(baran al-hashimi x streamerfem!reader)
Warnings (18+ MDNI) : perverted baran al-hashimi, masturbation, vaginal fingering, guilt, age gap, baran touching herself to you without your knowledge
Summary: Baran discovers a young streamer girl. She can’t seem to keep herself in check when you’re just so pretty on her screen so late at night.
Baran first discovers you because of her son. Honestly, she doesn't think much of it at first. One evening after a particularly long shift, she'd walked into the living room to find him sitting on the couch, headset on, laughing so hard he was nearly crying. Which immediately made her suspicious.
"That answer has never reassured a parent in the history of parenting."
Her son groaned dramatically before spinning his laptop around. "A streamer."
Baran expected something obnoxious. Instead, she found herself staring at a Twitch stream with barely six thousand followers. You were playing Fortnite with two friends. Nothing remarkable. At least, that's what she thought for the first thirty seconds. Then one of your teammates accidentally launched themselves off a cliff. You laughed. Not a polite laugh.Not an influencer’s laugh. A genuine, loud, wheezing laugh that made you nearly fall out of your chair. The kind of laugh that forced everyone else on the call to start laughing too. Baran rolled her eyes. "Seriously?" "What?"
Her son looked offended. "She's funny."
Baran left it at that. Until a few days later. Because then she heard that laugh again. From her son's room. And then again. And again. Every time she passed by, there you were. Playing Roblox. Fortnite. Some random horror game. Talking absolute nonsense with your friends. Making jokes every five seconds. And somehow maintaining an audience that seemed entirely dedicated to watching you fail at video games. One night, curiosity finally got the better of her. Her son was asleep. The apartment was quiet. And before she could stop herself, Baran opened Twitch. Just to see what the appeal was. Five minutes. That was all. Five minutes and she'd go to bed. Instead, an hour disappeared. Then another. Then another. By the end of the stream, she found herself smiling at her laptop screen. Which was embarrassing. You weren't even doing anything.
You were building a house in Minecraft while arguing with your friends about whether or not Supergirl was a better character than Superman.
Yet somehow she couldn't click away. Maybe it was your energy. Maybe it was how unapologetically yourself you seemed. Maybe it was because after spending twelve hours surrounded by sick patients, stressed coworkers, and constant tragedy, listening to you ramble about absolutely nothing felt... nice. That was all. Just nice. At least that's what Baran told herself. Then she started showing up every stream. Then she subscribed. Then she created an account specifically so she could participate in chat without her son discovering it. The username was completely anonymous. Carefully chosen. Nothing that could be traced back to her. Not that you'd know who she was anyway. You lived on the internet. Baran lived in Pittsburgh. Your worlds couldn't have been farther apart. Still. Night after night, she found herself opening Twitch after work. Sometimes she watched while making dinner. Sometimes while folding laundry. Sometimes from bed when she was too exhausted to do anything else.
And eventually, you started recognizing her. At first, it was just a casual acknowledgment.
"Oh, hey, Baranbaby! Good to see you."Baran nearly dropped her phone.
Then it became a regular thing.
"Baranbaby is here, guys. Now the stream can start."
“Baranbaby, did you survive work today?"
"Wait, where's Baranbaby? She's usually here by now."
Every single time, something ridiculous happened to Baran's chest. Something she'd rather not examine. It certainly didn't help that you smiled whenever you read her messages. Or laughed.
Or occasionally singled her out from hundreds of other comments. It definitely didn't help. Not at all. And yet, despite knowing better, Baran found herself staying up later and later each night.
Watching, listening, waiting for your stream notification to appear. Like some teenager with a crush. Which was absurd. Completely absurd. She was an adult, a mother, a doctor.
She should know better. She was probably twice the girl’s age. Instead, she found herself opening Twitch at two in the morning after another exhausting shift. The stream title immediately appeared.
"FORTNITE : just me babyyy 💔"
Then clicked it without hesitation. Tonight, Baran was more on edge than on previous nights when she would stay up late watching you. She had a rough shift at the ER, people giving her lots of attitude on the way she handled her business, and she just needed an outlet. Even if it meant going against the usual morals that she held for herself, when she logged on to your stream and saw you perched up in your pink gamer chair, close to the camera because you were whispering something stupid into the mic while looking into the camera, she couldn’t help herself.
Especially when you started playing the game. You would get so locked in, she loved seeing how you looked when you were concentrated, she imagined that would be how you looked when you were on your knees, looking up at her with determination to make her feel good. This was bad. She knew she should shut off her computer and go to sleep, but she couldn’t. You were down to the last few people left in the match, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously as you scoped out the area while simultaneously reloading your gun, til someone came out and jumped on your character skin. A curse slipped out from under your breath, and a frustrated groan followed shortly after, and that’s all Baran needed to slip her hand underneath her old gym shorts in the privacy of her own room.
Baran’s breath hitched as she watched your face contort with frustration on screen, her own pulse thundering in her ears. She bit down hard on her lower lip, fingers trembling slightly beneath the waistband of those loose gym shorts. She hated this. Hated how weak you made her feel with just a pout or a scowl over some stupid video game. A doctor didn’t get flustered like this during emergency surgeries - but here she was, heart racing because you looked cute when mad. The bed creaked softly as Baran shifted under the blanket draped over her lap, not that it helped hide anything anymore anyway; and without thinking twice (because God knows rational thought had left hours ago), two fingertips slipped further inward…
Baran exhaled sharply through her nose, the sound muffled by how tightly she was pressing her lips together. Her dark brown eyes stayed glued to the screen, watching your every micro-expression as you tried desperately to recover from that ambush. "Come on," she whispered under her breath, not even sure if she meant it for you or herself right now.
The game didn't matter anymore; all that mattered was keeping those pretty eyes of yours in view while they scanned across their pixelated battlefield with such intense focus. Her free hand unconsciously reached up to twist a curl around one finger, an old nervous habit from med school days resurfacing after years of discipline and control being eroded away by late-night streams and forbidden fantasies about someone half her age.
Baran’s breath came quicker now, uneven and shallow. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, loud and insistent like a traitorous drumbeat.
"Jesus Christ," she muttered to no one, eyes wide as they tracked your movements on the screen. The way you leaned forward slightly when concentrating made that tank top ride up just a little at the waist... Her fingers stilled for half a second before resuming their slow, teasing motions beneath fabric, because even this guilty pleasure needed some semblance of self-control (old habits die hard). She couldn’t help herself, letting herself slip two fingers inside without any struggle because of how slick she already was.
Baran shifted again beneath the covers, the back of her head sinking into her pillow as she tried to keep her breaths steady. It was ridiculous how much power you held over her, even though you were just sitting there, unaware of her current circumstances. But every muscle tension, every furrow of your brow, every click of the mouse, it had all become a source of perverse fascination for the older woman...
"Good girl," she murmured, almost involuntarily, as you managed to take down another opponent off-screen.
Baran's lips parted slightly as she watched your character finally land a decisive headshot, the killcam replaying in slow motion. "There you go," she breathed out, voice low and warm like honey even though no one could hear her. Her free hand lifted to press against her own chest unconsciously, fingertips brushing over the thin fabric of her sleep shirt where her heart pounded visibly beneath.
"God, look at you," Baran whispered with something dangerously close to adoration creeping into that usually composed physician's tone.
The way your shoulders relaxed just slightly after securing that victory... it did things to people who definitely shouldn't be feeling them right now. She shifted again on the bed, this time more deliberately adjusting herself under those covers while keeping her eyes locked onto every pixel of your face on screen while you set down your controller, taking a break to just talk without playing a game. Baran's fingers picked up the pace a bit as you started to read the chat, answering people's questions about your life, little details that only made Baran get off more.
Her free hand did something unexpected; she started typing in the chat, just to see if maybe you'd see her comment.
"You're such a pretty girl...."
She typed, it was risky, but she doubted you'd see it through the streams of comments coming through, and it was an innocent enough sentence.
Baran’s fingers hovered over the keyboard after sending that comment, suddenly feeling way too exposed despite it being anonymous. Her stomach flipped as she watched your eyes scan the chatbox for replies. She held her breath when you paused mid-sentence about something else entirely, had you seen it? Was that little hitch in your voice just now because of her?
Then came the worst part: waiting. The seconds stretched like hours while Baran chewed on her bottom lip hard enough to nearly draw blood, her heart slamming against ribs with each passing moment where nothing happened yet. Her thighs pressed together tighter under covers as anticipation coiled hot and heavy low in belly…
Suddenly, you leaned closer to your monitor to read better, quietly mouthing the words of the comment she had just sent. She watched as a small, shy smile formed on your face.
"Baran, thank you!" You said timidly, "You're always so nice to me... I love you, babe." It came from your mouth so casually, Baran almost made a mess between her thighs that second.
It was like a switch had been thrown inside Baran upon hearing your words through the screen. Hearing you return that innocent praise, even if you were just being polite, thinking the person sending it was some other anonymous fan, had an unexpected effect on her. Her chest rose and fell visibly with each shaky breath that left her lips. The heat building inside her was almost unbearable now. There was no more self-restraint left, just pure and simple need. And hearing you say "I love you" so effortlessly...That was the breaking point.
Baran's free hand grasped at the sheets on either side of her body, knuckles going white while she arched up off the mattress just enough for you to see the outline of her taut stomach through a thinly veiled sleep shirt.
"God, you have no idea," she muttered under her breath, eyes fixed intently on your face on the screen. Her thighs widened a little bit more as she found a better angle, fingers dipping deeper in response to the sounds leaving her mouth, soft little gasps and moans that no viewer could hear, but she knew you could somehow. It was all so wrong. So incredibly wrong.
Baran suddenly sat up straighter in bed, pressing her back against the headboard as she finally allowed herself to fully indulge.
"Fuck," she whispered loudly into the quiet of her room.
Her legs fell open wider now, making space for what came next - no longer hesitant or shy about this private moment with just you on screen and your sweet voice still echoing through speakers from earlier. One hand left your chat to grip a pillow tightly while the other stayed busy between her thighs, moving faster now... the wet noises filled the room alongside your almost muted voice from her computer. Baran groaned again, head tilting back as she finally crossed that threshold. The way you shifted in your chair at home and read another stream comment, seemingly oblivious to the effect you had on your older viewer, only added fuel to the fire. Her eyes darkened with desire as she watched you, imagining what you might look like if instead of sitting there on your desk, you were above her, making those same noises in person..
She was so close, right on the edge as she rocked against her fingers, her head thrown back…Baran’s entire body tensed up like a coiled spring, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over her.
"Oh my god," she gasped out loud, fingers stuttering but not stopping, chasing that high even as it already overwhelmed her. Her lips parted in a silent cry for just one second before sounds finally escaped, soft little whimpers and moans spilling freely now that she was completely lost to sensation. And through it all...she kept watching you. Your face on stream became the only thing anchoring her to reality right then. Baran collapsed back onto the mattress, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. Her skin was flushed, her hair slightly messy from how much she'd moved.
For a few quiet moments after that intense high faded...she just lay there staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes.
Then slowly, almost reluctantly, Baran turned her head to glance back at your stream still running on screen. You were now doing something different in-game, laughing about some joke chat said while typing responses with one hand, casually holding a soda can. She smiled softly without meaning to.
"How are you so goddamn clueless?" She muttered quietly, knowing full well you couldn't hear her, but still shaking her head fondly at your ability to be oblivious to her shameless obsession.
The afterglow was starting to wear off now, leaving behind a mess of tangled sheets, sweat, and self-loathing. With a heavy sigh, Baran forced herself to get up from the bed, grabbing her clothes and heading into the bathroom for a much-needed clean up.
