"you could've had it with me, but instead, you gave it up"
synopsis: trinity santos had broken up with you after she disagrees with your decision to pursue your acting career. a few years later when you've gotten your big break, you get into an accident on set and you're rushed to PTMC only to find out that the doctor who's going to treat you is none other than your ex herself.
pairings: ex!trinity santos x f!reader | ??? x f!reader
tags: angsttt, fluff, princess in her natural element (gossiping), age-gap relationship
word count: 5.3k
trin is kinda an asshole here tbh but don't worry, i'll redeem her on ipagdadamot kita :)))
What once was your very supportive girlfriend, who was enthusiastic in helping you with the lighting of your taped auditions and eagerly volunteered to help you read your lines, had slowly become someone who doubted you in everything you did. Her encouragement had turned into disbelief laced with annoyance, and her admiration for you for your fire and passion in pursuing your dreams had completely disappeared. At first, you thought that the honeymoon stage of your relationship had finally dwindled down after three years of being together and that medical school was just wearing her out; it was true, but she never stopped taking you out for your weekly dates, as it had become a tradition early on in your relationship, and she never had a hard time expressing her love for you. There was no concrete reason to doubt her, so you never did; you always gave her the benefit of the doubt when she stopped bringing you along with her when she was out with her friends. Until the ‘unexpected’ happened.
There was a wide smile present on your lips when you walked into Trinity’s apartment. You’d been staying there more often in the past year than you have in your own place, as you had practically moved in with your girlfriend, and it was a no-brainer decision because her apartment building is nicer than yours and your neighbours were quite a handful bunch. You had just gotten off the phone with a casting director who brought you good news after months of auditions that resulted in nothing. You had started to doubt yourself when you’d received the call, as you had no hopes for this specific audition, and in a way, you had made an unspoken ultimatum for yourself. Trinity, who was nose-deep in a medical textbook, immediately felt the happiness radiating off of you when you entered the room, and her brows had lifted up in curiosity. Of course, you noticed her expression.
“I got a call back. They want me to fly into LA for a screen test. I think it’s for an indie movie but they’re keeping things secret for some reason. I heard that Anya Taylor-Joy’s the lead for this one.” You trailed off and you didn’t see the way Trinity’s face had fallen.
So, you kept talking. “I should prolly move to LA, don't ya think? I’ve been thinking about it for months but… I dunno, I don’t really want to leave you here in Pittsburgh.” You shrugged because, despite how Trinity would always act unbothered, you knew she doesn’t like being alone.
“Are you seriously thinking of moving to LA?” The tone of her voice surprised you a little. You’d never heard her talk to you like that before.
“Yeah? I mean- the audition’s in LA and there’s more opportunities there. It’s gonna be expensive flying back and forth from Pennsylvania to California just to audition.” Even though you gave yourself an ultimatum in this career path, this project seemed promising to you.
“I thought you quit acting?” You blinked at her.
“No… just because I’m freelancing some programming stuff doesn’t mean I stopped auditioning.”
Trinity sat up straight from her seat at the dining table. “You’re serious about this.” She observed you like you’re a patient that needed diagnosing.
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
In a split second, her entire figure went from being calm to being infuriated. “God, you’re so childish.” She stood up. You were stunned as you had never seen her act like this before.
“Excuse me?-”
“When will you realise that acting is not for you?”
It’s the very first time she raised her voice at you. You’ve had fights before, naturally, but she has always kept her composure and reeled in her anger and frustration.
“You’ve been auditioning for years and all you’ve gotten was minor roles and a victim on that one Law and Order episode!”
“What are you saying? I thought you were okay with this?”
“I was! And now I’m realising that this is all bullshit and a complete waste of time!” She dragged her hand through her hair in frustration. “-and money!”
“You’ll be better off with a real job than having your dreams crushed by a disgusting pervert who just wants to see women get naked on the screen!” You scoffed at Trinity in disbelief.
“Do you really think that low of-” She cut you off harshly, she didn’t allow you to have a say in this fight.
“No. I’m done. I can’t be with someone who can’t let go of their childish dreams.” You stood frozen in front of her as she rounded her way to you.
“Trinity-” She pushed you out of her front door.
"Good luck in LA.” The door slammed in front of you causing you to flinch at the loud noise.
You stood still in front of her door for a whole minute, completely shocked at what just happened. You were so taken aback by everything that you were more confused than devastated as you were just called childish by the person whom you loved the most- the woman whom you thought you’d be spending your entire life with. But it was all so ironic- what had become the reason for her breaking up with you ended up being the big break you needed as an actor. It was the role that had caught the eye of many producers, several directors, and writers as your name had spread like wildfire within the industry, and it was as if they were suddenly bewitched by your acting because you were already getting dragged into other projects when the movie hit its post-production stage.
Now, a few years later, you’re grimacing in pain as you’re sitting down on a gurney after a stupid miscalculation on your part. Your agent is hovering near you while she’s talking to someone- most likely a producer– on her phone; stress is heavily influencing her facial expressions as she releases a sigh after the call has ended.
“It’s fine. I don’t need to go to a hospital, I can just sleep this off.” You wince when you feel the pain radiating from your ribs as you try to convince your agent- as well as the paramedics– that you’re okay but they’re clearly not buying it. You couldn’t act your way out of this one as they loaded the gurney up with you on it in the ambulance.
“Seriously, I’m fine-”
“You’re clearly in pain. You can cry your ass off in command but you can’t control your own face to save your life.” You roll your eyes at your agent, and you open your mouth to speak out your rebuttal, but she holds her hand out as a signal for you to stop and shut up.
“The producers want to be sure that you’re in great shape. They can’t afford another recast for this movie.” Her reasoning makes the complaint die out on your tongue.
“Fine. Just don’t take me to PTMC-”
“Too late, we’re already here.” The paramedics quickly push the doors open as they effortlessly haul the gurney back on the ground.
“Fuck. That was quick.” You comment as you try your best to stand up and ignore the pain in your ribs that knocked the breath out of your lungs.
“No it’s fine, I can walk.” The way you almost fall face first onto the concrete as soon as the words left your mouth is comical and your agent immediately scrambles to catch you.
“Nope. You’re not fucking walking, okay?” Letting out a huff, you lay back down on the gurney against your own wishes.
“I swear to god you need to be wrapped in bubble wrap for the rest of the shoot.”
“Jesus- calm your tits down. I’m okay.” Your agent is the type of person to always overreact. It’s amusing but sometimes it can get irritating to hear.
“Yeah right, I’ll wait for what the doctor says.” The paramedics only share a look with each other as the two of you continue to banter while they wheel you into the ER.
“After this we’ll be back on set, right?”
“You wish. The rest of the shoot day is cancelled and the writers are happy ‘cause the glorious beings from up above wants to change everything in act two because according to them ‘it’s too woke’.” She throws her hands up to make air quotes.
“What’s ‘too woke’ about a heist action movie?” You copy her actions.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Charlize Theron fighting in a suit instead of a dress?” You roll your eyes in disbelief of the whole scenario, but at least the rewrite will give you enough time to recover from whatever injury you just gained from being an idiot.
The male paramedic clears his throat as he states your name to start presenting your case, “-27 got hit by a stunt car while filming on a movie set. These two kept fighting on the way here so…” He and a male doctor with greying hair make eye contact while you get wheeled into a trauma room. You hear the doctor call out someone’s name to assist him, but you don’t comprehend him because you’re way too entertained by your agent explaining how they couldn’t cut your clothes off unless it was absolutely necessary to.
“Fuck. I guess it’s my lucky day today.” You hear a familiar voice enter the room, your attention turning to the brunette you haven’t seen in ages. The gnawing feeling of dread befalls you, and you swear you hear your heart rate pick up from the monitor.
“What? You two know each other?” Asks the male doctor who looks back and forth between you and Trinity while your agent connects the dots in her mind. She was about to say something detrimental to your reputation as the tell-tale smirk starts to appear on her lips, and Trinity- thankfully– speaks up first.
“Something like that.” She turns to your agent. “You need to wait outside so we can properly look at her injuries.” Your agent throws you a look that says ‘we’re talking about this later’ before exiting the room with no complaints. The male doctor has his eyebrows raised in amusement, knowing that it’s not needed for Trinity to basically kick her out of the room since you’re not in a critical condition.
She still looks the same since you last saw her, though; you could clearly see the tiredness in her eyes. The only difference from before is a couple of new tattoos littered all over her forearm. The random ink she has all over her arms used to be your favourite thing about her as you would unconsciously trace the lines with your gentle fingertips, and the action would usually lull you both to sleep.
“Glad to see that you’re a doctor now.” Trinity looks at your face briefly before focusing back on evaluating the severity of your injuries.
“And you made it in Hollywood.” She states while examining the bruises that formed on your ribs and you wince when she touches the skin lightly.
“If you think so.” She steals a glance at your face. You were already attractive when you were dating to the extent that it was annoying to go out with you at night because of how often you would get hit on by unsuspecting men who thought they could bag a woman like you, and it would always drive Trinity insane. But now, you look even better, and Trinity felt like she just got kicked in the belly as everything came back running to her. She shouldn’t have been impatient; if she weren’t, the chances that the two of you are still together could be phenomenal.
Trinity could still remember everything about you: how you would always bite your lip while you’re deep in thought, how you drastically change while in character, how the tone and cadence of your laugh differ in certain situations- she could go on and on for hours if she’d let herself. Now, all she can do is wallow in her regret and wish she could take back her bad choices while watching you command a scene in a movie.
She exhaustedly drops her body down onto a chair before she starts up your chart while waiting for you to get back down from having your scans done. Her sigh catches the attention of Dennis, who is also busy finishing up some charts so that he can finally end his shift. He eyes her sideways at first, observing her, before sidling up next to her.
“What’s wrong? You look like you’re talking to Garcia again.”
Once again, Trinity sighs. “I wish. That’d be easier to deal with right now.” He tilts his head and gives her an expectant look.
“My ex is here and she’s my patient.”
“Which one?” He proceeds to look around, seeing if he could spot the woman that has Trinity wishing she could fast forward time so she could avoid you. A gurney then passes by the workstation and parks in a closed-off room.
“Her.” Trinity points her thumb at you while Dennis and a few nurses who saw you, did a double take, wondering if what they saw was real or if their eyes are just deceiving them.
“Is that-” She cuts him off.
“Yes.” You’re placed in the quieter side of the ED because if people were to realise that there’s a celebrity amongst them, chaos would ensue.
“Your ex is-” His voice grows loud, completely surprised by the casual revelation of his roommate.
“Keep it down.” Trinity hisses and Dennis goes back to whispering. “You’re kidding.” The pointed look that she bears tells him otherwise.
“How did-”
“A college party and I broke up with her.” She already anticipated what Dennis was going to ask, it’s obvious and she didn’t need to look away from the monitor to tell him that.
“What? Why?” Trinity keeps on typing, surprising herself that she could multitask during an unpleasant conversation.
“It’s stupid.” She tries to brush it off but Huckleberry stays unmoving and continues to stare at her. “Okay. Fine.” She stops typing and faces him.
“I thought she was wasting her time with acting when she could be doing other things.” Trinity almost flinches at her own words, embarrassed by her past actions as she sounds like a trad man wanting his wife to stay at home and cook meals for him.
“And now she’s-”
“I know. You don’t need to remind me.” She swivels her chair back to face the monitor.
“You’re exes with an actress?” Princess suddenly appears in between them as if she’s summoned whenever there’s gossip brewing in the pitt; to be fair, they weren’t secretive enough with their conversation, as she heard half of their conversation a couple metres away. Huckleberry jumps, startled by her presence.
“Yep.” Trinity answers with a flat tone. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”
“It’s a… sore spot for her.” Dennis explains and the nurse raises her brow up as a signal for him to continue.
“She broke up with her before she had her big break.” Trinity mentally thanks him for simplifying the breakup to prevent her from getting further embarrassment.
The nurse makes a pained expression while hissing. “That sucks. That’s your loss. You could’ve been a power couple, an actress and a doctor.”
“Clearly.” Her words come out as bitter and she barely manages to look unbothered by her current predicament as she stares at your chart in front of her.
“Are you going to talk to her?”
“Why? I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want anything to do with me after being an asshole to her.” Trinity breaks her stare from the monitor and looks at the nurse instead.
“You won't know it if you don't try.” Princess gives her a look filled with hope and reassurance. “And, you’re clearly not over her.” She sighs at the nurse’s added comment.
“Whatever.” She stands up after Princess hands her the tablet with your scans on it and she starts heading to your room.
“Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.” Dennis says with a smirk on his lips, and Trinity raises her empty hand up to flip him off while walking away.
Trinity can’t help but think whether or not she should try talking to you, just like what Princess said- it wouldn’t hurt, but she doesn’t know if she can handle that kind of conversation today. She doesn’t even know if you’re in a relationship with someone new since you’ve kept your private life out of the public eye; it’d be awkward if this is how she finds out that you’re with another celebrity since there have been rumours surrounding you and a past castmate in your latest film, and everyone seems to be convinced that you two are together- except for Trinity, of course. Regardless, you’re now out of Trinity’s reach, and all she can rely on is your past together if she does manage to pull up her big girl pants and actually talk to you.
All the while Trinity is trying to muster the courage to talk to you and go through all of your results and scans, you and your agent are busy bickering about the movie. For a short while, you forget that your ex-lover is your doctor as you worry about what’s going on with the movie amongst other things. You watch as your agent runs her hand through her hair for the millionth time today after once again getting off her phone.
“So what, shoot’s cancelled for three weeks?” You’ve managed to hear most of her conversation with the director, and she nods at you while reading through several texts- no doubt they’re all about your unfortunate accident.
“Mhm. Thanks to you.”
You huff. “Stop acting like they’re not rewriting the whole movie on short notice.” Her lips drop to a frown upon seeing a certain text, her thumbs moving quickly to send a reply.
“It’s kinda your fault too.” She sends the message and gets to typing another one right away.
“I’m barely in it. They could do all the scenes with Charlize first.”
“She has another project. Her team says she can’t go on set until next month.” She finally finishes replying to the urgent messages she’s seen so far.
She blinks, suddenly remembering the first sentence you’ve said. “And you’re barely in it? You’re the lead in this fucking movie, what the hell are you talking about?” You shrug, and just like a miracle dropping down from heaven- preventing you from becoming deaf due to your agent’s relentless scolding- Trinity enters the room.
“I have your results.” She announces and your agent takes a deep breath to compose herself before fully turning her attention to the doctor.
Trinity addresses you. “You have a few hairline fractures on your ribs and some bruises and scratches, but other than that, everything’s all good.”
“Can she go home now?” Your agent asks and Trinity nods at her. “Yes. Rib fractures heal on its own for around two to six weeks.” She turns her focus back to you. “You need rest and you should put ice on it- especially for the bruising, they will get ugly. Just take it easy, no heavy lifting, and no stunts.” You almost groan at the no stunts part because you prefer to do it all yourself as much as you can.
“Yeah, her personal doctor would approve of that.” You elbow your agent’s side and while she’s in the middle of telling her joke, her phone starts to ring for the nth time.
“I’m sorry. I have to take this.” She takes off while apologising, making you think that one of the producers had called her.
The silence settles in for a couple of seconds before Trinity speaks. “A nurse will give you the discharge papers.” She purses her lips and gives you a small smile before turning around. She stays standing still for three seconds, her hand already on the doorknob, contemplating if she should put in the prescription for your medicine here at the room’s own workstation or not. Eventually, she decides against leaving the room.
She turns around to face you. “I just… didn’t expect to see you again.”
“Me neither.” You look at her, seeing the dark bags under her eyes and her hair a little bit messy from moving around all day.
“How are you? Be honest ‘cause you look like shit.” Trinity chuckles at your word choice as she steps closer to the workstation in the corner of the room.
“I’m good.” She taps her ID to the scanner. “This place has the tendency to suck the life out of you.”
Her forehead wrinkles in confusion as she reads your current address. “It says here you’re still living here in Pittsburgh. Didn’t you move to LA?”
“I moved back here a year and a half ago.” Trinity seems to pause for a second, her fingers stalling above the keyboard before she goes back to typing like nothing had happened and logs off once she finishes.
She turns back around to face you. “Is acting everything you imagined it to be?”
“It’s different but it’s still what I expected. If you’re not surrounded by good people, you can end up selling your soul to the devil- literally and figuratively.” You can tell that she’s nervous: she’s fidgeting with her fingers and she’s leaning her body weight onto one leg and shifting it every 30 seconds.
Trinity takes a deep inhale, knowing that it’s now or never since you’re only going to be much harder to come by next time.
“I’m sorry… for the way I talked to you when I… broke up with you.” She manages to make eye contact with you. You unconsciously take a deep breath, the sharp pain on your ribs now reduced to a dull hum all thanks to the painkillers they gave you.
“It’s just… I still haven’t forgiven myself for that and I…” Trinity scoffs at herself, feeling foolish that she’s doing this but still goes for it.
“I’d be lying to myself if I said that I didn’t miss you.”
A surge of irritations rushes through your veins, making you clench your jaw before relaxing.
“Do you really miss me or do you just want me back because I’ve made a name for myself?” Trinity freezes like a deer caught in headlights.
All of the instances in the months up until the day she broke up with you came back flooding: she used to proudly introduce you to the new people she had met until you were just hanging around her in the background; she used to be so proud of you every time you booked something, and then the excitement turned into an eye roll and annoyance. The only time she treated you nicely was when the two of you were alone, where there was no one else around that could recognise either of you. It made you think that she much preferred that you stayed working at home as she knew that there’s someone waiting for her in her apartment and she didn’t need to worry about cooking something since you always cooked for her. You knew that there was something going on as she changed, but you couldn’t let yourself see it for what it truly was because you loved her.
“I wasn’t blind, Trinity. You were ashamed of me, you treated me like I was nobody whenever you’re with your friends… you could’ve said this years ago- you could’ve reached out to me, and now… what? You care now that everyone knows me?”
“What? No. I love you. I didn’t reach out to you ‘cause I thought you were busy- you obviously were– and how could I when I called you childish? I was an asshole.” Despite her frustration, Trinity didn’t raise her voice at you. Not a single octave.
“Exactly. You said that acting was childish- why would I even get back together with you when you didn’t take me seriously?” Trinity’s shoulders visibly slump down as she lets go of the sudden wave of anger she felt and takes a step closer to your bed.
“Come on. I’m sorry.” Her voice softens. “I really didn’t mean to say that- I was stressed and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” It took a lot for you to keep your eyes from rolling, a little bit surprised by her audacity but you should’ve expected this from her.
“Whatever. You’re too late. What’s done is done, there’s nothing we can do. It’s all in the past now.” Trinity wants to be closer to you, to hold your hand and keep apologising for everything she has done but she stops herself when she sees the stone cold gaze in your eyes.
“Can you forgive me? I-”
The door suddenly swings open.
“Eshgham? What happened?” Baran rushes in, panicking as she immediately goes to your side. She doesn’t even notice Trinity standing on the other side in her hurry to feel your warmth with her fingertips. Her hand gently wraps around your wrist, subtly feeling for your pulse.
“I saw your agent outside and she told me you got in an accident on set.” Your heart breaks at the worry her tone carries. She lets her eyes wander around your body to check for any external injuries and Trinity could only stand there, effectively stunned as she put the puzzle pieces together. Her heart drops to her stomach. Oh.
The ‘personal doctor’ comment your agent made, your Pittsburgh address, and your own words: ‘you’re too late’.
Fuck.
It was indeed foolish to think that you’re still single after you’ve experienced so many things these past few years. At least it isn’t that one actor Trinity hates, but Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi? Her own attending? She’s truly and utterly fucked.
Trinity clears her throat to make her presence known to her attending as she still doesn’t seem to notice her lingering near the two of you.
“She has a few hairline fractures on her ribs.” She repeats what she has said earlier.
“Dr. Santos.” Baran finally addresses her. “What labs did you order?” You tuned out Trinity’s words as you barely know anything about them, focusing on how tight Baran is holding your hand and the worry that is evident in her dark irises despite the composed face she’s keeping on.
You had met Baran two years ago in California, where there was a medical conference at the hotel you were staying at for a nearby premiere. You were still a relatively new name in the industry, but for some reason, Baran knew who you were when you stopped by the bar. She didn’t think she had a chance with you since you were younger and a bit famous, and Baran almost didn’t shoot her shot, but when you turned your head and made eye contact with her from across the bar, she knew that she was a goner and that she needed to talk to you. And the rest is history.
She nods at Trinity when she finishes speaking. Baran then leans down to press a lingering kiss on your forehead as Trinity bitterly watches from the side.
“What happened?” She asks, her soft gaze tracing the outlines of your features as if she’s memorising each tiny detail on your face. Your hand goes up to cup her jaw before easing away the creases on her forehead with your thumb.
“I was supposed to avoid the car but I lost my footing when I landed.” You couldn’t look her in the eyes out of embarrassment, opting to stare at the curtains instead.
“Were you wearing any safety gear?” You nod.
“I was. I’m just a little bruised. I think it hurt my pride more when it happened.” Baran lets out a breathy giggle and you give yourself a mental pat in your back for making her worry disappear even if it’s just for a fleeting second.
The attending lifts your hand up to her lips. “I’m sorry it took me long to get here. I was going through patients so I could get home early.” She was planning to surprise you and her son with a hearty dinner tonight. Her cooking is now going to be non-negotiable for later since you need to rest as per doctor’s orders. Your ex sees how your irises soften with a certain warmth behind them; you used to look at her like that, and now somebody else is on the other side of your affection.
She once again awkwardly clears her throat and hands Baran the tablet. “Here. You can double check the results yourself. I’ll get the discharge papers.” By the time you look over at the door, Trinity is already gone and you feel your body instantly relax under Baran’s touch.
“What happened? I heard you two arguing outside.” Baran knew of your past with Trinity because you can’t keep anything from her- even for the things you’ve signed an NDA for. That’s why she couldn’t help but be harsh to the R2 when she first worked with her.
“I’ll tell you everything when we get home, okay?” It’s now your turn to place a lingering kiss on the top of her forehead and she easily melts into your touch.
“Please be careful? I don't want to see you here as a patient ever again.” It amazes you every time you see her eyes become so expressive; it makes your whole being buzz with warmth and adoration when she looks at you like you’re everything she’s wanted in life. You slowly drag your fingers through her hair, pushing back the curls that had escaped her hair clip before cupping her jaw with both of your hands. She places hers above yours, running her thumbs over your knuckles.
“I promise.”
Her dark irises flits left and right before drifting down to your nose and finally to your lips where her gaze lingers for longer. A blink, and her lips are on yours, feather-like at first as she tests the waters before letting the distance close fully. You can feel her affection, love, and worry all at once as she deepens the kiss, making your breath hitch in surprise. Your right hand wanders down to the nape of her neck, your fingers instinctively playing with her hair.
“Just fill this out and-” You and Baran take your time to separate from each other before looking at who just entered the room. It’s Princess. You could feel her internally groan knowing that she’s the number one supplier of gossip in the whole ED and that this little incident would immediately spread once the nurse goes back to the station.
Princess only looks at the two of you with a smirk plastered on her face before handing Baran the discharge papers. She gives the attending a quick wink before leaving the room. You let out a small giggle, causing Baran to do so as well.
Outside, the nurse struts towards the central hub as if she’s suddenly reinvigorated- which she basically did from you two– and Dana looks her up and down before deciding to not say anything. Princess’ smile becomes even wider when she spots Dennis and Trinity typing away at their workstations. The two notice her immediately as her shadow falls over them. Upon seeing the downcast look of annoyance, embarrassment, and dread written all over Trinity’s face, the nurse knew immediately that she witnessed something she never wants to see ever again.
“Guess what. There’s a new power couple in town. Our favourite actress with broken ribs and our tech-savvy attending.” Trinity groans.
Hello 😁 I was wondering how you get your pics the same size like in this. Idk if it makes sense but when I try to upload photos into a post it just takes up the whole screen, and I can’t find how to size it down like you did 😭🙏
i crop the photo to square on my phone so they’re all the same size or
pairing: baran al-hashimi x reader
contains: strap-on, nsfw, domme!baran, sub!reader
word count: 646
You step into Baran’s house after a long day of socializing at the company party that Pittsburgh Medical hosted. The door barely clicks shut before her dark gaze pins you in place. She’s still in that tailored black suit—blazer slightly open just enough to tease the smooth plane of her chest. You study her in the solitude of her home—your eyes moving further down when you notice something off. Her trousers hug her hips, the faint outline of something thick and deliberate pressing against the fabric between her legs that you just took notice of.
“On your knees, angel,” she murmurs, voice low and commanding, already shrugging the blazer wider, leaving no room for imagination. No bra and the subtle gleam of her necklaces pressed between her breasts. You obey instantly, the hardwood cool beneath your knees as you crawl closer.
Baran leans back against the edge of the table, her polished heels planted against the floor. Her legs are parted in a powerful stance. Her fingers thread through your perfectly styled hair, ruining the curls you spent hours on. “Look at you, angel. So pretty and eager to please me.”
She unzips her trousers slowly, deliberately, revealing the thick black strap-on already harnessed tightly underneath. You gulp loudly as you realize she’s been wearing a silicone strap the whole time at the company party. Your mouth waters with raw desire at the thought of servicing her in this act of intimacy.
“Open,” her voice husky as she cups your chin, raising your head to look up at her.
It’s an order, not a request.
You part your glossy lips, tongue sliding out obediently for her. Baran guides the head of the strap along your tongue, tapping the tip of the strap on your tongue a few times before she slaps it on your face. She moves back to your mouth, letting you taste the smooth material before she pushes forward, filling your mouth in one smooth thrust.
Her grip tightens in your hair as she rocks her hips, fucking your face with controlled, deep strokes. The fabric of her suit pants brushes your cheeks with every thrust, the faint scent of her arousal mixing with her signature saffron perfume, which she always wears. “That’s it, angel. You’re doing such a good job,” she moans.
You moan around the thick length, hollowing your cheeks, tongue swirling the underside the way she likes. Drool slips down your chin onto her black trousers. Baran whimpers as the pressure of the suction presses against her clit, thumb wiping the drool from your chin before pushing deeper until your nose brushes the zipper.
“Eyes on me, angel. I didn’t give you permission to close your eyes just yet,” she orders. You look up through wet lashes at her intense stare, her curly hair falling around her face, lips parted in satisfaction. One hand stays fisted in your hair while the other casually adjusts her open blazer, exposing more of her chest as she grips one of her breasts, twisting on her sensitive nipple.
She starts thrusting faster, the harness creaking softly, the table steadying her.
“Good girllll,” she moans. “Getting my cock nice and wet for later.”
Baran’s breathing grows heavier, her hips snapping forward until the strap hits the back of your throat again and again. You gag prettily, tears smudging your mascara, but you don’t pull away— you suck harder, desperate to please her.
Finally, she pulls out with a wet pop, the strap glistening with your spit. She taps it against your swollen lips, voice husky. “Look at the mess you made on my suit. Clean it up with your tongue, then maybe I’ll let you ride it as a reward.”
You lean in immediately, licking every inch while she watches with dark, satisfied eyes, fingers stroking your cheek. The night was not even close to ending.
pairing: baran al-hashimi x f!reader
tags: suggestive content, crushing, friends, fantasizing, masturbation
note: some quick blurbs I wrote on my phone. i've been so busy lately to write fics, but might have one up later this week hopefully!
word count: 432
°❀.࿔ She invites you for a pool day so she can see you in a bikini. Convince you to wear her skimpy two-piece bikini when she sees you pull up in a one-piece. Tells you it’s because you’ll have an uneven tan, but really, she just wants to stare at your body that she fantasizes about every night.
°❀.࿔ She watches you struggle to reach the middle of your back with sunscreen and asks if you need help. She instructs you to lie down, and her fingers brush your skin as she takes the bottle from you, spreading the cool lotion slowly and deliberately, her thumbs pressing just a little too firmly along your spine, down to your back dimples, rubbing them in slow circular motions.
“There! Much better! Can’t have my favorite girl getting sunburnt.”
°❀.࿔ Secretly taking pics of you when you aren’t looking for her to use for her own personal use. Takes pics of you when you’re bent over the cooler, rummaging for drinks, bikini hugging your curves, leaving little room for imagination. Baran’s phone is already in her hand, pretending to check the time while she snaps a few quick, discreet shots from behind—capturing the way the fabric clings, the arch of your back. She convinces you to have a mini photshoot, but she mostly just wants to capture your cleavage, which bends over a little too much so that your nipple peaks over your top. Her pulse quickens as she saves them, a private little collection for later. When you straighten up and turn around, smiling all innocently, not knowing what she’s going to use the pics for.
°❀.࿔ You try convincing her to let her take her bikini so you can wash it as a favor for letting you borrow her two-piece, but Baran insists that it’s fine. As you go take a shower and throw the bikini in the clothing hamper, Baran snatches up the bikini bottom. Once she’s in the clear, she takes a big sniff of the bikini bottom, getting horny that your pussy was just on them a few minutes ago. Shoves her fingers between her folds as she fingers herself, sniffing the bikini.
°❀.࿔ Once you’re gone, she locks herself in her bedroom and scrolls through her newly saved album of the pics she took of you earlier. She’s fucking herself hard with her dildo, imagining it’s you strapping her with your bikini on. Her pussy is so creamy from the thought of fucking you with her dildo, and you fuck her. Squirts all over it, moaning your name loudly as she orgasms.
summary: you broke up with your ex, and Baran finds another way to comfort you.
contains: nsfw, sex, oral, baran!giving, reader!receiving, dirty talk, bff to lovers, jealousy, possessive baran
word count: 1393
You’d been crying on Baran’s couch for almost half an hour, mascara running down your cheeks, voice raw from telling her every detail of how your ex had made some accusations against you. He’d been calling you “clingy” and “dramatic” before storming out after another fight. Baran sat beside you in her faded Stanford alumni shirt and some loose sweats, one arm draped around your shoulders. She rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, the way she always did when you were ranting about your now ex.
“I can’t believe I wasted almost a year on that asshole,” you sniffled, wiping your nose with the sleeve of the oversized hoodie you’d stolen from her closet months ago. “He was such a dick, Baran. Why didn’t I see it sooner?”
Baran’s jaw tightened, but her voice stayed gentle, low, and warm with that faint accent that always made you feel safe. “Because you’re too good for him, angel. Way too good. I told you time and time again that he didn’t deserve you. Every time you came over smiling about some shitty ass date, I wanted to shake you and tell you how I truly felt. You never listened, sweetie.”
You looked up at her, confused through the tears. “How you felt? Wait, what are you talking about?”
She exhaled slowly, her brown doe eyes searching yours. Her hand moved from your back to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. “So, um—I don’t know how to say this without it possibly ruining our friendship, but fuck it. The truth is that I uhhh—I’ve been in love with you for months. I’ve been crushing on you so hard it hurt watching him touch you. I was jealous as fuck, but I never said anything because you were happy… or at least I thought you were. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
Your heart stuttered. “Baran. . . I had no idea. You never. . .I—”
“I know,” she cut in, voice dropping an octave, rougher now. “I kept it locked down. But you’re single now. And you’re here, crying on my couch, looking so fucking beautiful even when you’re broken. Please let me make you feel better. Let me make you feel good,” she whimpers as she grips your thighs. “I know your piss poor ex couldn’t make you feel good. That bugged the shit out of me, knowing I’ve been feigning for you, knowing I can satisfy you,” her voice husky.
Heat bloomed low in your belly despite the tears. “Wait? What? You. . .want to. . . uhh, you know with me?” you say with fake innocence.
“I want to bury my face between your thighs and eat that pretty pussy until you forget he ever existed,” Baran said, blunt and hungry, her eyes darkening. “I want to taste how wet you get for me. Been fantasizing about it every damn night. You don’t know how many times I’ve played with my pussy on the phone with you, imagining how your moans sound. Please, baby. Please. Let me show you what you’ve been missing.”
You hesitated only a second before nodding, stunned and suddenly aching. Baran didn’t waste time. She gently pushed you back against the cushions, peeling your leggings and damp panties down your legs in one smooth motion, spreading your thighs wide open with strong, steady hands.
“Fuck,” she breathed, staring at your exposed pussy like it was something sacred and filthy at the same time. “Look at you. So fucking pretty. You’re fucking drenched already. All that crying got you worked up, huh? Or is this because you finally know how bad I want to eat that pretty pussy and claim it as mine?”
“I didn’t know,” you whispered, voice shaky with surprise and arousal. “I swear I didn’t know you felt like that.”
Baran smirked, leaning in until her breath ghosted over your slick folds. “Now you do.” She dragged her tongue in one long, slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, moaning deeply the moment she tasted you. “Mmm. . . so fucking sweet. Better than I imagined. This pussy is mine tonight and forever, angel. Gonna devour every inch until you’re shaking.”
You gasped, hips twitching. Baran’s hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open as she dove back in. She started slow and deliberate—broad, flat licks that covered your entire slit, savoring every drop of your slick like it was her favorite meal. Her tongue circled your clit lazily at first, then flicked faster, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves until your breath came in short, needy pants.
“Oh god—”
“No god. Just me, angel. Mmmm, that’s it,” she murmured against your pussy, the vibration making you whimper. “Say my name while I eat this sloppy little cunt. Your ex never did this right, did he? Never spent hours down here as he should’ve. You don’t have to worry about that now, baby. I’m gonna tongue-fuck you until you can’t think straight.”
She pointed her tongue and pushed it inside you, thrusting in and out in shallow, wet strokes while her nose bumped your clit. The sounds were obscene—loud, wet slurping mixed with her low, hungry moans filled the room. She pulled back just enough to spit directly on your clit, watching it drip down your folds before licking it up again, messier this time.
“Fuck, you’re dripping down my chin,” she groaned, voice thick with lust. “Such a messy girl for me. I love it. Been jealous for so long, watching you go home to him when I wanted to drag you to my bed instead. Now look at you—spread open on my couch, letting your best friend devour your pussy.”
Baran slid two thick fingers into you without warning, curling them perfectly against that spongy spot inside while her mouth sealed around your clit and sucked hard. You cried out, back arching, one hand flying to her dark curly hair, fingers tangling tight.
“Baran—right there, please—don’t stop—”
“I’m not stopping,” her voice low, pumping her fingers faster, the wet squelching sounds filling the room. “Gonna make this pretty cunt gush all over my face. Come on, baby. Ride my tongue. Use me. I’ve waited forever for this.”
She alternated between sucking your clit with filthy, rhythmic pulls and lapping broad stripes, occasionally pulling her fingers out to replace them with her tongue again, fucking you deep and messy. Your thighs started to tremble, slick coating her chin and dripping onto the couch. Baran didn’t care. She just moaned louder, grinding her own hips against the cushion like she was getting off on your pleasure alone.
“You taste so fucking good,” she panted between licks, lips shiny and swollen. “Sweet and tangy and all mine now. I’m gonna keep eating this pussy until you’re begging me to let you come. Then I’m gonna do it again. And again. Forget that asshole. Fuck that ugly ass dude. This is what you needed—someone who actually knows how to worship this sloppy, needy cunt.”
The pressure built fast and overwhelming. Your hips bucked against her face, grinding shamelessly as she worked you higher. Baran added a third finger, stretching you open, curling and scissoring while her tongue flicked relentlessly over your clit.
“Baran—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m so close—” you were barely able to whimper.
“Cum for me, angel,” she demanded, voice rough and desperate.
The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing hard. Your whole body shook, thighs clamping around her head as you came with a broken cry of her name, slick gushing against her tongue. Baran moaned loudly, licking and sucking you through every pulse, swallowing greedily, refusing to pull away until you were twitching and oversensitive, whimpering softly.
Only then did she crawl up your body, lips glistening, a satisfied, wicked grin on her face. She kissed you deep and filthy, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.
“Better?” she asked, voice husky, brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.
You laughed breathlessly, still trembling. “So much better. . .I can’t believe we haven’t done that sooner. Fuck I’ve been missing out.”
Baran chuckled softly, nipping your bottom lip. “Well, now we did. And I’m nowhere near done. Spread those legs again, baby. I’m eating this pussy for the rest of the night—until you forget every man who ever touched you.”
tags: fluff, unestablished relationship, cutesy stuff, yearning
word count: 910
Baran is not the type of person who rushes into things. Everything she does is measured, intentional, and thought through twice before she allows herself to act. Even with you, especially with you. She takes her time, letting whatever this is grow slowly and carefully, as if she does not want to risk mishandling it.
But that does not mean she is unaware. She notices everything.
She notices the way you always find her in a crowded lecture hall, as if it is instinct. The way your shoulders relax slightly when you sit beside her, like something in you settles. She notices how easily you fit into her routines, how natural it feels to share space with you, to exist beside you without effort.
And somewhere along the way, it stops feeling temporary.
—
It is late when it finally happens.
The library is nearly empty, the soft hum of overhead lights filling the silence. Your notes are spread out between you, but neither of you has turned a page in a while. Baran is sitting closer than usual, her shoulder pressed lightly against yours, her focus clearly no longer on the material in front of her.
You notice it in the way she exhales—slower, heavier, like she is thinking too much.
“Baran,” you say softly.
She looks at you immediately. There is something different in her expression. Less controlled. Less guarded. For a moment, she does not speak. She just studies your face like she is trying to memorize it, like she is weighing something carefully in her mind.
Then, quietly, “This is. . . inefficient.”
You blink, a small smile forming despite the tension. “What is?”
She gestures vaguely between the two of you, her jaw tightening slightly. “This. Not doing anything about whatever this is.”
Your heart stutters a little at that. For someone like Baran, this is saying everything.
You close your notebook slowly, giving her your full attention. “Then do something.”
There is a brief pause. You can see the hesitation, the rare uncertainty in her posture. It is subtle, but it is there, and it makes your chest ache a little. Because she is choosing to step into something unfamiliar.
“I don’t…” She exhales softly, shaking her head once, like she is frustrated with herself. “I don’t approach things without clarity. I don’t like variables I can’t account for.”
Your voice is gentle. “And I’m a variable?”
Her gaze sharpens slightly, but there is warmth underneath it. “You’re the only one I haven’t been able to solve.”
The words settle between you, quiet but heavy with meaning. Your breath catches, just a little. Baran watches you closely, as your reaction matters more than anything else in this moment.
“I know what this looks like,” she continues, her voice softer now, more honest than you have ever heard it. “I know what it means. I just…” She pauses, her expression tightening briefly. “I needed to be sure it wasn’t one-sided before I said anything.”
Something in your chest softens completely at that.
“It’s not,” you say, barely above a whisper.
The shift in her is immediate, even if it is small. Her shoulders relax slightly as a weight she did not realize she was carrying eases.
“Okay,” she murmurs, almost to herself.
There is a quiet moment where neither of you moves, but everything feels different now. Lighter. More clearer.
Baran’s gaze flickers briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes, like she is asking a question without saying it out loud. You answer by not pulling away. By staying exactly where you are. That is all the permission she needs.
—
When she kisses you, it is slow.
Careful at first, like she is still thinking through it even as it happens. Her hand lifts to rest lightly against your jaw, her touch warm and steady, grounding you in place.
For a second, it feels like she might pull back too soon, like she is holding herself at a distance out of habit. But then you lean into her. And something in her shifts within her.
The hesitation disappears, replaced by something deeper, something certain. She kisses you again, softer this time but more sure, as she has finally allowed herself to have this. Her thumb brushes gently against your cheek, a small, absent motion that feels impossibly tender coming from her.
When she pulls back, it is only slightly, just enough to look at you. Her forehead rests against yours, her breath still a little uneven, though her expression has settled back into something calmer—something grounded, but warmer than before.
“Okay,” she repeats quietly.
You can’t help but smile. “That’s all you have to say?”
There is the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes now. “I already said the important part.”
Your fingers curl lightly into the sleeve of her coat, keeping her close. “And what part was that?”
She watches you for a moment, her gaze softening in a way that is reserved only for you.
“That’s definitely not one-sided.”
Your heart feels like it might burst. She studies your expression again, like she is committing this moment to memory, then leans in just slightly. Just close enough that her voice drops to something softer, more private.
“I don’t intend for this to be temporary,” she adds.
It is not a question. It’s a promise. And when she kisses you again, it feels less like the beginning of something new.
summary: baran signs up for private lessons with a certain pilates instructor because she finds her hot.
tags: smut, lesbian sex, yearning, pilates instructor!reader, down bad!baran
word count: 2700
Baran starts timing her workouts around your classes without meaning to. She’s been frequenting the upscale gym near PTMC, following a routine that fits her schedule. She would only go there to workout and go. Or that’s at least what she tells herself.
She insists it’s just a coincidence that she always shows up as you’re finishing with a client, the studio door open, and your voice low and steady as you guide someone through their last stretch. Still, she finds herself lingering, wiping down equipment that’s already clean, her attention caught every time you move.
She told herself she was looking for inspiration for a new workout routine. But no. It’s you. You had her hypnotized. And, admittedly, the outfits you wore did not help at all.
You wear pink every time, but never the same shade twice. Sometimes it’s a soft blush that fits like a second skin. Other times, it’s a deeper rose that makes your body's lines look sharper and more defined. Occasionally, it’s a pale, almost sheer tone that catches the light when you move, showing the strength in your arms and the subtle flex of your thighs as you demonstrate a position.
It’s distracting. Baran doesn’t get distracted. Or at least often. At least that’s what she tells herself.
But she watches your every move. She can’t help but wonder what’s underneath your pink matching set. The way your muscles contract, glistening with sweat, makes her clench her thighs with want. She wants to be the reason why you’re sweating underneath her. You consume her thoughts—none that are pure.
She notices the way your hands adjust your clients—firm, precise, never lingering, always purposeful. The way your voice softens when you correct someone, coaxing instead of commanding. It’s a kind of authority she’s not used to. Different from hers. Quieter. But just as effective.
And she wonders, just for a moment, what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of that attention. Giving her instructions on how to please you, your soft moans vacate her thoughts. She needs to have you.
That’s how she ends up booking a private session. Purely to satisfy her curiosity about you, she tells herself.
Up close, it’s worse. Or better.
You’re wearing pink again today, this time a light rose set that’s seamless and sculpting. It makes it impossible not to notice the strength in your body. You’re not bulky or exaggerated, just defined and controlled. Every muscle in your body is intentional. It doesn’t help that you smell so good.
Baran feels it immediately—that unfamiliar shift between her legs. Being up close and personal with you intensified her desire for you. All she could feel was hunger. Hunger to make you feel really good.
“You’re tense,” you say gently, circling her as she holds a position. You noticed the tension in her hips as she held the stretch.
“I’m not,” she replies automatically.
You hum, unconvinced. “You’re trying to control the movement instead of feeling it.”
That almost makes her scoff. Control is her baseline; it’s how she operates. But before she can argue, you step in closer.
“Here, let me help,” you murmur.
Your hand settles lightly at her waist.
It’s a simple touch. Professional. Innocent.
Baran stills. Being touched and being close to someone aren’t unfamiliar to her. But this is different. There’s no urgency, no assumption. Just guidance. Your palm is warm through the thin fabric of her shirt, steady as you shift her slightly.
“Let go here. Just right here,” you say softly.
Her breath catches—just slightly, just enough for her to notice.
Your hand brushes slightly against her exposed skin. She couldn’t help but notice how soft your hands are. That simple touch short-circuited her brain. All she could feel was frustration coursing throughout her body.
She’s used to being the one who sets the pace, who reads people, who understands the room before anyone else does. But with you, it feels like the opposite. Like you’re the one seeing through her, past the control and the composure, straight to the tension she didn’t even realize she was holding.
“Now that’s better,” you add, voice husky.
Your hand lingers for half a second longer than necessary, or maybe it just feels that way.
Baran swallows hard. Girl, you need to focus Baran thinks to herself.
Except it’s hard to focus when you’re this close, when she can catch the faint scent of your perfume, something light and clean. When your voice drops just slightly as you correct her again, when your fingers brush her arm, her shoulder, guiding without hesitation.
Every touch is brief. But she feels all of them. By the time the session ends, Baran’s breathing is a little deeper, her body warm in a way that has nothing to do with exertion.
“Your body holds a lot of tension,” you tell her, offering a small smile.
“I’ve been told,” she replies, trying to keep her voice steady, mostly.
You tilt your head, studying her. “You don’t have to here. At least when you’re with me,” you smile.
There’s something in the way you say it. She’s not sure if she’s overthinking it, but it felt a bit flirty based on the tone of your voice.
Baran looks at you for a moment longer than necessary, her usual composure slipping just enough to let something else show through. Something quieter. Wanting, maybe.
“Careful,” she says softly. “That almost sounded like an invitation for something,” she lightly laughs to herself.
Your smile deepens, just slightly. “Maybe it is,” you say.
And for once, Baran is left speechless and perhaps a bit shy.
Just the unfamiliar, lingering feeling of wanting to come back. Not for the workout, not really. But for you.
────୨ৎ────
The second session isn’t accidental. She booked it immediately after the first session was over. She doesn’t give a second thought when she books it. She doesn’t pretend it’s curiosity or try to make any excuses. She just wants to see you again.
You’re already there when she arrives, stretching near the reformer, wearing another shade of pink—this one softer, almost pastel, the fabric catching the light as you move. It’s almost unfair how consistent you are, how natural it all seems.
“You came back,” you say, glancing over your shoulder while giving her a small smile.
Baran exhales a quiet breath, almost sounding amused. “You sound surprised.”
“A little,” you admit. “You didn’t seem like the type to repeat things.”
“I’m not,” she says easily, stepping closer. “But I make exceptions when something’s worth it.”
Your eyes meet hers for a moment, something awakening in you after hearing her words. Neither of you looks away from the other. The eye contact is intense, but you couldn't help but want more. This time, the session feels different. More intimate.
You guide her through the movements again, but now there’s an awareness of how close you are, and of how your voice drops a little when you correct her. You want to feel her. You’re more touchy during the second session.
“Slower,” you murmur, hands settling on her hips to still her. “You keep rushing.” Baran scoffs at you. “I do not rush.”
“You do with this.” Your grip tightens around her hips, just enough to stop her, grounding her in place. The touch is steady and sure, and this time, she doesn’t freeze from surprise. She leans into it. Just slightly. Enough for you to notice. Your breath catches, just for a moment.
“Remain focused,” you say, though it sounds quieter now. It sounded like you were saying it more for yourself than to Baran.
Baran turns her head, her head close enough to your face that you could smell her jasmine shampoo. “I am,” she breathily says. It doesn’t sound like she’s talking about the exercise. Your hands don’t move right away. The room feels warmer now than it did before.
Later, you’re closer again, this time you’re adjusting her form, guiding her arm, your fingers brushing along her wrist before settling there, steadying. It should feel routine by now.
It doesn’t. There’s a pause. A moment that lasts just a little too long. Baran notices it all, the way your touch lingers, the way your eyes drop when she’s bent over, but bringing her eyes up immediately when she catches you.
“You’re distracted,” she says softly.
Your lips press together, like you’re deciding whether to deny it. “…Maybe,” you admit, blushing profusely as you stare into her deep brown eyes.
That’s new. Baran steps down from the machine, moving closer to you in a way that feels less like a client and more like something else. “Careful,” she murmurs, echoing her words from before. “You might start something I might not want to end.”
Your breath hitches slightly as she steps closer. “Sorry—I—uhh—I didn’t mean to make you—”
“I know what you meant,” she says gently, but there’s something warmer underneath now. “I just think you might be feeling it too.” You don’t step back. That’s all the answer she needs.
The session ends abruptly. But neither of you moves to leave. There’s a quiet space between you, full of tension and everything that’s been building since she first saw you at the gym.
Baran breaks it first. “My place is nearby,” she says, voice low, measured but softer than usual. “More privacy if you’re feeling what I’m feeling.”
Your lips curve, just slightly. “Yeah? And what are you feeling?”
She almost smiles. “I’m feeling a bit hungry after our session. And I’m not in the mood for food.”
You hesitate for just a second. Not because of uncertainty but of excitement.
Then you nod. “Lead the way, then, ma’am,” you say jokingly.
Baran exhales, feeling satisfied as she steps back just enough to give you space, but not to put distance between you. “Good,” she murmurs.
As you both gather your things, the tension between you changes into something more intentional, an understanding that doesn’t need to be said.
This time, neither of you is pretending it’s just a workout.
────୨ৎ────
Baran drove both of you back to her house, driving in silence. Her hand was on your thigh, slightly rubbing your leg the entire drive. She drove fast, not wanting to waste another second. As soon as you entered the house, her lips were on you immediately, aching with hunger. Her lips were soft, tasting faintly of the coffee from before the session. Her tongue began to slide against yours, looking for dominance. You sighed into the kiss as your hand threaded through her hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The kiss grew hungrier, breaths echoing throughout her living room as small moans escaped both of you.
She was the first one to break away from the kiss to trail kisses along your jawline towards your neck. Her hands slide underneath your pink pastel top to cup your breasts. She pushes the fabric up and off, exposing your perky breasts, nipples hardening from the cool air.
Under her heated gaze, she murmurs, voice husky, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” She dips her head to take one of your nipples into her warm mouth, lips closing around it with a hard, wet suck. She lightly nips at it, which sends a jolt to your already wet pussy.
She alternates gently sucking and teasing flicks of her tongue, while her other hand kneads your other breast, rolling your nipple between her fingers until they’re really sensitive. You arch into her mouth and hands, soft moans leaving you. She sucked on you harder, her teeth slightly grazing your nipple, leaving you breathless and wanting more.
She worked her way down your body, her tongue trailing down your toned stomach while leaving lingering kisses simultaneously. She pulls your tights down to reveal pastel pink panties that matched your workout set. She groaned at this; she couldn’t get enough of you wanting more. She nipped at the exposed skin on your hip down to your thighs.
Baran looks up at you with a teasing smile, fingers leaving ghost touches along the wet patch of your panties. “Looks like you’ve been wanting this more than you let on,” she murmurs with a dark look in her eyes.
“Shut up and eat my pussy already. You were so desperate to eat me out, put that mouth to good use. Less talking, more eating,” you say as you gain a bit more confidence. You slightly caress her hair as she presses soft kisses along your wet patch.
Desperate to get a taste of you, she softly pushes you onto her couch, removing your panties in the process. She settled between your legs and couldn’t help but admire your pretty pussy. “You have the prettiest pussy ever,” she couldn’t stop herself from saying.
Spreading your legs farther apart, her breath ghosting on your slick folds, teasing you. You were dripping wet in anticipation. Baran brought her fingers to spread your slick folds apart, exposing your pink center. She decided to tease you further by pressing open-mouth kisses around your pussy, slightly away where you needed her most.
“Please,” you whispered, hips twitching in want and need. She laughed softly, not wanting you to wait any further. Finally, she flicked your hard, swollen clit that’s been aching in need. She sucked on your clit as her fingers ran through your soaked folds. Juices flowed out of you as she continued sucking on your sensitive clit.
Baran’s fingers moved to your sensitive clit, rubbing in an encouraging circle along it. “Don’t hold back,” she says as she leans back to admire her work. “Fuck mommy, please give me more,” you moan, not realizing what you called her. Her eyes darken at this, and she decides to end her teasing.
She dips her head back down to leave a long lick down between your folds, your tanginess bursting through her taste buds, not being able to get enough of you. “You taste so good,” she murmurs as she explores her tongue along your labia. Her tongue flicked up and down in a delicious manner, as her tongue teased the center of your entrance.
“You’re such a good girl for me,” she moans on your pussy, sending jolts to your pussy. Her tongue worked along your folds in enthusiasm with broad strokes and focused attention on giving you pleasure.
“Baran,” you moaned out. “Fuck—” you were barely able to get out as your hips grinded against her skilled tongue. She quickened the pace of her tongue as your thighs shook in pleasure.
She ate her pussy as if she were starved, your legs on her shoulders as she kept her hands on your hips to keep you from squirming. Moans and wet slurps bounced off the walls. Still aching for more, you slightly push on her shoulders with a soft “Wait—I wanna feel your pretty pussy on me,” you say.
Catching your drift, she undressed quickly, leaving her exposed. You took a minute to admire her beauty, her brown, soaking wet pussy glistening under the dimmed lights. Deciding to take the lead, you guided her to lie down, guiding your leg over hers so your pussies pressed together with shared intimacy. The first slide of your slick, heated folds against hers made you both groan loudly.
“Fuck, you feel so good for me, mommy,” you moan out loudly.
You rocked your hips, finding a rhythm, slow grinds at first, then faster, clits rubbing directly with delicious pressure. Her hands gripped your ass, pulling you tighter against her as you moved together, breasts brushing, eyes locked in raw intensity. The wet, slippery sounds of your bodies meeting filled the air, pleasure building in waves until it crashed over both of you, shuddering, crying out each other's names as orgasms ripped through you, bodies trembling and clenching in shared release.
“I got you, mama,” you say as you push Baran towards the end of her release.
You collapsed beside her afterward, limbs tangled, hearts pounding, soft kisses exchanged in the afterglow.
“Ready for another round. I wanna sit on your pretty face this time,” Baran cheekily says.
between baran and reader, baran is always the flirty one. reader doesnt flirt as much but when they do, baran gets easily flustered. she always get taken aback when reader flirts coz its very unusual for them.
tags: established relationship, flirty!baran, flirty!reader, suggestive comments
word count: 428
Baran flirts like it’s second nature when it comes to you—it comes easily to her, seeing your face get so red and flustered gives her butterflies. She is always looking for an opportunity to flirt with you, even now, as she leans into your space while you’re charting.
“You’ve been staring at that screen for ten minutes now,” she murmurs. “Should I be concerned, or are you just thinking about last night?”
You hum, not looking up. “Maybe a little bit of both.”
She smiles instantly, like she’s already won.
You know how this always goes. She flirts, you brush her off, she pushes a bit more, and then you finally give her something to work with. It’s rare, careful, just enough to keep her interested.
You finally put your hands away from the keyboard and turn to face her fully, stepping into her personal space. You’re close enough that her confidence wavers for a moment. Baran is still leaning over you, now face-to-face, so you can feel her breath on your face.
Leaning in where your mouth nears her ear. “You know,” you say softly, “for someone so bossy at work… You get really submissive under me.”
Baran blinks. Slow blinks. She opens her mouth to say something smart back, but nothing comes out.
The change is instant. Her shoulders tense and her breath catches, just enough to give her away. “That’s not— uh, umm—” she begins, but her voice is softer than usual.
You tilt your head, studying her. “No?”
She lets out a hefty breath through her nose, trying to pull herself together, but her cheeks are turning a dark pink now, and she can’t hide the warmth. “That’s not fair,” she mews, “I can’t help it when you’re so good with your mouth.”
“That’s funny,” you say, voice gentler, teasing in a way that still feels unfamiliar coming from you. “It helped when I had a really good teacher to teach me everything I know,” you smirk.
That does it for her.
Baran looks at you—really looks—and for once, she doesn’t have a quick reply. There’s no smooth comeback or practiced charm. Just a quiet, surprised affection, like she’s still getting used to this side of you.
“…You’re dangerous,” she says finally, softer now. “I can’t wait to teach you a lesson at home,” she whispers.
You smile, just a little. “We’ll see about that.”
She loves seeing this side of you and being on the receiving end. She’s sure that every time you flirt back, it affects her more than anything could ever.
it’s my birthday and i’m feeling greedy… so could i please request one where fem!reader and trinity are together, but after a few drinks with baran after work you disclose that you’re kinda bored of how trinity is super quick and rough with you?… cue baran teaching trin how to take her time and be gentle? 😁
happy early birthday anon :p
contains suggestive content
pairing: baran al-hashimi x f!reader x trinty santos
It starts off as a careless confession. After one too many drinks at the end of a long shift, you let your guard down just enough around Baran. You were usually shy and stiff around her. The drinks loosened you up to talk about stuff you usually don’t disclose, especially about your sex life. Words start spewing out of you the more you drink. You don’t mean to say it that way or to sound ungrateful, but the words come out anyway—how Trinity is impatient and quick in bed. It's like she's worried that if she doesn't rush, you might change your mind.
Baran doesn’t laugh at your slurred words. She doesn’t tease. She just watches you over the rim of her glass, thoughtful and maybe a bit too attentive. Later, whether it’s out of curiosity, care, or something that Baran could not explain, she decides to show Trinity how to care for a pretty girl like you.
At first, it’s subtle. A hand moves more slowly. There’s a reminder to look at you, not just touch you. To notice how your breathing changes, how your body reacts to different touches, whether it be her teasing you or giving you more. Trinity resists at first; she was very hesitant and insecure. Then listens, then learns, because it’s you and because it matters. You matter.
Somewhere between Baran’s quiet instructions and Trinity’s growing patience, you find yourself caught in something entirely new—not just being wanted, but being understood by both of them, in ways that feel deliberate, unhurried, and impossible to ignore. Suddenly, one pair of hands on you becomes two. Moving in unhurried rhythm.
