traced a slow line up your spine, and the comfort of it sank in deeper than you expected. The sex had been intense, sure, but now everything felt softer. Calmer. You weren’t used to this kind of quiet.

Emily’s thumb skimmed over your shoulder blade, then stilled. She glanced down and caught the tension creeping back into your face. The way your brows had drawn together just slightly. How your gaze had fixed somewhere past her collarbone, unfocused.

“You good?” she asked gently.

You blinked, trying to clear your thoughts, but she could see it. The overthinking settling in behind your eyes. The way your body, even as it rested against hers, had gone just a little too still.

Emily didn’t push. She just waited, her hand smoothing in slow strokes over your back. Warm, steady, unhurried. Something in the way she watched you made it clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

You didn’t answer right away. Emily’s hand was soft against your back, tracing idle lines over your spine like she could keep you calm just through touch. It almost worked. But the silence stretched too long. Your head filled it with noise.

“I don’t know what happens now,” you said, your voice small in the dark.

Emily’s hand stilled.

You were still looking at the wall, your cheek pressed against her shoulder. You hated how unsure your voice sounded, how exposed it made you feel, but it was already out there.

“I mean…” You tried to laugh, but it cracked halfway through. “I’ve never done this before,” you admitted. “Not with a woman. Not like this. I thought it would be confusing, but it’s not. That’s the problem. It felt too easy. Like something clicked into place.”

The lump in your throat made your next breath catch. You buried your face further into her shoulder, suddenly ashamed of how much you felt. Of how quickly it was all happening.

“And now I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t know when it happened but it hit me so fast, and I just feel like I’ve been spinning trying to catch up ever since.”

You paused, your voice catching. “What if this was just… fun for you? Just sex? What if I’m the only one who feels like this means something?”

That was the part you hadn’t meant to say out loud. You could feel your cheeks flush and the pressure build behind your eyes.

“I know it’s fast. I know I probably sound ridiculous. But I just… I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t know how to act or what to say, and I keep thinking maybe this didn’t mean the same thing to you. Maybe it was just something we did. Maybe you don’t want anything more.”

You swallowed hard and kept your voice quiet. “Because I do. I want more. I want you.”

Your fingers fidgeted against the sheets, nervous energy building in your chest with every word.

You felt her breath deepen beside you, but she didn’t interrupt. She let you speak.

The room was quiet except for your heartbeat, loud in your ears. You kept your face hidden, ashamed of how raw your voice sounded.

“I guess I’m scared,” you whispered.

You didn’t need to say more. Emily could feel the rest in your silence. The knot of emotion under your ribs. The fear of being too vulnerable, too intense, too open. The fear of hoping for something real and being wrong about it. You wanted to believe this was more than a night, but you didn’t know how to ask. You didn’t want to put words to it if it would make her pull away.

Emily shifted slightly, just enough to nudge you back so she could see your face. Her hand found your jaw, coaxing you gently to look at her. She didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at you with something soft and steady in her eyes, something that made your chest ache.

Then her thumb traced just beneath your cheekbone.

“You’re not too much,” she said, quiet but certain. “Not even close.”

Your throat tightened again, but this time it wasn’t fear that did it. It was the way she looked at you. Like you weren’t something complicated or fragile or difficult. Just someone she wanted to hold.

She kept her tone gentle. “And it wasn’t just something we did. Not to me. You didn’t imagine any of this.”

You felt her exhale, like she was grounding herself in the moment.

“I’ve been where you are. I’ve had the same questions, the same doubts. Wondering if I was reading it wrong, if I’d come on too strong, if I was going to wake up in the morning and regret how much I let myself want someone. I’ve been that afraid.”

Your fingers had stopped twitching. Your breath slowed just enough for her to notice.

“But I’m not afraid now,” she said. “Not with you.”

You swallowed thickly, throat tight, but you didn’t interrupt. You didn’t want to.

Emily’s voice was steady now, more sure of itself. “From the minute you walked into that room, something in me just… locked on. I don’t even know how to explain it. You were this quiet thrill, like the air changed when you spoke. And then you kept doing it—you kept showing up, asking questions, teasing me, letting me see you little by little. I didn’t even have time to guard myself.”

She paused to brush your hair behind your ear, tucking it back like it was second nature.

“I didn’t mean to fall for you this fast. But I did.”

Your heart tripped over itself.

“I want more too,” she said, simply. “Not just tonight. Not just sex. I want you. And I want everything that comes with you—nerves, overthinking, uncertainty. All of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, and she pulled you a little closer.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured. “I want to figure this out with you. However we need to. However slow, or messy, or uncertain it gets.”

You turned your face toward her, just enough to finally meet her eyes.

She smiled.

“I’m in this with you,” she said.

And you believed her.

You let out a slow breath, your body sinking deeper into the mattress, your cheek resting against Emily’s shoulder. The weight of her words lingered in the quiet, soothing something unsettled in you. You didn’t say anything more, but she didn’t ask you to. She just pulled you a little closer, like that was answer enough.

Her fingers traced along your arm, light and unhurried. You could feel the edge of her smile against your hair.

“Still thinking?” she asked quietly.

“Not as much,” you said. It was the truth. The tension that had coiled in your chest had loosened, replaced by something gentler, something safe.

Emily hummed. “Good. You don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”

You nodded against her. Your limbs felt heavy now, your body warm and worn in the best way. The kind of exhaustion that only came from feeling everything, all at once.

Emily shifted just slightly, pulling the blanket up over you both, her hand smoothing along your back. “Sleep,” she said, her voice low, already softening with fatigue. “We’ll talk more in the morning if you want.”

You nodded again, this time slower, your eyes already closed. She didn’t say anything else, just kept her hand on you, grounding you with the steady rhythm of her breathing. You let yourself melt into it, wrapped in her touch, her warmth, the quiet promise of more.

Sleep came easy.

You woke to the softest pressure against your skin.

Not the sharp, hurried kind of someone restless beside you, but the deliberate weight of lips moving slowly across your shoulder. Each kiss was warm and unhurried, spaced by seconds, not breathless need. It pulled you gently from sleep, your senses swimming up through the comfort of sheets still heavy with the scent of her.

Emily’s body was still tucked behind yours, close and familiar now. Her arm lay across your waist, her fingers splayed lazily just under the curve of your ribs. You felt her shift slightly, her thigh tightening around yours, drawing you back more firmly against her.

She kissed you again, then again, trailing along the slope of your neck like she couldn’t help herself. Her hand rested low on your stomach, not moving, just holding you close.

You made a small, sleepy sound, and she smiled against your skin.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice soft and warm from sleep.

You turned your head slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of her messy hair, the bare curve of her collarbone, the sleep-heavy fondness in her eyes. You smiled back, still not fully awake.

Emily pressed another kiss beneath your ear. “You don’t have to get up,” she said, brushing her fingers lightly along your hip. “I just... didn’t want to stop touching you.”

You shifted toward her instinctively, the memory of last night slowly returning like warmth creeping back into your limbs.

Her hand drifted lower, fingertips tracing small, absent-minded patterns against your skin. “Can I do something?” she asked, barely louder than a whisper. “I want to make you feel good.”

There was no pressure in her voice. Just openness. A softness that made your chest ache.

You turned onto your back, eyes meeting hers as you nodded.

Emily leaned in and kissed you, slow and familiar, tasting of sleep and something deeper. She didn’t rush. She didn’t need to. She kissed you like she was still discovering you, like every little sound you made mattered.

Then she shifted down, dragging the sheets with her, pressing her lips to the underside of your breast, the centre of your stomach, the inside of your thigh. Her hands caressed your skin like it was something worth savouring. Nothing rushed. Nothing harsh.

She looked up at you once more before lowering her mouth to you.

“Just relax,” she whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

You sank into the bed as Emily eased lower, her hands smoothing over your thighs like she was coaxing you open, not just physically, but entirely. There was something in the way she touched you now that made it different than last night. Slower. Steadier. Like she wasn’t just trying to make you feel good, but trying to learn every inch of you in the process.

She kissed the inside of your knee, then further up, mouth soft and warm, her breath brushing your skin just seconds before her lips did. You felt her pause, her cheek pressing against your thigh, and when she looked up at you again, her eyes were so full of affection it almost startled you.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she said, not as a compliment, but as a quiet truth.

Your breath caught as her mouth lowered again, this time where you needed her most. She started with a gentle kiss, the lightest press of her lips against your folds, slow and deliberate, easing you open with nothing more than patience. Her tongue followed, warm and wet and unhurried, exploring you like you were something sacred.

Your hips twitched despite yourself, a quiet gasp slipping from your lips as she found your rhythm without needing direction. Her tongue moved in soft, purposeful strokes, not chasing your orgasm, but savouring every reaction, every flutter of your breath and shift of your legs.

She hummed against you, a quiet sound of approval, her hands stroking your thighs, grounding you. When you looked down, you found her already watching you, her eyes soft, her mouth still moving with focused intent.

There was something disarming in the way she held your gaze. She wasn’t seeking praise or dominance or performance. She just wanted you. The sounds you made, the way you trembled under her, the way your fingers gripped the sheets and then slid back to her hair like you couldn’t bear not to touch her.

“Emily,” you breathed, voice thin and high.

She didn’t answer, just kept going, her pace steady, her mouth coaxing you toward the edge like it was the only thing she wanted in the world. Her hands never left you. One rested at your hip, firm and reassuring, while the other brushed soft strokes along your ribs, soothing and tender. It kept you from floating away too fast, from losing yourself entirely.

You felt your body begin to build, not in a sharp climb, but in warm, rolling waves that carried you closer with each pass of her tongue. There was no rush. Just heat and care in the way she held you there, letting it grow, letting it take over.

Your thighs tightened around her, your breath catching as the warmth twisted into pleasure and the pleasure into something deeper.

You didn’t want her to stop. You didn’t need words to tell her that.

Emily’s mouth stayed steady on you, lips wet and open around your clit as she licked with long, unhurried strokes. Her tongue flattened and dragged, then flicked, then circled, never quite settling into a rhythm, always keeping you just off balance. The way she moved was intentional, practiced, but not preformative. She wanted to feel you come apart for her.

Her fingers spread you open, the pads of them gentle against your folds, stroking through your slick. She moaned when she felt how soaked you were, her lips parting around you to taste more, deeper, letting the wet sounds fill the quiet room as she fed off every shift of your hips.

You writhed against her mouth, breath coming shallow, one hand buried in her hair, the other clenching at the sheets. She flicked her tongue with more focus now, tighter circles, dragging it down to tease lower before pulling back up again. Every pass sent heat surging through your belly, tightening, curling, growing sharper with each stroke.

Then her fingers slid into you.

The slide of her fingers deep inside you matched the pace of her mouth. She thrust slow, firm, curling just right to stroke against the place that made your legs jerk. The stretch filled you perfectly, her palm pressing snug against you with each movement, slick sounds growing louder as your body responded.

Your thighs trembled around her shoulders. Every time you shifted your hips to chase more, she adjusted to meet you. Her nose nudged against your skin, her breath hot, her hums sending small vibrations through your clit. She pressed her tongue flat again, holding it there while her fingers curled deeper, then picked up again, faster now, sucking gently before teasing you with a soft kiss.

Your body was flushed and tense, every muscle pulled tight. Pleasure crawled up your spine, low and heavy at first, then sharper. You whimpered her name without meaning to, voice high and shaky. She groaned into you, and the sound made your stomach clench.

She never broke focus. Just stayed between your thighs like she belonged there, mouth slick, tongue relentless, fingers thrusting deeper and faster. The drag of her knuckles against your folds only made it wetter, messier, your slick dripping down her hand.

You clenched around her fingers, back arching as the pressure crested. It was overwhelming. The way Emily stayed locked on you, her mouth warm and wet, her tongue focused and sure, sent everything surging too fast to hold back. You cried out, the sound catching in your throat as your body broke apart under her.

It started low in your belly, a tight pull that snapped all at once, heat flooding through you in waves. Your thighs quivered around her shoulders, hips stuttering against her mouth as she worked you through it, not stopping, not even easing up. Her tongue stayed firm, lapping every twitch, every pulse, her fingers still moving inside you with that perfect rhythm.

The climax dragged on, drawn out by her patience, her precision. Your whole body was on fire, muscles locked, toes curling, voice gone hoarse from the sounds it tore out of you. She didn’t let you go until your body slumped back against the sheets, shivering and spent, chest heaving with each shaky breath.

Only then did Emily slow, her kisses turning softer, gentler. She eased her fingers from you, dragging her mouth lower to press one final kiss to your inner thigh before lifting her head. Her lips were slick, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dark as she looked up at you.

“Hi,” she said softly, her voice a little hoarse too, like she’d forgotten to breathe.

You blinked at her, still trying to catch up with your own heartbeat.

She smiled and crawled back up your body, pressing a kiss just under your jaw. “You okay?”

You nodded, still dazed, body thrumming from the aftershocks. “Yeah.”

Emily tucked herself beside you, arm wrapping loosely around your waist as you tried to remember how to speak again.

Your limbs felt boneless, melted into the sheets with the weight of release. Every inch of your skin buzzed, hypersensitive and warm, and Emily’s touch grounded you. She didn’t let go, didn’t rush to fill the quiet. Her arm stayed snug around your waist, her thumb tracing slow circles over your hip as if she couldn’t quite stop touching you.

The room was still except for your breathing, still ragged, still coming down. Her body was pressed along your side, not heavy but solid, her warmth soaking into you like sunlight under covers. She leaned in, nose brushing the edge of your cheek, lips ghosting over the curve of it like a secret.

“Should I get you water?” she murmured, quiet enough that the question barely stirred the air between you.

You shook your head, your voice a scratchy thing when you finally found it. “No. Just… stay.”

That earned the smallest smile. She tucked her head beside yours, her hand splayed across your stomach like it belonged there, her breath soft against your neck. You could feel the steady rhythm of her heart where your bodies touched, slow and sure.

The silence stretched, not awkward, but thick with everything unspoken. You let it be. You needed to come back to yourself, and she gave you the room to do it, her presence a constant hum beside you. She didn’t rush your recovery, didn’t fidget or pull away.

At some point, her fingers found yours under the sheets. She laced them together loosely, your hands resting between your ribs.

“You’re incredible,” she said finally, her voice low, reverent in a way that made your chest ache. “The way you fall apart for me…”

You turned your head, forehead brushing her temple, not trusting yourself to respond without unravelling all over again.

She gave your hand a light squeeze. “We don’t have to talk about anything yet. Just… don’t disappear on me, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered.

“Good,” she said, like it meant everything.

She kissed your shoulder. Slow. Thoughtful. A thank-you. An I’m still here.

You turned toward her slowly, meeting her gaze. Her hair was mussed and falling into her face, and she looked unfairly good in the dim light filtering through the curtains. She looked at you like she had nowhere else she’d rather be.

“Come here,” she said, pulling you gently until you were tucked against her, face resting near the hollow of her throat. Her fingers found the base of your spine, tracing there idly. “You don’t have to be anywhere, don’t have to think about anything else. Just stay with me.”

You could hear her heartbeat again, steady and low beneath your cheek.

“You always like waking people up that way?” you teased quietly.

Emily’s chest shook with a soft laugh. “Only when I really like them.”

You smiled against her skin. “That so?”

“Mmhm,” she said, dropping a kiss to your temple. “And I really, really like you.”

You were quiet for a second, letting her hold you. “I like you too,” you whispered. Then, lighter, “I think I’m a little obsessed with you, actually.”

Emily hummed, pleased. “Good. I was worried I was the only one.”

Her hand wandered again, just lazy touches now. The soft drag of her fingertips up and down your back. The curve of your waist. The backs of your thighs. Nothing urgent, just a kind of gentle claiming, like she needed to keep you close. You felt yourself relaxing deeper into it, your legs tangling with hers, your nose tucked near the line of her jaw.

“Can we stay here for a while?” you asked.

Emily leaned in, lips brushing your cheek. “As long as you want.”

So you stayed, skin against skin, your bodies cooling together under the covers. There was nowhere else to be. Just her, and this, and the quiet hum of something new settling warm between you both.

[criminally-chill]

Babies Pt.2

Pairings: older!Emily Prentiss x reader

Word count: 1944

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, pregnancy, talks of marriage

“I’m home, I’m home! Don’t do it without me!” Emily called out as she barged through the entrance of your shared bedroom, dropping her things and removing her blazer jacket she wore to work while rushing into the master bathroom where you were washing your hands. You giggled at her mannerisms when her body was right beside you, her hand on your back rubbing softly as you could hear a slight uptake in her breathing.

“I only just peed on it, we have 5 more minutes.” She nodded, grateful you already took the instruction she gave you over text so she wouldn’t have to wait another second to find out the result.

“Did you pee on it like a minute ago or like forty-five seconds ago? Maybe two minutes ago?” You playfully rolled your eyes at her eagerness and wrapped your arms around her waist, a soft sigh coming from her as she rested her chin on your head, kissing the top of your scalp as she inhaled the smell of your shampoo.

“I missed you so much…” She quietly spoke, and you nodded in agreement, your arms squeezing just a bit tighter around her. After a moment you pulled back to look at her, your lips turning up in a grin as did hers.

“You’re so beautiful, Emily. I wish you could see yourself right now.” She glanced over at the mirror beside you two with a teasing smirk and you once again rolled your eyes.

“No, I mean- like, in my eyes. I wish you could see yourself from my point of view right now, zero imperfections, absolutely gorgeous eyes I could look at forever, and that hair - I’m never getting over your hair, Em.” She laughed quietly at your obsession while you reached out to feel her strands, humming softly under your breath as you placed them behind her ears with your pointer fingers.

“You’re too good to me, sweetheart, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Emily caught your hand as she spoke, kissing the back of it and leaving her lips lingering as she stared into your eyes, occasionally glancing down at your lips as if she was fifty again and you were breaching twenty-five, and she was so nervous to ask you out in case you rejected her. At the time, she was absolutely lovesick - her first ever true experience of that emotion, and now she can confirm it never disappears with the right person. 

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” You didn’t answer verbally but your short nod was good enough for her, and she captured your lips in a soft, soothing moment. The two of you gently swayed back and forth, almost not at all, your bodies touching closely. One of her hands was on your lower back closer to your hip with the other was interlaced with your hand in the air still, her peck still resigning with the skin of that limb. The only time you two pulled back was when your phone alarm went off, to which she originally tried to shut it off without looking to not disrupt the moment, only to remember what it was for. She pulled back with wide eyes, licking her lips to get her last taste of you before hopefully changing your relationship forever. It had now been a full month of trying for a baby, for a vessel of life shared between you two. She needed it, and she needed it to come sooner than later.

“You ready to look?” She didn’t tear her eyes away from you no matter how tempting, this moment needed to happen together. 

“I’m ready if you are.” Emily quickly glanced at the test and grabbed it from the clean side, making sure to have not checked the result. You both closed your eyes and counted down from three, and once you hit the end of one, she flipped it over and you both looked.

“Positive…I-it’s positive, Y/N.” Her face was white in shock, but her heart beat with joy and excitement as she grabbed the second test and flipped it over on the count of three, not bothering to even close your eyes which were bulging with emotions. Another positive.

“W-we’re having a baby…? We’re actually having…a baby…” You spoke quietly, and Emily slowly looked at you to see how you reacted. She knew you agreed to this, but she also knew you were hesitant at first and she didn’t want you to take this back at the wrong moment. At the end of the day, it was entirely your choice and she respected it. If you didn’t want this baby, she wouldn’t be having one with you, and she would not get to witness you carrying her child. 

“And you still want this, right? Please tell me you still want a baby with me…” You turned to face her with tears in your eyes and she placed the test down, immediately being engulfed in a large hug from your side. She sighed in relief and held you close, letting your tears soak her shoulder.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, it was just so- eye-opening! There’s a literal baby inside of me right now, even if small, there’s one in me! And the best part of all is that it’s yours and we get to raise this baby together, boy or girl, or both, we get to be mommies together.” You had a large smile spread across your face, the most beautiful she had ever seen, and she wished she could capture this moment in more than just her mind. 

Throughout the pregnancy, Emily was very keen on being the best mother she could be to your growing fetus. You received multiple deliveries a week for new things - in the beginning, it was mainly books for her to study, and a bunch of massaging tools for me. However, once it got to the second trimester she immediately started building and getting everything in place. Her coworkers would come over to help work on the nursery, and you both decided on going for a neutral yellow on the walls just in case, and she would never let you even hand her a tool. You could watch and cheer them on from a distance, but she couldn’t let you or the baby accidentally get hurt. Every appointment was scheduled with a distant advance so she could either leave work early or head in late so that she would be there the entire time with you. She didn’t want you to think she would be absent because of her job, she had already wasted most of her life on work when she was meant to be starting one. 

There was no coffee, no alcohol, no foreign and unhealthy habitual items in the house that could harm the child - that was what you found the morning after you found out about the pregnancy. Emily had a routine of picking up a cigarette every now and then which you urged her not to do, but the moment the baby came into play she couldn’t even look at them the same, she only imagined how disappointed she’d be if she found her child doing the same thing she did. 

Every night she got home at a reasonable time, she had quite a lot of money saved up and realized she could step back on a few hours. Yes, it was hard to let go of her workaholic life, but once again she thought of the day she’d come home to her child barely recognizing her, not even wanting to speak to her and you tiredly trying to work the dispute out for them. Her hours became 8:00 AM to 5:00 PM, Monday through Friday, which was surprisingly a lot better than it used to be. She instantly requested to not travel for cases anymore which the BAU granted since she was allowed paternity advantages until the child was born. 

After a long day, she’d come home and instantly start making dinner for you, she didn’t want you nor the baby to go hungry but she also didn’t want you to have to put in much effort to cook when you had other priorities, ensuring the baby and you were healthy. She had set meal plans for you throughout the day, reading up on every nutritional factor she must take into play and always accounting for it. She tracked your calories, yes, but not in a crazy psychotic way, in more so a concerned and anxious way. She needed to ensure there would be no problems with your health or the babies throughout the pregnancy or once they were born. And if you already reached your calorie goal for the day she would never restrict you from having more, she would in fact encourage a sweet treat after, “having such a long day taking care of my family.” 

She didn’t tell her mother you were pregnant or that she was even dating someone until you were in your eight month and she hovered the letter over the mailbox before quickly throwing it in and sending it off. She assumed her mother was still alive, she hadn’t received any detail from the nursing home that she wasn’t. So she knew she would get the letter and most likely freak-out, but she didn’t want to care in the moment. She had the life she always wanted right here, right now, a beautiful girlfriend and soon a daughter between the two of you. She flipped when she found out it was a girl, she said she didn’t care about the gender and would love them either way but you knew deep down she was silently hoping for a girl. She had such a deep maternal love and while she’d never neglect her future son of that, she wanted to be able to express that through the excitement of proms and weddings, boyfriends or even girlfriends, and even the heartbreak that came with it - she wanted the whole package. 

And when she stood with her daughter in her arms, the nurse behind her with a smile as she saw Emily’s tears and careful attention. You were asleep right now, and you deserved it after pushing out the 6-pound baby the night before.

“Am I holding her right?” Emily whispered out to the nurse. She had read every book and studied every move, and yet when the time came she felt like an untrained soldier battling war. The nurse chuckled and nodded, making Emily let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey, little girl…you look so pretty, just like your mommy. It might get confusing from time to time but I’m your mama and your mommy is the one who you were inside for so long. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.” She quietly spoke as the girl slept in a bundle of hospital blankets and a pink hat. 

“I can’t wait to take you home…I hope you like yellow, your room is full of it. I used to look at that guest room every day hoping it’d someday be for a little baby like you, and now it is. I am so lucky to have you as my daughter, I am so lucky to have your mommy as my girlfriend, and just between us, I’m hoping to make her my wife soon.” She continued to talk to the child for a few more minutes before carefully resting her and returning to her chair while the nurse carefully rolled out the hospital crib to let her sleep with the rest of the babies. She glanced at your sleeping form as she grabbed the ring from her jacket pocket, smiling at the thought of what was to come. She wouldn’t sleep that night, and she was fine with that, because in the morning you’d officially become her fiancée, and your baby would officially come home.

[criminally-chill]

The Surprise Masterlist

Find all chapters of The Surprise here. Updated as new chapters are released.

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: some chapters are 18+ MINORS DNI (they are marked as such), pregnancy times throughout, other warnings marked chapter by chapter Current total word count: 47k

The Surprise (Part 1)

The Lentil & The Blueberry (Part 2) (18+)

The Kidney Bean & The Grape (Part 3)

The Kumquat (Part 4)

The Fig & The Lime (Part 5)

The Peapod (Part 6)

The Lemon & The Apple (Part 7) (18+)

The Avocado & The Turnip (Part 8)

The Bell Pepper & The Big Tomato (Part 9)

The Banana (Part 10)

The Carrot (Part 11) (18+)

The Spaghetti Squash (Part 12)

The Mango (Part 13)

The Corn Cob (Part 14)

The Rutabaga (Part 15) (18+)

The Scallion (Part 16)

The Cauliflower (Part 17)

The Eggplant (Part 18)

The Butternut Squash (Part 19)

The Cabbage (Part 20) (18+)

The Coconut (Part 21)

The Jicama (Part 22)

The Pineapple (Part 23)

The Cantaloupe (Part 24)

The End (Part 25)

Extras (in Chronological Order)

Donuts

Going Home

Just a Shower

Fan Art from Cool People!

Emily & Reader (@scorpsik)

[criminally-chill]

PAGET, YOU'RE KILLING US!!!

[criminally-chill]

The silver fox

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x OFC

——————————

Emily Prentiss walked into the house with her usual composed elegance, but this time, there was something mischievous in her stride. Her dark eyes gleamed as she slipped off her coat and hung it by the door, casually smoothing down her now silver-grey hair. The light from the living room hit the sleek strands, making them shimmer like polished metal.

On the couch, Tasha lounged with Rex sprawled lazily beside her, his head resting on her lap. She’d just settled in with her tablet, half-reading a report and half-petting the dog, when Emily’s footsteps caught her attention.

“Hey, love,” Tasha called without looking up. “You’re back! How’d it go? Did they do the usual—”

Her voice stopped short as she finally glanced up. The tablet slipped from her hands, landing on the floor with a dull thud.

Emily stood there, giving her a wry smile and a small turn so Tasha could take in the full effect. Her hair was now a stunning shade of silver-grey, styled perfectly to frame her sharp cheekbones and striking features.

“Well?” Emily asked, tilting her head with a smirk. “What do you think?”

Tasha stared, her mouth slightly open. After a beat, Emily arched an eyebrow and teased, “Shut your mouth, darling—you’re drooling.”

Tasha blinked and closed her mouth, though her gaze didn’t waver. She swallowed hard, her voice coming out in a low, breathless mutter. “Bloody hell, Emily…”

“Is that a good ‘bloody hell’ or a bad one?” Emily teased, her smirk growing.

Tasha’s lips curved into a wicked grin as she stood, closing the distance between them. “Oh, it’s a very good one,” she murmured, her eyes trailing up and down Emily’s frame. “But I should warn you… you’re in serious trouble.”

Emily crossed her arms, clearly enjoying herself. “Trouble? And why’s that?”

“Because,” Tasha said, leaning in closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, “you’ve officially become the sexiest woman alive, and I don’t think I’m going to let you leave this house ever again.”

Emily chuckled, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.”

Tasha grinned wider, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ridiculous? Emily, I’m serious. Look at you! That hair? That face? Those legs? Darling, if I didn’t already have a ring on your finger, I’d be proposing right now. Hell, I might just do it again.”

Emily rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t falter. “You’re laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”

“Not thick enough,” Tasha quipped, stepping even closer. Her fingers grazed Emily’s cheek as she gently tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “You’re so gorgeous it’s actually distracting. I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.”

Emily’s laugh was soft, but her voice was full of warmth. “You’re ridiculous and dramatic. A dangerous combination.”

Tasha tilted her head, feigning deep thought. “Maybe. But I’m also devastatingly charming, so I’d say it balances out.”

Before Emily could respond, Tasha’s grin turned sly. “Now, let’s discuss how this look is illegal.”

“Illegal?” Emily repeated, biting back a smile.

“Illegal,” Tasha confirmed, gesturing vaguely at her. “You’ve gone full silver fox, and it’s unfair. To me, to the general public, to humanity.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Do you know how hard it’s going to be for me not to rip your clothes off every time I look at you?”

Emily’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she shook her head with a laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love it,” Tasha shot back, her grin utterly shameless.

Emily opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Tasha bent down and scooped her up into her arms in one smooth motion.

“Natasha!” Emily yelped, clutching at her shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying my devastatingly gorgeous wife to bed,” Tasha replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re impossible,” Emily said, though her amused smile betrayed her.

Tasha smirked as she started toward the bedroom, her grip on Emily firm yet gentle. “Maybe. But I’m also a genius.”

Emily arched an eyebrow. “A genius, huh? At what, exactly?”

Tasha’s grin turned positively wicked as she nudged the bedroom door open with her foot. “At making my wife blush and lose her train of thought. But don’t worry, darling—this is just the beginning. Tonight, I’m going to show you exactly how much I appreciate this new look.”

Emily’s laughter rang out as the door clicked shut, Tasha’s flirtatious promises following them into the night.

[criminally-chill]

Accidental date

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Fluff

———————————

Emily Prentiss sat at a quiet corner table in a cozy, candle-lit restaurant, her nerves humming with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. Blind dates were rare territory, but Garcia had been insistent. “Trust me, Em,” she’d said, “you need this!”

She looked up just in time to see a woman approaching her table. With warm eyes, an easy smile, and a relaxed confidence, she gave Emily a smile that immediately put her at ease.

“Hi,” the woman greeted with a friendly nod. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Emily replied with a smile as they settled in. The conversation flowed with surprising ease. Y/N turned out to be a doctor, and her hospital stories ranged from hilarious to deeply moving, each one told with warmth and a hint of humor that kept Emily smiling.

At one point, after Y/N finished a story about a hospital mix-up, Emily chuckled, shaking her head. “This is exactly what I needed tonight. Leave it to Garcia to set me up with someone so interesting.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “Garcia?”

Emily grinned. “Yeah, my friend. She practically dragged me here, swearing I’d have a great time.”

Y/N let out a laugh. “That’s funny. My friend Dr. Robins convinced me to come. She said I needed a break and knew someone I’d hit it off with.”

They both paused, exchanging a surprised look as the realization dawned on them.

“So… you’re not here because of Garcia?” Emily asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Nope. And you’re definitely not here because of Dr. Robins, right?”

They both burst into laughter, the unexpected mix-up somehow making the night even more enjoyable. They leaned in a little closer as they continued talking, each exchange revealing a deeper connection and a natural chemistry between them.

By the time they left the restaurant, the night air had turned chilly, and a brisk wind swept down the empty street. Emily shivered slightly, folding her arms.

Without a second thought, Y/N shrugged off her jacket and held it out to Emily. “Here, take this. Can’t let you freeze after such a good accidental date.”

Emily hesitated for a moment before smiling gratefully and slipping it on. “Thank you. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun on a first… well, not-quite-a-date.”

Y/N chuckled. “Accidental or not, it was definitely one of the better nights I’ve had. And since it’s my fault for keeping you out this late, at least let me walk you home.”

They walked side by side through the quiet streets, shoulders brushing occasionally. As they talked and laughed, the atmosphere between them felt lighter, like they’d known each other much longer than just one evening.

When they reached Emily’s apartment, she paused at her door, turning to Y/N with a warm smile. “So… accidental date or not, I’d love to do this again. On purpose next time.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, her smile widening. “I’d like that,” she murmured, holding Emily’s gaze.

As the night stretched in silence, neither seemed in a rush to say goodbye. Y/N gently squeezed Emily’s hand, and Emily gave it a light squeeze in return, a warm feeling blooming in her chest.

“Goodnight, Emily,” Y/N said softly, a smile lingering on her lips as she turned to leave.

Emily watched her go, still wrapped in Y/N’s jacket, already looking forward to the next time they’d see each other — a date they would plan very much on purpose.

[criminally-chill]

Snowboarding

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Fluff

AN: Reader is a Olympic snowboarder

—————————

The sun was shining high over the mountain, the snow sparkling under its light as you stood beside Emily, who was eyeing her snowboard with a skeptical look.

“Alright, Mrs. Prentiss,” you said, leaning on your own board with a grin. “Ready for your Olympic debut?”

She shot you a dry look, crossing her arms. “Oh, I’m ready, alright—ready to watch you eat your words when I end up face-first in the snow.”

You laughed, giving her a playful nudge. “Come on, I’m a world champion and an Olympian! You’re practically getting a free masterclass.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “You are so humble, you know that?”

“Hey,” you shrugged, “I’m just saying most people would kill for lessons from me.” You gave her a cheeky wink. “So… think you can handle it?”

“I guess I have no choice,” she replied, her lips twitching in a smirk.

“Atta girl.” You moved closer, showing her how to position her feet and shift her weight. “Just trust me, relax, and don’t overthink it. And if you fall, I’m right here to catch you.”

“Oh, how reassuring,” she deadpanned, clearly not convinced. But as she slowly let herself slide forward, you could see a spark of determination in her eyes. She actually managed to glide a few feet before she wobbled, her arms flailing as she tried to keep her balance.

“Look at you, Em!” you called out, cheering. “You’re practically a pro!”

She shot you a look, half-amused and half-terrified. “Please don’t jinx it!”

But before you could respond, her focus slipped. She tried to recover, but her momentum got the best of her, and she reached out instinctively, grabbing your arm for balance. You barely had time to react before her weight pulled you forward, and you both tumbled down into the snow in a heap, laughing breathlessly.

“Oops,” she said, chuckling as she brushed snow off her jacket. “Guess I’m not exactly pro material yet.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “I dunno, that was a solid 7 out of 10. Maybe even an 8 for creativity.”

“Oh, I’m so honored,” she replied, giving you a playful nudge. “But next time, I’m taking you down with me on purpose.”

“Oh, yeah?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty bold, coming from my newest protégé.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of pride behind her smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get used to me falling all over you.”

Before either of you could say more, a small group of teens zipped by, one of them doing a double-take as they slowed to a stop.

“Oh my god,” one of them said, grinning. “Are you Y/N? The snowboarder?”

Caught slightly off-guard, you gave them a friendly smile. “That’s me. Enjoying the slopes?”

“Yeah, totally!” one of them said, eyes wide with excitement. “Can we, uh, maybe get a picture? It’s not every day you run into an Olympian!”

You glanced over at Emily with a playful shrug. “See? Just another day in the life of a snowboarding legend.”

Emily chuckled, rolling her eyes as she watched you pose for a few photos, chatting with the teens as they beamed with excitement. Once they’d said their goodbyes, you turned back to Emily, who was watching you with arms crossed, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” you said, grinning.

“Like what?” she replied, smirking. “I think it’s cute you’ve got fans, Ms. Snowboarding Superstar.”

“Hey, just because I’m a big deal…” you teased, leaning in to nudge her shoulder, “doesn’t mean I’m any less devoted to my favorite student.”

She snorted. “Uh-huh. Right.”

“Come on, Em,” you laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Just admit it—you’re impressed.”

She shook her head, but there was a warm smile on her face. “Alright, maybe just a little.”

“Atta girl,” you murmured, pulling her close as you both stood there for a moment, savoring the quiet beauty of the mountain. The world around you seemed to fade, and you brushed a few snowflakes off her shoulder, leaning in close.

“Hey,” you whispered, grinning, “you know, I’m kinda liking this view.”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed as she leaned into you, lifting her face to meet your gaze. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss her softly, your lips meeting hers as the cold melted away, replaced by the warmth of her touch and her soft laugh against your mouth.

After a few more practice runs, and a few more tumbles, you both eventually called it a day and headed back down the mountain. The cold air nipped at your cheeks, and you could already feel the ache from laughing, but as you pulled off your boots, you knew there was only one thing missing to cap off the day.

Once home, you both kicked off your snow gear, cheeks still pink from the cold and the lingering laughter of the day. Emily stretched, wincing playfully as she rubbed at her legs.

“Wow, you really didn’t take it easy on me today,” she teased, giving you a side-eye. “Not exactly gentle teacher vibes.”

You laughed, reaching out to rub her shoulder. “Hey, I made sure you didn’t fall too hard. Besides, you did amazing out there, Em. I might just have a new training partner.”

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes, but her smile was soft. “As long as you’re prepared to be a little more patient next time.”

You chuckled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Deal. Now, how about we warm up with some hot chocolate? We definitely earned it today.”

She sighed contentedly, sinking into the couch as you went into the kitchen. Within minutes, you had two steaming mugs of cocoa, topped with a generous pile of whipped cream and dusted with cinnamon. You handed one to her, and she took it with a grateful smile.

Settling beside her, you wrapped an arm around her shoulders as you both sipped, the warmth of the drink seeping through you, mixing with the cozy quiet of the room.

“You know,” Emily said, glancing over at you, “I think I actually had a little fun out there. Even with the bruises.”

You chuckled, nudging her gently. “Admit it—you loved it. And you weren’t half bad, either.”

She smirked, leaning her head against your shoulder. “Only because I had the best—albeit cockiest—teacher.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you replied with a grin, taking another sip of your hot chocolate.

The evening drifted into a comfortable silence as you sat together, the memories of the day warming you as much as the hot chocolate. You squeezed her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her hair as she closed her eyes, a content smile on her face.

“Thanks for today,” she murmured softly.

“Anytime,” you whispered back, holding her close, savoring the peaceful moment as the snow continued to fall quietly outside, your own little sanctuary together.

[criminally-chill]

JJ: *Hugs Emily from behind*

JJ: *Tucks Emily’s hair behind their ear*

JJ, whispering: Eat my cheetos again and they'll never find your body.

[criminally-chill]

Fireworks

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Fluff

————————

It’s late, and the bullpen is quiet except for the soft hum of computers and the occasional sound of Emily tapping her fingers against the keyboard. She’s sitting across from me, hunched over her laptop, her brow furrowed in that familiar way that tells me she’s deep in thought—and, more importantly, that she’s been working too hard for too long.

We’ve been at this for hours, chasing leads, piecing together profiles, and waiting for something to click. But tonight, Emily looks… tense. Tired, yes, but more than that—almost restless. The weight of the case is pressing down on her, and I know her well enough to see that she’s starting to unravel, even if she won’t admit it.

I close my own laptop, deciding it’s time for an intervention. Emily won’t give herself a break, so I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands.

“Hey,” I say softly, reaching across the desk to get her attention. “Come with me.”

She barely looks up, mumbling something about “just needing to finish this part.” But I’m not letting her talk her way out of this one. I reach out and gently tug her hand until she finally meets my gaze. She looks exhausted, the lines around her eyes more pronounced under the harsh office lights.

“Emily,” I say, my voice firm but gentle, “five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

She sighs, and I can see the reluctance in her eyes. I know she doesn’t like leaving things unfinished, but finally, she gives in, letting me pull her out of her chair. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

I grin, squeezing her hand. “Not a chance.”

Together, we walk up the stairs, past the empty offices and up to the roof. The cool night air hits us as soon as we step outside, and Emily shivers, pulling her blazer tighter around herself. I notice immediately and shrug off my own coat, wrapping it around her shoulders before she can protest.

She glances up at me, a little surprised, but doesn’t say anything as she adjusts the coat and snuggles into the warmth. I step up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on her shoulder. For a moment, we just stand there in comfortable silence, taking in the crisp night air and the quiet that stretches out over the city.

Then, as if on cue, fireworks start up in the distance, lighting up the skyline in bursts of red, blue, and gold. I feel Emily relax against me, her body softening as she watches the colors dance across the sky.

“Did you plan this?” she murmurs, leaning back into me with a soft smile.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply, my voice close to her ear. “Just called up the city and asked them to set off some fireworks to help you relax. They’re big fans of your work, you know.”

She laughs, a sound that’s warm and soft, and I feel some of the tension leave her shoulders. “Obviously. They must know I’m working on a major breakthrough.”

I chuckle, tightening my arms around her. “Yes, because if anyone deserves a personal fireworks show, it’s Emily Prentiss. You practically have your own fan club.”

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the glimmer of amusement in her expression. “A fan club, huh? Well, I suppose it’s not the worst thing to have. Even if my fan club insists on dragging me up to the freezing rooftop instead of letting me work.”

I nudge her playfully, resting my cheek against hers. “Oh, please. You’re the one who won’t take a break. Even superheroes need to recharge, you know.”

She scoffs, but there’s a hint of playfulness in her voice. “Since when am I a superhero?”

“Since the day you joined the BAU,” I reply, without a hint of hesitation. “I mean, look at everything you’ve done. All the lives you’ve saved. If that’s not superhero material, I don’t know what is.”

Emily’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently as we stand there in silence, watching the fireworks. The colors cast a glow over her face, and for a moment, I’m struck by how beautiful she looks. Tired, maybe, and a little worn out, but still so strong and resilient.

After a while, she sighs, a soft sound that’s almost lost in the noise of the fireworks. “You know, I was just getting to the breakthrough part. Five more minutes, and I would’ve cracked the case.”

“Oh, absolutely,” I tease, smirking. “I’m sure the case didn’t stand a chance against you and your spreadsheets. But even you need a break sometimes, Em.”

She lets out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? I’m keeping you sane.” I press a light kiss to her cheek, smiling as her hand tightens around mine. “Think of it as part of the job description: married to the Unit Chief, which means I’m responsible for making sure you don’t work yourself into the ground.”

She leans back against me, her head resting on my shoulder. “I suppose I should be grateful, then. Not everyone has a partner willing to drag them out into the cold for a ‘break.’”

I laugh, nuzzling into her hair. “You’re very lucky, Prentiss. Not everyone gets a coat and a cuddle as part of their relaxation therapy.”

She chuckles again, softer this time, and turns her head to look at me. Her eyes are warm, filled with that familiar spark of mischief. “You know, sometimes I think you might actually enjoy dragging me away from work.”

“Guilty,” I admit, grinning. “But it’s only because I care. Besides, who else is going to look after you if I don’t?”

She’s quiet for a moment, her gaze softening as she studies me. Then, almost shyly, she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. It’s warm, tender, and just enough to make my heart skip a beat.

When she pulls back, she looks more relaxed, the tension in her face gone. “Thank you,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.

“For what?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“For this,” she replies, gesturing to the rooftop, the fireworks, and the quiet moment we’ve carved out of the night. “For knowing when I need to step back… even when I don’t.”

I smile, holding her close. “Anytime, Em. I’m not going anywhere.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, just watching the fireworks light up the sky. The city stretches out below us, the sounds of distant traffic blending with the crackle and pop of the fireworks. It’s just us up here, wrapped in each other’s warmth, far from the chaos of the case that awaits us downstairs.

After a while, Emily shifts in my arms, turning to look at me with a smirk. “So… are you going to take credit for the fireworks, too?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I reply, grinning. “In fact, I think they should add it to my BAU credentials. ‘Spouse, profiler, and occasional firework coordinator.’”

She laughs, a soft, genuine sound, and for a moment, I forget about the case, the files, and the long hours waiting for us. It’s just us, up here in this quiet corner of the world, stealing a moment of peace together.

I press one last kiss to her temple, feeling the weight of the day slip away. Soon enough, we’ll go back inside, back to the case and the endless chase for answers. But for now, with Emily in my arms and the city alive with color below us, everything feels just right.

And for this moment, that’s all that matters.

[criminally-chill]

Emily, sweating: Y/N, there’s something I need to ask you-

Y/N: Finally! You’re proposing!

Emily: How’d you know?

Y/N: Emily, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

Y/N: I even picked it up once.

[criminally-chill]

What happens in vegas doesn’t stay in vegas.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Fluff

Trigger: Alcohol

—————————

Waking up to a pounding headache, dry mouth, and bleary eyes was hardly unusual after a night out with the team. But as you stirred, your senses came alive to an unexpected warmth beside you. Blinking in confusion, you turned to see Emily Prentiss, still asleep, her dark hair spread across the pillow, face tucked against your shoulder. You could feel her breath tickling your neck, and your mind raced to make sense of the situation.

For a moment, everything felt blissfully peaceful until your brain kicked in. Wait a minute. Why is Emily cuddling with me? And what’s that glint on my finger? Instinctively, you lifted your hand, squinting at the gold band resting there.

“Oh no,” you murmured, heart dropping as you turned to Emily, who stirred at your voice, blinking up at you with sleepy confusion.

She took a moment to process her surroundings, then her gaze flickered down to her own ring finger, widening as she registered the matching wedding band. “What the hell?” she muttered, voice thick with sleep.

“Uh… morning?” you said, trying to sound casual, but the panic in your voice betrayed you.

“Tell me this is just some weird Vegas souvenir and not…” she trailed off, her tone mixing disbelief with a hint of laughter.

“Yeah, I wish I could say that,” you mumbled, biting back a nervous laugh. “But I think we might’ve made some questionable life choices last night.”

Emily rubbed her temples, attempting to gather her thoughts. “So you’re telling me we’re… married? Is that the conclusion we’re reaching here?”

“Pretty sure,” you replied, feeling embarrassment creeping in. “Though I can’t recall much after the fifth round of tequila.”

She leaned back against the headboard, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Okay, but just to be clear, was I a willing participant in this marriage, or did I get dragged into it against my will?”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I can’t remember any kidnapping happening. But the last thing I recall was Morgan egging us on to take more shots and maybe something about karaoke.”

“Great,” Emily said, a smirk breaking through her surprise. “So we got drunk, sang poorly, and decided to get hitched. Classic.”

“Exactly. The perfect recipe for disaster,” you added, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’m sure this is going to make for a fun conversation with the team.”

“Fun? More like a complete train wreck,” she replied, her grin widening. “Garcia is going to lose her mind when she finds out.”

You exchanged incredulous looks, the absurdity of the situation settling in. “We should probably get ready for breakfast,” you suggested, still trying to process the reality of your actions.

“Ugh, do we have to?” she groaned, collapsing back against the pillows. “I feel like I was hit by a truck.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “If we skip, they’ll come looking for us. I’d rather face them now than let them find out later.”

“True,” Emily said reluctantly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and running a hand through her hair. “Let’s just get this over with. But I swear, if any of them make a joke about us being ‘Mr. and Mrs.,’ I might just cry.”

With a collective sigh, you both prepared for the day ahead, knowing that confronting your teammates would be just as chaotic as the night before.

Half an hour later, you made your way to the hotel restaurant, both of you wearing baseball caps and sunglasses to hide your faces. As you entered, you spotted Morgan, JJ, Reid, and Garcia already seated, looking just as rough around the edges as you felt.

“Good morning, sleepyheads!” Garcia chirped, her bright smile almost blinding. “Did you enjoy your night in Sin City?”

Emily shot you a glance, both of you trading knowing smirks. “You could say that,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You two look like you’ve seen better days. I bet you had a wild night, huh?”

“More like a wild disaster,” Emily said, her tone playful but edged with caution. “What’s the last thing you all remember?”

“Not much after the fifth round of tequila,” JJ admitted, her voice muffled as she buried her face in her hands. “I remember karaoke, though. Garcia, you were amazing.”

Garcia beamed, her pride shining through. “Of course I was! I nailed ‘I Will Survive.’ You all should’ve been my backup dancers!”

“Backup dancers?” Morgan laughed. “You were more like a one-woman show! I think you might have scared the bouncers.”

Reid, ever the curious one, leaned forward. “I recall something about pool games and a bouncer being involved. Did we end up having an actual competition?”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah, and you lost, buddy. The bouncer was way too serious for our antics.”

“Great,” you said, trying to remember how you’d contributed to the chaos. “So we were just a bunch of drunken fools?”

“Pretty much,” JJ replied, finally lifting her head. “But it sounds like we were all on the same page, right?”

“Right,” Emily said, her gaze flicking to you with a glimmer of mischief. “We just have to figure out how to explain this whole situation without embarrassing ourselves further.”

“Hey, whatever happened in Vegas stays in Vegas!” Garcia chimed in, grinning. “Unless it involves marriage. That’s a different story!”

You and Emily exchanged looks, hearts racing at the thought of how Garcia would react if she found out the truth. “I just hope they don’t dig too deep,” you said quietly, leaning in.

But before you could finish, Garcia pulled out her phone, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, you guys are going to love this! I may have recorded some of last night.”

“Wait, what?” you said, your heart sinking. “What do you mean?”

“Only the best parts!” Garcia said, practically vibrating with excitement. “Let’s see what we’ve got here!”

“No, no, no, please don’t!” you and Emily said in unison, but it was too late. Garcia was already pressing play, and the screen lit up.

The video showed a tipsy version of you and Emily stumbling into a wedding chapel, laughter filling the air. You could hear the cheers and jeers of the team in the background, egging you both on as you approached the officiant.

“Are you serious?” JJ gasped, her eyes wide. “You guys actually did it!”

The video continued, showing the officiant’s voice almost drowned out by the laughter of your teammates. You watched in horror as Emily playfully swayed, holding onto you for balance. Then you both exchanged vows, the most ridiculous promises you could think of, like sharing snacks and always picking the next action movie.

“Is this for real?” Morgan said, his mouth agape. “You guys actually went through with it?”

You could barely meet Emily’s gaze, the absurdity of the situation settling in as you both burst into laughter. “So much for a wild Vegas night staying just in Vegas,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Wow, this is priceless!” Reid said, chuckling. “I can’t believe you two managed to get married while drunk!”

“I know!” Emily added, still giggling. “I never thought I’d find myself in a wedding chapel while tipsy. That’s definitely a first.

Morgan couldn’t stop laughing, slapping the table with his hand. “What happens next? Are we going to get wedding invitations in the mail, or what?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I can’t even think about that right now.”

Garcia, still gleefully watching the video, turned to you both, eyes wide with excitement. “You know, this could be a romantic story if you decide to make it work!”

“Romantic? It’s a total disaster!” you protested, though you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the thought of being with Emily in a more serious way.

“Yeah, but look at it this way,” JJ chimed in. “You guys got married in Vegas! That’s got to count for something, right?”

Emily rolled her eyes but was smiling. “I mean, it does make for a hell of a story.”

“Can you imagine telling Hotch?” Reid said, his eyes wide with genuine excitement. “He’ll either think it’s a great idea or want to strangle you both.”

You and Emily laughed, picturing Hotch’s reaction. “You’re probably right,” you admitted, trying to picture the stern unit chief’s face as you explained the circumstances of your marriage.

The laughter continued as everyone joked about what your lives would look like as a married couple, the ridiculousness of the situation slowly easing the tension that had initially gripped you both. You could see how the lighthearted banter was bonding the team, the laughter helping to normalize the crazy turn of events.

As breakfast wrapped up, you could feel a sense of camaraderie building. “Well, I guess we should take this head-on,” Emily said, leaning back in her chair, her expression a mix of mischief and determination.

“Agreed,” you replied, feeling a surge of confidence. “Let’s just own it.”

As the team filed out of the restaurant, you and Emily lingered, your

[criminally-chill]

Coming home to you

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Fluff

———————-

The house felt unusually still as you lay on the sofa, bundled up in a blanket so thick and soft it was like being hugged by a cloud. The book in your hands was one you’d read a dozen times, but it didn’t matter—you were only half-focused, eyes flicking up to the door every so often, waiting for her to come through. It had been four days, and the house felt a little emptier, a little colder without her there to fill it with her laughter and warmth.

Finally, you heard the familiar jingle of keys at the door. The lock clicked, and you saw her silhouette as the door creaked open. Emily stepped inside, looking worn but beautiful, her eyes tired but bright as they landed on you.

“Hey,” she whispered, setting her bag down with a soft thud. Her gaze softened as she took in the sight of you bundled up on the sofa, just your face and hands peeking out from the blanket.

“Hi,” you replied, your face lighting up with a smile. “Come here. I’ve got space for one more under here.”

Emily laughed softly, shrugging off her jacket and draping it over a chair. She padded over in her socked feet, her smile widening as she climbed up onto the back of the sofa and stretched out along it. Slowly, she lowered herself down so she was lying right along the back of the couch, nestling herself around you, her arm draping gently over your shoulders as she settled in.

You sighed happily as she wrapped herself around you, pulling the blanket over her as well. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head, nuzzling her cheek against your hair as her arm tightened around you.

“This is perfect,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, like she didn’t want to break the spell of the moment. She leaned her head down, brushing her nose against your cheek in the gentlest of gestures.

“You’re perfect,” you replied softly, feeling her warmth seep into you, melting away every worry and every ounce of waiting. “How was the case?”

She sighed, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. “Long. Messy. But honestly, I kept thinking about getting home. To this.” She gave your shoulder a squeeze. “Every time I started feeling overwhelmed, I’d just think about this exact moment.”

You shifted slightly, leaning back into her, feeling the way she wrapped herself around you even tighter, as though she couldn’t get close enough. She tucked her face into the crook of your neck, her nose cold against your skin, and you couldn’t help but laugh, snuggling deeper under the blanket.

“Warm me up?” she whispered, chuckling softly against your skin.

You chuckled, reaching back to gently hold her hand. “Only if you stay right here. No running off to save the world for a while.”

Emily smiled, a softness in her voice as she said, “Promise. Just you and me.” Her fingers laced with yours beneath the blanket, and you felt her thumb gently brushing over your knuckles, the small, tender gesture that said everything without words.

After a while, the two of you slipped into a peaceful quiet, the only sounds the occasional rustling of the blanket and the soft hum of her breathing, steady and even behind you. The world outside felt so far away, and for once, you were grateful for it. She was here, really here, not rushing out the door to answer a phone call or putting on her “ready for anything” smile that only hid her exhaustion.

Emily shifted slightly, pulling you even closer as she pressed another kiss to your shoulder. “You know what I missed the most?” she murmured softly.

“What’s that?”

“This,” she said, her hand brushing gently down your arm. “Just being here with you, with nowhere to be, no one needing anything from me. I missed feeling…safe, you know? Like I can finally just breathe.”

You turned in her arms slightly so you could see her face, a soft smile spreading over your lips. “Then breathe, Em. We’ve got all the time in the world right here.” You leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, feeling the way her face softened, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

She smiled, her hand cupping your cheek as she looked at you, her gaze so full of affection that it made your heart swell. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, almost shyly.

“Good thing you don’t have to find out,” you teased, squeezing her hand and resting your head against her shoulder.

And there you stayed, wrapped in each other, letting the rest of the world fall away. The two of you drifted off eventually, tangled up under the blanket, with her arm draped protectively over you and her hand still holding yours. For the first time in days, everything felt exactly as it should. She was home, and in that quiet moment, with Emily’s heartbeat steady against your back, you knew that this was all you’d ever need.

[criminally-chill]

Loving you was a losing game:

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Angst

Trigger: grief and death

AN: I’m going to say sorry now.

——————————————————

The quiet of the apartment pressed down on Y/N’s chest, suffocating in a way that felt both achingly familiar and endlessly strange. She had come to despise the silence that lingered in the spaces Emily used to fill, the emptiness of a life that had felt so whole just days before. It was a void she could feel in her bones, a weight that seeped into every corner where Emily’s laughter had once echoed. The apartment, once alive with their shared warmth, felt haunted, each room heavy with memories she couldn’t escape. Every little piece of it—the framed photos, the abandoned book on the coffee table, Emily’s jacket still hanging by the door—reminded Y/N of a love she would never get to finish.

It had been so simple in the beginning, their love, even as they both knew the risks. The first time Y/N had really looked into Emily’s eyes and realized she was hers was so clear in her mind, the kind of memory etched into her heart like stone. She could see Emily laughing across from her in that crowded little café, leaning forward with that mischievous glint in her eye. Her whole face had lit up, and Y/N had felt her heart crack open, like a light she’d been waiting her whole life to find. But it had always been a delicate love too, a kind of bittersweet song. Emily was fierce and independent, carrying her own weight, the scars of a life spent facing shadows, a life that wouldn’t allow for guarantees. And somehow, that was what made Y/N love her even more.

Now, all she had left were the broken pieces, sharp and cutting, lodged in her heart in a way that wouldn’t let her forget, wouldn’t let her move on. She ran her fingers over their wedding band, the metal cold and heavy against her skin. She had slipped it off and put it back on so many times these past few days, as if trying to decide if she had the strength to keep wearing it. Each moment with Emily had seemed unbreakable, yet fragile all the same, like glass ready to shatter. They’d both known the risks, known that the job Emily loved could take her away at any moment, and yet they’d kept going, pretending that love would be enough to shield them. But love, Y/N realized now, wasn’t enough to hold back the cruel tides of fate.

The hollow quiet of the apartment was deafening, every sound amplified in the stillness. Y/N’s mind buzzed with memories, each one a reminder of what she’d lost, what she would never have again. The way Emily would curl up with her on the couch after a long day, burying her face into her neck with a tired smile, or the way she’d always leave a note if she was called out early, knowing Y/N would worry if she woke up to an empty bed. And that bed, cold and vast without Emily beside her, felt like a reminder of a life that was now only a shadow. Their love had always been a kind of rebellion, a fierce act of defiance against a world that demanded they be strong, that they bury their emotions and keep moving forward.

Sinking to the floor, Y/N wrapped her arms around her knees, pressing her back against the wall as if the solidness of it could somehow ground her. Emily had been her home, the only place she felt whole, and now, she felt like a stranger in her own life, adrift in a foreign world she didn’t know how to navigate. The silence echoed in her mind, a bitter mockery of the happiness they had shared. Every little sound she used to take for granted—the sound of Emily’s footsteps coming home, her voice calling out, the clinking of coffee cups as they shared sleepy mornings—was gone, leaving only a painful emptiness that Y/N didn’t know how to fill.

“Why did you have to leave?” she whispered, her voice cracking in the stillness. She pressed her hand to her mouth, as if trying to keep the words from slipping out, knowing they would never reach Emily, knowing she would never get an answer. But the words spilled out anyway, a broken confession to a love she didn’t know how to let go of. She could still see Emily’s smile, the way her eyes would soften when she looked at her, a love that had always seemed so infinite, so full. And still, Y/N had held on, even when it hurt, even when she could feel the shadows gathering at the edges.

How many times had she watched Emily leave for work, feeling the quiet fear in her chest that one day, she might not come back? How many times had she stood there, holding her breath as Emily walked out the door, a piece of her heart going with her? She’d known, in some unspoken part of her, that loving Emily meant facing this risk, this inevitable heartbreak. Loving Emily had always been like trying to hold onto water; it had slipped through her fingers, yet she’d kept reaching, kept loving, no matter how futile. Because how could she stop? How could she ever have turned away from a love that felt like it was woven into her very being.

The tears she’d been holding back slipped down her face, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. They were a release, a breaking of the dam she’d been trying so hard to hold together. Her heart ached with the weight of everything she hadn’t said, the small, everyday moments she’d never get to share with Emily again. All she knew—all she’d ever know—was that loving Emily had been both the most beautiful and the most heartbreaking thing she’d ever done. It had been a losing game, one where every moment had come at a cost, a game she would play over and over again if it meant getting to hold her just one more time.

But as she sat there, knees drawn tight to her chest, she realized that all she wanted was an end to the pain, a way off this endless, brutal roller-coaster of grief. The world felt too sharp, too cold without Emily, and she didn’t know how to live in it. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I don’t want to do this without you, Em.” She was so tired, so unbearably tired of carrying the weight of a love that would never be whole again.

She closed her eyes, letting herself drift back to the sound of Emily’s laughter, the feel of her arms around her, the warmth of her presence. Maybe that memory would be enough to carry her forward, just one fragile step at a time. She reached for the ring on her finger, holding it tightly, a promise to herself and to Emily, that she would try. Because even in the darkest moments, a part of Emily would always be with her, a love that went beyond the boundaries of life and death.

Y/N took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the cold metal of the ring, feeling the ghost of Emily’s touch. And in that moment, she understood that while their love may have been a losing game, it was also the truest, most profound part of her life. She would carry it with her, through the silence, through the grief, through each empty morning and quiet night. Because Emily had been her home, and somehow, she knew, she would find a way to keep going. For both of them.

[criminally-chill]

In good hands

Chapter 2: The First Game

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Fluff

——————————

Emily stepped into the arcade, scanning the bustling, neon-lit space until her eyes landed on Y/N by the air hockey tables. She felt a thrill of excitement at seeing her there, looking so effortlessly confident in jeans and a worn T-shirt, tattoos peeking out beneath rolled-up sleeves. There was something magnetic about Y/N’s easy stance and warm smile, and Emily found herself grinning as she walked over.

Y/N spotted her and leaned off the air hockey table, smirking. “Agent Prentiss,” she said in a teasing tone. “You ready to lose?”

Emily raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Lose? You’re clearly underestimating me, Dr. L/N.”

Y/N chuckled, sliding a paddle across to her. “Alright, big shot. Show me what you’ve got.”

They started the game, and right away, Emily noticed Y/N’s sharp reflexes and the competitive spark in her eyes. The doctor wasn’t giving her any easy points, and it only made Emily more determined. They went back and forth, Emily scoring one point, then Y/N hitting two back in quick succession.

“Oh, come on,” Emily laughed as Y/N blocked her shot with an almost theatrical flair. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, definitely,” Y/N replied, grinning as she tapped the puck back across the table. “But hey, it’s not my fault you thought you’d have an easy win.”

The game was close, but Y/N ultimately won, her triumphant laugh filling the air. “Victory!” she declared, raising her paddle in mock celebration.

Emily shook her head, trying not to laugh. “Beginner’s luck,” she teased. “Let’s see if you can handle a real challenge. Skee-Ball?”

Y/N accepted the challenge eagerly, and they moved on, their laughter and lighthearted banter growing with each game. When it was Emily’s turn, Y/N took the chance to poke fun, gesturing exaggeratedly with her hands. “Easy there, Prentiss. It’s all in the wrist.”

Emily rolled her eyes, tossing the ball with a flourish that landed perfectly in the top-scoring ring. “See that? All in the wrist,” she mimicked, her smirk wide.

Y/N chuckled, pretending to concede as she lined up her shot. “Alright, alright. Guess you’ve got some skills.”

As they played through the rounds, Emily noticed how easily they fell into rhythm with each other. The competition, the laughter, and the small, subtle touches made her feel like she’d known Y/N far longer than just a couple of encounters.

After a while, they wandered over to the claw machine, and Y/N’s expression turned mischievous. “Care to try your luck?” she asked, nodding toward the stuffed animals inside. “Or do you think the legendary Agent Prentiss might need a hand?”

Emily gave her a playful shove. “Oh, I could do it… but I think I’ll let you prove your skills this time.”

Y/N grinned, taking up the challenge. She dropped a quarter into the machine and focused on maneuvering the claw with surprising care. “Alright, I’ll win you a prize. But no promises on the quality,” she said, eyes glinting.

As the claw lowered, Emily found herself caught between amusement and genuine hope that Y/N might actually pull it off. With one last nudge, the claw grabbed hold of a small, neon-colored dinosaur and lifted it with surprising precision.

“Oh, I don’t believe it,” Emily said, watching as Y/N deftly maneuvered the claw over to the prize chute. The dinosaur tumbled down, and Y/N reached in, retrieving it with a grin.

She turned to Emily, holding out the little plush dinosaur with a warm smile. “For you, Agent Prentiss,” she said, her tone a mix of playfulness and sincerity. “To commemorate your bravery on the air hockey battlefield.”

Emily laughed, but there was a hint of warmth in her eyes as she took the toy. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. You’re more than just a trauma surgeon with a quick wit.”

Y/N shrugged modestly. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.”

They shared a laugh, lingering close as they headed outside into the cool night air, leaving the neon glow of the arcade behind. Emily looked down at the little dinosaur Y/N had won her, a feeling of rare lightness settling over her.

They stopped by the doorway, and Y/N turned to face her, her expression softening. “Thanks for tonight, Emily. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in… well, a long time.”

Emily met her gaze, warmth spreading through her chest. “Me neither,” she admitted. “It’s been… surprisingly fun.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the quiet between them carrying an unspoken invitation. Then, Y/N took a step closer, her hand brushing Emily’s lightly, almost as if testing the waters. Emily didn’t pull back; instead, she found herself leaning in, her pulse quickening as Y/N’s face came close.

In the soft glow of the streetlights, Y/N closed the distance, pressing a gentle, tentative kiss to Emily’s lips. It was warm and sweet, a promise held in the quiet connection between them. Emily felt herself melt into it, her hand resting lightly on Y/N’s arm as the kiss deepened just slightly, filled with unspoken hopes and possibilities.

When they finally pulled back, both of them a little breathless, Y/N’s smile softened, her eyes shining. “I’d say that was a pretty good ending to our first date, wouldn’t you?”

Emily laughed softly, feeling the warmth of Y/N’s hand lingering on her own. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice filled with rare warmth. “I’d say it was perfect.”

As they said their goodbyes, Emily clutched the little dinosaur to her chest, watching as Y/N walked away with a last, lingering smile. The night felt full of promise, and for the first time in a long time, Emily felt like she had something real to look forward to.

[criminally-chill]

In good hands

——————————

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Fluff

Trigger: Talks about an injury and needles

Chapter One: The First Stitch

The fluorescent lights of the ER cast a harsh, clinical glow over the bustling scene, but Emily Prentiss barely noticed. Years in the BAU had made her accustomed to hospital settings; an ER visit every so often was practically part of the job. Tonight, a suspect’s wild swing had left her with a cut on her forehead. It wasn’t serious, but her head was starting to throb, and she was hoping to get stitched up quickly so she could go home and decompress.

“Agent Prentiss?” a nurse called from the hallway.

Emily looked up, hand still pressed to her forehead, and followed the nurse to a curtained-off bay in the back. She perched on the edge of the exam table, legs dangling, waiting for the doctor. A few moments later, the curtain swept back, and in stepped someone unexpected.

The doctor before her was tall and muscular, with tattooed arms visible even under the loose fit of her scrubs. Her eyes held a quiet intensity, softened by a slight smirk as she reviewed Emily’s chart.

“You’re Emily Prentiss?” she asked, glancing up with a glint of curiosity.

“That’s me,” Emily replied, tilting her head slightly. “And you are?”

“Y/N L/N. Trauma surgeon.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter as she took in the chart details. “So, the BAU, huh?”

Emily gave a short nod. “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile. “Behavioral Analysis? That sounds intense. I’m just here to stitch you up, but… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get profiled while we’re at it?”

Emily chuckled, picking up on the doctor’s playful tone. “Consider it a free perk.” She leaned in slightly, half in jest. “If you’re not careful, I might have you all figured out by the end of this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Y/N replied, grabbing antiseptic from the counter. She moved closer, tilting Emily’s chin slightly as she examined the cut. “Looks like a straightforward job,” she murmured, preparing to clean the area. “But it’s on your forehead, so I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t scar.”

Emily barely felt the sting of the antiseptic. Her focus had shifted to the steady, practiced way Y/N moved—her hands careful, her eyes alert. Close up, Emily noticed faint scars beneath Y/N’s collar, one particularly prominent scar peeking just above the neckline of her scrubs. Instinctively, Emily’s gaze softened, sensing a story hidden in those scars.

“Hold still,” Y/N said gently, meeting her eyes for a moment before lifting a syringe. “This will numb the area. Just a small pinch.”

Emily barely flinched as Y/N worked with quick precision, injecting the anesthetic in small increments. Her fingers brushed lightly along the edges of Emily’s cut, and Emily couldn’t help but notice the quiet strength in her hands—hands that spoke of experience, both in the ER and beyond.

“So,” Y/N began as she threaded the suture needle, her voice light. “Rough night?”

Emily chuckled, feeling the slight pull of her skin as Y/N started her first stitch. “You could say that. Just your average takedown.”

Y/N nodded, eyes fixed on her work. “The things people get up to these days…” She glanced up briefly, meeting Emily’s gaze with a wry smile. “Guess that’s why we’re both here at midnight, doing what we do.”

A beat of silence passed between them, charged with a quiet understanding. Y/N’s focus returned to the wound, her hands steady, her brow furrowed slightly as she worked with meticulous care. Her closeness, her calm, drew Emily in, and for a moment, the chaos of her day faded.

Y/N’s fingers gently tilted Emily’s chin to catch the right angle. “Almost done,” she murmured. “You holding up okay?”

“Yeah,” Emily replied, her voice softer than usual. “Better than expected.”

Y/N glanced up, eyebrows raised, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “High praise.”

They shared a small laugh before Y/N finished the last stitch, tying it off with a practiced hand. She reached for a bandage, gently pressing it over the stitches with a tenderness that surprised Emily.

“There we go,” Y/N said, leaning back slightly to admire her work. “You’re all set.”

Emily touched the edge of the bandage with a wry grin. “It’s a good look.”

“Oh, definitely,” Y/N replied, her voice low, playful. She set her supplies aside, and their eyes met again, lingering just a little too long for it to be merely professional.

Y/N started to close Emily’s chart but seemed to hesitate. “Look, I don’t know if this is too forward, but… I’d like to know more about what you do. The cases, the team you work with. It sounds like a life few people would understand.”

Emily’s lips curved into a grin. “Are you saying you might be interested in a little after-hours profiling session?”

“Maybe,” Y/N replied, meeting her gaze with a mischievous glint. “Or maybe something less work-related. You know… if you’d want to go out sometime.”

Emily’s heart skipped, but she masked it quickly. “I’d like that.”

Y/N hesitated, smiling with a rueful glance. “Except there’s this little hospital policy about dating patients. Something about ethics, boundaries—all that fun stuff.”

Emily’s face fell, but Y/N’s smile only widened as she wrote a few final notes in Emily’s file.

“But once I discharge you,” Y/N said, closing the chart with a wink, “feel free to ask again.”

Emily’s pulse quickened, and she gave Y/N a lingering look as she stood. “Noted, Dr. L/N.”

Y/N smirked, not missing a beat. “See you around, Agent Prentiss.” She gestured to the door, pausing just long enough to catch Emily’s eye one last time.

A few minutes later, as she was officially discharged, Emily made her way out of the ER. But just before she left, she heard a voice call her name from down the hall.

Turning, she saw Y/N leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, the smallest smirk on her face.

“So,” Y/N said, cocking her head. “Feel free to ask again now.”

Emily couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across her face. “Dr. L/N, would you like to go out with me?”

Y/N’s smile softened, her eyes sparkling. “I’d love to.”

They exchanged numbers, and as Emily left the hospital, she felt a strange, unexpected warmth settling over her. She didn’t know what to expect from this mysterious, tattooed surgeon with the quick wit and quiet strength, but she knew she was looking forward to finding out.

As she drove through the quiet streets, Emily’s thoughts circled back to Y/N. There was an unusual excitement coursing through her, a feeling she hadn’t expected from such a simple encounter. It wasn’t just the attraction, though that was certainly there. It was the comfort, the ease she’d felt with Y/N—a rare thing in Emily’s world.

She parked her car and took a moment to sit in the silence, her mind drifting back to the feel of Y/N’s hands as she stitched up her forehead. The gentle confidence, the way she’d looked at Emily, not with caution or curiosity but with a kind of familiarity, like she’d already understood the scars that ran deeper than skin.

As she climbed out of her car, her phone buzzed.

“Hey, Agent Prentiss, don’t forget to take it easy tonight. Can’t have you back here so soon. – Y/N”

Emily chuckled, typing back before she even knew what she wanted to say. “No promises, but I’ll do my best. Looking forward to that drink.”

After she sent it, she pocketed her phone, feeling a rare lightness in her chest. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

[criminally-chill]

Every second together

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: angst

AN: sorry this had been in my head for a long time and I needed to get it out.

The sound of sirens faded into the background as the bomb squad’s van pulled into the cordoned-off alleyway, brakes screeching against the pavement. Agent Y/L’s stomach twisted with an urgency she rarely felt on the job. This was personal. She leaped out of the van before it even came to a complete stop, her team calling after her, but she couldn’t hear them over the pounding of her own heart.

Ahead, in the dimly lit alley, sat Emily Prentiss, her wife, bound to a pipe with a bomb strapped to her chest. The night’s chill clung to the air, but a bead of sweat traced down Emily’s temple. Her expression was calm but determined, the same unbreakable spirit Y/N had fallen in love with. She gave a tiny nod as Y/N approached, her dark eyes meeting Y/N’s with that familiar intensity.

Y/N fought to keep her voice steady. “Emily…”

Emily’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Hey. Took you long enough.”

“I came as fast as I could,” Y/N replied, kneeling down next to her, scanning the device strapped to Emily’s chest. Her trained eye took in every detail, every wire, every flashing light. Whoever had rigged this bomb had been thorough. Ruthless.

Emily’s face softened as she watched Y/N. “Y/N, if… if anything happens, I just want you to know—”

“No.” Y/N shook her head sharply, setting her bag of tools down and snapping on gloves. “We’re not doing goodbyes, Emily.”

“But—”

“No. Just... let me work.” Her voice was harsher than she intended, but Y/N couldn’t let Emily go there, couldn’t let her talk as though this would end any other way than safely. It was too much. She wasn’t losing her wife. Not today, not like this.

Emily’s eyes lingered on Y/N’s face, and she fell silent, giving a small nod. Y/N took a deep breath, her fingers tracing over the wires. The bomb was sophisticated, too sophisticated — a complex web of wires with dual failsafes, likely designed to thwart anyone who tried to disarm it. Whoever set this up knew exactly what they were doing, which meant this was no random act. Someone was targeting Emily.

Y/N’s pulse quickened as she identified the main trigger wire. Cutting it would disable the primary detonation mechanism, but it wouldn’t be enough on its own. A secondary wire, a bright yellow one tucked carefully behind the others, acted as a backup trigger. Her hands hovered over the wires, every nerve on edge.

Emily’s voice was barely a whisper. “Y/N, I… I’m sorry. For putting you in this position. For making you have to… do this.”

Y/N stopped, her eyes flashing with an anger born of fear and love intertwined. “Emily, don’t. Don’t apologize. And don’t you dare start acting like this is it.” She looked at her wife, fierce determination set in her gaze. “I told you, I never wanted to meet you at work like this. And I refuse to let it end here.”

Emily’s eyes glistened, her steely demeanor slipping just for a second. “If anyone can do this… it’s you.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers moving quickly as she traced each wire’s connection, memorizing the intricate network before her. She forced herself to push down the overwhelming fear. Focus. She was trained for this — her entire career had been spent facing down moments exactly like this one. But none of that training had prepared her for what it would feel like to disarm a bomb on her own wife.

The timer on the bomb continued its relentless countdown, the red digits flashing. Four minutes. The device beeped steadily, each second a reminder of how close she was to losing everything.

“Y/N…” Emily’s voice broke the silence again, softer this time, almost pleading. “If… if this doesn’t work, I just want you to know that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Stop,” Y/N choked out, feeling her composure waver as she fought to hold back the tears threatening to blur her vision. “You don’t get to say that, not now. Not when I’m still getting you out of this.”

Emily reached out, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s hand. “Just in case, alright? I don’t want you to regret not hearing it.”

Y/N’s breath caught, the touch grounding her for a moment. “There’s nothing you could say that I don’t already know, Emily. I know you love me. I know you’re proud of me. And I know that, no matter what, you’re not giving up.”

“Not as long as you’re here,” Emily whispered back.

Y/N gave her a quick, shaky smile. “Exactly.”

Her focus returned to the bomb, mind racing as she tried to assess the safest way forward. She reached for her tools, fingers steady as she went for the main wire. The risk of tripping the backup was high, but if she didn’t disable the primary trigger, they wouldn’t have a chance. She glanced at the timer — two minutes.

Her heart hammered as she moved closer to the red wire, breathing shallowly to keep her hand steady. She snipped the red wire, and her heart skipped a beat as the countdown paused — only for a split second — before it resumed, the clock’s beeping speeding up, the timer dropping down to less than a minute.

Emily’s breath hitched, but she stayed steady, her eyes locked on Y/N. “You can do this.”

Y/N forced herself to stay calm, fingers moving to the yellow wire, the one that would dismantle the failsafe. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, knowing that this cut would be the difference between saving Emily and triggering the bomb. Every nerve was alive, every instinct screaming at her, demanding she make the right move.

“Thirty seconds,” Emily whispered, her voice low, eyes meeting Y/N’s in silent trust.

Y/N took one final, steadying breath, her fingers poised. She glanced up, her heart heavy but filled with the fierce determination that had brought her to this moment.

“Whatever happens, Emily…” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, “I love you.”

Emily’s eyes filled with tears, a soft, almost accepting smile crossing her face. “I love you, too.”

The bomb’s timer continued its countdown, seconds ticking by as Y/N’s hands moved with precision, her focus unbroken. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. The clock beeped faster, each second a heartbeat, racing and desperate.

Three seconds. Two. One.

And then…

[criminally-chill]

Emily Prentiss The Eras Tour