mmmm but like... the concept of Victoria getting passed around like a blunt by the pitt women for her birthday.... cassie with her tongue buried in vic's mouth while trinity nuzzles into victoria's cunt... baran sucking marks into victoria's neck, garcia pinching and playing with her nipples til they're all sore and puffy....
a plaything for them, being the birthday gift on her own birthday. all kinds of coos and praises and degradation being aimed at her, making her even fuzzier, til the words mostly fade and all she can hear is crooning voices. a doing good f'me, baby, so good... from cassie, a jesus, what an eager slut, from garcia, a such a soft, lovely girl, from baran. trinity doesn't bother to say a word where she's buried in victoria's cunt, moaning against her clit.
every inch of victoria feels like a molten mess of syrupy heat, heartbeat throbbing between her legs, tits all sensitive, mouth kiss-swollen and spit-slick. her usual anxious, overthinking mind is completely gone, fuckdrunk, hazy. a strap is eased into her cunt at some point— cassie, she thinks, while... garcia? eases one into her mouth. filled at both ends, drooly and stupid, cunt clenching around silicone while she gags on garcia's strap.
straps are replaced by tongues again, while poor, whiny victoria can only take it. baran is between her legs, licking languid, fat stripes against her used-up hole and puffy clit, making her thighs tremor. trinity is kissing her like a lovesick puppy, sucking on her tongue and her mouth, nipping at her. it's wet and filthy and so so so so good.
they take care of her after, her drowsy, spent, sore, pliant body. she feels shaky and blissed out, achy in the best way, a little delirious. cassie and baran are cooing something sweet at her, she can't make it out. she thinks they're calling her good, calling her sweet. so many hands are petting over her she's not sure who is who. her stomach, thighs, hips. cassie cradles her face, trinity pets her hair back, those she can see. she mumbles out a slurred s'good.... and trinity laughs.
cassie sighs, and chuckles with her, leaning down to kiss at victoria's forehead. yeah, was that so good? all fucked out, huh? shh, you're okay. did so good for us. happy birthday, sweetheart. <3
everybody needs to get more Victoria/Baran pilled right now, there’s a horrifying lack of fics for them
no because godd the way baran easily brings out victoria’s praise kink!! and it’s not even like exclusively during sex, but it gets tugged at about everything.
she wants baran to see and think of her as someone competent; someone who belongs in medicine, who is capable on top of being smart. she wants baran to see and think of her as a big girl. and sure this hunger is a hundred percent caused by the friction victoria has with her mom but—
is it wrong?
is it wrong to want baran, who’s so much older and wiser and more experienced, to admire victoria’s sacrifices? her passion? her hunger?
so victoria studies, gritting through sleepless nights and traumatizing shifts and ogilvie being patronizing to anyone that isn’t himself just so she can wow baran and make her proud. victoria isn’t even aware of it but she falls for baran in quick strides.
she imagines how it’d be if baran took care of her. nurtured her. spoiled her. she imagines how it’d be if it was baran’s tutelage that victoria blossomed in. she imagines how it’d be if it was baran who nudged her to where she knows victoria will thrive in.
“you’re such a smart girl,” victoria thinks baran will say. “i’m so proud of you.”
at that, she locks herself in the bathroom and shoves a hand underneath her scrubs just to scratch at the itch in hopes that it will tamp down the flames of her desires. being caught crosses her mind but victoria is quick to make a narrative out of it.
“shh, shh. s’nothing to be shy about,” she imagines baran crooning to her. “i know you need this so let me take care of you, okay? let me do it for you.”
victoria bites down onto her lips just to squash the sob that wrenches itself from her throat. it is an ugly thing, animalistic and needy.
that’s the crux of it, right?
victoria needs baran. she needs—
“mommy,” she rasps out, her voice spilling from bruised lips so softly that it is almost heartbreaking. she chokes on the next plea, not allowing herself the release of her aching calls but now that it left her, victoria’s turmoil bloats. the words push against the back of her teeth—
mommymommymommy.
she whimpers, a wounded thing, and it is in the midst of her spiral that she misses the sound of the door opening and the following patter of quiet feet. sneakers stop right outside her stall, then, just before victoria can cum, there is a knock on her door.
“javadi?” dr. al-hashimi’s velvet voice rings. “you left in a hurry so i was wondering if you’re okay.”
victoria squeaks, ripping her fingers out of her cunt, which is a wrong fucking move. the edging, the teasing that she put herself through, and now hearing baran’s voice just outside of her door—all of these have left her body running on overdrive. the fear had twisted, turning it into something delicious and victoria cums.
she cums with the person she desires the most, the one who she’d been desperately hiding the putrid need from, just outside her stall. she bites on the inside of her cheeks and smothers her clean hand on her mouth to muffle anything else that she can’t bite down. tears spill from her eyes, the overwhelming euphoria quickly petering into the vice grip of her humiliation.
how can baran think of her as a big, competent, smart girl now that she’s caught masturbating during work?
she sobs weakly, collapsing on the floor in a wordless heap. she tries for an excuse, an apology, but she can’t speak with the amount of spit pooled on the back on her tongue. surely, she’ll be kicked out of the program now.
fuck.
how would she explain this to her parents? to her mom?
how would baran like her now—
“sweetheart? won’t you open up the door so i can help you?” baran’s words pierces through the fog. “you won’t be in trouble, jav- victoria. i promise.”
the sound of victoria’s name from baran’s voice startles her enough for her to focus, and while the sweeping tide of calm is so minuscule compared to her shame, victoria feels like she can breathe again. she stands up sluggishly, tucking her scrubs back on properly before sliding the lock off and opening the door.
victoria grasps for an excuse or even an apology but baran speaks first—the one to build the bridge between her calm and victoria’s storm of emotions.
“it’s okay,” baran says softly. “i promise.”
there it is again—her kindness, her certainty.
victoria’s lips wobble. how can she not long for baran? for the comfort that she brings and the steadiness that she gives and the warmth that she extends?
baran crosses the space between them to wrap her hand around victoria’s wrist, pulling her out from the stall. “it’s okay—you’re okay.”
am i still good? victoria wants to ask but she bites at her tongue to smother the yawning. she can’t. not now. not yet.
baran being careful with her critiques of victoria, not coddling her but instead offering direct feedback and never once mentioning her mother. baran challenging victoria on more complex cases, recognizing how well victoria does when forced to innovate, finally being a space where victoria can not slow herself down for once. baran being so generous with her praise and her affirmation, victoria doesn't know what to do with herself. baran cutting off elieen as she starts on one of her unnecessary critiques of victoria- stating plainly that actually dr. javadi did everything perfectly and is actually excelling here in the emergency department, particularly that she seems to be thriving in the chaos which some doctors can't seem to handle. victoria actively seeking out baran in moments of vulnerability, baran opening her arms, and victoria just falling into them.
and also when they fuck, all of the same things apply, but i'll write about that later
victoria who's so desperate for comfort, for a mother, for a father, someone older and wiser to hold her and reassure her that she's doing everything that she can. that she doesn't need to push and push and push until she breaks. that it's fine to let herself be taken care of, to be small in someone's lap, to curl into their chest and cry until her throat is raw. cooing words whispered softly against her ear, warm, unwavering hands cradling her face and calling her a good. is it so wrong to need someone to look after her for once?
oh, and baran is just so perfect at it. she fits like a missing puzzle piece in the mess of her life, in the scatteredness of her brain. the steady presence victoria has been aching for, an anchor who always seems to know when she needs her. she's patient in a way victoria isn't used to, never letting a flicker of disappointment cross her face, soothing victoria's ever-anxious nature. a firm hand in the small of her back, on her shoulders, her bony wrists, guiding her through the day, through complicated procedures, taking victoria under her wing, assuring her, you're a smart girl, dr. javadi. you can do it, mhm? just focus on my voice. and that she can do.
baran's voice, apple-candy sweet, trusting her, teaching her, leaving room for mistakes, properly correcting her when it's needed. never a raised voice, never a sharp edge, just a calm, measured assessment delivered with that half-smirk she does, making victoria's chest go tight, giving her a lovesick smile of her own. those big brown eyes trailing all over victoria's face, grounding her, pulling her back from wherever her mind has drifted. closer than necessary, looking down at her, hovering at her shoulder, her hip, her back, as if she might snap and just take her right there in the middle of the ED.
but she always waits. a lull in a particularly calm shift, when the other attending can handle it for more than five minutes. she calls for her, innocently enough—a consult, a breakdown of a discharged patient, whatever excuse to drag her down into an empty on-call room. on this occasion, victoria had been arguing with her mother; well, not exactly an argument, but a reprimand, doe-eyes stinging, welling up with unshed tears.
dr. shamsi, i would appreciate it if you didn't speak to my doctors in that capacity. i don’t tolerate disrespect.
her mother just scoffs, saying that this is a mother-daughter issue, and keeps her eyes locked on victoria, ready to pick up where she left off. baran steps forward, enough to block her view, and her hand finds the small of victoria's back, squeezing through her scrubs. victoria burns, heart leaping to her throat, her erratic breathing slowing. for once she can avoid the constant nagging, the pressure of always having to exceed, of never taking a misstep. she's safe, baran can handle the situation, she doesn't have to face another berating alone. she can take a step back and simply fall quiet. wait.
this is my department and we don't use that language here. i need dr. javadi for a consult and you're distracting her. baran’s voice is stern, unwavering, when she adds, with a dismissive tone, have a good day, dr. shamsi.
victoria finds herself being steered away, her mother's eyes burning into the back of her head. she focuses instead on baran's firm touch, rubbing soothing circles into her spine, going up and down, up and down, pressing on that sweet spot between her shoulder blades that makes her shiver. she's practically floating through the halls, vaguely aware of the wetness on her cheeks, the pinkish flush spreading down to her chest. baran is muttering something under her breath, clearly affected, jaw set, a slight twitch to her eye. victoria's attuned to her now, knows that she's fighting to stay composed.
they reach one of the almost-abandoned areas of the hospital, a few scattered nurses pointedly avoiding them as they pass by with equipment, their eyes fixed on the floor or the walls or anything that isn't victoria's tear-streaked face. she's sure she looks pathetic, crying and shaking on unsteady legs, baran supporting most of her weight, keeping her upright, her arm firm around victoria's waist. they're being kind enough to avert their eyes and she thanks them in her head, grateful for the small mercy of not being seen. baran manhandles her into the vacant room, guiding her until she's sitting in the cream-colored armchair with victoria straddling her thighs, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing them off from the rest of the world.
she immediately nuzzles her face into baran's neck, sniffing, taking in the amber and powdery notes of her perfume, mixed in with the muskiness of her sweat. she clings to her shoulders, locking her fingers in the thick of baran's curls. baran, she starts, drawing out her name, ngh, please. please, m'sorry, m'sorry. she's not sure what she's apologizing for, maybe for needing her so much, for not behaving like a big girl. she sobs against the soft skin under her ear, trying to pull herself impossibly closer, wanting to fuse against her.
shh, shh, it's okay, sweet girl. i know what you need. just let it all out, you're safe here. you're so good to me always, victoria, you don’t need to prove anything to me.
victoria beams at her praise, her validation, the tears come out faster, in relief; she’s good, she’s good, she can be good. she can cry, sob, let herself be vulnerable and be held throughout it. she pulls back, steadying herself on baran's shoulders, searching for her gaze—so incredibly warm, crinkling at the corners as a toothy smile spreads across her face, saying it's okay, i got you, i got you.
victoria sees it then, the hunger beneath the tenderness, the way baran's thumb strokes her hip a little slower, going under the waistband, digging her nails in hard enough to sting, teasing. she knows baran likes this, being the one victoria comes to, the only one who can comfort her as she falls apart. and victoria knows she's not innocent in it either, that she's leaning into it, letting the comfort blur into wanting, the line between being held and being taken paper-thin.
she bites her lower lip, reaching forward to brush their mouths together, not kissing, just enjoying the closeness, breathing into the heat of baran's mouth. she swipes her tongue over her front teeth, earning a nip, baran's pupils blown wide, fixed on her own. she can see herself reflected in her eyes, disheveled, cheeks blotchy red, tear-stained, trembling with need. baran slowly opens her up, tongue carefully working over hers, tasting the spit and the salt of her tears.
victoria rocks her hips in a small, stuttering motion, the seam of her scrubs giving the perfect pressure against her clit. she moans into baran's mouth, the sound swallowed by the kiss, sloppy and uncoordinated. she gives her kittenish little licks between breaths, chasing the taste of her, but baran takes over, grabbing her hips and moving her at her own rhythm. she groans, fisting the fabric of her pants to pull her back and forth, back and forth, flexing her thigh, the muscle solid under victoria's weight, making victoria whine against her lips.
she won't take long, her orgasm building embarrassingly fast and it’s like baran’s inside her brain when she whispers, voice husky and breathy, i know, baby, i know, make yourself feel good on my thigh. you deserve it, yes you do. my perfect girl, making a mess all over my lap. i bet that pretty head feels all better now, doesn't it? you can come whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.
victoria desperately pulls at baran's scrub top, her fingers clumsy and urgent, earning a delighted laugh from the older woman. she pulls down the cup of her bra and mouths at her nipples, attaching her lips around the stiff peaks, suckling, rocking harder and harder, seeking friction, baran's breath hot in her ear. her mind goes fuzzy, feeling the light pets of baran in her hair, how her fingers tighten the harder she sucks, the small huffs she lets out above her.
victoria comes clenching her thighs against baran's, shuddering, biting down on the tender skin of baran's breast. she babbles against her chest, half-formed words and broken sounds, feels so good, so good, ah-ah, please, absentmindedly licking baran's drool-slick, reddened nipples. her cunt pulsing, fluttering, oversensitive and raw, every little aftershock making her whimper. baran's hand is still in her hair, stroking, massaging her scalp, and victoria lets herself go slack against her, boneless and trusting, because she doesn't have to hold herself together right now.
thank you, thank you, thank you for taking care of me. was i good? was i good for you, baran?
baran cups victoria's chin and gently tilts her face up, a string of spit still connecting her lips to the heated flesh of baran's chest. she smiles fondly at her, caressing her flushed face, the girl panting and looking for approval. you're good, victoria. you're perfect for me, my little doe. so beautiful when you come, when you let me take care of you.
baran reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind victoria's ear, then gathering the rest of her ponytail and smoothing it back into place with practiced ease. she straightens victoria's scrub top, tugging it down where it's bunched, her hands steady and efficient. with a quick, self-conscious glance down, she adjusts her own scrub top too, pulling it back up and smoothing the fabric over the marks victoria left on her chest. if not for the rapid rise and fall of her chest, she'd look completely unaffected.
now, let's get you cleaned up and back to work. dr. javadi is my most important asset out there too, you know?
editing barvadi blurb + second chapter of my mcvadi fic… drafting mcvadi medplay… drafting garvadi fic… drafting mcvadi dubcon… let's all get more perverted NOW
Shabana’s comment has put me back on my Baran/Victoria bullshit, it is a good day
that’s what i’m sayinggg like ohhhh my god my stomach is flippingg like sepi <33 you deserve the world <333 oughhhhh she’s such a cheerleader and it’s so easy to imagine victoria would be like that too. she has so much love to give and so much love to share and she loves no one more than her milf partner, baran :((((
she’d be soooo proud of her and be so lovey-dovey publicly. posting her and showing her off like ughhhh she’s baran’s no. 01 fan and cheerleader fr
