#arrowverse supergirl | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

demonicbaby666 · 3 months ago

Text

Where I Don’t Belong

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Kara Danvers x fem!Reader

Genre: angst & smut

Words: 3.7k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, jealousy, spanking, oral, fingering, strap-on use, degradation (like a little tiny bit), daddy kink, overstimulation, implied squirting, top!Kara, bottom!reader

Summary: Never one to deal with rejection healthily, you find yourself moving from bed to bed, night after night, trying to find solace in the bouts of pleasure strangers offer. But when Kara, the person who drove you to commit such deeds, confronts you, the trajectory of your evening is completely altered.

A/n: I'm rewatching Supergirl, so reap the benefits, peeps, cause after this, it's back to my JJ fic! Also, @rafesgfs didn't let me smoke until I finished this, so it's thanks to her that this was completed today <3

Festering shame that started the night at only a simmer boils over and burns your whole body, sets your skin alight and sloshes the alcohol sitting in your empty stomach in tight circles, like that of a washing machine. It's fucking filthy. Hot, sticky and filthy being pressed up against a stranger, grinding against a hardening cock in hopes that maybe the moderate length of it will taper the resounding feeling you hold for another.

Everyone deals with rejection in their own way.

Sweat marks your forehead, and the bitter smell of stale spirits permeates your nostrils. Somehow, you convince yourself all you know is the music and the empty promises the body behind you has to offer.

You hear him mutter something, groan in your ear at how you feel so good, how he can't wait to fill you, stretch you. The churning in your gut intensifies, and your throat is thick with bile. You force yourself to moan–ever the obedient woman. He wants to feel wanted; you want the same. It's easy to use each other, get lost in a bit when there will be no consequences, knowing the following morning you'll be gone, and two people will have a hollow sense of satisfaction buzzing between only their legs. It's what you tell yourself; 'It's easier this way', 'You're doing what you need to cope and survive', and 'You're only human'.

The dancing - if it can be called that - continues with your eyes shut as you try to alleviate the steady burn of desire coated in sticky shame. Addled with flashing lights, the black behind your eyelids brings you little comfort, but you're no longer naive to think anything really will, other than sex, that is.

It's mucky, the alleyway by the side of the club. The thick air smells like bad decisions and cigarettes, yet you haven't the mind to care. His lips are rough on your neck, stubble rubbing uncomfortably against your collarbone, and you're beginning to pick apart the scent of his sweat under the worn-out notes of cologne. Crazed hands palm at your breasts so manically it becomes hard to derive any pleasure from the act - you force yourself to try.

Between all the frenzy, your purse slips past your shoulder, landing on the soggy ground, and you find yourself welcoming the reprieve the opportunity garners.

You spin around, trying to squint past the inebriation to locate it. It's landed short of a murky puddle, and you thank your lucky stars that there were only a few specks of dirt littering the suede material. The effects of endless nights spent dancing and fucking echo in the cracks of your worn-out muscles, your squatting position not helping to dull the ache at all. You know the longer this position is held, the more it'll hurt to stand up, but your reflection stares at you on the surface of brown water, holding you hostage with a haunted picture painting its canvas.

Sleepless nights tug at the bags under your eyes, leaving the skin gaunt. The colour does not show, but you know, under your concealer, it's tinged purple. There's no shine to your face; highlighter only takes you so far in accentuating your cheekbones and brightening your false smile, never filling the devoid look of a rejected, broken heart.

The matter of fact is, even if your body is feeling the brunt of unfavourable coping mechanisms, it's better than lying awake in bed and relying on benign hope to see you through the dark hours of the day.

Brushing the muck off your bag, ready to discover how you would end the night, you look to where your companion should be waiting. It would either be a cheap hotel or his place, never yours; there was something too visceral about doing a stranger in a bed that not even alcohol could mask.

Except when you turn, it is not a gruff face you find but, "Kara?"

Confusion marks your face, the question of where your soon-to-be fuck had gone evident because before you can quite finish, let alone begin to ask, Kara's already opening her mouth.

"He's fine."

"Where?"

"What?" she feigns ignorance, picking at a pristine nail.

"Don't be coy, Danvers," you spit out, trying to sound as authoritative as a whisper would allow. Angry as you might be, no amount of rage or blood toxicity could divest you of the need to keep her secret. "Where is he?"

She doesn't even try to hide it—the disgust. Her face is awash with it, and her grimace would sting if she hadn't so wounded you already.

"He's lucky I didn't-" She startles as you step forward, palms jabbing at her chest and knocking her back. If it weren't for the shock of your sudden strike, you're sure she wouldn't have budged at all, but you take the small victory point all the same and continue your mission of forcing Kara off her high horse.

"You didn't what?" you ask through gritting teeth, "Beat him to a pulp? Drop him off the top of a building? Kill him?!"

Aware you were now raising your volume to a level bystanders would be able to hear, a fact proven by the far-off looks of a group of young women, you reined your fury in, taking a deep breath and squaring your shoulders.

"Do you know what you've put me through?" she asks without malice, her choked voice chinking your amour. It seems a genuine question, born from betrayal. Her eyes are wide and waiting, incredulous to believe you'd ever knowingly hurt her in the way you supposedly had.

"What are you talking about?"

"Every night," she begins, her jaw twitching. "I have to listen to you with them."

"You're the one that said we wouldn't work. I'm trying to move on," you sigh.

There's a change in her, a nerve hit, partially hidden by the darkness of the night, but you can sense the change. You see it dance in the narrow shadows of her face, the street lamp illuminating the crux of her soured expression. It's the same stance she's practised over the years, standing before a foe, sizing them up that she now models. Her pupils dilate as her gaze turns predatory, and her nostrils flare to accommodate the substantial drags of air she inhales. With a single stride forward, purpose chiselling at her grinding jaw, fingers move to your hips and hold you firm enough to leave bruises.

She pulls you into her. The bump of your hipbones clashing against each other vibrates down your legs and weakens your knees, leaving you at the mercy of Kara's hold.

"By sleeping with the whole of National City?" she seethes, her sharp remark losing more and more of its potency with each puff of exhaled air landing on your lips.

"What was I supposed to do? You made it perfectly clear you don't want to fuck me!" you yell, the pugnacious timbre of your voice unrecognisable in your ears.

Gasps bounce off the narrow walls of the alleyway, and incoherent whispers promise gossip will follow you and Supergirl for the next few weeks. You can see it now: a hot news story, the presenter dissecting a blurred image of you and Kara, berating, conspiring, and alluding to anything that will bring in more viewers.

"I never said that."

She has you off your feet in less than a second, one arm wrapped around the back of your knees and the other raised skyward. You're off the ground, soaring up and up, till the bodies below turn to ants and the city their humble colony.

"Kara," you screech, throwing your hands around her neck and holding tight. "What are you doing?"

"I think what I'm doing is pretty obvious." She's got a smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips that's both titillating and vexing.

"You're being obtuse on purpose, and it's not nearly as cute as you think."

Kara at least has the decency to look a little sheepish at that.

You know the city's landscape well enough to gauge where you're headed. Once a sanctuary, the lofty apartment greets you with its open windows and dim lighting. The TV is on. The faraway laughter of a sitcom audience grows louder the closer you get, igniting a flame to shed light upon shrouded memories once untouched by melancholy. Buttered popcorn still lives in the cracks of that grey couch, the longevity of their stay prolonged by a burning need shared between two people to laugh a little louder and forget the world around them for a little longer.

You're helpless to the flood of emotions that sweep over you the instant your feet touch solid ground. So much so that when Kara grows bold, dragging you closer by your hips and crashing her lips onto yours, you do nothing but cling to her.

She's warm like the first fire forged on winter's night and as dangerous as the spitted flames that crackle through damp logs, leaping towards any surface they might set alight. No matter how often the licks of fire eat away minuscule patches of skin, the brief bouts of pain they elicit will always win out in favour of staving off the cold.

The delve of Kara's tongue into your mouth seeks to devour you, plunging your stomach into the fiery pits of hell, and you let yourself believe, not for the first time, that the only way you'll ever feel alive is to live in heated moments like these.

The strangers you'd laid with took and took, using your body in much the same way you used theirs, imagining you were someone else, or happily viewing you as no one at all, just a body bred for pleasure. These dalliances may have been brief and fleeting, but they were safe. By morning, it wouldn't matter if expectations weren't met; there would be no discourse about seeing one another again. The sex was transactional. It was a dynamic you'd never have and would never want to have with Kara. What you feel for her runs deeper than one-night stands and self-destructive choices.

"Stop." You step away from the blonde, unaware of how close you are to the edge of the windowsill, until it's too late and the sharp corner of brick bites at the back of your ankles, knocking you off balance.

You want to fall, feel the wind against your back as you wait for the inevitable end. Kara doesn't let that happen. She doesn't even allow you the grace to right yourself before her hands are back on you, this time at your waist, whooshing you away from the cool breeze of the open widow.

"Are you okay?" she asks, holding tighter than strictly necessary, eyes frantically searching for any signs of distress.

"I'm fine." There's an urge to have her closer again, to feel her pressed firmly against your front, trace the seam of her lips with your tongue and discover how pliant the Kryptonian would become under your touch.

"Tell me you don't want this," she whispers, lowering her gaze from your eyes to your lips.

"I-"

"Tell me you don't want me, and I'll take you home. Pretend that none of this ever happened."

You want so badly to do that, to rein in your desires and do the sensible thing that would save you from bludgeoned heartbreak.

"You know I can't."

A beat passes, charged, and laden before the both of you pounce. Kara drags you forward, melding her mouth to yours, encouraged by your hands at the back of her neck.

"I've missed you," she mutters between kisses, holstering your legs up around her hips.

It's a puzzle how she manages to continue winding you up into a mess, nibbling and suckling at your neck whilst simultaneously navigating her way through the apartment, all the way to her bedroom. On her unwrinkled sheets, she sets you down, prying herself away long enough to rid you of your clothing. There's a flicker of something dark in her eyes as she casts her eyes up and down your naked body, stopping at the places you know your previous lovers had marked.

Cords strain in her throat, and you know she's fighting to keep sane at the sight of her property being tarnished with ugly bruises and clumsy scratches. You yank her forward, digging your fingers into the space between her gold belt and the blue fabric of her suit, aimlessly trying not to think about how vulnerable you are sitting stark naked whilst she presides over you, judging you for your poor decisions. Pleading silently for clemency, to be absolved of a crime you never knowingly committed, you stare up at Kara. You urge her to see the fidelity in your heart that will always gleam brightly in your eyes the second she comes into view. Her features remain stoic.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"I don't-" She cuts you off, ripping your hands away, flipping on your stomach and pinning you down to the bed.

"You knew that I would be able to hear you. That I would be listening to the sounds of you getting fucked over and over again." The harsh bite of her palm rings in the gelatinous flesh of your ass.

A perverse pang of pleasure shoots straight to your core, tearing a muffled moan out from your throat.

"You like that, don't you?" Kara questions, her self-satisfied lilt a clear sign she's already aware of the answer. "You want me to punish you, don't you?"

"Yes," you weakly admit, burying your shame in the sheets below.

"Don't move."

A gust of chilling air is all that's left of Kara. You can feel her moving around the room in bursts of movement, hear the drop of her clothes, and the opening and closing of drawers. A niggling need coaxes over your limbs, tempting them to wriggle and writhe with each new sound that piques your interest. You're getting wetter by the second, imagining all the ways you'll finally find your release with the only person you've ever wanted it with, the imagery enticing enough to send your want into overdrive and your hips angling forward, seeking any friction you can get against your aching clit.

"Don't even think about it." The blonde tuts, her presence welcome as she settles behind you. A hand clasps around each ankle, and Kara drags you back with little care for the hiss you make as cotton brushes against your sensitive nipples. "Get on your hands and knees."

You follow her orders, waiting for her touch that never comes. Instead, Kara crouches down, keeping a hair's width away from where you need her most and blows lightly over your sex. You shiver, trying your hardest not to flinch as her breath cools your warm slick.

"You're dripping," she comments lowly, teasing a single finger through your slit.

It's impossible not to lean back into the much-needed touch and command more with the insistent rise and fall of your hips. But Kara's prepared. She withdraws, maintaining her proximity to you. Another puff of air bristles against your cunt, this time colder.

"Kara, please," you beg, shaking with ardent need.

There's no warning to her tongue delving into your pussy, no preemptive to her harsh approach and fast licks. Left to your own devices, your arms give out. You're left crying into a pillow and gripping onto sheets as Kara runs a muck of your mind and body. The pressure's teetering on the brink of being too harsh, and no matter how much you try to pull away–ease the sting of her pointed tongue against your clit–Kara holds you open, gripping onto your thighs like a vice.

Your moans carry. They vault through the bedroom and ring between the obscene wet sounds coming from between your legs. There's barely time to release another before lips surround your bundle of nerves and drag the abused bud into a waiting mouth. It's painful and perfect all at once. There's no break from the pleasure. It's all-encompassing, surrounding you like morning fog seeping into the pores of your skin, covering every inch of your bare body in a blanket of sheen sweat.

A scream tears from your throat when Kara plunges two fingers inside you, and you use the last dregs of sanity within you to bite down on your arm. She's picking up speed faster than you can adjust. The brief milliseconds between every jagged thrust dwindle until all you feel is a constant vibration, a never-ending hum expanding over the entire length of your sopping cunt.

The coil in your stomach is wound so tight you can feel your muscles contract, and the pressure grows rigid like a metal rod along your spine. With one sharp slap to your ass, you break. Moans are pouring out of you, and your pulse is racing, but where you expect relief to flow, you only find more tension. It doesn't stop. The roaring waves of pleasure keep growing and growing and growing till you're screaming and shaking and begging for reprieve.

"One more," Kara pants, replacing her mouth with a thumb. "Give me one more baby."

How anything can hurt so much yet, yield such strong undercurrents of insurmountable bliss is mind-boggling. You're in limbo, stuck on the edge of euphoria and torment. It's a fine line that Kara forces you to walk, but with no other option, you absorb yourself into the pleasure and leave behind the bite of overstimulation.

You know you can, that you'd cum however many times she wanted. You've been riding the aftershocks of your orgasm for no less than a minute, and already you recognise the signs of your impending release. It happens fast, but what it lacks in duration, it makes up for in magnitude. Every part of you quakes, from your wobbly lip to your unsteady knees, that collapse beneath you. Thankfully, the sturdy mattress catches you, greeting you with its cool exterior–a welcome change from the heat emanating off your body.

Floorboards creek behind you, dulled by the non-stop thud of blood pumping through your ears. You want to tell Kara that she needs to stop. You need a break. The command dies on your tongue, melted into a contented sigh by the warm lips pressing along your spine and the puffs of cool air following each peck.

"Tell me when you're ready," she croons hot and heavy into your ear, sending another chill down your spine as she continues her mission of being your personal air-con.

"I don't know if I can," you reply, turning to face her, but the action is cut short when you feel the end of her prodding at your entrance. The only thing left for you to do is whimper.

Kara doesn't push any further. The tip of her faux cock leisurely slides between your slit, swinging up and down. Warmth circulates low in your stomach, and small jolts of gratification swing like a pendulum against the walls of the enclosed area. Her hands clasp around your waist, and you brace yourself for impact, expecting Kara to sink into you. The chime of your rough breathing fills the silent space. Nothing happens for a few seconds, then Kara firms her grip and guides you onto your back. You let her, unopposed to finally seeing her golden locks, shimmering eyes and bright smile.

She's hovering, holding herself on sturdy arms and waiting for the go-ahead. Even now, with desperation etched into her features, looking almost pained at having to wait, Kara still puts you first. Your wants, needs, and desires all outrank reason and logic. It doesn't matter that all she's known the past few years is heroism and gallantry–that she yearns to separate herself from all of it–she'll be Supergirl for a few seconds, applying that restraint she's had to use since the day she landed on earth. She'll hold herself back for you.

Looking into her crazed eyes, you nod. She's held back long enough for you, her family, and the world.

"I'm ready." You place your hands on her lower back, pulling Kara forward till she's fully seated inside of you, stretching you so wide it almost burns. "Fuck me like I'm yours."

The world fades away as you watch Kara's eyes harden, two piercing sapphires eclipsed by blackened lust and an impassioned demand to possess. Immediately, she begins pummeling into you at a brutal pace.

"I heard what you called them," Kara grits out, her eyes red, her hips stilling the moment her cock roots itself as far into you as it can get. "What you cried out when you imagined they were me."

"Don't stop," you plead between guttural breaths, scratching at her impenetrable skin.

"I want you to say it. I want you to tell me how you're going to cum on daddy's dick."

This is all so unlike Kara, and that very thought–that this version of her is all yours and only yours, that you get to see her feral and unencumbered by the scruples of morality and duty–has you beyond desperate.

"Yes." You hiss at the blunt edge of Kara's hip, knocking against you as she forces herself impossibly deeper. "I'm going to cum all over your cock, daddy."

Your complacency draws rewards. Kara is back to pounding into you.

There's something new occurring within you, a sudden pressure forcing Kara out. You can't understand it, not between the shudders running rampant through your body, so strong they feel more like convulsions. Her thumb is steady and swift over your clit, circling the swollen nub till everything becomes too much, and all you see are blazing white lights scattering and interspersing themselves across your vision.

You can feel your cum rush out of you, spraying onto Kara's cock the moment she leaves you. With every added second, her thumb stays working over your clit, and the push to release everything in you is flooding through the bedsheets, soaking the material through to the mattress. The white lights fade, and Kara's face emerges for only a brief moment before all you see is black.

—

"Kara?"

"Mmh."

"I won't wait forever for you to be ready," you say quietly, fingers skimming through the valley of her breasts. "I can't."

"I know," she sighs, burrowing her nose into your hair and inhaling. She closes her eyes, and you feel her puckered lips on your scalp. "I know."

Taglist: @iliketozoneout @homo-oddity @noahrex @lovelyy-moonlight @yeaiamme2 | Click here to be added to my taglist

#kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #supergirl #supergirl x reader #arrowverse #arrowverse x reader #kara zor el x reader

148 notes · View notes

demonicbaby666 · 8 months ago

Text

Territorial

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Kara Danvers x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2.9k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, jealousy, fingering, semi-public sex

Summary: Attending an event with Kara seemed a good idea. It had never been an issue in the past, but when she returns from mingling to find you enjoying the company of another guest, things take an interesting turn.

A/n: I want to say that I've thoroughly proofread this, but I cannot because I am lazy and also not motivated enough to do that :)

Kara didn't want to leave you. On the drive over to the reporter's gala, you'd heard her say just that, even if you were the slightest bit distracted by how her muscles bulged under the sleeves of her blazer.

She knew you were no social butterfly and had sworn to stay by your side when you needed a breather from small talk and scheming questions—a hero even when she shed her cape. You'd tried to reason with her, explain you were not a child, that you'd be fine alone. Alas, it proved useless. She wasn't having it.

However, that was the drive over when Kara had yet to be faced with renowned reporters, endless opportunities for stories and the chance to fill a whole page, front and back, with media contacts. So, when the time came, you were proud to admit you succeeded in swaying your girlfriend to do all the things you knew she was most looking forward to with a "Please don't let me stop you. I had been wanting to check out the bar anyway."

You did receive a dejected look from Kara as she was dragged away, one that reminded you of a little lost pup. That wasn't entirely a pleasant sight, but when you arrived at a too-tall bar stool and peeked over your shoulder, you were happy to note Kara was lost in conversation. The twinkle in her eyes she only got when intrigue grew and questions were formed was bright as ever. She was utterly consumed. It was a happy sight. A sight that, mixed with alcohol, made your chest flush a little too hot for liking.

Time ticked by, and for a while, it was okay. You watched Kara move around, go from person to person, nursing your drink between glances and taking in the room decor. The thought of joining her did cross your mind but was quickly stored away when you realised how hard it would be to reach the blonde across the ocean of bodies. Better to sit tight and save yourself the trouble.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the event hall grew too loud. Not loud from rowdy patrons or blasting music. The accumulation of too many polite voices and clattering sounds combined to form a monotonous hum was what was beginning to drive you crazy. You waited. And you waited. And you waited some more. You waited for as long as you could, feeling more and more how your cheeks began to burn until it got a little too much, and you found your way outside to the stone stairs of the grand entrance, heart beating a little too fast for your liking.

That was where Kara found you. She'd wrapped up her conversations as fast as possible, asking and answering rapid-fire questions, absorbing every bit of knowledge offered while keeping track of the time. It couldn't be helped that now and again, she lost herself in stories that she imagined would one day be hers. She knew you'd understand. But then, too much time had passed, and she knew it as she hurried over to the bar, already panicked about how best to apologise for leaving you alone for so long.

By the time she did find you, after discovering the bar vacant, her worries were gone, and Kara was joyous to finally be so close to you again that she could smell your perfume. The stories she'd heard were waiting on the tip of her tongue to be regurgitated, along with an apology kiss, which she had decided was the foolproof option on the walk over. However, when she turned a corner and finally saw your unmistakable figure, she did not expect to find you with company. More so, she did not expect a pristine blazer that was not hers to be wrapped around you, keeping you warm from the evening's light breeze.

Watching from a close distance, Kara could see it. She could hear it pierce her ears—the bitter sound of laughter. You were smiling, listening attentively to what this random woman spewed at you, and it drove Kara crazy, filled her veins with fire, and turned her knuckles white. She hated this part of herself, the wiry-clawed green-eyed monster that came out so often around you. She'd been pushing it down all evening, all week, hell, your whole relationship, whenever she saw someone's eyes linger on your figure too long. But this, whatever was happening between you and this woman, was, for some reason, Kara's last straw.

"It's freezing." She strode over, steps heavy, tone sharp as she announced her presence.

It was, in fact, not freezing, and you were about to mention that as you turned to greet Kara, but the second you saw her stony expression, you decided otherwise.

"Kara, it's so nice to finally meet you," the woman beside you said, extending her arm to the blonde with a warm, charismatic smile. "Andrea."

The reporter outright ignored the greeting, stared at Andrea with flared nostrils and then back to you, her eyes softening only a smidge. You hated to say it, even if it was just to yourself, but something about seeing Kara this way deeply affected you. Of course, you loved sweet Kara, the Kara that would never be able not to help, the Kara that left a trail of sunshine behind her as she walked, the Kara that giggled at double entendres, and that's what she said jokes. But this Kara, fierce, protective and territorial Kara, the Kara that would crack someone's neck if they looked at you the wrong way, throw them over the side of a building if they even thought to touch you, drove you mad with undying lust.

"Why are you out here?" your girlfriend asked, snapping you out of your daze. Her eyes grew smaller, and her lips thinned as she stared at the blazer still around your shoulders.

Sensing her hostility and heavy eyes, you got the hint. Well, it was less of a hint than a blaring alarm. Nonetheless, you understood. "I got a bit hot inside, that's all," you calmly answered, beginning to shrug off the satin jacket that seemed to be Kara's new adversary lest she burn a hole right through it.

"Nice seeing you, Andrea," Kara said dryly, sporting a sarky smile as she took the blazer off your shoulder and handed it back. "I'll be taking my girlfriend inside now."

With an arm hooked around your waist, you were ushered inside, unsure what the hell had just happened until it was too late to turn around and apologise for Kara's out-of-character behaviour.

"Did you have to be so rude?" you whispered. "She was only being nice."

Kara was indifferent, her face expressionless. "I thought you didn't want to socialise," she finally said, manoeuvring past groups of chattering clusters.

"She approached me. It would have been rude to ignore her," you tried to reason.

"The blazer?" Kara countered, nails digging into you so hard you felt them pierce the silk material of your dress, forcing you to choke down a whimper.

There were so many things you could have said, so many things you should have said. You could have given Kara one of the many valid reasons you had at your disposal. But no, you did nothing of the sort. Seeing Kara this pissed off, even if she was trying to hide the true extent of it, was absolutely divine, and you wanted it to last.

Leaning over to her ear, keeping up with her quick pace on your tippy toes, you sultrily whispered, "I was chilly, and she offered to keep warm."

Kara halted, standing stark still in the middle of a desolate hallway. You saw her jaw lock, the way her veins in her neck bulged. Her eyes, shining a scorching shade of blue, looked off into the distance, and that was when Kara truly lost herself to silent rage.

When her feet started moving again, no words were spoken. She only pushed you down the corridor and then to the left, each step growing more daunting as the woman beside you remained stoic. You started to consider that perhaps you had gone too far.

"Kara, I-" you tried but were cut off by the force of Kara roughly shoving you inside a side room. With no warning, your body was slammed against the back of the door, forcing it shut with a bang that echoed in your ears, its remnants reduced to a faint buzz.

Kara had kept her hands on your waist, body a safe distance away as her azure eyes roamed your face in rapid intervals, eventually landing on your lips.

"Do you need a reminder?" she snapped.

Fidgeting and momentarily adverse to maintaining eye contact, you looked around at the collection of coats, studying all the colours, all the various items poking out of pockets, and the occasional umbrella brought in by the wary, inherently failing to answer Kara's vague question.

The quiet grew to be biting; its teeth gnawed away at your confidence until breathing became almost impossible. Thankfully, the room itself was chilled, air circulating well enough to ensure that dust particles and the distinct smell of dampness would not stick to the fabric. Only two windows painted the room, both of which were located to your right, one jammed shut with rust and debris, the other slightly ajar. And as grating seconds passed like hours, and eyes locked onto you, hot breath rained down on you, the timid breeze that began to sweep in through the small crack of that old window became your new best friend.

You focused on it as you looked to the floor and watched your toes curl. You heard its high-pitched whistles alongside the squeaking leather of your shoes, and you felt its light fingers caress your flushed cheeks just enough to dull your panic to a manageable seven.

Of course, this did not last long. Your senses eventually found you, and you remembered the lingering question dancing in the air and the unhappy blonde who deserved an apology. But it was too late. For the second time that evening, you concluded that you'd pushed your girlfriend too far.

Your punishment was a hand coiling around your throat, calloused fingers threatening to mark you with blotchy bruises but not daring to squeeze hard enough to hurt. Beneath the firm grip, you closed your eyes, frustrated with how painstakingly annoying it was to have something so wrong feel so good. So fucking good you were struggling to hold in a moan.

"Do you need a reminder that you're mine?" Kara calmly asked, fractionally squeezing just that little bit tighter to force out a strained whimper. Her pupils were blown wide, dark whirls of something foreign polluting the bright shine of her irises.

Distant music seeped in, filling the silence between rapid breaths. Eyes sharpened their focus on one another, studying the new hues of lust, committing the new palettes to memory for lonely nights. Then came the slip—your submission offered with one last shuddering breath and the slow close of your eyelids, and Kara, sharp as a whistle, acted accordingly. Her lips, soft yet bruising, devoured you at a moment's notice, pulling you in with deceiving memories and false promises, only to demolish them with biting nips and trailing scratches. She tasted of pure possession, each slide of her tongue more demanding than the last.

She wanted control, and you happily gave it over.

Kara pulled back, beginning to plant kisses from your mouth down to your neck. She drew you into her mouth, sucking hard enough to have surely left a mark, and you'd have cared if it weren't for the svelte fingers shamelessly working under your dress, rising to the juncture between your thighs to tease your clothed cunt with light touches.

There was no remorse when your shivers were felt, when your pitiful rendition of a beg was heard or when your hips started to grind down in desperation. The reporter was hell-bent on prolonging the torture.

Hand on the underside of your knee, Kara encouraged you to wrap a leg around her waist. She hauled it up as if it weighed nothing and held it in place, momentarily allowing you to find some needed friction along the column of her toned stomach. It was then you realised why Kara wanted you to have some leverage. Savagely, your underwear was torn, fabric protesting louder than you did in fear you'd anger your tyrant and be deemed unworthy of her illustrious treatment.

"I want them to hear you," Kara drawled, dipping the tip of her finger inside you. "Hear that you belong to me."

Instructions clear, she thrust three fingers into your welcoming pussy and began fucking into you at an unforgiving pace. There were no words to describe the ecstasy that was being stretched so abruptly it almost hurt, so you settled for a silent cry instead, gripping onto muscled shoulders for leverage.

It stung when Kara pushed harder and moved faster, but the tendrils of pleasure did not lessen, circulating through your body and bubbling in your stomach, so you endured.

Your moans were carrying, spilling out of the room to ricochet and bounce around the high-panelled ceiling and walls of the corridor. The occasional gasp that did reach your ears left you desperately wanting to be ashamed, to do the sensible thing and tell Kara to stop. The embarrassment of exiting the cloakroom and coming face-to-face with the many people who knew exactly what had happened was enough for you to listen to your rational mind. But what remained stronger was the need to chase your impending orgasm.

That's what made forgetting so easy—the vehement need for ownership being met, even if it was being done in such a precarious place. It's probably why you didn't stop the following words from coming out of your mouth.

"Yours." You wanted her to know. Hell, you wanted everyone to know. So you kept saying it, over and over, louder and louder. "Yours yours, yours, only yours."

All you could do was continue to pull Kara in, clenching around her fingers, and beg her to go impossibly deeper with the firm grip of your leg and crackling cries. Soon enough, there was no need for Kara to hold you close; you were stuck to her like glue, and the blonde chose to take full advantage.

Her hand lay flat on the wall to gain some leverage, her fingers starting to move so fast they felt like they were vibrating. Soft kisses along your throat became harsh, teeth latching onto skin repeatedly, mercy momentarily shown with soothing slides of a slickened tongue. In the back of your mind, you knew what was happening. The reporter was marking you as hers, and when you left that tiny room, there would be no mistaking it. In the upcoming days, she wanted you to see the bruises staring back at you in the mirror, a warning for you never to forget. Hers.

"Mine," Kara growled, her voice raspy.

Your chest was rising and falling alarmingly, your breath short, and your lungs exerted. Everything was moving so fast you scarcely noticed Kara place her thumb over your clit till it was too late, and all that was left to do was gasp so heavily your lungs felt like they may burst.

With the duel stimulation came the lack of awareness, and it seemed, even for Kara, your volume was rising to a level that would amass too much attention. Her lips found yours, and muffling your cries, she drove her tongue into your mouth.

Her thumb continually ran in circles, each drawing you closer. Your stomach was so tense it felt painful. Still, the persistent waves of satisfaction were worth the strain, and unsurprisingly, in little to no time, you felt the inevitable crest of your orgasm, releasing an open-mouthed gasp against velvet lips.

You came with a silent cry, your head thrown back and slamming against the wall, forcing Kara to separate her lips from yours. She watched you fall apart in awe, milking you for you had till you were shaking so badly you could scarcely hold yourself up.

"Keep holding onto me," she whispered, and you obeyed, wrapping your hands around her neck, breathing heavily and dropping your head to her shoulder. With a delicate kiss on your temple, Kara slowed her fingers down to languish thrusts and placed her hand over your ass, taking the majority of your weight. "I've got you."

Assured there was no chance you would collapse, Kara kept going, continually pulling meek whimpers from you with every curl of her fingers. It felt like your orgasm was never-ending, waves of full-bodied pleasure rippling through your system over and over, burrowing into your skin till it felt like you were on fire. Finally, when a grimace replaced the gratified smile you wore and your moans began to sound more wounded, she stilled, slowly withdrawing from you.

Weakly looking up, you watched Kara bring her fingers into her mouth and sample your unique taste. Her eyes fluttered shut as the familiar tangy nectar coated her tongue, and a satisfied hum vibrated in her throat.

Head falling forward, knees still shaky, mind certain, you whispered the only thing that seemed to be running through your head, "Yours."

Lips to your temple, Kara happily muffled her confirmation, "Mine."

Taglist: @iliketozoneout @homo-oddity @noahrex @lovelyy-moonlight @camciel | Click here to be added to my taglist

#kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #supergirl #supergirl x reader #arrowverse #arrowverse x reader #kara zor el x reader

364 notes · View notes