so, am I too serious now? Baran Al-Ashimi x fem!reader
summary: you were ignoring baran because she was just sooo professional and composed, but you always ended up beside her, naked in bed.
content: mdni! established relationship, no usage of y/n, mentions of sex,, kinda brat taming?? reader was sassy, age gap (your in your early to mid twenties - early thirties while she is in her early to mid forties),mentions of fingering (giving), mentions of oral, angry!user, arguing as foreplay (yum), you guys have a dog - doberman idk
little note: work has been killing me but that paycheck good asl. also, why is teaching little kids solfège sooo annoying.. pls dont kill me little child. I also hate this my writing in this fic.
!inspo!: @z0mbbiegvr , go follow them!
you laid in bed, twisting your hair between your fingers with your fluffy robe on, bored out of your mind. you were angry and bored, because earlier you and Baran got into a fight, well you did, she just stood there, composed as you yelled at her for being exactly that, composed. yet her voice remained in your head, something that didnt bring you comfort. tension remained in the air surrounding you as you just thought about everything and nothing.
you dont know how the argument started. it didnt matter much now, it was in the past, and now you were alone, in your apartment while she was in hers. probably watching some true documentary shit with red wine. you knew that you hated how professional she was, she never fought back. she didnt. she always just nodded, stared and said something simple at the end. that made you even more mad. she was just so fucking mature.
you felt your phone vibrate from under you.
you stared at the notification, the silence so loud you could here your own heartbeat. you knew she wasnt going to text a follow-up, no, she was too precise for that. that annoyed you a bit more. you checked it, of course you did, you were mad but you were as curious as a cat.
Baran: are you gonna come over? or are you still mad.
you exhaled through your nose, rolling your eyes, before tossing your phone, it landed on the bed by your side and you sunk down into your pillows even further, sulking like a whiny baby. then your phone vibrating, with an incoming call, from Baran. you huffed, ignoring it before it hit the second ring, picking up your phone and staring at it like it had insulted you. in a way it did. you stared at the contact picture, one with you cuddled up with Baran, smiling like the cat that caught the cream. ugh.
you missed her and you knew it.
so you answered it, to which you regretted pretty quick.
her voice filled your ears, something that made you sit up a bit, your body reacted.
"are you still mad?"
you rolled your eyes, and for some reason you felt as if she saw you.
"..I have a reason to believe so"
"good, that shows I get to you." you responded, proudly almost.
"your whining doesn't affect me." baran said, stern.
"right." you said, "ahhh, so you agree with me." Baran said, obviously knowing how you meant it, yet chose to poke the bear. "dont play with me." you said, jaw clenching.
"come over." she said, and the call ended.
you smiled, half because she sounded hot while saying, the other half being because you knew why you were suddenly getting up and getting dressed, though your outfit was quite ass. whatever, you put whatever you could find! you stared in the mirror, deciding it was decent. so you shrugged your coat on, patted that big ass dog Baran bought you, and made your way to the car.
the car ride was short, yet it felt like hours, the silence suffocating you as you thought about Baran. you loved her, yet hated her. it was weird. cars drove past you, you saw people walk by, mostly walking home drunk from the club or bar. it was dark out after all.
when parked outside her apartment, you remained seated for a beat. catching your reflection, fixing up your hair a bit and exhaling softly before leaning back. stop being a pussy. you though to yourself before getting out your car and going up to the elevator. which somehow felt worse than the car ride. Then you reached her door, apartment number 402.
before she opened the door, you didnt smile, or say hello. you just slipped past her, entering her apartment. she tilted her head, analyzing you, with those damn pretty brown eyes. you saw her eyes drape over you, over your body before returning to your eyes.
"im only here because I was bored." you started, hanging up your coat.
then Baran saw your outfit. it was diabolical.
"what.. are you wearing?" she asked, one eyebrow carefully raised.
green grinch pajamas pants, a shirt that said "baddest bitch you ever eaten out" and socks that said, "girl power." on the ankle part of them.
"its called fashion." you retorted.
"right." she said sarcastically
"ahh, so you agree with me." you said, copying what she said on call just to get back at her.
"careful.." she whispered, narrowing her eyes, yet.. her lips with slightly upturned. a slight smirk not yet formed on her face.
"anyway, I was bored so I came over." you said
"hm, your still whining?"
"I never was."
you guys held eye contact before she began walking towards you, "your a liar." Baran whispered, "my pants aren't on fire." you responded. "And you didn't come here because you were bored," Baran murmured, her voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that always made your stomach flip. She reached out, her fingers grazing the fabric of the ridiculous 'baddest bitch' shirt before sliding up your waist to under your rib. "You came here because you couldn't stand the thought of me being 'composed' without you there to ruin it."
her eyes dipped to your lips.
"if my clothes bother you so much you should remove them." you shrugged.
baran huffed, "your impossible." she said, her hands creeping on your waist before sliding down to your hips and she laid her forehead against your shoulder, breathing you in like she was scared to lose you.
The tension in the apartment was no longer the cold, distant wall that had existed between your two homes; it was a live wire, humming with the friction of your petty defiance and her simmering, controlled heat.
Baran didn't move. She stood there, leaning slightly against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. her dark hair slightly tousled, making her look less like the Chief Attending and more like the woman who had been thinking about you all night.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Baran said, her voice regaining that smooth, polished edge, though it was deeper now, roughened by the late hour. She took a single step toward you, her eyes never leaving yours. "Coming into my home, dressed like... that, and trying to use my own words against me. It’s statistically improbable that you actually think you’ve won this round."
She stopped just inches away from you. The scent of her sandalwood, expensive wine, and that clean, clinical scent that was uniquely Baran hit you like a physical weight.
"You're not bored, darling," she murmured, her gaze dropping to the 'Baddest Bitch' text on your shirt, then slowly dragging back up to your eyes. The sarcasm was gone, replaced by a focused intensity. "You're sulking. You're agitated. And you're incredibly, painfully loud, even when you aren't saying a word."
She reached out, her hand moving with that terrifyingly efficient grace. She didn't grab you; she simply hooked a finger under the collar of your shirt, tugging you just a fraction of an inch closer.
"If you wanted to fight, you could have stayed in your apartment and yelled at the walls," Baran whispered, her face leaning down, her eyes searching yours with a clinical precision that was starting to melt into something much more carnal. "But you came here. In Grinch pajamas. To a woman you claim to be 'too mad' to see."
Her thumb brushed against the skin of your collarbone, a slow, deliberate caress that made your breath hitch.
"So," she breathed, her lips hovering a hair's breadth from yours, "are we going to continue this debate on the merits of your 'fashion'... or are you going to admit that you came here because you couldn't stand the thought of me being composed without you?"
You didn't give her the satisfaction of a verbal answer. Instead, you closed the distance, grabbing the collar of her shirt and pulling her down into a kiss that was less of a greeting and more of a collision. It was messy, desperate, and tasted of the defiance you’d been nursing all evening.
Baran made a low, guttural sound deep in her throat a sound that was decidedly un doctor like. It was the sound of a woman who had spent enough time being the anchor and was finally ready to be the storm. Her hands, which had been so controlled a moment ago, suddenly tightened on your hips, her fingers digging into the soft fabric of your ridiculous pajama pants as she hoisted you up.
"God, you're a menace," she breathed against your lips, her voice a ragged wreck of its usual poise.
She didn't carry you to the bedroom with the steady, careful gait of someone transporting a patient. She moved with a hungry, frantic energy, her lips never leaving yours as she navigated the hallway, her body pressing you hard against the wall for a fleeting, searing moment before she finally reached the bed.
When she dropped you onto the mattress, the "Baddest Bitch" shirt bunched up around your waist, and the cool sheets felt like a shock against your heated skin. Baran was over you in an instant, the moonlight from the window catching the dark, curly streaks in her hair, making her look like something that definitely got you wet.
"You wanted 'bad'?" she whispered, her eyes dark and dilated, stripping away every last ounce of her professional restraint. Her hands traveled up your thighs, her touch firm and demanding, unravelling the layers of your outfit with a focused, singular purpose. "You wanted me to stop being the adult?"
She leaned down, her hair falling like a dark curtain around your faces, creating a private, heated world. Her mouth found the sensitive skin of your neck, her teeth grazing you just as she had in the living room, but this time there was no hesitation.
As her hands slid higher, finding the warmth of your skin, the "Grinch"pajamas were discarded, forgotten on the floor. The air in the room was thick with the scent of skin and desire. Every time you tried to tease her, to reclaim your sass, she silenced you with a kiss that was so intense it left you breathless, her movements becoming more rhythmic, more chaotic.
The air in the bedroom was heavy, thick with the scent of skin and the frantic, uneven rhythm of your breathing. Baran was no longer the woman who followed protocols — she was a woman driven by a singular, primal directive.
She moved down your body with a slow, torturous deliberation, her eyes never leaving yours, as if she wanted to witness every flicker of pleasure that crossed your face.
"You're so loud even when you're silent," she murmured, her voice a low, gravelly vibration against your stomach. "Every inch of you is screaming for this."
The first touch of her tongue was a shock hot, wet, and incredibly precise. She knew exactly where to press, exactly how to swirl, her movements guided by an intuitive understanding of your body that felt almost surgical in its accuracy, yet entirely unrefined in its passion. She teased the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, her breath hot against you, before finally finding the center of your heat.
"your a bitch." you whimpered, shaking. A sharp, broken gasp escaped your lips as she took you into her mouth. It wasn't the gentle, polite affection of a partner; it was a deep, rhythmic, and hungry exploration. She used her tongue with a devastating focus, alternating between long, sweeping strokes and sharp, flicking pressures that sent jolts of electricity straight to your core. You arched your back, your fingers tangling desperately in her dark, curly hair, pulling her closer, needing more of that exquisite, overwhelming sensation.
"Baran... please..." you whimpered, your head tossing back against the pillows.
She didn't stop. She increased the pace, her head moving in a steady, relentless rhythm that had you seeing stars. And just as you felt the tension coiling tighter and tighter, a coil about to snap, she reached up.
Her middle finger slid inside you, a sudden, filling sensation that perfectly complemented the suction of her mouth. She began to move in tandem the rhythmic, driving pressure of her finger inside you, perfectly timed with the swirling, frantic magic of her tongue.
The sensation was dual, a pincer movement of pure pleasure that left you completely unmoored. You were no longer mad, or whiny, you were a mess. Your hips began to buck instinctively, chasing the friction, your breath coming in short, jagged sobs.
"you love me" she teased, voice vibrating against your core — against your pretty sopping pussy
She picked up the pace, her finger curling inside you to hit that one specific, magic spot inside your gummy walls, while her tongue worked with a frantic, driving intensity. The world narrowed down to the point of contact, to the heat and the wetness and the sheer, unadulterated power of her. You felt the crescendo building, a tidal wave of sensation that was too big to contain, and as you finally broke, your voice catching in a high, keening cry, Baran didn't let go. She held you through the tremors, her mouth still working, her finger still driving, ensuring that you felt every single, shattering second of your release.
"your so pretty like this." she whispered, really staring at you.
Slowly, she climbed back up the bed, her movements more measured now, though still heavy with the afterglow. She didn't say anything she didn't have to. She reached for the throw blanket at the foot of the bed and gently draped it over you, tucking it around your shoulders with a tenderness that made your chest ache.
"You're shaking," she murmured, her voice back to its low, warm hum, but the edge was gone, replaced by a deep, nurturing, almost parental concern.
She slid under the covers beside you, pulling you close to her side. She didn't just hold you; she enveloped you, her strong arms creating a protective cocoon. One of her hands found the small of your back, while the other rested on the slight swell of your stomach, her palm warm and steady against you.
"I've got you," she whispered, kissing the top of your head. "Just breathe. I'm here."
You felt yourself melt into her, the anger of the evening completely dissolved. The "bad perfect" doctor was gone, and in her place was the woman who knew exactly how to soothe you. She didn't ask if you were okay — she knew you were, and she knew what you needed.
She shifted, pulling you even closer until your head was tucked under her chin, her scent that mix of expensive soap and something uniquely Baran filling your senses.
"im not so serious now.. huh" she hummed, smiling as she cuddled you up. proud of herself.
"..why?" she responded
"for being whiny, and mean.."
"its okay."
you smiled, "you should be sorry too!" you said, laughing lowly.
"ok.. im sorry for, hm.." she thought about what to say, "being mature," Baran laughed, before continuing, "and finding your outfit amusing." you slapped her arm
"it was amazing!" you protested
"I love you." you whispered, melting into her. "sometimes"
"I love you, all the time."
