summary: you find baran’s instagram and talk to her about why ai is harmful.
taglist: @somemetallyillbitch @killah28 @bigstupids @lovvrr @mil1an @noprophet @escapereality4music @angryoilslick516 @mxtokko @abbotitts @wewerewildandflourescent @likesomethingidk @longfulforlee @winstonhelp @sadoutlaw @theworldscalamity @bsttwice @randomstuff02sblog @beingniceisntahobby @geekyandgay98 @cmckaysdollpuppy @banginglikeahurricane @hehehehahahohohuhu @eatmykittycatt @midnitewaves @dixondeer @moonshoesdekarios @secretlyurfemmwife — i attach my taglist to any series of mine. send your username to my inbox or comment to be added/removed.
warnings : baran x fem!reader . fluff . nsfw , mdni . first time (reader) . consensual, ofc . legal age gap (duh) . reassurance . lots of communication . established relationship . thigh grinding (r!receiving) . oral (both receiving) . fingering (both receiving) . praise . body worship (r!receiving) .
wc : 4k
notes : got a bit carried away with this one but who’s really complaining (no one, i hope)
find the request here
you knock on baran’s door a little after eight, takeout bag in hand. your heart is already fluttering, it always does when you show up here, even after four months of dating. office work today was the usual soul-sucking grind with endless emails, that one coworker who talks too loud on calls, your back stiff from the shitty desk chair that needs replacing yesterday. you just wanted to be here, with her, where things feel less like noise.
she opens the door in her soft sweatpants and a plain black tee that’s seen better days but somehow looks perfect on her. her hair’s down, still damp from her shower, a few strands sticking to the side of her neck. the small smile she gives you hits different every time, like she’s actually glad you’re the one standing there.
“hey, azizam,” she says, voice low and easy as she steps back to let you in. “long day?”
“yeah, that’s one way to put it,” you mumble, kicking your shoes off by the door. the familiar smell of her place wraps around you right away. you set the bag on the counter and she’s already moving around the kitchen, pulling out plates.
you end up on the couch with the food, legs tangled under a blanket while some random documentary hums on the tv. she’s listening while you vent about the spreadsheets that kept glitching and the meeting that ran over because no one could shut up. her thumb rubs slow circles on your knee the whole time, warm through your jeans. she lets you talk it out without interrupting, nodding here and there, her dark eyes steady on you. saying how you don’t deserve to put up with that crap, joking about how you should just quit your job and let her take care of you instead. she’s not really joking.
after the containers are cleared and put away, you both migrate to her bedroom because the couch feels too cramped with how your shoulders are killing you. you drop onto the bed first, stretching out on top of the covers while she plugs her phone in and dims the lamp to a warm glow.
she settles against the headboard, one arm loose around you as you curl into her side. her fingers thread through your hair, playing with it absently, tugging just enough to feel nice. you turn your face into her shoulder, breathing her in deep - body oil mixed with body lotion and her faint perfume. she smells so nice and it always cuts through your nerves. your hand rests on her stomach, feeling the rise and fall there, and for a minute it’s enough just to be close.
eventually you tilt your head up and kiss the corner of her mouth, soft at first, almost shy about it. she doesn’t grab for more. she turns into it slow, letting you lead, her lips warm and patient against yours. the second kiss lingers longer, your mouth pressing firmer, and she hums quiet into it, one hand sliding to rest light on your waist. not pulling, not pushing. she never push you, has never rushed you.
you swing a leg over and straddle her lap without overthinking it, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of her hips. the weight of you on her feels good, solid. her hands settle on your thighs, thumbs stroking up and down the denim in unhurried lines that send little sparks straight through you. you kiss her deeper, tongue brushing hers, and heat starts pooling low in your belly.
you chase her lips, mouths moving lazy but getting sloppier. it’s hard to not get needy when you make out with baran, you’ve just been so nervous to go further.
you lose count of how long you’re like this, just making out heavy. her tongue slides against yours slow and sure, pulling tiny sounds from you that you don’t even try to hold back anymore. your hips start shifting on their own, rocking forward in subtle little grinds against her thigh. the seam of your jeans catches just right and you whimper into her mouth, embarrassed but too turned on to stop. your clit throbs with each press down, damp heat soaking through your underwear already.
baran pulls back a fraction, cupping your face with both hands. her thumbs brush your flushed cheeks, eyes dark and locked on yours, breathing a little heavier.
“hey,” she murmurs, voice rough around the edges but so soft. “you good?”
you nod, biting your lip. “yeah, i just… i want more, baran.” your voice comes out shaky, heart pounding in your throat. “i think i’m ready. with you. i want it to be you, obviously.”
she doesn’t jump on it. she searches your face for a long second, really looking, like she’s weighing every part of this. her hands stay gentle on your jaw, thumbs stroking slow.
“you sure?” she asks, low and careful. “not just ‘cause it feels good right now. we’ve got time. i’m good with just staying like this. i don’t want you feeling like you got to do this tonight if you’re even a little unsure.”
you let out a breath, forehead pressing to hers. “i know. you’ve been so good about waiting and i appreciate that so much. you have never pushed. i trust you and yes, i’m sure. i want this, want you.”
she exhales, slow and steady, then presses a kiss to your forehead that lingers. “alright. but we do this your way. if anything feels off, even a tiny bit, you say it. yeah?”
“yeah,” you whisper, already leaning in to kiss her again.
her hands slip under the hem of your shirt, palms warm and broad against your bare back, but she doesn’t yank it off. she just holds you closer, letting you feel her, letting you decide when to take the next step. you can feel how careful she’s being, how much she’s holding back so you don’t feel rushed, making sure this doesn’t feel like too much, and it makes something tight in your chest loosen.
your hips keep up a slow grind. the friction against her thigh is driving you crazy, your panties sticking wetly, clit aching every time you roll down. you whimper louder into the kiss, tongues tangling, and she squeezes your waist like she can feel how bad you need it.
“just let me know what feels good,” she says against your mouth between kisses, breath hot.
you rock harder against her, the pressure building. her thigh flexes under you and you gasp, burying your face in her neck as another sound slips out. she’s so solid under you, so patient, hands roaming your back and sides but never demanding. if anything her grip on your waist tightens just enough to let you know she likes it.
you kiss down her jaw, nipping lightly, and she tilts her head to give you room, a quiet groan vibrating against your lips. your hands fist in her shirt, tugging it up a little so you can feel skin on skin at your waist. everything’s hazy and slow, your lips swollen and your pussy throbbing, desperate for more but not wanting it to end either. she chuckles softly when you grind down particularly hard, the sound warm and fond against your ear.
“you feel good like this,” she whispers, one hand sliding to grip your ass, guiding the motion just enough to make you moan. not taking over, just helping.
you nod against her neck, breathing fast. the office stress from earlier feels miles away, replaced by this building ache, the way her body fits against yours, the quiet reassurance in every touch.
your hips keeps rocking in slow, desperate little circles against her thigh while your mouths move together until you can build up the courage to go further. your jeans are damp between your legs, the friction making your clit throb with every grind down. baran pulls back every so often to look at you, checking in without saying much, her breath warm against your cheek.
“you really want this tonight?” she asks again, voice low and rough. probably sensing that you’re nervous. her thumb brushing your bottom lip. “you can tell me if you change your mind. we can make out, or cuddle and we call it good if that’s all you need.” she reassures.
you shake your head, leaning in to kiss her again. “no. i want this, baran. been thinking about it for weeks.”
she nods slow, like she’s letting that sink in, then flips you gently onto your back. the mattress dips under her weight as she settles between your spread legs, not crushing you but close enough that you feel the heat coming off her. she tugs your shirt up and off, then unhooks your bra, kissing down your chest as she goes. her mouth lingers on your breasts, sucking one nipple between her lips while her hand squeezes the other. you arch up into it, a shaky moan slipping out when she scrapes her teeth lightly.
“fuck, that feels good,” you whisper, fingers threading through her hair.
“yeah?” she murmurs against your skin, switching sides. “tell me what else you like.”
you don’t have all the words right away, but she doesn’t push. she peels your jeans down next, taking your soaked panties with them. cool air hits your pussy and you shiver, knees falling open wider on their own. baran’s eyes drag over you, dark and hungry but still soft at the edges. she runs her palms up your thighs, spreading you more, thumbs brushing the crease where your leg meets your body.
“you’re so beautiful,” she says, breathing heavier. one finger slides through your folds, spreading the slick around your clit without pressing hard. you twitch hard at the contact, hips jerking up, trying to chase it. “easy, baby. we got time.”
she starts slow, just rubbing circles around your clit, building the pressure so gradually you don’t even notice how bad you’re leaking onto her sheets until her finger dips lower and catches it. “feel okay?” she checks every few minutes, eyes flicking up to your face.
“more,” you breathe, reaching down to grab her wrist, not guiding her exactly but showing her you want it. she slides one finger inside you, just the tip at first, curling gentle against your walls.
“good girl,” she says softly, kissing your bent knee. “that’s it. you’re doing perfect.” she works the finger deeper, pumping slow, her thumb back on your clit rubbing steady circles. your pussy clenches around her, wet sounds starting to fill the room. she adds a second finger after a while, scissoring them a little to open you up, and you moan louder, one hand fisting the pillow behind your head.
“yes, baby- right there,” you gasp when she curls them just right, hitting your g-spot and it makes sparks shoot up your spine. she stays focused, watching your face the whole time, adjusting every time your moans pitch higher. her free hand strokes your stomach, your hip, keeping you grounded while the pressure builds hot and tight in your belly.
you come sudden and hard on her fingers, thighs clamping around her wrist as it hits you. your back comes off the bed and she keeps moving through it, slow and deep, “juuust like that, baby, so good.” she murmurs against against your skin. it rolls through you longer than how it would if you were pleasuring yourself, leaving your legs shaky and your pussy pulsing even after she eases her fingers out.
she crawls up to kiss you, “how you feeling?” she asks between kisses, brushing hair off your damp forehead.
“really good,” you admit, laughing a bit breathlessly. your hands slide down her back, wanting to feel her skin on yours.
“i’m glad. you looked beautiful.” she says, smiling. she leans down and kiss the corner of your mouth, then your cheek while inhaling your scent.
you hum and she press one last kiss to your temple before looking at you. “baby, can i taste you?” she asks, looking at you for permission. “you can say no. remember, you’re in control.” she assures you, brushing her knuckles against your cheekbone, searching your face for any hesitations.
you nod fast, nerves and excitement twisting together. “yes, please.”
she nearly grins and murmurs a thank you before slowly kissing down your body. down your neck, chest, collarbone and finally down your stomach. she keeps glancing up at you, mostly to admire how you look but also to check in. she exhales and takes her time on your inner thigh.
you grow impatient, hips lifting off the bed. she notices, chuckling against your skin. “you’re so soft,” she murmurs, lips ghosting over your skin while her hand softly squeeze your other thigh. “you’re quite impatient though. i want to take my time with you.”
“baran, you take your time with everything. not now.” you pout down at her, threading your fingers through her hair.
she bites her lip and looks up at you, “guess i’m just precise.” she kiss right above your clit, making you jerk up and whimper. “just want… perfect satisfaction score.” she murmurs against your skin, kissing your inner thigh, beside your lip.
she’s enjoying this way too much, and it’s torture for you. you try to guide her head towards where you need her with a whine, earning a light nip of her teeth on your skin.
“please, baran- i can’t.” you beg so nicely, you just want her to give you the same pleasure as she did with her fingers.
she huffs a small laugh, looking up at you through her lashes. “you sound pretty when you beg.”
she finally kiss your folds, tongue flattening out to lick a long stripe up through your wetness. you jerk at the warmth, she takes it easy, sucking gently on your clit.
“oh my god,” you moan, hand tightening in her hair. she hums against you, the vibration making your toes curl. two fingers slide back into your pussy while her tongue works your clit, pumping in and out in time with her licks. the wet sounds are louder now, her mouth slurping softly, tongue dipping inside you sometimes before going back up. your hips grind against her face on their own, chasing the feeling, and she grips your thighs to hold you open.
she builds you up again slower this time, edging you then backing off until you’re whining her name, begging in broken little whispers. “please, please, baby. i need it.” when you finally tip over the edge it’s sharper this time, your pussy gushing around her fingers while she sucks your clit through it. you come down panting, legs trembling around her shoulders.
she kisses her way back up your body, lips shiny with you, and settles beside you. you turn into her, still catching your breath. “worth the wait?” she tease.
you huff against her neck, “yes… but that was mean.”
she laughs softly into your hair, wrapping her arms around you and pulls you close. “wasn’t mean, just wanted to take my time with you. you’re too precious to rush.”
she traces slow patterns on your back, dropping lazy kisses on your shoulder and collarbone. “you did very good, though,” she says quietly, voice warm. “how are you feeling? sore anywhere?”
you shake your head, curling tighter into her chest. “a little achy but like… good achy. that was way better than anything i’ve done by myself.” your fingers trail over her stomach, still buzzing from everything. “i can’t believe how patient you’ve been with me.”
she chuckles soft, the sound rumbling under your cheek. “got no reason to rush. i’d be fine with never having sex, if that’s what you would’ve wanted.” she pulls you closer, one leg slung over yours, holding you like she doesn’t want to be anywhere else.
you stay curled against her for a while, bodies sticky and warm under the blanket, her fingers tracing lazy lines up and down your spine. your attention keeps drifting to her, the way her breathing hasn’t fully settled, the subtle shift of her hips every few seconds like she’s still keyed up. you tilt your head up, chin resting on her chest, and catch her eye.
“i wanna make you feel good,” you say quietly, voice a little hoarse. “show me how.”
baran runs her thumb along your jaw, searching your face thoroughly. “you don’t have to do anything, azizam. i’m good staying like this.”
“i want to,” you insist, already sliding your hand down her stomach, fingers brushing the soft hairs just above her pussy. “tell me what feels good.”
“okay, of course.” she agreea and rolls onto her back, spreading her legs as you move between them. her pussy looks flushed and wet, lips shiny from how turned on she still is. she gently takes your hand again with a smile, slowly guiding your fingers to her clit. “start slow here,” she murmurs. “circles, not too much pressure at first. just… yeah, like that.”
your fingertips rub gentle circles over the swollen nub and her breath hitches immediately, hips twitching up. “that’s nice,” she says, one hand resting light on your wrist, not controlling but staying close. you keep the rhythm steady, watching her face as her eyes flutter and her lips part. after a minute she gets wetter under your touch, slick coating your fingers as you slide them down through her folds.
“inside?” you ask, glancing up.
“two fingers,” she tells you, voice dropping lower. “go slow at first, then curl them up a bit.”
you push in careful, feeling her tight heat grip around your fingers. she’s so warm and wet, walls fluttering as you sink deeper. you start pumping slow, curling like she showed you, and her head tips back against the pillow with a low groan. “fuck, baby… right there. you’re picking this up quick.”
you beam at the praise. feeling more confident, you add your thumb on her clit, rubbing while your fingers thrust in and out. the wet sounds are obscene, your knuckles getting slick with her as she starts rocking down to meet you. her pussy clenching tighter every time you hit her g-spot, and you can feel how much she likes it from the way her thighs tense around your arm.
after a few minutes she tugs gently at your hair to meet your eyes. “you wanna go down on me?” her eyes are dark when she looks at you. “no pressure if you’re not ready.”
“i am,” you say fast, already shifting lower. she spreads her legs wider, two fingers holding herself open for you. you start with a soft lick up her slit, tasting her for the first time and softly moan at her salty, warm and sweet taste. you get bolder quick, licking broader, tongue flattening against her clit before dipping down to push inside her hole, trying to copy what she did to you.
“oh fuck,” she breathes, fingers threading into your hair. “just like that.”
you lose yourself in it quickly, burying your face deeper. your licks turn messy, spit mixing with her wetness as you suck on her clit then lap sloppily down to her entrance. you push your tongue inside her, fucking her with it while your nose rubs against her clit. she tastes stronger the wetter she gets, dripping down your chin as you eat her out like you can’t get enough. your fingers slide back in, pumping while your mouth focuses on sucking her clit harder.
baran’s hips grind against your face, not rough but needy, her hand tightening in your hair. “good girl,” she groans, voice thick, looking down at you. “you look so hot, baby.”
you moan into her pussy, the vibration making her walls clench. you’re sloppy about it, chin and cheeks covered in her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. if anything it turns her on more, her breathing gets ragged and her hips move faster. all she can think is how fucking addictive this is, having you like this, teaching you, knowing no one’s ever had their mouth on her pussy quite like you are right now, knowing she’s your first. no one’s been this eager to please her. you’re clearly getting hooked on her taste, on making her feel good.
“add another finger,” she says, breath catching. “stretch me a little more, eshgham.”
you do exactly as she says. three fingers pumping deep while you suck hard on her clit. her pussy takes them easier than you expected but still grips tight, hot and fluttering. wet squelching every time you thrust in combined with your messy licking. she tastes even stronger when she gets closer, flooding your mouth as you lap it up eagerly.
“you’re doing so good,” she praises, voice breaking a bit. “you’re a quick learner… don’t stop, azizam, i’m getting close.” her free hand grips the sheet, knuckles white, while the other stays in your hair, guiding you just a little while mumbling something in farsi.
you keep the same pace, fingers curling deep, mouth working her clit steady. her thighs start trembling around your head, pussy clenching rhythmically around your fingers. “fuck… right there, don’t change anything,” she gasps. her back arches and she comes hard, moaning low and long as her walls squeeze tight around your fingers. you feel every pulse, every flutter, while you keep licking her through it, gentler but not pulling away until she tugs you up softly.
you crawl back up, face shiny and flushed, lips swollen. she kisses you right away, tasting herself on your tongue, hands running down your back to pull you closer. “c’mere,” she mutters against your mouth. “you were incredible for your first time.”
you give her a shy smile and settle on top of her, legs tangled, both of you breathing hard. “i really liked it,” you admit, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. “you taste good.”
she laughs quiet, the sound warm and a little breathless, pulling the blanket over your sweaty bodies. “yeah? good, because i’m already addicted to your mouth.” her hand squeezes your hip, holding you against her as she kisses your forehead. “you did do amazing. made me feel so good.”
“thank you,” you blush and smile into her neck, getting even more shy at her words. you can still taste her on your lips, body buzzing. her fingers stroke through your hair slow and steady while you both come down, skin sticking where it touches. she shifts a little so your thigh presses between hers, just resting there as she holds you tight.
“we can do that again whenever you want to, you set the pace.” she says softly after a minute, voice relaxed now.
you nod against her, already getting sleepy.
she drops another kiss on your shoulder, hands roaming lazy over your back, keeping you close like she doesn’t want to ever letting go.
summary: with robby taking a sabbatical, a new attending comes in to cover for him. a beautiful, hot, smart milf attending.
taglist: @somemetallyillbitch @killah28 @bigstupids @lovvrr @mil1an @noprophet @escapereality4music @angryoilslick516 @mxtokko @abbotitts @wewerewildandflourescent @likesomethingidk @longfulforlee @winstonhelp @sadoutlaw @theworldscalamity @bsttwice @randomstuff02sblog @beingniceisntahobby @geekyandgay98 @cmckaysdollpuppy @banginglikeahurricane @hehehehahahohohuhu @eatmykittycatt — i attach my taglist to any series of mine. send your username to my inbox or comment to be added/removed.
baran al hashimi x fem!reader - 2k words - age gap (r is late 20s, baran is 40) - you and baran have been hooking up for a few months, never really going beyond that. one satruday you run into her at your favorite museum, and she has a guest | from this poll |
note: happy pride month gays. love y'all. unhh. (the sound is included in the message.)
Every other week, Kaveh stayed at Baran's house, which meant that every other Saturday, they ended up at the Carnegie Museum of Art.
It was one of Baran's favorite traiditons. The museum itself was stunning on its own, but it was made lovier when a tiny little body was pattering next to her, pointing out this-and-that, talking his little head off with questions, darting around the exhibits while Baran tried to mindfully enjoy it.
Baran had loved this museum since she was roughly fourteen years old and miserable on her middle school trip to D.C. She had gone to a nice enough school that they could afford to do an afternoon stop in Pittsburgh on the way home, and Baran had wandered into the museum half-asleep and walked back out feeling rearranged. There were many things about Pittsburgh that, now 40, she tolerated rather than loved. But this place had stayed in her bones.
Kaveh, unfortunately, was seven. He was usually a fantastic sport, but there were only so many oil paintings a child could stare at before he felt he'd seen them all.
Still, every Saturday Baran asked, “Do you want to come with me today, joonam?”
And every Saturday her sweet boy said yes.
She always let Kaveh lead when they visited the museum because there wan’t a single exhibit she didn’t enjoy and she had learned really quickly that if he felt he had control over what they were seeing, the longer he was able to last.
Usually, this meant they ended up in the sculpture hall. Kaveh adored the tall, skinny statues there with his entire little heart.
“They look silly,” he would whisper loudly, staring up at the long bronze limbs and dramatic poses with complete delight.
And every single visit, without fail, he would eventually turn to Baran with barely-contained excitement and say, “Māmān, take a picture.”
Then he’d plant himself beside the statues and imitate them as seriously as possible, long face, arms thrown awkwardly into the air, knees bent at impossible angles as Baran gleefully snapped his photo.
Kaveh was bounding back to her side and standing up on his tip-toes to see the fruit of his photo shoot. She was showing him the latest one, his nose wrinkling with pleasure at his own performance, when his head snapped to the side with the speed of a small animal catching a scent.
Baran had about half a second of confusion before he pulled in a breath and used every bit of it:
“DOCTOR Y/N!!!”
Baran jolted so hard she nearly dropped her phone.
“Kaveh—”
Too late.
Across the gallery, you turned around and Baran’s heart sunk through every floor of the museum. It seemed like an awful collision of her two worlds that she very carefully kept separate.
She knew you in fragments that didn’t belong in a place like this, your scrubs and tired eyes after a long shift that always softened when you saw her, you padding through her kitchen at night, stealing water from the fridge like you lived there too, you half-asleep against her shoulder, breath warm.
She also knew how your voice sounded when it went all high-pitched and breathy, whimpering pleas of her name in her ear as your hands scraped down her back, her kissing your neck—
And now there you were. Dark jeans, a soft cream sweater with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, a tote bag from a college Baran had never heard you mention, rings stacked on your fingers that caught the gallery light. Your hair was different than she'd ever seen it. You looked soft.
She watched your expression move through confusion and arrive at something warm and surprised and delighted.
"Hi, Kaveh," you called across the gallery.
Kaveh was already moving. He crossed the room at a pace that was technically not running because his feet were not fully leaving the floor at the same time, but was in every other sense running. You crouched down to meet him and he wrapped his arms around your neck without preamble, without hesitation, the way children do when they've decided about a person.
"You're here!” he beamed.
"I am here," you laughed, settling back on your heels with your arms resting on your knees, completely unbothered by the contact with the museum floor. "What are you doing here, little dude? Are you an art guy?"
Kaveh pulled back and shrugged. "Sometimes," he said. "Māmān likes it a lot more than me though. But she says it's good for my brain."
"Smart woman, your mama."
Baran had crossed the gallery at a more appropriate pace and arrived to find you already looking up at her, easy and warm, not making anything of it.
"Dr. Al-Hashimi."
"Dr. Y/L/N." She heard how formal it sounded and internally winced. She cleared her throat and softened her tone. "Small world. I'm sorry about the ambush."
"Please don't be," you beamed, standing. "This is the best thing that's happened to me all morning."
You had met Kaveh twice before and Baran had kind of freaked out both times (you knew good and well she didn’t really want you two interacting, didn’t want to blend whatever fuck-buddy situation you had going on with the version of her life she was presenting to her son) but both interactions had been really, really lovely. You’re not sure what you did to earn Kaveh’s adoration, but you were glad you had it as the adorable little boy beamed up at you, staring at you like you hung the stars.
Baran, standing slightly to the side, was also looking at your face. For completely different reasons. She took in the different style of your hair, the jewelry she hadn’t seen because it was kind of a pain to wear rings at work, the tote bag with your college insignia — a school Baran had not known you attended, had never heard you talk about, another piece of the woman she hadn’t had yet.
There were so many pieces.
“Are you here alone?” Baran heard herself ask.
You smiled. “I am, embarrassingly enough. I just like it here.” You paused. “Mom-son date?”
“We come most Saturdays,” Baran said. “When Kaveh is persuadable.”
“It’s an awesome hangout spot,” you nodded warmly, trying to will your heart to stop fluttering. Baran looked so… touchable? Something about her was calmer, more settled, and you wanted to soak it in like a sapling begging for just a drop of water to sustain it, but she was here with her son. And you were just a friend. Barely even that.
“Well, it was lovely to see you both,” you started to turn, “I hope you—”
Kaveh latched onto your arm, eyes going big with sudden sadness. “Wait, are you going?”
You froze, mouth falling open a bit, and your eyes shot to Baran. Sure, you liked her company and loved her son, but you knew this woman had boundaries and you never took that personally.
“Um, well, Kaveh—”
"Don’t go yet because we are looking at statues and you can join us," Kaveh said excitedly. "Do you want to see?"
You blinked. Your eyes still searching Baran's face.
It was sweet, Baran realized. She allowed her head to tilt, a warm smile to come across her face.
"Yes," she said warmly. "Join us. We could use the company."
Huh. You shook of your shock and replaced it with an eager nod of your head.
"I'd love to," you replied, a similar smile pulling at your lips. "Show me."
—
You fell into step beside her at an easy distance, and Baran noticed that too — the careful inch of space you maintained, not crowding her nor presuming that the invite meant she, all of the sudden, wanted you on top of her.
You talked to Kaveh mostly, crouching when he pointed at things, asking him questions that took his opinions seriously, which made him stand a little taller each time.
"That one is super sad," Kaveh pointed at a bronze figure with its head bowed.
"Hm," you studied it. "What do you think he's sad about?"
Kaveh thought about this. "Maybe he lost something."
“Lost something?” Baran prompted.
“‘Cause his head is down, Māmān,” Kaveh replied. “He’s lookin’ for it.”
It surprised a laugh out of you — real and unguarded, bubbling up from your chest and floating out into the high-ceilinged room — and Baran's eyes went straight to your face.
She'd heard you laugh before. But not like that. Not with nothing behind it but the simple fact that something delighted you.
She looked away before you could catch her looking.
She was noticing things she had no particular right to notice. The way you paused longest in front of the landscapes. The small private smile when something caught you, unannounced and unperformed. The fact that you knew which paintings were which without looking at the placards.
Initially she had been bracing herself for some level of awkwardness bred from the reminder that you existed in a different compartment of her life, one that didn't belong here under the high windows with her son. But you hadn't made it awkward. You just looked very content not to be alone on a Saturday, and it made her heart twist.
She felt herself begin to unknot.
"You come here often?" she nudged you with her hip as you walked again, and didn’t miss the way your eyes twinkled at the contact.
"Most weekends I'm not working," you tilted your head at the room around you. "There's a painting in the next gallery I've been coming back to for about a year."
"Which one?"
You smiled a little. "I'll show you when we get there."
In the decorative arts wing Kaveh grabbed your hand to drag you toward a suit of armor, and you let him, and Baran watched your face when he pressed his small nose against the visor to peer inside. The expression you wore was so soft, so unself-conscious, that it caught her off guard.
She had long wondered what you were like when you weren't managing anything at all, be it your poise at work or your manners in her apartment or your ecstasy in her bed. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was exactly what you looked like laid bare.
—
They reached the end of the last gallery with the slow inevitability of a good afternoon running out. Kaveh had gone boneless against Baran's side around the second hour mark, dragging his feet and clinging to her arm, suddenly non-verbal.
You crouched down to him. "It was very good to see you, Kaveh. Thank you for the statue tour."
"You can come next Saturday," Kaveh offered, hand reaching out to fiddle with the neckline of your shirt.
Baran watched your face. She saw you almost smile and then she watched you catch it and smooth it over.
"That's a very kind invitation," you said carefully, to Kaveh, but you were still looking at her.
The restraint of it was so practiced and so deliberate that it nearly hurt. She had put you here in this careful, curtailed space and you had stayed in it without a word of complaint, because she'd asked you to a few months ago. Please don’t ask about my ex-husband, please don’t ask about my son. You had nodded and respected it ever since, because that was the kind of person you were.
She had an empty afternoon ahead of her, but you were full of so many little pieces that had started to crack away from your skin and fall into her palm just over the course of an hour. She wanted more. She wanted every shard until she could build your full mosaic.
"We were going to get lunch," Baran said. "There's a place around the corner Kaveh likes."
She paused, small and deliberate.
"I would like it if you came."
Baran watched the surprise dance across your eyes even though you tried to remain nonchalant. You were a very smart girl and she knew you understood exactly what she was actually saying. This was very different from when you would brush shoulders in the hospital, or when your phone would buzz with a "Are you free tonight?"
"Are you sure?" you asked softly.
"Very sure," she said, then raised her brow with a smirk. “Do I have to say please?”
You looked at her for a beat longer, something soft and open moving through your expression, and then you smiled so large it changed your whole face.
"Okay," you said. "I'd like that."
Kaveh grabbed both your hands at once, one each, and lurched forward without ceremony.
summary: Emily is a little too obsessed with coffee for your liking
tags: assistant! reader, uc!emily, coffee obsessed emily, pre pre pre relationship, no specific season or timeline in mind, no use of y/n
word count: 1,3k
author's note: can be read as a standalone, but is a part 2 of this blurb. i'm thinking of turning it into a little series? what do you think?
Three months in and you were finally starting to get used to being woken up in the middle of the night for a case. Well, sorta. At least this time you’re pulling into the BAU at 5:43am and not 4am.
You don’t have to be here, you know you don’t— Emily has told you countless times that she doesn’t expect you to come in so early when the team gets called in for a case, especially considering you’re just her assistant. And yet you do anyway.
You know the rest of the team will be trickling in soon, giving you just enough time to set everything up in the briefing room, open some blinds (again, all things you really don’t have to do), and most importantly, make Emily a cup of coffee. In the few short months as her assistant, you’ve taken notice of Emily's coffee habits— it was sort of your job to notice these things you told yourself. She has at least two cups a day, one when she first gets in and then another once the afternoon slump hits, always black with Splenda. Though lately, she’s been verging on the edge of a borderline coffee obsession and you’re pretty sure she had had at least three cups by 10am yesterday morning. It was concerning to say the least.
Emily walks in just before six, heading to her office to set her things down first before making her way over to the briefing room. You meet her just outside the door with a soft smile. “Morning, boss,” you murmur, pushing a travel mug into her hands.
Emily rewards your efforts with an absentminded “Good morning,” as she lifts the mug to her lips, immensely grateful for the caffeine at this early hour.
She can’t put her finger on when exactly this had started—when you had started showing up with a cup of coffee for her whenever the team got called in for a case, like a personal barista—but boy was she grateful. Beyond grateful really.
She had started looking forward to these mornings, to these quiet little moments with you before she was forced to brave the horrors the next few days would bring. She also couldn’t help the giddy little feeling she got every time, knowing that you only ever brought a cup for her—maybe because she’s your boss and you feel that it’s part of your job, or maybe because… Nope, she can’t let her mind wander there.
She takes a big sip from the mug, in desperate need to rid herself of the lingering sleep and heaviness in her limbs, but when the warm liquid hits her tongue it isn’t anything like the dark roast she’s used to. No, this isn’t dark at all. It’s light, a little floral, with a hint of…lemon?
She swallows her sip before looking down at the mug, brows already pulling down into a hint of a frown. “This isn’t coffee,” she mumbles contemplatively, looking up to find your lips twitching up into a victorious little smile, clearly pleased with yourself.
You shake your head. “It’s not. It’s tea.” The words leave your mouth with a casual shrug of your shoulders. Huh. Emily is suddenly very grateful you’re not a mind reader, because her brain is frantically rewiring itself at the thought of you bringing her tea. Tea. Warm, comforting tea. And for some reason, that simple gesture was doing things to her insides.
“Tea?” she echoes, the word coming out just above a whisper.
You nod. “Mhm. Tea. Lemon, chamomile, and lavender,” you explain simply, “Good for relaxing and relieving stress. It’s one of my favourites.”
Her lips pull into a small pout and there’s a slight furrow between her brows. You force yourself to keep your hands at bay and not reach out to smooth it over.
“I’m not stressed,” she defends, though it’s a futile attempt.
Anyone around here with eyes could see she had been under a significant amount of stress recently. With constant budget meetings, never-ending paperwork, and the director breathing down her neck, it was hard not to be. She had been so unbelievably stressed, and you noticed. Everyone else noticed too, but you noticed, and suddenly her insides were doing an embarrassing little flip.
She watches you huff out a little breath and raise a brow—it was clear you didn’t believe her.
“Yes, you are. Don’t even try to deny it. I know you love your coffee, but your caffeine habits have been bordering on obsessive lately, so I figured this would be a nice change. A needed change.”
And you were right, of course you were right. You always seemed to be right when it came to these things, these little ways she should be caring for herself better—like actually eating lunch, and leaving the office before 11pm, and not sneaking up onto the roof to have a cigarette every few hours days.
She wants to say something. A sarcastic quip or dry one-liner in true Emily Prentiss fashion about how she can take care of herself, but by now the rest of the team had filed into the briefing room and were waiting to get started. She settles on an appreciative nod with a quiet, "Thank you," before stepping into the briefing room, unit chief mask slipping back on.
Emily does her best to stay focused on the briefing. She really does. But it’s hard when every time she takes a sip from her mug her tastebuds are hit with the sweetness of lemon, lavender, and honey; and every time her mind then drifts over to you, and every time her mind drifts, her heart does weird things. She should get that checked out.
She'll be the first to admit she wasn't too thrilled about having an assistant in the beginning. She's the unit chief; she doesn't need help. She doesn't need someone running around fetching her coffee, bugging her when she's busy, answering 'Yes, ma'am,' 'No, ma'am,' like some lapdog, but you were...none of those things.
You were attentive, sweetly so. You actually took notice of her— of what she liked, of when not to bother her, of how she took her coffee and when to bring her a fresh cup, of when she needed a lunch break, and you showed up with Chinese. She hated admitting it to herself, but it was nice, you were nice, and she couldn’t help but start paying attention to you too.
And you were good with the team too, always feeding into Penelope's newest obsession, asking JJ about Will and the kids, checking in on Tara and Luke and Rossi. You were kind and always so willing to help; it was hard to wrap her head around sometimes.
After concluding the briefing, she heads back to her office to grab the last few things she needs, with you following her diligently. “Is there anything you need me to do while you’re out?”
Your eyes sweep over her desk and land on a small stack of papers in the corner. You jerk your chin towards them. “Anything I can help with?”
Emily follows your gaze and waves her hand dismissively when she spots the stack. “Oh, that’s nothing. Just budget reports and leave requests I need to sort through. I’ll finish it up when I get back.”
“I can do them,” the words leave your mouth so quickly they surprise even you. You don’t give Emily the chance to protest, already reaching over and gathering the stack in your arms with a shrug.
Emily huffs out a laugh and shakes her head, but you’re already halfway out the door. “You know, most assistants don’t practically beg to do paperwork.”
Her tone turns teasing, and you don’t even have to look back to know that little dimple is making its way to her cheek as a smirk tugs at her lips.
She watches you glance over your shoulder, an amused glint in your eyes, “I’m not most people,” you murmur, and then you’re gone.
Emily waits until you’ve retreated to your desk before lifting the mug up to her lips and taking the last sip. “Fuck,” she breathes. “It’s really good.”
dana evans is your neighbour 18+, age gap, dry humping, pussy eating <3
you'd never lived in an apartment that held 'get to know your neighbours' night. strange concept, you were perfectly fine knowing just one other person in the building, not by name but politely smiling whilst you gathered your mail. you had enough friends, not a lot, but enough and work was tiring so if you could avoid small talk in the corridor then you were happy to.
then fliers appeared on the lobby notice board.
people have too much time on their hands, you exhaled as you read, also wondering how much buy in this would actually get. your night would be spent the same as any other single woman in their late 20s, finish work, take-out and real housewives, NOT mingling in the hall with strangers.
unfortunately for you, there was a lot of buy in. crowds of people flooded the communal space, all cradling beer bottles and plastic cups like it was some kind of frat party. you had no intention of staying, of chatting or getting involved in any measure but fighting your way through the stairwell, unnoticed with a bag of ramen, proved quite difficult.
"hey! you're 64b right? i'm 68, just above you" a sweet bubbly girl beamed at you, intercepting your path. she was most likely the organiser of this event, like she'd made it her mission to get to first name basis of every single resident in the building.
"oh, yeah. hi.." you weren't rude, you were tired. and you didn't need this adult-friend-making-speed-dating shit. "nice to meet you, i'm just gonna-" trying to slip past.
"you HAVE to meet your neighbours" she ignored your attempt to politely excuse yourself, ushering you back into the crowd of people so close to your front door.
the introductions were tedious, she pointed out the couple to your left, the old man directly beneath you. you stood half smiling, giving your name out and trying to find any morsel of energy to even give a shit. you just wanted to go inside, eat your ramen and go the fuck to sleep. but the conversation left no gaps for your escape, not that you didn't try. you knew politeness would be your downfall one day.
then—
"think you're all keeping this nice gal from her dinner" a petite blonde in grey-blue scrubs broke up the circle you were standing in, eyeing your ramen as she pulled a key from her bag. "and stacey, keep it down out here yeah? need some shut eye" she walked to the door opposite yours, turning the key and giving you a subtle wink as she let herself in.
"sure dana, don't worry we'll keep it-" the girl, whom you now know as stacey, called out as the door slammed "-down"
you smiled, finally finding your own queue to leave.
she found her way into your mind that night, the blonde in scrubs. you weren't sure how you hadn't noticed her before, being in such close proximity and all. not when collecting mail or leaving for work, maybe your schedules were polar to each other but you knew you'd have remembered her. and that wink, nice lady.
⋆˚࿔
after your brief encounter, you found yourself looking out for your neighbour a little more. she clearly kept to herself which just made you more curious. the scrubs suggested some kind of doctor or nurse, the one bed apartment told you she probably lived alone and you hadn't stopped thinking about her no nonsense approach to stacey. she was quite a bit older than you, you could tell that from her voice - a little deep, accent thick.
the day she walked past you she smelt like cigarette smoke and rich perfume, her ears were double pierced and she chewed gum with an open mouth.
the next time you caught her was brief. early morning, pre-7am, in the same clothes as last time. you were taking advantage of the mild air, heading out for a quick run before work and she was clearly starting her day.
you exchanged 'mornings' and then she was gone.
⋆˚࿔
summer brought a heat wave and unfortunately for your building, a strain on the air con.
it was early evening when you heard raised voices in the hall. you stepped closer to your front door, slick sheen across your chest from the growing heat inside your apartment, listening to the other side.
"no you need to come and fix this fuckin thing now. not tomorrow, now. it's 100° in here for christ sake"
you only heard one voice, like she was on the phone.
"jesus-" then silence.
you opened your door to see her stood in a tank and lounge pants, hair stuck to the back of her neck with the rest pulled into a claw clip.
she turned to face you at the sound of the door click, holding up her phone "building manager, piece of shit"
you laughed under your breath. "your AC out too?"
she nodded, shaking her head down at the phone with a raised brow, then shoving it into her pocket.
"spent my day off sucking on ice and trying not to pass the fuck out" her smile travelled from her eyes to her lips, skin creasing at the edges. she looked at you for a second, titling her head slightly. "we haven't met"
you opened your door more, stepping out into the hall. "we kinda did" you meant that first day she saved you from the crowd.
"mm not properly, doll" she folded her arms, face softening "i'm dana"
you told her your name and she smiled, like it fit you. "you new here? not really seen you around much" you asked her, curious to find any detail, big or small.
"i work a lot and never really been one for stairwell small talk"
"oh yeah, of course- sorry i just-"
"not you kid, the ole neighbourhood watch crew and their building parties" she clearly had the same view of 'meet your neighbour' as you did. your shoulders relaxed. after a second, "you want some ice tea? just made a jug" she gestured her hand towards her apartment.
"won't say no to that" you mumbled, smiling.
her apartment was nice, it mirrored yours just the opposite. you were right to assume she lived alone, there was just one of everything. no manly shoes in the entrance or photos of anyone other than what you assumed were her grown children.
she dabbed her forehead with the back of her hand as you both sipped and made the small talk you claimed to hate.
"so you a doctor or something?" you asked.
"close. nurse. down at pittsburgh general, have been for 32 years"
that confirmed the age gap you already knew was there. it shocked you, how she'd been in a job longer than you were alive and you didn't have to say it for her to know you were thinking it.
"let me guess, you were still in diapers when i was in college?"
"close. i was born about 5 years after you graduated i think" you didn't know why you said it, feeling rude after it came out but she just laughed, shaking her head as she sipped her tea.
"jesus. even my tattoos are older than you"
you weren't sure why you felt that in your stomach. you huffed a laugh to try conceal it, blaming the spreading burn on your neck on the stifling heat.
then her phone rang, you could vaguely hear the building manager say he couldn't come til tomorrow. she was an animated woman, hands flying around, voice raised. you wouldn't want to get on her bad side, you thought. you finished the last sip of your tea, setting the empty glass down and mouthing thank you before excusing yourself while she dealt with the dick on the other end of the line.
⋆˚࿔
you started seeing more of dana. passing in the hall, starting your day, taking out the trash. your conversations became longer and more than just greetings. sometimes you'd forget you were going to work and spend 15 minutes in the hall just chatting.
you got to know her more. she worked day shifts, had 3 daughters, she liked white wine (you saw her bringing a bottle home one night) and she loved her job.
she got to know you more too. where you went to college, how you were allergic to cats and loved to read on the door step when the sun was out.
your grocery hauls were complete opposites. hers were that of an adult with fruit and veg, bottled water, essentials. she made a joke at how your bags clinked like you were hiding the entire liquor store in there and she asked if you knew pop tarts were not a substantial breakfast.
since then, she'd be at your door a couple of times a week with filled tupperware. sometimes it was a full meal, other times fruit salads and home baked biscuits. you returned the favour by bringing a jug of margaritas to her doorstep on a saturday night.
"jesus h christ, did you blend these at all?" dana half laughed, almost choking on your lethal dose of tequila and lime.
you sat on giant cushions in the open window of the fire escape in dana's apartment, the half filled jug between you.
"it's saturday night. we're getting lit"
she rolled her eyes at your lingo.
"it's saturday night and you're getting drunk with your elderly neighbour" she corrected.
"it's my community service, helping out a senior citizen-" she swatted you, spilling some cocktail on your lap as your head fell back in laughter.
"fucker"
"i'm kidding you know" you said after a second. "you're literally like my closest friend right now"
you weren't sure if you were supposed to feel like this about friends. or what it even was you were feeling. you just knew you liked her company, perhaps more than you should. you liked getting to know her, wanting to know everything about her. you knew that you liked women but obviously, you assumed she didn't.
dana sparked up a cigarette, inhaling deeply as the smoke curled above the pair of you. she handed you the tab, exhaling and you took it between two fingers. your gaze didn't break from one another.
"quite fond of you too, doll" that smile again, the one that narrowed her eyes and showed the top of her teeth. fuck.
⋆˚࿔
it'd been a few months since you first met dana and your friendship had grown into something you both treasured dearly.
you'd end up at one another's place at least once a week. the nights when she wasn't too tired from her shift or you hadn't been pulled away by your other friends. you'd much rather spend your time with her, not that you'd admit it.
it was all nice and neighbourly. knocking on each others door with take-out or a bottle of wine. somewhere along the line you'd swapped numbers. that was originally for the purpose of dana taking in your parcels when you weren't home, keeping each other updated for anything in the building but it soon became a text chain between friends.
use the back entrance, stacey's on the rampage
got some of your mail, let me know when you're home and i'll come drop it
hey, is your power out?
don't suppose you fancy a glass of vino 🍷
one evening you'd managed to get yourself roped into going to the bar with some work friends. the cocktails fell down your throat far too easily and by 9pm you were more than tipsy.
you weren't quiet coming home. stumbling up the stairwell, talking to yourself, an oop when you missed the top step, dropping your purse. a door next to you clicked open.
"someone's had a good night" dana picked up your purse and you beamed up at her, pulling yourself up by the hand rail.
"daaaaana, hey"
"you smell like a brewery" she laughed, lightly holding onto your upper arm to guide you to your front door.
"just had a few drinkypoos" you hiccuped. "you wanna come in for one?" your words weren't slurrred but it was no secret you were drunk.
"i think you've had enough" she pulled your key from your hands as you struggled with the lock, turning the key in one smooth movement for you to enter.
you walked through your apartment to the sofa, falling onto it as dana dropped your purse next to you, headed to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.
she returned and you couldnt help but notice the glow on her face, the softness in her eyes. you took the glass and just held it. "drink" she urged, stern but not unkind.
sipping from the glass, you held her gaze. there was something between you, something that felt different in that moment. her finger came up to tip the glass further, pouring more liquid down your throat, until she was content you'd had enough.
"good girl" she took the glass away from you and despite your thirst being quenched, your mouth suddenly felt dry.
she saw you swallow thickly. her lips parted slightly. the skirt you were wearing had ridden up to your thighs with how you were sat.
"now get some rest"
you were still sat in the same position when you heard your front door click behind her. what you didn't see was dana stood in the hall for a second, breathless like she'd just ran the length of your apartment. you didn't know she thought about turning round, coming back in. not knowing what she'd say but considering it all the same. she pondered for a moment, one hand on her hip, the other tousled in her hair.
"fuck" she thought about how you'd looked at her just moments ago. how you reacted. her chest tightened, unknown feelings creeping their way into her conscience.
she didn't turn round. she fought the urge, heading into her own apartment.
you managed to sober up relatively quickly. downing more water, a couple advil and a luke warm shower to cool the heat between your legs. good girl, it replayed in your mind over and over as the stream poured onto your skin. what the fuck? your neighbour, your friend, a woman almost twice your age, a woman who you had no confirmation had any interest in women whatsoever, a woman you couldn't have.
it was hard to get dana out of your mind as you lay in bed, not that you really tried. the room was dark with the exception of a bedside lamp, quiet. it was then you decided to pick up your phone.
you: you awake?
you didn't expect her to be with the time. but then the bubble appeared.
dana: yeah, everything ok?
you hesitated for a second.
you: just wanted to say thank you for earlier
you: not sure i'd have made into my apartment without you
that's not really what you wanted to say.
dana: just doing my community service, helping out the drunk and disorderly...
you laughed at her using your own words against you.
dana: assume you're feeling better?
you: much
you: followed the nurses orders with water and two advil
it felt a little loaded to send but you did anyway. then the bubble appeared and disappeared enough times to cause you panic. you almost sent another message, something flat and obviously platonic, maybe even just a 'anyway, good night' to kill the conversation.
then—
dana: good girl
you didn't even know you were clenching your thighs til you felt the flutter between them.
in 64a, dana's mouth went dry as she pressed send. it was a lot for her, being bold like this. she didn't know what she was doing or what her intentions were but for once in her life, she ran with it. ran with the knot in her stomach, the throbbing sensation between her legs.
she waited for you. nervous at your reply. hoping she wasn't mistaken by this, whatever the fuck this was.
you: dana
fuck it.
you: can you come back over here
this could go one of two ways, the way you want or the way in which you've read this so incredibly wrong.
it was the longest five minutes of your life, between sending that message and hearing the knock on your door.
when you opened it, she was facing away. turning when she heard you. you could see her breathing heavy, the rise and fall of her chest. you stepped back slightly and she stepped in. then it was just the two of you, stood silent in your hall. your oversized tee had wet patches on the back from your damp hair, you saw dana's eyes glance once over you, suddenly aware you're naked on the bottom half beside underwear.
she was in similar loungewear you saw her in one of the first times. she wore a gold cross on her neck, something you'd noticed before but not really paid attention to.
"i-" you started. she stopped you.
"i don't know what i'm doing" her eyes wide, voice low. "this isn't- i've never-"
you extended your hand to hold hers.
"dana-"
"i don't know why i feel like this" there was an undertone of panic and vulnerability. "about you"
you could feel your heart in your ears, in your chest, in your stomach.
"i'm twice your age, i shouldn't feel like this about you" she spoke quietly, as if being loud would make something real.
"but you do"
a moment. your thumb brushed over her hand.
"i do"
before you could stop yourself, your lips were on hers. she stilled for a second, and then she let herself feel. she kissed you back, hands tentatively finding the base of your neck as yours found her waist.
then it got messy and heated and the two of you were stumbling from the hall to your bedroom one door down.
she was panting into your mouth as you led her backwards, calves hitting the bed.
"fuck dana, wanted this f'so long" you breathed between her lips. "tell me you want this"
dana moaned, it slipped out before she could stop it, pulling back from you. "want this. please"
you were soaked. you had been since you were full of booze and she'd touched your arm in the hall. but now her tongue was in your mouth and your hands were slipping under the hem of her tank, feeling skin you'd never felt.
"can i?" you tugged at the material and she nodded. she was naked under that, her hands came up on instinct to cover her bare tits, you replaced them with your own, pulling away slowly.
"wanna see you" she let you, your mouth watered at the sight. they were incredible, nipples hard from your fingertips ghosting over the skin. she exhaled deeply, breath hitching when your lips skimmed the flesh of her neck.
your fingers trailed from her chest, grazing skin down her sternum to the waistband of her trousers. you felt her move against you the closer you got. you flattened your palm against her stomach, sliding it beneath the elastic and finding her without panties, hot and needy, her bare cunt dripping and begging for you.
dipping your index and middle finger through her wetness, dana whimpered, mouth parting.
"mmm, fuck-"
you swiped your fingers a couple of times, spreading her wetness and then you pulled away. fingers glistening in the dim light. the noise she made when you sucked her off your middle finger made your pussy twitch.
"taste so good dana" you kissed her, light and loving. "so fucking good"
you pushed her softly onto the bed, standing above her as you pulled your t shirt over your head, leaving you almost equal in your clothing. her eyes wandered all over you and you watched her take it in. when you pulled her trousers down her legs, you couldn't believe the sight. her laid back, naked and yours.
when you crawled onto the bed, she moved herself back on her elbows to make space for you. you nudged her legs open by the knees, they fell apart with ease and she shuddered at the cool air against her bare cunt.
she was nervous. not because she was inexperienced - this may be her first time with a woman but she was no stranger to sex. in fact dana would have always considered herself a sexual person, in touch with her own desires however it'd been so long. so long since her divorce, since she'd slept beside someone, felt that kind of intimacy. then seeing your body and youth almost intimidated her. but the way you looked at her soon seemed to negate all of that.
when you were between her legs, lowering yourself to become face to face with the slick mess, she felt sexy. and wanted. you wanted her.
"oh my god- mmph" the first swipe of your tongue had her head thrown back. she lay flat on the bed as you worked her up, holding both thighs steady, licking up to her swollen clit.
you moaned into her, nails digging into skin as she started to roll her hips against your face. god it was hot. she whimpered and moaned and muttered your name over and over. "oh fuck, yes- there, that's-" her own cry cut her off as you curled two fingers deep. they slipped in with ease, her own arousal and your saliva dripping from your fingers as you pumped in and out.
you came up for air, resting your cheek on the inner of her thigh as you started fucking her, hard. the noises were obscene, slick and squelching with every move.
"doing so good baby oh my god i wish you could see what i can" you kissed her thigh, she moaned your name. "so fucking good"
"fuck you're gonna make- make me cum" her accent sounded thicker as she moaned, unbelievably sexy. you could tell she was close the way her cunt started to clench around your fingers. "don't stop"
like hell you would. hands squeezing her thigh, you worked your hand hard inside her and brought your lips to suck softly on her clit. the dual sensation had dana's back arching from the bed, handed fisted in the sheets and her toes curled against your back.
"yes yes yes ye-" with one final fuck of your fingers and pop of your tongue, she fell silent and rigid. then a looooong groan drew from the back of her throat, hoarse and deep. you worked her through it, until she was breathless and shaking, lifting your head up away from her.
"m gonna need a minute, hon"
you smiled. she was glowing, sweaty and messy. hair had fallen into her face, cheeks rosy and chest flushed.
"that was so fucking good dana" you kissed up her body, bringing your leg to straddle one of hers. your mouth landed between her tits, softly sucking the skin there, her hand found your back, stroking lazily across your shoulder blade.
"you're telling me" she laughed under her breath, still trying to regain some composure.
you were so turned on. seeing her cum like that, how bad she wanted you and you her. you hadn't even noticed your hips rolling against her thigh.
she had.
her hands snaked down your back, finding your ass. she squeezed over your panties, smirking at the wetness she could feel against her leg.
"did that turn you on huh?" she tensed her leg a little, giving you more to work against. "seein me cum like that?"
"shit" you moved harder against her, voice all whiny and strained.
"you wanted this for a while didn't you" her hands helped you, digging into your ass, pulling you into her. "wanted me, naked and wet for you"
you'd drenched your panties by now, dripping onto her skin. the wet material slick against your pussy felt so fucking good, your movements became more erratic, chasing your pleasure, needing to cum so bad. and her words only made it worse.
"good girl, just like that, gonna cum for me?"
fuck. there she goes praising you like that, knowing what it does, knowing that's what got you both here in the first place.
"fuck dana 'm gonna- mmm"
you fucked her leg whilst whining her name, brows knit, eyes screwed shut until—
"look at me. look at me when you cum baby"
your mouth fell open and everything building in the pit of your stomach grew hot and tight. you came all over her leg, a flood of wetness drenching you both, a guttural cry unleashed.
it shocked you both. how hard you came undone just from that. when you fell on the bed next to her, you both lay in silence, just the sound of hot breath and quiet traffic outside.
"stay tonight?" you managed, eventually.
when you turned your head, hopeful she'd agree, dana met your gaze with a glint in her eye.
"if you'll have me"
you kissed her. you didn't stop kissing her for a while.
What kind of top/dom Emily would be in different points of the show (pt 1)
!This is all just my personal opinions and not necessarily taking canon into account obv!
Season 2/early season 3
As I said, she looks like a softie but 1. if she has her eyes on you she IS gonna get you home, full stop and 2. she starts to realize just how much she likes to see a woman at her mercy. There's something about being the one to reduce someone to a certain state that strokes her ego like never before and it gives her such a high that at first she doesn't even realize her demeaning remarks and reactions, but once she registers not only her behavior but also the reaction it gets from the other person she can't get enough of it. She's such a fucking mean dom like I know she'd make me cry and laugh at me because of it ugh.
Later season 3/season 4
COCKYYY omg she's so fucking cocky!! Like in a frat boy, borderline offensive way and the fact that she has a constant line of girls waiting and begging for a chance only makes her ego grow. She definitely likes to take control but more so because she likes knowing that these women are so into her and worship the ground she walks on that they're willing to let her do anything she wants to them.
Now if she seriously falls for a woman, though, she becomes the dumbest, most pathetic service top ever and her only mission becomes to satisfy any wish of her woman.
Season 5
Daddy?? Ahem sorry. After the pussydrunk phase she comes back to her senses and tames her ego a bit. She's definitely very dominant but in a more "subtle" way. She doesn't need to be all cocky and over the top to have a woman submit to her, one look is more than enough to get what she wants. The fact that she's a little different doesn't mean that she's gonna be softer, though, in fact she's probably shifted a little bit more to the hard dom side. She's not snarky or mean, though, and she probably starts giving praises more than she's ever done. She's a little surprised at how many more women she can have by not trying to pursue them in a more pushy way like before (season 3/4) but of course is not mad about it.
Season 6
Ok now that's daddy ugh!!!!! Sorry sorry. At this point she doesn't even try to find women, they just come to her like to a magnet, could it be the lack of interest she shows like she has previously noticed? Probably, and the "gloomy", mysterious look she has about her definitely helps attract attention. She's the biggest hard dom and has found a sweet spot of a subtly degrading language mixed with just the right amount of praise that melts on the spot the women she chooses. Oh and yes she's officially over the "taking home as many women as she can" mentality and would rather see someone she really likes for a while, even if not for a relationship and just for sex.
Let me know your thoughts and opinions I'm super curious!!!!!!
summary: baran comes home tipsy with a withheld complaint about the fundraising event hosted by PTMC.
you’ve fallen into a routine: waiting for her to get home as arash is tucked into slumber, giving her a summary of her son’s day, and then grounding her into her sacred space with a massage.
it’s different tonight, dealing with this for the first time—drunk, uninhibited baran—barely holding on to the self-restraint she’s been consistently upholding for weeks. falling for her sultry gaze with little to no resistance, while her attention zeroes in on concealing how you’re clenching your thighs every time she speaks, blurring the lines with complete abandon.
warning/s: dom, vers baran al-hashimi, slow burn, subtle dom/sub dynamics, praise, alcohol consumption, fingering, breast play, clit play, cunnilingus, dirty talk, spitting, multiple orgasms, face riding, baran speaking in farsi. baran seducing you to the max. robinabitch mention.
word count: 5, 339
author’s note: thank you lots for the patience. last part of the series is up!! 1/3 is the slow burn and the rest, well, you’ll know. ;) happy reading!
part one | series masterlist | navigation
men and minors DNI.
the keys turning overlaps the typing on your laptop.
“hey,” you utter, a barely-there smile from the older woman greeting you. she’s as gorgeous as she left the house, a boatnecked light ivory silk dress with a simple ivory slingback, hair pulled back in a messy bun, loose strands curtaining her face . the only difference is the frown it leaves you, taking in her stance; slightly uncoordinated balance, drooping shoulders, unpleasant in her updo. “hey, oh hey, you okay?” you shut your laptop and shove it in your tote. “you look…”
the thin curve of her lips turn into a big pout, brown doe eyes blinking at you expectantly.
“...exhausted,” you say, and as if on cue, baran lets out a loud sigh, collapsing against the doorframe. she puts her purse against her face and groans loudly.
“...and clearly frustrated.”
she mumbles something in farsi and kicks off her heels, “these stupid heels!”, watching the disorder and immediately placing them in the shoe rack by the door.
“they’re gorgeous, baran,” you insist, observing her next outburst. the older woman tends to let out her frustrations one at a time, mulling over her emotions and how best to express them. you believe her reluctance is in consideration of your well-being, preventing you from being a vessel of release from her troubles whether it be by work or life or something else.
the doctor gives you a quick look of irritation before charging onto the wine cabinet, barefoot with heavy footfalls. the hem glides along the flooring like a current.
she whips out a cabernet sauvignon and two wine glasses, setting them on top of the furniture, arranging them in a line. she quickly works through the bottle with a corkscrew, expertly twisting and turning. you’re completely immersed in the movement, her muscles flexing as she bites her lip in concentration, leaving a space of frustration in between furrowed brows.
you jump when it pops, the sound soothing the older woman to smile.
baran, ebbing from her flow, tilts her head to you with a slow eye flutter, “how is he? asleep?”
it takes you a second to respond, “yes, completely tucked in in his new sheets,” zeroing in on baran’s tight grip on the bottle, resulting in the flex of her biceps. you clear your throat, “he didn’t finish the pizza so you have six slices waiting for you in the fridge,” a grin blossoming in your face at the memory, snapping you back to sanity.
baran curves ones side of her lips upwards then pokes the inside of her cheeks. biting her lip yet again as she continues to stare, setting the bottle down in defeat. she groans, as if something is actively trying to take control over her.
“i don’t have the appetite after tonight,” she admits, “tomorrow for breakfast,” she promises, dejectedly bringing the cure to her problems towards you.
baran gracefully treads in your proximity, the flow of the fabric levitating her off the earth, gravity controlled like no other. the shade enhances the glow in her clear, olive skin, embracing her figure in the right places. the gears in your head turn a shade greener, noting how it clings to her like a second skin, putting all socialites to shame. jealousy is one of your strongest suits.
baran’s dress is backless, the light playing with the seduction of every depression and elevation of her back, her muscles toned but softened by the smooth skin. your tongue glides in the backs of your upper teeth as the dip on the low end gapes at you.
the hairs in your spine shoot up when her knuckles touch your palm, handing you a glass, resistance getting harder by the minute. her scent engulfs your senses, blurring your judgment, leaving you with less control. you can’t want this and so you want more.
you chuckle, “trouble in paradise?” assimilating in baran’s new emotion, never mind the ones she’s causing you.
she sighs, “far from paradise,” closing her eyes in disbelief. “it’s been literal hell since the other attending i substituted came back. you know, the one i told you about,” she conceded, taking a swig to her situation, forehead wrinkled in prolonged annoyance and misery.
“ah,” you utter, partially distracted.
scanning the movement of her throat as it bobs to the array of baby hairs on her temple where your desire begins and ends—wishing you could place a finger there, feel the pulse. prove it skips a beat when she looks at you.
baran stares, doe-eyed and all, in a way that almost answers your question.
you look away, flummoxed, heat pooling in your cheeks.
the older woman brings her glass forward and you follow, the clink appeasing the former, grinning at the progress of the night. it’s quite monumental to turn baran’s rotten night to almost rotten, but it overpowers the silent prayer you’ve sent out to sustain your bessotted state, distrusting your autonomy with a woman as beautiful as baran.
you feel your teeth grind as baran envelops her lips around the rim, stain leaving a mark, mixing in the maroon liquid. you’re not the classy type, at least, you’ve never tried to be, so this demonstration is a rare learning opportunity. that’s why you don’t blink, not wanting to miss a second of how much liquid the doctor takes in her mouth, when she swallows, and when she should want more. you’re too focused on baran to notice her eyes lingering on your thighs, watching intently as you squeeze them at her every move.
she hums, “you like it?” lowering her voice, waiting for your tics to open up to her.
this is a treacherous indulgence, but the pull is stronger than your agency, finding yourself batting your eyes at her, slowly nodding your head. she takes another sip to hide her smirk. the older woman grimaces, fingers massaging her left calf. as expected, you act on cue, obediently falling into the routine you and the doctor have fostered the past few months.
baran gingerly places a hand on your thigh, gripping it loosely. you stare at her hand and not her eyes.
“not today,” she says, coddling your name like a lullaby. you hesitate, unsure what else you’d be useful for. as if baran can read your mind, she licks her lips, blinking her eyes, “it’s okay, you don’t have to. you can just…just stay up here with me…”
she relaxes when you do, keeping an eye for a sudden shift in action. you tend to end up committing to your own whim, and she preferred to be in on it. despite the uncertainty, baran focuses on reassuring you, rubbing your upper back and giving you a soft smile.
settling into the couch, she sighs, “you don’t know how grateful i am for you to be here…” crossing her legs, the sound of silk giving you butterflies in the stomach. she nudges at your wine glass. you take a sip, afraid, interested, reluctant. nights with the al-hashimis typically end in massages or past midnight conversations about diego and work. you’ve refused a sleepover multiple times even with the insistence on your safety, baran’s concern and doting eyes almost deciding against your boundaries. you hate the idea of giving her more things to worry about; accommodation, extra pay, and a shoulder to cry on.
“likewise. it’s the highlight of my day,” you half-tease, a brow lift tilting your axis like never before. smug, she asks, “not my son?”
“oh he’s brilliant, of course, but he wouldn’t be a happy child without his amazing mother and…”
this should be like one of those days, but baran is staring at you differently, as if she’s stripping you away from the title, as if she’s scanning what else lies beneath there.
baran finishes her portion and takes the entire bottle, drinking from the source, her eyes never leaving yours.
she swipes a speck of red at the side of her mouth then sucks on her thumb.
you gulp a load of saliva down your throat.
“be careful now, we wouldn’t want your other clients hearing the best babysitter in town has a preference,”
baran’s lipstick has stained the glass that’s now on the table, transferring the color there, leaving her lips a little less flashy, a little more domestic. subdued. delectable. irresistible.
she licks her lips and a few of her saliva stays at the flesh, catching the light, illuminating the plumpness.
“they’ve got to deal with it,” you start, swirling the red in the glass, catching the one second bite of her lower lip, “you’re my favorite.”
it comes out the way you didn’t intend to, shifting the atmosphere completely, the momentum causing you to squirm in the feeling of intimacy, the lines tangling without end.
baran chuckles, the sound sending a shot of electricity down the middle of your thighs.
she shakes her head, slurring, “khoda rahmat koneh,” racking her brown doe eyes all over your face, amusement and esteem glowing off of her.
“what did you just say?”
“chi? ah, i can’t believe you’re in my life right now,” baran acknowledges, dribbling over at her words, giggling as she takes another sip. her eyes dilate.
“is that so?”
“no, not really,” she admits, teasing with her gorgeous smile, doctor doe eyes bright and big as ever.
you shake your head.
“you know, if i had you there by my side, i sure wouldn’t be as grumpy as i was the moment the other attending–robinavitch—greeted me at the door–”
“the one you told me about?”
the doctor groans and puts a hand on her forehead. “yes,” she exasperated.
“that bad?” you gasp, seeing her pout for a second. “i’m sorry you didn’t invite me,” you chaff, receiving another doe-eyed look you can’t pronounce. baran’s eyes are completely dilated, examining your every move, like you were a set of organs for her to operate on.
“i would know what to do next time,” she settles.
baran shifts her attention to your barely-drank red wine. she purses her lips, waiting for your next move. when you don’t—helplessly staring at her—she places the bottle at the coffee table, occupying her hand with yours. she decides then, to help you out, generously drinks half of the liquid, flickering her eyes between your hands and your thighs, lightly quivering.
you poor thing.
the older woman shifts closer to you, swirls the red in its carrier, and places her thumb on your chin. she rotates the glass, presses your lips against the stain of her lipstick, red liquid dripping into it.
fuck.
you can barely breathe.
“wouldn’t want it going to waste,” she croons.
fuck.
“y-yeah, right, of course, i-i’m–”
“you don’t have to apologize,” she counseled, shaking her head.
you feel faint.
you’d be the first to stutter while humming, your body in an extreme fight-or-flight mode response that brainlessly grabs your tote, a chant of a final goodbye about to roll out of your tongue. you could barely register the fact you’ve buried yourself six feet deep the moment you started dreaming about the older woman, forgetting to realize that the only way to make it out alive is whether or not baran wants to provide a helping hand.
baran catches your wrist the moment you stood up, looking up at you like she knew all along an escape route brewed the moment she walked through the door. she tilts her head, “come here,” uncrossing her lap, coaxing you to sit.
you obey instantly, farewell out the door, leaving without you, shaking in its boots.
baran tugs your wrists and you find yourself spreading your legs, bearing your entire weight into her lap. your feel your clitoris pulse at the contact.
you’re staring at the contrast, silk and cotton-polyester in contact, wondering if it’ll ever get to grinding. if it’ll remain a divide between you and your desires.
baran’s amused to say the least, knowing you’d hide in your shell, timidly casting your head down, waiting until you’re brave enough to face her. she knows you won’t, putting a hand on your shoulder and running it through your arm. you shiver, meeting her brown orbs when she tilts your chin upwards.
“you want this?” she asks, eyes glazed over, holding onto her final restraint, squeezing your hand in the process.
you nod your head.
she sighs in relief, nudging her nose with your own, breath ghosting over your lips. you could almost feel her, you’re so close. you feel her grin, bowing her head to catch your lips, pressing a kiss on your bottom cusp.
she’s soft, warm, heady with a mix of red wine.
baran pulls away to see how you are, glee spreading throughout her body as she watches you with eyes closed, going back in for a peck, and then another. and then some more, gliding her tongue inside your mouth with a moan.
you grind into her lap when the noise breaks out, a smile and a sigh between kisses. snaking her hands around your waist as you place yours on her cheeks, clipping the loose strands of hair behind her ear.
baran’s cheeks have blossomed out in a feverish blush, panting as she pulls away, scanning your disheveled state. she gives you a peck before she grabs the wine bottle in her hand, rubbing your thigh. she takes a sip and dives back into your kiss, pulling you closer into her, passing the wine into your mouth, draining it with vigor.
you whine, feeling the liquid in your mouth, tartly sweet and something else that’s just baran.
and then you’re both just hungry.
you pounce onto her, grabbing the nape of her neck and completely pressing yourself against her, kissing her ferociously, lapping at her mouth with no abandon. baran tightens the grip on your hips and guides them, humping her thigh at a steady pace. she latches onto your tongue and begins to suck it, her vice-grip and the squelch getting you wetter and needier.
you whine when she pulls away, sending sloppy kisses down your neck, nipping at the flesh, grazing her tongue ‘til she reaches the side just below your jaw. she hums before she sucks at your pulse point, causing your eyes to roll back, your body tingling at the pleasure.
a long moan draws out of you.
“that’s it,” baran sighs, your lower lip in between her teeth.
your sweatpants come off, lifting your hips to be manhandled, knees wobbly, trembling at the idea of being completely undressed by the older woman. she looks absolutely stunning in the disheveled dress you desperately want to take off.
you find her mouth again, hot and heavy, completely mixed with hers and your saliva. you think there’s nothing hotter than that until baran’s rubbing you through soaked panties, moaning as she pushes them to the side.
“i-i-i can’t w-“
she slips a finger in.
her slender middle finger, finding the warmth inside your pussy, impatiently needy for your reaction.
“ah!” you yelp, gripping on her shoulders. she brings you closer with a hand on your hip.
“that’s it,” she says between gritted teeth.
it’s slow, experimental, precisely stretching you open with one, gauging your tolerance.
“is this okay?” she asks, putting her forehead against yours, her breath deepening as they mingle with yours. you nod your head with a huff.
baran pushes another finger in. you whine, rolling your hips into her digits, her fingers filling you.
“let it out. good girl, good girl,” she whispers with a slight growl, clenching her thighs at the image of her fingers disappearing completely in your pussy, rolling out coated with a white string of your cum.
baran chuckles with a moan, licks a stripe of your neck, then murmurs, “you feel so good…”
“…you feel so good,” you pant in return.
she grabs your jaw, causing your eyes to flutter open, dense and glazed over. her breath shatters at the state she’s put you in, drunk and needy with arousal. she swallows your moans with her mouth, shoving her tongue inside, whimpering as you flick around the muscle.
“i’ve waited so long for this. you’re exactly as i imagined you would be,” she confesses in your mouth, can’t get enough.
“w-what is that?” you cry in between moans, close to the edge. the older woman tightens her grip in your hips, no longer guiding them, allowing them to move at their own accord, feral and wanton to climax.
“a good, obedient girl.”
your back arches at the title.
“a loud, responsive little thing…”
cries when she flicks a thumb against your clit.
“…all because of me.”
baran beholds the sight of you: mouth open with a string of moans, eyes clamped shut as the aftershock leaves your body with your cum. she kisses your cheek and whispers praises you could barely make out due to the intensity of the orgasm, her entire palm open onto your back, supporting you.
you slump against her body, responding with an embrace that makes you warm.
you take baran’s face in both hands and kiss her with gratitude, passion, and a request for more.
you tug at her dress, giving her a look of need.
the older woman’s lips curl into a smirk.
“you think i’m done with you?”
baran leads you to the bedroom.
it’s surreal to be finger-fucked by the doctor, but here you are, being dragged with an impatient hand to her sanctuary for more. the place you refused to bring arash to despite protest, aware you’re not worthy enough to step foot inside. it changes tonight.
baran couldn’t wait to land you on the bed, all over your body once more, sandwiched against the door. breathing you in like she’s in her natural habitat, wet, open-mouthed kisses, ravishing you completely into submission.
she inhales in the crook of your neck, sighing, “you smell so good,” placing her thigh in between your legs and pushing your pelvis down against it. she pulls your tee off, grunting as your lace bra takes her away her inhibition and restraint.
she’s starving, this woman, kissing the valley of your breasts, nipping and licking at the exposed skin. you sigh, scratching her crown, her messy bun undone, the ponytail hanging on for dear life. pulling the pad down your breast, baran licks her way down toward the tissue right next to your bud, cooing as you whimper. “you want more, huh?”
you nod your head.
“what do you want?” she challenges, swiping a finger against your nipple, chuckling in amusement at your obvious shudder. exposed under her gaze, you whine, gripping on her neck.
“what do you want?”
“your mouth sucking on my—mhm!”
there she goes, burying her face in your tits, bent down at an angle to give you what you need, sucking your nipple as she fondles with your other breast, rolling the bud in between fingers, staring up at you with a content smile.
her eyes twinkle at the beautiful sight.
baran detaches her mouth away from your nipple, a string of saliva connecting them.
“i need more of you. get on the bed,” she orders, raking her eyes at you from head to toe. “walk backwards. slowly. don’t look away from me,” giving you an appreciative nod as you follow her exact order.
her gaze latches onto you like a leech, calculating every movement, “stop-!”
your ass lands on the mattress, the backs of your knees sending you there. “i’m sorry–“ you start, about to stand up until baran holds a hand. she shakes her head.
“it’s okay, stay put,” she says, drawing closer to you.
“take off your dress, baran. i want to see you too,” you plead.
the older woman sniggers, giving you a look as if she can’t believe you’re exchanging orders, bossing her around without consequence. you tense as she floats closer, still fully clothed, holding all the power. your head buzzes at the sight, at her command, and the aftershocks from the orgasm of her doing.
“i sag larzan,” she coos, lips pouting in adoration.
she’s in front of you now, tall and gorgeous, scanning your frame like a predator. dragging her tongue across her bottom lip, smirking at you, ready to pounce. she hums, neatly tucking loose hair behind your ears, tilting your chin up.
baran unclasps the hook of her dress, the fabric opening down at her torso. she drags it slowly, keeping her eyes on you and your reaction, letting out a silent hum when your mouth opens in admiration. she kicks the discarded dress to the side, leaving only her undergarment, top completely bare. you begin to drool.
baran’s confidence is inspiring, straightening her posture, slightly pushing out her chest towards you.
“my eyes are up here,” she husks, her deeper tone snapping your attention back to her face, the one that makes you soak her pristine sheets.
“i’m sorry,” you whisper, automatically peaking at her hard-rock nipples, stiff and awaiting your mouth.
“shma npastid? are you?”
the older woman raises a brow, taking your chin in between index and middle, pressing on the crease, causing your mouth to open. you could only nod your head.
baran lowers her neck, mouth only a few centimeters separating you. her doe eyes, oh-so-black in dilation, glinting as she weighs her choices, checking in with you silently. you tremble under the intensity of her gaze. piercing through your soul and your bundle of nerves. she makes up her mind in the end,
pulling spit from her mouth to yours, the action causing you to grind against the mattress, your moan covered by her mouth. pushing her spit deeper, mixing your own saliva with hers. she slowly lays you down the bed, pressing herself on top of you, her biceps propping her up.
the older woman bats her doe eyes at you, staring at you with such care, “are you still with me on this?” making sure you’re both still on the same page. you nod, speechless. her face softens with concern, almost maternal. “i’m okay. are you okay?”
she furrows her brows, caressing your cheek with a thumb, pressing a kiss on your temple.
she hums in acknowledgment.
“yes, yes,” she mumbles in your mouth, kissing you softly, languidly caressing your tongue with her own, getting lost in the warmth of your mouth.
she kisses down your body, gently, as if she’s finally realizing the weight and fragility of it. it makes you weak in the knees because not only is it baran with you, the woman that somehow invaded your dreams every night, but it has been so long since you've kissed someone passionately, with a promise.
baran pays attention to your other breast this time, flicking your nipple with a loose tongue, tweaking the other, humming when you hit a moan, making a mental note of your tics.
she nips and sucks a trail at the plane of your torso, caressing your sides with a featherlight touch, sucking the rim of your navel. she grins as you shift at the action, sticking and flicking a tongue in your navel. she’s the first to give this to you it seemed. she grazes her teeth down to the band of your soaked panties.
the older woman lifts her head up, humming in content. “you’re beautiful,” she sighs and you melt.
baran grazes her nose along the fabric of your underwear, mouthing at your labia. she huffs, rolling her eyes back as she inhales your scent, tongue swiping at your clothed pussy in the process. you whine, hips bucking, pulling away as to not aggravate you as much, although knowing you’d react this way.
she presses a kiss at the wet spot.
“spread your legs,” she exhales, excitedly abiding her wish.
“good girl,” she moans, licking and sucking at your inner thighs, just relishing in the heat you’re radiating. she tugs your waistband and you lift your hips, the last piece of garment fulfilling your nudity.
“pashman,” baran exasperates and moans your name, gritting her teeth, holding back from outright devouring you.
she wants this to last. she wants this imprinted on her mind for months to no end, erasing the ones before you, reshaping her into a better woman. she wants this to be as sacred as yours. she wants this for the both of you.
baran presses a kiss on your folds, separating them with a swipe of her tongue, the tip landing against your clitoris. you arch your back, gripping the sheets. she flicks it a few times, brown eyes looking up at you, intertwining her fingers with yours. your legs tremble at the stimulation, unable to wrap your head around the fact that she’s in between your legs, fully focused on your pleasure. your blinding, hot, pleasure.
she nuzzles her mouth against your clit, dragging her tongue across your hole, probing it, letting out a strangled moan as you grip her head with your thighs, sighing in pleasure. you’re so wet, cum dripping down your thighs, mixing the previous orgasm and the cum she’s slurping out of you.
“you taste so good,” baran mumbles, mouth full of your pussy. you sob, closing in on your climax already, meeting her lips and tongue with the drive of your hips. she moans and it vibrates through your bundle of nerves, setting you off deeper. “baran…” you whimper, grabbing a few locks of hair.
she grunts and rolls her head back, lapping up at your wet folds, grabbing your thighs and spreading them even more. she pulls away for a second to get a better view of your reactions, slamming two fingers inside your stretched hole.
“yes?”
you cuss, holding onto her wrist and then back at the sheets, panting out her name.
“baran, baran, baran..!”
it gets you closer, hips coming off the mattress, just rolling and rocking, the squelch of your juices resounding throughout her bedroom. “you’re close, aren’t you? you need me right now, don’t you?”
you nod your head, an inaudible plea coming out of your mouth, full of saliva and the older woman’s name. baran lets out a strangled moan and dives back into you, “come for me, please, please come in my mouth,” losing herself in your pussy, grinding her core against the mattress. it feels so good, grabbing onto her for dear life, scraping her scalp and hearing her name fall from your lips as you fall apart for her yet again.
panting through your orgasm, the older woman flattens her tongue and cleans you up, sucking in the remaining juices she has yet to devour. she’s a neat freak, so it only makes sense she keeps your pussy clean as well.
baran kisses your inner thighs, breathing you in, making her way up your chest and neck, peppering wet kisses and leaving words of praise. “you did so good for me,” she coos, pecking your lips before covering them with a swipe of her tongue, capturing your whimper in her mouth.
her eyes are twinkling at you. she grins, mouth swollen and wet.
“you made me so wet, did you know that?”
you shake your head, blissed out. “i did?”
“no? you were too drunk with pleasure, weren’t you?”
after nodding your head, she giggles, shifting away, taking off her lace panties.
“can i use your mouth?” she asks, so cute and so breathless.
“yes, of course, please-“ you respond, getting up, but baran just pushes you back down.
“i want to ride your face ‘til i come, koodak,” she purrs, batting her eyes at you.
“fuck,”
she chuckles.
“will you give it to me?”
so demanding, so bossy.
“anything you want,” is your only response.
she moans and kisses you, before rearranging your position, making sure you’re comfortable in the pillow, gracefully placing herself on top of you, hands grabbing the headboard, tilting her neck downwards to situate herself on your face.
“okay down there?”
you hum in acknowledgment, grabbing the backs of her thighs, pulling her down. she hisses as her slit gets in contact with your lips, beginning it with a peck.
the sight of her pussy makes you drool, drenched and ready for the taking. the older woman didn’t lie. she needs this as much as you do. you part her folds with your lips, burying your tongue inside, finding her clit and giving it a good suck.
“oh fuck,” baran moans, long and drawn out, thighs quivering. you hear the creak of the headboard and know it’s about to be obnoxiously loud. your head roils in complete bliss, mouth drenched in baran’s cum, the consistency thick and intoxicating. “like that?”
baran hums, the dirty talk causing her hips to jerk, sudden and then steady, finding herself a rhythm. she pulls back, sets both palms against the mattress, bearing her weight completely at an angle. she grins when you come up for air, overcome with the urge to give her what she needs.
it’s electric, giving her what she needs, the older woman’s face constricted in pleasure, sweat building on her forehead, brown hair frizzled out by her need to please as well. baran has a few moles littered across her body, her chest clear of them, bouncing and jiggling at her thrusts against your mouth.
you slither a hand through her torso, grabbing a tit. she pushed her core harder against your mouth, convulsing at the action, arching her head back as you pinch her nipple and suck on her clit at the same time, examining her every move. she grabs your hand and places it back on her thighs, replacing it with her own, moaning your name as she stares deep into your eyes.
you moan, the vibration causing her hips to stutter, toppling over back against the headboard, unable to prop herself in the position she was in, about to spill. baran mumbles a few words in farsi, inaudible, only for her own pleasure, placing one hand against your crown, sweat dripping down her forehead.
you groan, nudging your nose against her clit before pulling it in your mouth, giving it a hard suck, the movement setting her over the edge.
you keep lapping at her pussy, head constricted in between baran’s trembling thighs, a keen cry releasing from the coiling tension in her abdomen. caressing her skin into the aftermath of her orgasm, your mouth latching onto her until she lets go.
it takes baran a minute to ride it out, her breathing beginning to even out, halting her movements completely, unlatching herself from your mouth. you swipe the cum off your face with your tongue, a loud hitch of inhale coming from the older woman, whose eyes were on you the entire time. you grin, sheepish, “can’t help it,” honest with a hoarse voice.
“i’m sure,” she responds sarcastically, situating herself in between your thighs, nuzzling her face in your neck. “are you tired, are you okay?”
you tilt your head to the side so you can see her face. you give her an incredulous look, teasing.
“my, my. do you want to go again? and here i thought i couldn’t have enough,”
she grins, eyes wide and adoring. she pinches your cheek. “that’s why i’m offering, because i know you want more!”
“look at you! who doesn’t!” you kiss her cheek. baran tilts her head away and flutters her eyes, cheekbones pointed out of skittishness. she buries her face in your neck again, finding solitude there.
“okay, but we need a water break,” she settles, mumbling in your neck.
“i’m sorry, what was that? i couldn’t hear you,” you rib, placing a hand on the back of her head. your laughter fades into a moan as baran licks your earlobe. “you were saying?”
“you’re insufferable,” you settle, watching her face appear in front of you. she’s glowing, mouth swollen by your deeds, baby hairs moist in perspiration. she looks so comfortable, so at home in your arms.
she doesn't know i'd let her ruin all my days
emily prentiss x f!reader
tags: developing relationship, insecurities, hurt/comfort, body worship(?), smut, bottom!emily, top!reader, age gap not specified, smut with feelings, no use of yn
warnings: explicit content, minors please dni <3
summary: you don't understand why emily won't touch you.
word count: 4.5k
request: hiii, so for a fic request i was thinking something along the lines of unit chief emily and younger reader and they’ve been going out or dating for a little bit (...) and they haven’t done anything more than makeout because Emily’s a little insecure about being older (...)
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a/n: um im such a liar i said this would take a few days but i couldnt stop writing it so here it is ! ty for requesting <3 i had so much fun !!! hope u like it
Emily is obsessed with touching you any chance she gets.
It's surprising, really, the way she starts clinging to you when she finally feels like she's allowed to. When you're at hers, she keeps a hand on your hip while you cook dinner, she likes laying on the couch with you on top of her as you watch some random reality show. Emily keeps her face pressed into your neck, breathing you in, whenever she can.
And it's good. God, it's great. You want it all the time, you love how much she enjoys it, how close she keeps you. There's only one problem.
You want her. Constantly. And it seems like every time you try to move on to something more, she retreats. She kisses your cheek, your forehead, ending the makeout session as soon as it starts.
You don't push, you haven't been going out that long, anyway, and maybe she's still uncomfortable. Maybe you thought she’d be fine with it earlier because you were friends before, yet that might be the reason she's still uncertain, you're not sure. Although trying not to take it to heart is hard, especially when it seems like she doesn't want you as much as you want her, and you don't know if that's because she doesn't see you as her equal.
Being younger than her never really mattered to you. Ever since you started at the BAU you thought she was beautiful, attractive, sure, but she treated you like a colleague worthy of respect, even as her subordinate. Emily never made you feel like you were less than her or your teammates, which is why you never really thought about her age or yours as anything of a problem.
Perhaps you were wrong and she sees yours as a problem.
But there are moments in which you can't believe these conclusions. There are moments, when you're having dinner or just talking on a rare free night, that she looks at you and you can swear she wants you, too. At this point, anything could be true. You enjoy spending time with her, you care about her, and this one thing won't put you off a relationship that you believe can be really good, for the both of you. But this liminal stage ends up confusing you anyway.
Sometimes, your frustration gets the best of you.
You're on her couch, after dinner on a night when you're mercifully still in town. Emily never kisses like she doesn't mean it. She grips your hair and holds your jaw with her other hand, she tilts your chin slightly lower so she can get her tongue into your mouth. Emily sucks on your bottom lip like she's starved for it, then dives back in, leisurely feeling as you open up for her.
Scratching the back of your neck, she lets out a surprised sound when you pull her closer by the cheeks. When you get a leg thrown over her lap, though, she lays a hand on it softly, touching your thigh as if she's afraid you might break. Emily slows the kiss, kisses your chin, then your cheek, and still, with her lips swollen and cheeks red from effort, she smiles like nothing's happened.
“We should watch a movie,” she says, reaching over for the remote. You grip her arm, not letting her get away that easily.
“You're kidding me, right?”
Emily frowns, seemingly genuinely confused — if you weren't so frustrated you might've even found it cute. “I don't know what you mean.”
You chuckle humorlessly, resigned. This is fine. It's just something you'll have to get over. “Never mind,” you say, bringing your leg back from where it still rested over her, almost managing to stand up before she touches your hand.
“What's happening?” She asks, so lost that you actually feel bad. Seriously, what is she doing to you? “Did I do something?”
“No,” you sigh, “it's me. Pick a movie, I'll be right back.”
Emily's still frowning, but you get up, turning away from those sorry eyes. You can't help but feel bad that you put that look on her face when she hasn't done anything to earn it.
In the bathroom, you throw some water on your face. Chuckling ironically at yourself because the feel of the lace lingerie you have on is starting to annoy you. Lately, you've been choosing aesthetics over practicality with your underwear, just in case. Apparently, it was futile.
Reaching under your shirt, you remove your bra, tired of the uncomfortableness it brings. In a t-shirt of Emily's, you can barely tell you're not wearing it, anyway. Since you came straight from work, all you have is your laptop bag, not even pajamas in it, so she's lended you some. You figured you'd keep the lingerie on, again, just in case. Deciding it doesn't really matter, now, you get out of the bathroom and throw it in your bag, cursing the fact that you can't do the same with the bottom piece currently digging into your hips.
Back in the living room, Emily is sitting in silence. She's got a silk set on, some button-up shirt and pants that feel as soft as they look. You like seeing her this casual, comfortable at home, with you. Knowing you should focus on that, you smile at her when you sit back on the couch, your arms touching so she knows you're not upset.
“I couldn't choose,” she says in a low voice, sounding oh-so-dejected, pointing at the television.
Okay, does she have to make it this hard?
“I’m sorry, Em, I was just… upset about something else.” You try, touching her shoulder, letting her silver hair slip through your fingers. “I didn't mean to take it out on you.”
Emily shakes her head, a soft, yet genuine, smile on her face. “Don't worry about it.”
Biting your lip, you nod, still unsure but deciding to take her word for it. “There's a new thriller I thought you might like,” you change the subject, taking the remote from her hand and delighting in the fact that she snuggles up against you, her head on your shoulder, one of her arms around yours.
This is fine. This can be enough.
In bed, Emily has a terrible habit of scrolling through her work e-mails before you turn the lights off.
It usually ends in her getting annoyed at something or someone. She sighs, mutters about how she needs to stop looking at her phone before bed, then does it again then next night.
Tonight's no different. The only different thing is you're sitting next to her, leaning back against the headboard and reading a book, one you've read a thousand times. More passing your eyes over the words than actually absorbing them.
Emily huffs, takes off her glasses, places her phone on the nightstand, screen turned down. She turns on her side, still half propped up by pillows, and scoots closer. Her arm finds your waist, her head leaves the pillow to rest on your shoulder.
“Read it out loud?” She asks, her voice muffled against your skin.
You don't add anything, only start reading to her from the top of the page. You know she's not asking to know the story, she just wants to hear your voice.
“As the king made no answer, the little prince hesitated a moment. Then, with a sigh, he took his leave. // ‘I make you my Ambassador,’ the king called out, hastily. // He had a magnificent air of authority…”
The cold tip of Emily's nose touches your skin where your shirt’s moved a little. She presses it closer, breathes you in. Leaves a featherlight kiss on your shoulder.
You close the book harshly in the middle of a sentence.
“You must be tired,” you say, placing Le Petit Prince on the nightstand. “We should get some sleep.”
Emily frowns, “you're acting weird.”
You look away to turn off the lamp. She catches your hand.
“Talk to me.” She asks, her voice so syrupy as it usually is this time of night. “Please?”
Taking a deep breath, you buy some time. Not nearly enough.
“Did I do something?” She asks again, crestfallen now. Your chest physically hurts.
“No, you didn't do anything.” Taking her hand, you lace your fingers together. “I mean it, Emily. This is my issue, I'll get over it soon.”
Frowning, “I’d like to help.”
You shake your head, kiss her cheek. “I think,” you whisper, “no, I know, you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time.”
Emily only looks at you, eyes big and searching. Her profiler skills working at full speed and, still, she can't figure you out.
“I don't want to ruin it,” you finish. Squeeze her hand for good measure, to let her know you're there.
“I'm so confused,” Emily says, sitting up properly. “Why won't you tell me what's wrong?!”
“Why won't you have sex with me?!”
Alright, blurting it out was not how you wanted to do this.
You close your eyes, cheeks flaming. “Forget I just said that.”
When you look up, Emily looks… stunned. Her lips are softly parted and her eyes are wider than usual. Too bad you really want to kiss her.
“Let's go to sleep.” Imploring now, you try to pull your hand away. She doesn't let you.
“I'm sorry-” She starts, but you interrupt her.
“No! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that, I was-”
Emily shuts you up with a kiss. Pressing your lips together, she holds your face in place as she kisses you. She doesn't deepen it, but she lingers, then softens.
“Stop talking,” she murmurs against your lips. “Please.”
You nod, pressing your lips together.
“I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was weighing on you.” Her voice is collected, like she sounds in the conference room. You want to shake her, tell her to yell or show that this is affecting her, too. “I never wanted to make you feel unwanted.”
“I don't-” You interrupt yourself before she can because, really, what can you say to that?
“I do want to have sex with you,” she says, calmly, but there's a light rubor to her cheeks, like it's hard for her to say it.
“Then- Why? Do you think it's too early? We've known each other for over a year.”
Emily nods, moving the hands that were resting on your shoulders to grip your own hands. “I don't think it's too early, I…” She shakes her head. “I don't know how to explain it.”
“Emily,” you say, finding that you really want to get that disheartened look off her face more than you want an explanation. Trying to convey in your tone what you feel about her. “You don't have to explain anything. We’ll do it when you're ready. If you're never ready, we'll never do it.”
“Simple as that?” She asks, slightly incredulously.
You shrug, “simple as that. I just wanted to know why, but that doesn't matter.”
Emily smiles, a small thing that you might've missed if you weren't paying attention. “You're so young,” she starts, confusing you again. It must show on your face because she quickly continues. “I'm not. And I don't look like I did at thirty anymore, or even forty. And maybe you should be with someone like that.”
Scoffing, you can't believe what she's saying. “You think I want to be with anyone else? I've been crawling up the walls because you won't touch me!”
Emily shakes her head negatively, “I believe you. When you say you want me, I can trust it. But I don't think you should.”
You cross your arms, dislodging her hands from yours. “That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but nothing really comes out.
“I don't care that you don't look like a wax figure. Do you care that my stomach isn't perfectly toned? Or that I have acne scars on my back? Cellulite?!”
“Of course not, but-”
“Emily!” You interrupt her. “I love you. God, why is that so hard for you to understand?”
She blinks. Silence engulfs the room.
“I was gonna wait, because we've only been together a month or whatever… But we've been friends for so long, and fuck it, it's out there now.” Holding her face between your hands, you bring it close to yours. “I love you. And I want you like I've never wanted anyone in my life.”
“I love you,” she whispers back. But you don't have time to react before Emily kisses you, holding you in place by the shoulders, forcefully pressing your lips together like a woman starved.
Moving a hand over her side, she grips it before you can leave it there, holding it in her lap and pulling back from the kiss. Emily touches her forehead to yours, breathing hard with her eyes closed.
“Sorry, I-” She gasps out. “I didn't think it'd be this hard.”
You nod, placing a comforting kiss to the side of her mouth. Pushing her softly against the pillows, you lean over her a little, but not enough to completely cover her body. Trying your best not to be overwhelming, you look all over her face, taking note of her breath coming in hard pants and her hands clenched in the fabric of your shirt.
“Emily.”
She opens her eyes, not realizing she'd even closed them in the first place. They're wide, searching your expression.
“Take a deep breath,” you suggest, touching your cheek to hers when she does so. “Again.” Matching her breaths, you keep her under you for a moment, hoping she can finally relax. “I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm going to do, and if you need me to stop, tell me, alright?”
Lifting your head, you lock eyes. Emily nods, pressing her lips together and managing to keep her breathing normally paced.
“I'm going to kiss you, now.”
And you do exactly that.
At least this is familiar territory. Emily quickly melts into you, her mouth welcoming your tongue in a practised move. You don't touch her anywhere else, only keep one of her hands in yours, the other resting by her head on the mattress. She lets out a small sound of approval, her neck lifting to get closer, head tilting for the best fit.
When she comes up for air, you lower your face into her neck. “Here,” you whisper. “Okay?”
Emily hums a consent. You kiss below her ear, slow and wet, enjoying the taste of her skin in the way she hadn't let you before. You've been dreaming about this for weeks, months, and the reality of it is better than you expected.
Placing kisses down her neck, you reach the base of it, right where it meets the skin of her shoulder. A particularly hard kiss there leaves a slightly red flush in the shape of your mouth. Emily gasps above you, her free hand moving to grip your shoulder. You let her hold onto you, let her feel the assurance of your body over hers.
You take your time exploring her skin. The exposed area of her chest glistens and flushes where you've kept your lips on it, enjoying the taste and the way she shudders, her back unclenching, lowering back onto her soft sheets.
“Can I take your shirt off?”
Not even having dared to undo a button, you wait for her approval. Emily looks up at you, an ethereal vision with her cheeks red and her lip swollen where she bit it to contain her own whimpers. She doesn't say anything, so you move your hands to your (her) own shirt, slowly lifting it off yourself. For a second, you'd forgotten you'd taken your bra off in the bathroom, but the chill in the room quickly reminds you of it.
Emily looks at you intently, her eyes mapping every bit of exposed skin. She licks her lips, placing her hands on your waist and squeezing softly. You nod at her encouragingly.
Dragging her hands up, she keeps her palms under your chest, not going further. You feel your skin heat up at the attention, but don't move to cover yourself, letting her look as much as she wants to.
Emily looks into your eyes again, "take it off.”
You don't waste any time. Swiftly opening the buttons on her silk shirt, you lower your head to breathe in every amount of skin that is gradually shown. When it's completely open, you kiss her sternum, the valley between her breasts, her stomach, but you don't move to push it off her body. Slowly, you taste every bit that's uncovered, feeling as Emily's hips move on their own accord, lifting up from the bed ever so slightly, a sight that you'll soon learn means she's aroused.
Getting your arms under her back, you pull her up, touching your uncovered chest to hers. “I'm going to take it off, now.”
Everything is said in your lowest tone, as if you're trying not to spook a scared stray. When Emily nods, you finally rid her of her shirt, throwing it somewhere on the floor and not caring to look. There is a much more interesting view right in front of you.
She lies back down, her eyes locked on yours, her hands gripping you at the height of your ribs. You move down with her, trying to stifle a smile but losing the battle, kissing her chest so she can't feel embarrassed.
“You're perfect,” you murmur against her skin, causing her to shiver at the warmth in your voice. Keeping your promise, you continue, “I'm going to taste you, now.”
Taking a nipple into your mouth, you smile around it when she whines. Sucking slightly, the sounds she lets out spur you on. This is so, so much better than you could've imagined. Emily moans when you move to her other breast, the cool air causing even stronger shivers on her wet skin.
After a while, when Emily's breathing is labored for an entirely different reason, you bring your face up to meet hers. You can never get enough of the way she kisses, so you ask for it again. A thumb on her chin, pressing it down to guide her jaw, loving the way she relinquishes her body to yours. Your tongues meet heatedly, and you moan at how she tastes, yet again. She groans in the back of her throat, gripping your hair strands and keeping you exactly where she wants you.
You touch her chest, taking care of it with your hands this time as she kisses you oh-so-sweetly, in that way only she can.
Coming up for air, you smile at the expression on her face, dazed and relaxed, at last. Surprisingly, Emily smiles back, a small tilt of her lips but a smile nonetheless.
“Can I take your pants off?”
She nods, running fingers through your hair to move it away from your face. Twisting it onto a low ponytail to keep it there, she runs her hands down your bare back, then your chest, mapping your body with her fingertips as best as she can reach.
You remove her pajama pants, leaving her underwear on for now. Closing your eyes, you try to center yourself. She's everything and she really has no idea.
“I really didn't plan for this,” Emily murmurs, pulling you back to the moment. She's gesturing at her underwear, you notice, a simple, black cotton pair.
“It's perfect.”
Standing up, you take off your, also borrowed, sleep shorts. Emily lifts her eyebrows at the sight of your lace bottoms.
You smile, “just in case.”
Emily, mercifully, laughs. A loud, free thing that settles your worry.
“You can stop narrating now,” she says, pulling on your hand so you straddle her hips.
“You sure?”
She nods, pulling on the back of your neck to kiss you.
As you kiss, you feel her hips bucking up into yours. Your hands find her body again, relearning every curve that you, for a while, thought you'd never get to see. Finding the edge of her underwear, you only look at her, waiting for a sign of discouragement. Emily only nods.
“Fucking hell,” you whisper unconsciously after finally, finally, getting her naked. “I've been wanting to do this for months.”
Emily lifts an eyebrow, “months?”
You hum in agreement, growing more speechless by the second. Kneeling between her thighs, you stare at her unabashedly, earning an impatient look from Emily, who clears her throat. “Sorry,” you grin up at her, delicately lifting one of her legs onto your shoulder. Emily closes her eyes as her cheeks heat up.
“You're perfect.” It feels like you can't say anything else. You desperately want her to understand that you've never meant anything more than this. “Fuck, Emily, you're stunning.”
She opens her eyes, looking away quickly when she notes the flame in yours, her face turned to the ceiling. You let her have it, not wanting her to be uncomfortable, and start kissing the inside of her thigh where it's resting near your face.
Her skin erupts in goosebumps. You can smell her so strongly from where you lay, your mouth starts salivating almost immediately.
In the end, you don't know if you taste her more for her pleasure or yours. Every minute that passes with your head between Emily's thighs, you feel yourself get more and more aroused. You know you're just about to become addicted to her, you'll want to do this every hour or every day and it's gonna be so hard to not jump her every morning in the office.
The sounds she lets out are a spectacle apart. Her throat raw from moaning, the whimpers and gasps that she produces every time you find just the right spot. Every time that deliciously raspy voice hits your ears it spurs you on, when she calls please! into the ceiling, when she keens as you slip a finger into her.
Two fingers pulling forward, your mouth sucking precisely on her clit — you learn that's the perfect recipe. Emily cries out, telling you not to stop, telling you it's exactly right, and just like that, don't stop, fuck.
There's barely a breathy, broken, “baby, I'm so close” before she comes into your mouth. Her thighs shake and her hips try shooting up as you hold her down, keeping her close and still with your tongue on her, tasting as she comes down. Her back arches in the most stunning arch and you want to do it all over again, keep doing it, all night, all week, if she'll let you.
When she pulls your face away, gripping your hair strands and trying to stop you, you whine at the separation.
Once you're face to face again, you pout jokingly at her. “I was enjoying that.”
Emily smiles, “yes, well, I need a minute.”
She brings you in for a kiss, groaning as she tastes herself on your tongue. You feel the wetness on your chin passing onto her face, your kiss messy in the best way possible. Emily nips on your bottom lip, then beams at you.
“I don't know why I was so worried.”
You shrug, “I don't know, either.” But your eyes soften in understanding. A kiss on her cheek to tell her you've got her.
“Your turn?” She asks, grabbing your hips with her hands already under the waistband of the lace. Emily keeps them there, giving you the same time you gave her. It's sweet, even if you've told her you were crawling up the walls, and that she can probably feel the damp spot on her thigh from where you straddle her.
“I'm not done yet.”
Getting up again, you remove your underwear, then sit down next to her and pat your lap playfully. Emily rolls her eyes, but complies, straddling your own legs this time.
Gently moving her legs where you want them, you get one thigh over hers, the other under, and she swiftly adjusts herself when she gets your intention. She keeps herself lifted, not resting her weight onto you yet, leaning down to touch her forehead to yours, more easily as you're slightly propped up against the headboard.
You hold her hips firmly, guiding her down to bring your centers together. Emily closes her eyes, shivering.
Kissing below her ear, you whisper, “ride me?”
Emily sighs next to your face, hiding hers in your neck. “I'm not twenty anymore.”
“That doesn't mean anything,” you say, taking her earlobe between your teeth and enjoying the way she shudders. “I'll guide you, hm?”
She doesn't say anything, but she nods, and her hips give a slight, barely there, thrust forward. You both moan in unison.
Keeping a tight grip on her hips, you encourage her to move.
It's dramatic, sure, but you feel like you've died and gone to heaven in the span of a few seconds.
Murmuring in her ear about how good she looks, how well she rides you, you delight in her needy whimpers. Emily lets out these enticing little gasps where she hides her face in your neck.
Still guiding her movements with a hand, you take another to touch her back softly, caressing the skin and feeling as beads of sweat start to form from the exertion. You don't stop praising her out loud, the vibration of your voice emboldening the undulation of her hips, and Emily grips the hand that's resting right there, a bruising hold that keeps you anchored.
It takes a little trial and error, but you find the perfect rhythm together. She lifts her head when she's getting close. Her neck strains as she approaches orgasm, you've noticed, her entire body tensing in expectation.
As her breathing gets more labored, her brows furrowing from the effort, you think you've never seen someone this beautiful, and you tell her just so. Her cheeks flame, still so unused to praise, but it still spurs her own, her thighs burning now from the merciless pace she sets. With a particular twist of her hips, she slightly moves off where you need her the most, but she looks so ruined, so gorgeous, almost reaching her peak, that you don't say anything. You have time. Now, you only grip her harder, letting her take what she needs from you.
Telling her how good she rides you, how perfect she looks above you, you watch in ecstasy as her back arches and she comes again, an almost sob of relief leaving her lips.
When she falls forward, spent, you wrap your arms around her and kiss her temple, then wherever you can reach. You whisper that you love her, she answers with a squeeze of your arm, still catching her breath.
“You've ruined me,” she says when she finally finds her voice again.
“I did no such thing.”
Turning her face to look at you, your noses brush together. “You probably fixed me.”
“Don't be silly,” you joke, nipping at her nose. “There was nothing to fix.”
“Huh,” she considers, pressing your lips together sweetly, like she can't get enough. “Somehow, I almost believe that.”
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