Mixture of Jemily, EmilyxReader, child, unsub and such.
Some of these were written as far back as 2017, please be kind LMAO. I'm working on going through them and workshopping, improving.
New fics and improved ones are in the beginning chapters
�...
The Kinktober post to start off this fine Halloween. Remember, two hands on the phone.
This got way longer than I planned but Emily Prentiss makes me feral so here we are. First time writing gun kink so please be gentle with me lmao.
TW: Gun Kink, Interrogation Kink, Power Dynamics, Dominant Emily Prentiss, Halloween, Costume Roleplay, Praise Kink, Established Relationship, Consensual Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Emily's text comes through at 4:47 PM on Halloween afternoon, just as you're debating whether to leave work early.
My place. 7 PM. Don't be late.
No explanation. No hint about the plans she's been mysteriously alluding to all week. Just that commanding tone that makes heat pool low in your stomach even through a text message.
You'd asked her three times what she had planned for tonight. Each time, she'd given you that smile, the one that's equal parts dangerous and devastating, and told you it was a surprise. That she'd taken care of everything. That all you needed to do was show up.
The last time you'd pressed, she'd leaned in close, voice dropping to something that made your pulse stutter: "Trust me. You're going to love it."
Now, standing outside her door at 6:58 PM, you're acutely aware of your heartbeat. You'd changed three times before leaving your apartment, finally settling on jeans and a simple black sweater. Something that felt appropriate for whatever Emily had planned, even though you have no idea what that might be.
You knock.
The door opens almost immediately, like she'd been waiting on the other side. Emily stands there in her a robe, hair loose around her shoulders. She looks casual, relaxed, but there's something in her eyes that makes your mouth go dry.
"Right on time," she says, stepping back to let you in. "Good girl."
The praise hits you exactly the way she knows it will. You step inside, hyperaware of her presence behind you as she closes the door. The lock clicks with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine.
"So," you say, turning to face her, trying for casual even though your voice comes out slightly breathless. "Are you going to tell me what this mysterious plan is?"
Emily's smile is slow, predatory. "Soon. First, I need you to go upstairs. There's something on the bed for you."
"Emily—"
"Go." Not harsh, but firm. The voice she uses in the field, the one that expects immediate compliance.
You go.
Her bedroom is dimly lit, curtains drawn against the early evening darkness. On the bed sits a garment bag, black and expensive-looking. Your fingers tremble slightly as you unzip it.
