Baran Al-Hashimi:

right person, right time nsfw || you broke up with your ex, and baran finds another way to comfort you.

private lessons nsfw || baran signs up for private lessons with a certain pilates instructor because she finds her hot.

strapashmi nsfw

med school love || med school students to lovers

your camera roll while being married to baran al-hashimi || pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

making baran flustered

baran teaching trinity how to please her gf nsfw

night out nsfw || you have a night out with baran and samira which leads to new beginnings

mother baran hc

beach day camera roll

falling for robby's daughter hc

unprofessional distractions || baran gets jealous after seeing yolanda flirt with you

her controversially young gf visits her at work

new beginning || robby decided to end his situationship with you, but you were able to find a new beginning with baran

stress relief nsfw || you decide to relieve your girlfriend after a long day at work

perv!baran inviting you to the pool blurbs nsfw

baran crushing on a fellow doctor hc

nsfw thoughts

heart monitor || you guys are in a secret relationship and baran begins questioning the relationship after seeing you with samira

wlw hcs nsfw

Samira Mohan:

your camera roll while dating samira

Yolanda Garcia:

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.”

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.

pairing: baran al-hashimi x fem!reader

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.”

pairing: baran al-hashimi x f!reader

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.

pairings: baran al-hashimi x fem!reader

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.

tags: established relationship, flirty!baran, flirty!reader, suggestive comments word count: 428

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.