a/n: REQUESTED • thank you for consistently requesting mi amors it really helps me more than you know!! • lowk ass but… I loved the idea • excuse any poor translations and I hope you enjoy! • super fucking short… just wanted to get her out there.
summary: youre obsessed with your girlfriends arms
vibe: an eater by matt martians
(っ´ཀ`)っᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ
she didn’t have to do much. she could pick something up, and her arm would flex even in the slightest. the scattered tattoos littering her arms would glisten with sweat when she would come home from the gym. and whenever she would wrap her arms around you, you could feel the strength in them from just a gentle squeeze.
it made you insane.
though she never did these things to intentionally draw attention to her arms, she was well aware that she was getting it.
she caught everytime your eyes would roam down the length of her arms, caught in a daze from her doing the most simple things. she would be lying if she said she didn’t like it. it made her feel good. knowing that you liked it motivated her to go to the gym most days.
and today, was no different.
you had invited her to your apartment and asked her to help you rearrange some of your furniture. deep down, you knew what you were getting yourself into, but you did really need the help.
you told yourself to stay focused. yes, Vicky has great arms and they make you go quite literally insane and you invited her to lift shit around your apartment… but you could ignore how she looks. right?
wrong.
the moment she lifted an end your couch and pushed it to another angle, you couldnt pull your eyes away. in your mind you were being subtle, you always were subtle, never really acting on how much you liked her arms and what you wanted to do. but today might change that.
you strode over to her as she set the couch down. she turned in order to ask you whether you liked the positioning, but your hands slid up her arms, tracing her tattoos, catching her by surprise because you’ve never done this. she had honestly been waiting for the day you would actually do something, but your boldness shocked her.
“something on my arm?” she asked playfully, eyes trailing down your face to your lips.
you smiled, “no, they just look nice.” you said as if it were nothing. but her stomach flipped at the compliment.
suddenly, she picked you up by your waist, grinning like a mad man.
“finally you admit it!” she said excitedly yet teasing.
you rolled your eyes, “girl whatever.”
you glanced down to see her face and she was already looking at you. she inched a bit closer to your face, nose brushing yours slightly, eyes hooded and nothing but love behind them.
her lips pressed against yours gently, not rushed, not urgent, but sweet. intentional. and when she pulled away, she rested her forehead on yours.
you stayed there for a moment, just breathing her in. she smelled of coconut and salt, and somehow slightly peppery. you felt secure in her arms, she had been holding you for a good moment now and still held strong.
“ok but in all honesty, what do you think of the couch?”
a/n: thank you sm for requesting babies it helps me a bunch!! if I take longer or dont get to your request please forgive me!! • a little something to put out for you guys • I hope you enjoy!!
summary: youre married to young miko
vibe: coming down by the the weeknd
𖠋♡𖠋
• ever since the day you got married to Victoria she promised to take care of you. and she truly hasn’t broken that promise
• since you were just girlfriends she would always propose the idea of you possibly stopping working and her being the provider. it took you a while to allow this, but after you got married (and extreme burnout from work), you accepted it.
• she would go on tour, be in the studio, go to interviews, etc. you would think this would mean that you would never see her. but it’s quite the opposite. she brought you almost everywhere with her, insisting that her wife be by her side.
so while she would do her job, you would stay with her. in interviews you would be behind the camera giving her support, when she would perform you would be backstage watching her, when she was in the studio you would be the first to hear songs.
• while traveling together, you would always take an extra day to enjoy the cities and towns you were in.
• constantly being in the spotlight and having to be such a social person, maria victoria very heavily values your quiet moments together. she could be so tired and need space from everyone but still want to be around you. if she didn’t wanna talk, you would just hold her close and play with her hair until she fell asleep. and when you did talk, (which was most nights) it was never overwhelming or uncomfortable. you would have deep conversations or even just conversations about your day and end up talking for hours.
• you are there for maria a lot, but it’s not like it isn’t reciprocal. Victoria is always there for you and will always check up on you because she knows how her job is overwhelming, even for someone on the sidelines. she never makes you feel obligated to do anything for her even though she is the main person paying the bills and providing. she doesn’t make you feel bad for it. she wants to do this, it’s her love language. it makes her feel good to know that she’s taking care of you.
• shopping trips go crazy. you see anything you like? it’s in the cart. no argument. you need anything? it’s already bought.
• on trips you cannot attend (as much as Victoria fights for you to be there), you never feel alone or neglected. she will call you every night and send food and gifts to the house. if you tell her you’re going somewhere, grocery store, out with friends, anywhere, she sends money.
• she always makes sure youre taken care of and loved on. always.
tags: momily, light angst, london!emily, hazel and olivia, fluff, hurt/comfort, we'll be okay y'all, suggestive moment, mentions of scratch arc (eww), no use of yn
summary: emily gets called back to DC.
word count: 2.5k
hazel and olivia
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a/n: im obsessed with them so whatever TAKE IT
read on ao3 or below the cut
It comes as a curveball. The call from Virginia pulling Emily away from dinner to take it in her office. You don't say anything, but you feel in your bones that something is about to change.
She comes back with that frown between her eyebrows, the one that you find cute but despise when it brings her such stress. She still laughs at Hazel's dramatic reenactment of something that happened at school, she still coos when Olivia attempts to mush peas with her fingertips, but you know her mind is halfway somewhere else.
Much later, after the girls are in bed and you've been waiting for her to be done getting ready for bed, you're trying to read a book but mostly just staring at it. Something is wrong, or at least out of place, and you can't relax before you know what it is.
You smell her before you see her. The jasmine of her body wash and the light coconut of her moisturizer. Emily comes out of the bathroom in her silk sleep set, leaving a cloud of steam behind that you catch a glimpse of before she closes the door to the ensuite softly.
She sits next to you under the covers, leaving her hair brush on the nightstand next to her reading glasses. You close your book, place it on your own nightstand and turn to her. Waiting.
“Rossi called.”
You hum, “Dave usually calls.”
Emily sighs, “something's happened with Hotch.”
Your heart rate picks up. You've known Emily's BAU team for years, you've watched Jack grow up like you did Henry. The decision to leave for London when Hazel was on her way to three was not an easy one, but you both decided it'd be best after what happened with Doyle.
It hurt both of you to leave your family behind.
Of course, Emily worked with them everyday, Emily was closer to Dave and Hotch than you. But you know them, you know their kids, and you worry for them just as much.
You ask Emily what happened, she gives you a rushed summary of what Dave told her. He doesn't even know much himself.
“How's Jack?”
“In danger,” she says, “Hotch's thinking of going into witness protection.”
You look at her for a beat, seeing something in her eyes that tells you she's holding back. “What are you not telling me?”
Emily leans back against her pillows, looking at the ceiling. “Dave asked if I could come in.”
You turn to look at the side of her face, your shoulders tensing without prompting.
“Just for a few weeks,” she looks at you. “To support them during Hotch's absence. Help catch Peter Lewis.”
“Into the lion's den, then,” you murmur, turning back to look straight ahead.
Emily touches your arm, you don't turn to her, but lift your hand to hold her own. “I'll be fine.”
“You don't know that,” you say, defeated. “We moved here so you could be safe. For the girls.”
You feel the tip of her nose touching your cheek. It's surprisingly warm. Turning to her, you give her a look as she nudges your own nose with hers. She gives you a quick kiss. “I'll be back before you know it.”
You sigh, pulling away slightly to see her face in its entirety. Damn Emily Prentiss, her perfect face and her huge doe eyes. “How long is a few weeks, anyway? A month, two?”
“I'll come back every weekend.”
Scoffing, you smile ironically at her, “are you trying to kill yourself? It's an eight hour flight.”
“I’d do it.”
You touch her cheek, “I know you would.” Sighing, “I don’t want you to. We’ll be fine.”
Emily frowns, “that’s it? No argument?”
“What’s the point?” You ask, but not unkindly. “I know this is something you have to do.” Shaking your head, you kiss her cheek. “I’m worried about Hotch, too. I wouldn’t want to keep you from helping him and Jack.”
“You know I’d ask you to come with me if it weren't for the girls,” she murmurs, kissing your hand that’s still on her face.
“I know.” You pull her closer, snuggling up so you can soak up whatever time you have before she leaves. “We’ll be fine,” you repeat, even if you don’t know if that’s the case.
You’d never resent Emily, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.
She calls every day. Sometimes more than once. She never misses a day, never goes more than twenty-four hours without talking to you or the girls. Even though she's busy, even though you can see the job taking its toll.
Hazel understands, mostly. Sometimes she's subdued, but a call with her mom manages to cheer her up. You let her have chicken nuggets on more days than you'd like, and you don't even say anything when she insists she's going to school in a tutu.
Olivia is too young to understand. She calls for her mama, she tries to touch the phone screen when Emily facetimes, even though sometimes she turns it off by accident. She whines at dinner and you know it's because Emily is the best at getting her to eat. At least she falls asleep pretty easily, you're not going to take that for granted.
And you, of course you understand. Yet you hate it. You hate sleeping in an empty bed, you hate making your tea in the mornings without Emily next to you. You hate reading in absolute silence before going to sleep because the shower isn't running and Emily isn't going to come out of the ensuite any second warm and soft from her bath.
You tell her you're fine, you tell her about the girls and what you did during the day. But you don't tell her about tossing and turning because she's not there, you don't tell her about Hazel's meltdown because Emily wasn't there to take her to ballet. You keep it in, and you know you shouldn't, you should tell your wife about how you're really feeling with her away, but you don't want to burden her with it. She tells you Scratch seems to have slipped through the cracks, so you don't want to add to her stress.
And you can't shake off the feeling that there's something she's not saying. You look at her though a phone screen and you still know her better than anyone. But you don't ask and you trust she'll tell you when she's ready, though you're hoping she can do it in person because you're getting really, really tired of waiting.
Hazel is playing quietly in the living room as you're making dinner. She's been quieter than usual this last week, refused to attend any of her extracurricular activities and even declined a sleepover at her friend's house. It's been a little over a month and you honestly have no idea what to do to cheer her up anymore. Sometimes, even the phone calls with Emily leave her sad afterwards, the tiny image of her mom on screen not being enough to settle the ache in her heart.
Olivia has been clingier, so of course she's in your arms as you try to cook one-handed. At least she doesn't wriggle too much on your hip like Hazel used to, or having her this close to the stove wouldn't be an option. If looking at the bright side, you're getting pretty good at doing things with a baby wrapped around your back or while having to keep two little girls in check outside of the house, making sure nothing happens to either of them and that they don't wander away when you're just trying to lock the car.
You're so focused on the food that you don't hear any movement in the entryway, only being alerted to something being different when Hazel yells “mommy!” at the top of her lungs. Startling, you only manage to turn the burner off before running to her, guessing she might've hurt herself, but the sight that finds you is nothing like that.
Hazel's dangling from around Emily's neck, her little legs kicking as she tries to climb her mother's arms. Emily's smiling brightly, but there's tiredness in her eyes, a weight to her that you haven't seen in a long time. When she manages to hoist up your daughter, she makes an exaggerated oof! that makes Haze giggle loudly — you haven't heard that sound in a couple of days.
You smile back unconsciously, letting Olivia down after she starts wriggling and whining. She toddles over to Emily, who meets her halfway, still with Hazel on her hip. On a normal day, you'd chastise her for picking Hazel up, the girl already too heavy and putting a strain on her back, but today is not that day.
Emily gives her daughters kisses all over their faces, squeezing them to her heart's content, telling them how much she missed them. You're happy to just watch for now, there'll be time for hugs later, at the moment you're just pleased to have all of your girls underneath the same roof.
“Hi,” Emily calls from her spot in the middle of the living room.
“Hi,” you answer, giving her a delighted grin. “Haze, let your mom breathe, please.” You say softly, then watch as your daughter loosens her grip ever so slightly from around Emily's neck.
She moves to the couch, sitting down and keeping both girls sitting in her lap. Hazel finally agrees to let go of her death grip on Emily, settling for holding the fabric of her shirt in one of her little hands. Olivia doesn't take her eyes off her mother, touching her cheek and babbling whenever she gets Emily to look down at her.
After a while, Hazel decides there are three new toys she absolutely needs to show Emily — and if you bought her all of those to soothe Emily's absence, then that's just for you to know —, so she runs into her room in search of them. Emily looks at her retreating form with a wistful grin, finally sighing exhaustedly. She stands up with Olivia in her arms and makes her way towards you.
“Hi,” she says again.
“Hi,” you say back.
When Emily kisses you, you decide you're never going to let her leave again, no matter what it takes.
“I missed you,” she murmurs into your lips.
You open your eyes, taking note of the dark shadows under hers, the redness derived from sleeping poorly. “You have no idea,” you say, because, really, what else is there?
Emily smiles apologetically, kissing you again. “Sorry I stopped replying to your texts, I wanted this to be a surprise.”
Shaking your head, you squeeze her free hand, “consider me surprised. And I just figured you were busy. What time was your flight?”
“1pm local time,” she says, bouncing Liv slightly. “It was the earliest I could get.”
Hazel comes running back, her arms full of toys, so you give Emily a look that says later.
Later actually means much later. After dinner, baths, bedtime. After Emily was the one singing Olivia to sleep. After she read three books to Hazel before her little eyes finally drooped closed.
Later means Emily almost falling asleep during your shared shower, means you holding her up by the waist as she rinses because if she closes her eyes for more than two seconds she might not open them for a few hours.
You let her off the hook. There's so much to talk about, of course, but it's nine pm and she's so exhausted her words are slurring just the tiniest bit. It worries as much as it endears you.
You open your arms and she falls into them, tucking her face into your neck and immediately falling asleep to the feeling of you softly scratching her back.
In the morning, she doesn't wanna talk. At least, not at first.
In the morning, she straddles your hips and pulls her shirt off, she kisses you with intent, with everything that she's missed in the last weeks. She doesn't have to say anything, you understand.
Only after, with no clothes on and comfortable in your bed, the bed you couldn't wait to see taken up by her again, does she talk.
Emily caresses your arm softly, her blunt nails eliciting shivers from your skin.
“You're holding something back,” you murmur, shifting closer. She sighs loudly, caught.
“Maybe you should do this for a living,” she retorts, lifting an eyebrow.
“Funny.” You say dryly. “You know I'm no behavioralist.”
She hums, smiling softly at you. After a beat, she turns serious again. “He got away,” she states heavily, as if this is somehow all on her. You squeeze her hand. “They went into witsec, I have no idea if we're gonna be able to get them out or when.”
Emily looks up at the ceiling, but her hand stays in yours.
“Before Hotch left for good, he…” She shakes her head. then chuckles humourlessly. “He asked me to replace him as Unit Chief.” Rolling her eyes, Emily scoffs. “He actually said that. He said his final request was for me to replace him, run his team.”
You stay very still. The truth is, you don't like the idea. The entire reason you left everything behind and moved to London was to get away, so Emily could have a steadier job, away from all the heaviness of the BAU, the ghost of Doyle haunting you all in Boston, DC, wherever. You made plans, you said you could finally have another kid, and you did, Olivia came along and she's a true Londoner now. Even Hazel is picking up the accent.
But besides everything, you don't hate the idea because it means going back to DC. You hate it because it means putting Emily in danger again, putting her in the spotlight as Unit Chief, a position she didn't ask for nor considered before all of this happened.
Still, you stay quiet, you let her work through what she needs because, above all, Emily's your wife and you love her, and if she feels like she needs to do this, well, she's not doing it alone.
“Aren't you gonna say anything?” She asks, looking at you with those big eyes that tell you she actually has no idea what to do.
“Not right now,” you answer, leaning your head on her shoulder. “How long do you have to decide?”
“I asked for a week,” she says, then winces, “I know that's ambitious, they'll probably call before that.”
“Okay, so not in the next twenty-four hours, then, right?”
“No,” she murmurs into your hair, leaving a kiss where she can reach.
“So, now, we're going to stay here. I'm going to enjoy my wife's company that I missed very much. We're gonna wait for a cry or for Hazel to come pounding on the door demanding food, and we'll deal with that later. Okay?”
You feel Emily sigh deeply from underneath you, her shoulders losing their stiffness for the moment. “Okay.”
Tags: fluff, poly!baranmily, established relationship, petnames, one use of yn
Request: here! Celebrate 2k with me!
Word count: 0.8k
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Sleeping between your girlfriends means that, very rarely, either one of them makes a move without waking you. You've gotten used to sleeping around a tangle of limbs, the tickle of hair on your skin from every which way. Still, your sleep is light, and when the mattress shifts beside you, rising and dipping as Baran tries to excavate herself from your arms, your eyes flick open before she can slip out of bed.
She's blurry, a mess of soft curls and Emily's old t-shirt slipping off her shoulder, sleep still clinging to her even though her eyes are sharp. The smile she gives you is lopsided, sheepish. You know what it means.
"No," you rasp, hooking your arm around her waist. You pull her back into you, your face dipping into the slot between her jaw and her shoulder, the scent of her almond oil still sweet on her skin. "No, Baran."
"Good morning to you too." She hums softly. You can hear the smile in her voice—can feel it—still a little rough with sleep, gravelly and gorgeous and all yours.
"It will be," you try to speak quietly, "a good morning, if you stay put."
This time, she laughs.
"I'll be back in an hour—two, at the most." She murmurs. Her hand trails gently over the back of your head, smoothing pets on your crown. "Go back to sleep, azizam. It's still early."
"Too early for you to be up." You sigh, curling tighter around her. You haven't looked at the clock, but you're sure it's atrociously early. Exactly how she always likes it.
Baran's touch travels down to your jaw, then your cheek, her thumb idly sweeping over your cheekbone. They're sweet touches, buying you time. Lightly, she says, "You could always join me."
"And I would, baby," you yawn, letting your eyes fall closed. "Just not at ass o'clock in the morning."
Another laugh spills from her chest, gently jostling you.
Behind you, Emily stirs. None of you happen to be deep sleepers, which proves troublesome at times—the constant movement, someone or the other's blaring alarm. The bed dips, again, this time at your back as Emily slots her knee into the hollow behind yours. She presses her warmed cheek to your arm, the sweep of her lashes tickling your skin.
"Why are we awake?" She rasps.
Baran sits up a little, leans over you. You hear the sound of a small kiss, then her murmur as she says, "You have no reason to be. Go back to sleep, joonam."
You blink at the stretch of her body over you and, silently thanking the years upon years of heavy lifting at the fire department, grab her around the waist, gently hauling her down into the space between you and Emily. She makes a little oof!, gasping, and you smile, burying it in her cheek.
"Emily," you say, before you can get chastened, "tell her to stay."
Emily makes a sound, shifting to nuzzle into Baran's side. She brushes a wayward curl from her cheek, leans in to place a lingering kiss on her jaw. "You sure we can't convince you, hon?" She murmurs, coaxing. You nearly melt yourself, wrapped up in her saccharine sweetness. "Just this once."
She has strange, wondrous ways that you often fall victim to. Her voice, molten into honey, those eyes of hers imploring. Even Baran can't resist, in the best of times—and right now, her reasoning seems so flimsy.
"It's—it's a short class." She tries. "I thought I'd make the most of it, since you were sleeping."
"We're not sleeping now." You press a kiss to one of her freckles, thumbing the sliver of skin at her waist where her shirt had ridden up.
"All the more reason for you to join me—"
"But I'm so tired, love." Emily cuts in, her voice like velvet. Her eyes meet yours, still sleep-softened, hazy, but bright with the same smile that curls her mouth. "Aren't you, Y/N?"
"Exhausted." You say, and it's only a half lie. "But," you hum, kissing Baran's cheek, "I'd be more than happy to help you burn off a little energy."
"You don't even have to move." Emily murmurs.
"I happen to enjoy moving." Baran sighs. Whether it's at her defeat or Emily's attention, you don't know. You do know that her workout class is quickly fleeing her mind, her body sinking deeper into the bed, legs easily parting open to let you slip your knee between them.
"We can move plenty right here." Emily promises. She's so sweet with it, and her hand drifts under Baran's shirt, rises high; she finds the mark, and Baran's eyes drift shut, a soft exhale pouring out of her.
You kiss her, and she has no protests to murmur against your lips.
𑄹 about: Kara gets called away by the justice league, suddenly unable to come to your movie premiere with you. you plan to give her the silent treatment when she finally comes home, but unknown to you Kara also had a bad day and has some ideas of her own.
𑄹 wc: 2.4k
𑄹 warnings: brat!reader, dom!kara, sub!reader, fem!reader, strap-on use, giving oral to a strap, riding a strap, mean!kara, degradation, use of pet names.
𑄹 an: actor!reader is now stuck in my head. glad everyone enjoyed the last part, this can be read separately I believe, but hopefully this is a worthy sequel. as always slightly proofread and may feel slightly ooc.
Soft kisses placed across your shoulder wake you up, messy blonde hair tickling across your skin, and it makes you smile as you flip over. Kara’s face hovers above you, a lazy smile on her face, as the back of her fingers come to brush across your cheek.
“Morning.” She whispers as she leans down to kiss you.
“Morning.” You reply, twisting your body into hers. She welcomes you, kissing your shoulder as your face buries in her neck.
“We both have to get up.” She says gently, going to pry herself from your grip, but your hands tug at her while a little whine escapes you. “Nice try pretty girl.” She teases as she pinches your hip playfully.
You try to evade her touch while also giving her neck a soft kiss. You exhale through your nose, still not moving, and next thing you know Kara’s lifting you onto her lap. You steady yourself by placing your hands on her stomach.
Then she’s frowning slightly, and you stop, because she seems to be bracing to tell you something. “Kara?” You ask, and she can tell the pout is already forming. She raises her hand and presses her thumb against your lips, causing you to part them almost immediately much to her satisfaction.
“Clark called.” She begins, and your teeth graze her thumb in warning to make her remove it so you can pout more fully. She gives you a look. “It’s Justice League stuff.” She says. “I have to.”
“But you promised me you’d come with me to this stupid movie premiere. I don’t want to go alone.” She begins to move but you stop her. You know she can technically still get up, but she doesn’t, letting you have your way this once. “Can’t they handle it?”
She sighs. “They say they need my help.” You huff at her, and roll your eyes, and she raises upwards, grabbing your chin between her pointer finger and thumb.
“Don’t start.” She says softly. “I don’t really want to go, but you know I can’t decline.” You look away, and Kara can tell there are tears forming in your eyes. “You’ll have Sophia there.” She says, and you know she’s right, your friend and manager will make things bearable but…
“But I want you.”
She finally, eyeing the time, removes you from her lap. She leans down and meets your lips with a gentle kiss. “I know, and I’m sorry I have to go. Behave and I’ll make it up to you when we both get home. I promise.” She kisses you again and again and again until she can feel the smile threatening your lips despite your mood. Then she’s off to get ready.
You really want to listen to Kara, you do, despite what some may think you love to make your girlfriend as happy as she makes you. And your new found dynamic is one you relish in, Kara effortlessly taking control from you when you both need her to the most. It works, it’s made your already strong relationship stronger, and you know that she’ll make it worth your while if you do listen to her.
But the premiere is miserable. Sophia can only do so much to help you. The cameras badger you, the questions the press asks you are dumb, Evan your co-star is an arrogant asshole again, and the last thing you want to be doing is plastering on fake smile after fake smile. At least with Kara here they would have been real.
The movie is mid, Evan’s acting as horrible as it usually is, but you grit and bare it. You say nice things when the press pushes, you pose with him when Sophia all but demands that you do, and you clap at the end of the movie like it’s one of the best things you’ve seen.
You’re almost home clear, ready to go home and claim the reward that is your girlfriend when she returns, but Evan just has to push your buttons. “You know,” he whispers during the credits, “it’d be much better PR for you if you dated me instead of your no-name girlfriend.”
“I would rather choke.” You mutter, and Sophia is dragging you away before you can continue. She gives you the familiar lecture about ‘you never know who’s listening’ on the way back to your place.
By the time you change into your pjs and fall into your chair with a book you’re miserable. The emptiness of your house lets you brew in that misery. You know it’s partially the stress you’re under. You usually manage it well, even without Kara although she helps, but recently it’s just been demand after demand.
You feel like you never get a moment to breathe, and you feel as if you demanded one that everything you’ve worked for will fall apart. The internet only loves things for a few days at most now, and if you’re not always on then… You tilt your head back in annoyance. Kara would take these thoughts away, Kara would make you feel better, Kara would have made sure these thoughts never started.
“You’ll hurt your neck like that.” You jerk up to see your girlfriend, still in her suit, peering at you. You want to melt at the sight of her, but you refrain. No, you made up your mind half an hour ago that you were mad at her.
You don’t respond to her, just return your gaze down to your book instead as she wonders into the bathroom to shower, and you know that she’ll be upset by it. Kara hates when you give her the silent treatment. To her credit she showers quickly, more to appease you because she knows you hate when she comes home from fighting covered in dirt, dust, and sweat.
You hear the shower stop ten minutes later, and then Kara’s footsteps as she comes out. She doesn’t speak at first, you just hear the movement of drawers. “Honey,” She finally says, voice gentle as she makes her way to you. “I know you’re upset that I couldn’t come. I know it was probably a stressful night. So come on. I’ll make it up to you.”
You huff at her. “No need.” You say.
“You’re telling me after all that pouting this morning that you rather read then let me make you feel good?” She pushes softly. You can hear the gruffness in her voice that usually accompanies a long day for her, but she’s still trying to be gentle. “Please? I wanna’ help you relax.”
“Go help the Justice League relax.” You reply as you flip the page of your book.
You hear her exhale. “I was really hoping I’d get my sweet girlfriend tonight.” She warns.
“Well we’re both disappointed.” You quip. Suddenly her fingers are grabbing your book and tossing it down on the table beside you. “Real mature Kara.” You say, knowing full well that you’re being anything but, and that must be her breaking point.
“Get on your knees.” She demands. You freeze, your head finally jerking up to look at her. To see that she already has the strap on. You can tell by her look that she’s not playing around with you, and you can’t lie and say that it doesn’t make heat shoot right to your core.
“You must be jok—”
She takes your ankles and tugs you down, careful not to actually hurt you, but enough that you’re on your knees anyways. “I had a really long and annoying day. I had to listen to Guy rant and rant about that fuck ass code of his for hours on end. Do you know what helped me get through it?”
You go to open your mouth but she cuts you off anyway.
“The thought that perhaps you’d be my good girl. My good girl whom I could shower with kisses and worship until she forgot about her horrible day. But no, you just couldn’t resist being mouthy with me could you?”
Your throat bobs. “Well fine,” her hand is wrapping itself in your hair, “if that’s how you wanna be I can think of better uses for your mouth.”
You thighs clench together at her words, because fuck she’s making your head feel heavy already.
You take a deep breath, and you know Kara waits for you to tell her you’re not okay with this, but the throbbing in between your legs makes you anything but hesitant. You also know that Kara won’t give you any relief until you do what she wants, so with a look you wrap your lips around her strap.
Her hand tangles in your hair, pushing you further down, until you’re gagging just a little as you try to adjust. When she eases your head back she lets out a little groan, the strap rubbing against her own clit in that way she loves. You do it again, finding a rhythm that hurts your jaw a little.
Kara lets out a stuttered moan as she merely pushes her strap a little deeper, and it makes the corners of your eyes prick with tears. “Crying already?” She teases, and you know she’s definitely feeling mean tonight.
You can’t help but stare up at her, the rise and fall of her chest as her pleasure grows, the way she tilts her head back towards the ceiling, the sharpness of her jaw apparent when she does. You wanna’ be bratty, but the sight of Kara coming undone for you is just as intoxicating.
“Wish I could shut everyone else up as easily as this.” She says. You whimper a little, your own need for some type of friction increasing with every mean thing she says. “Although, none of them look half as pretty.” She peers down at you, blue eyes glinting, and gives you that cocky grin that makes you groan. Because of course she’d do this to you, you’re supposed to be angry at her.
Your hands hold onto her thighs now, to help you balance as you work to make her finish, and you feel your stress begin to dissipate. Your stupid night forgotten as you feel your eyes flutter closed. Until you feel a sharp tug on your hair.
“Eyes.” She demands, and you listen to her, even though you know you probably look pathetic. “Maybe I should do this more often.” You moan at the thought, making her laugh as she helps you move just a little bit faster.
Her breath is coming quick and shallow now, as you can tell she’s close. Her movements becoming just a little bit harsher as she uses you the way she wishes to. Finally she cums, and lets your hair go, and when she removes the strap from your mouth you can’t help but let out a little gasp.
She looks down at you with an unspoken question, and you gulp down a breath as you try to calm your heaving chest. “M’srry for talking back Kara.” She grins at you satisfied with your apology.
She simply moves around the bed, and you stand on slightly wobbly feet to follow her, taking off your clothes as you do. When she sits leaning against your headboard her intent becomes clear. You settle down onto the strap with very little resistance, and let out a little moan as your need for some relief is finally met.
You expect her to begin to rock her hips, but she merely laces her hands behind her head and continues to look at you with that cocky infuriating look of hers. Your eyes are glassy now, and she’s enjoying it way too much.
“Kara…” You plea.
“Thought you didn’t want me to make you feel good tonight?” She gloats. The submission you felt while sucking her strap is fading back into brattiness as you narrow your eyes at her, but her hand comes to wrap around your neck as she yanks you close. “Do that again and I’ll make you warm it for hours.”
“You wouldn’t.” You whine.
She raises an eyebrow that makes it perfectly clear that she would.
“You’re the one who insisted she didn’t need my help.” She challenges. She can see those messy tears, that means you’re just on the cusp of giving into her like you need to and she wants you to. You don’t move, not believing that she’d be this mean given your night sucked too, but she doesn’t cave. “I’ve got all night.” She adds with a shrug.
So finally you give and begin to roll your hips. Each motion feels good for her too, and you know that she could come even if you just warmed it. Your head feels too heavy now, thoughts singular and needy, and it makes you falter. You want her hands, you want her to guide you.
“Kara please.” You beg.
She just looks disinterested, and it makes your neediness grow, which is why she does it in the first place. You reach out towards her, placing your hands against her stomach for better leverage, fingers curling against her skin.
“Tell me ‘bout your day.” She says.
The sound you make is something even you can’t describe as your frustration grows. “Bad.” You say, and she chuckles.
“Does my strap really make you that dumb honey? That you can’t answer a simple question?”
You let out a little sob. “The cameras were annoying, and the questions stupid, and I hate Evan so fucking much, and all I need is you but you’re being mean!” You say as you desperately work to bring yourself closer to some kind of release.
She laughs. “Alright princess I’ll help you.” Her hands come to take your hips, moving you with a steadier rhythm and more force. You sigh in relief, and she watches your face with joy as you come undone for her.
“Kara I’m close.” You plea. “Please please please. Need you.”
“Go ahead let go for me.” She encourages, voice breathy now as she feels her own body tense.
You do, hips stuttering despite the way Kara’s grip doesn’t loosen. When you let out a little wince at how tender and overstimulated you feel she allows you to finally stop. She’s lifting you off of her a moment later, and letting you settle down into bed beside her.
baran al-hashimi x fem!reader, 1.7k words. past yolanda garcia x baran and past yolanda garcia x reader.
inspired by this request. baran neglects to mention that she’s been working with her ex-girlfriend, yolanda garcia, during her time at ptmc. what makes it worse? yolanda is your ex, too, and you find out about her connection with your wife while joining baran at a work gala. this is by no means my best work and is in fact very silly but I’m in a slump so it’s okay.
“This doesn’t fit how I thought it would,” you say quietly, looking at yourself in the mirror. You smooth the front of your outfit down and turn to the side, examining the way it fits.
Baran, who has been sitting on the bed packing her purse with the necessities — extra lipstick, hand sanitizer, bandages for when her new shoes inevitably give her blisters — looks up briefly to meet your gaze in the mirror. “It fits you perfectly.”
“You think so?”
She zips up her purse, gets up off the bed and comes to stand behind you by the mirror. In its reflection you can see her outfit too, the long burgundy dress she bought specifically for this occasion, the black high heels.
“Look at me,” she says, and waits for you to glance back and meet her eyes. Her voice is measured, sure. “You’re perfect. You always look perfect, tonight is no different.”
You can’t hold her gaze. You look into the mirror instead, taking in the way you look beside one another. “We look good together.”
“We do. That’s why I want you with me tonight.”
You hum in feigned disapproval. “Is that the only reason?”
“Maybe.”
“Wow, you’re not even going to pretend otherwise?”
Baran steps closer, takes your left hand in both of hers and raises it to examine. She adjusts your diamond wedding ring, spinning to the center of your finger.
“This,” she says, “is why I want you with me. You’re mine, and I want to show you off.”
Your heart swells and you nod, unable to keep up with the joke anymore. She says it so easily — you’re mine — that it leaves you speechless.
“They’re going to love you,” Baran says. She leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, and when she pulls back there’s a mark on your face from her lipstick. “I love you.”
—
With a drink in your system and a seat comfortably close to Baran’s at your table, you’re feeling amazing.
Introductions went well with her coworkers. You’re able to put faces to names now, conversation is easy, and you’re comfortable as long as Baran stays at your side.
She leans close to you, speaking into your ear. “I told you they would love you. Smart people.”
You don’t deny it. You reach for her hand on the table, entwine your fingers with hers, and watch as the seats at your table keep filling.
“What do you think?” Baran asks. She looks at you hopefully.
“Everyone seems nice,” you say. “Except Robby. You were right about him.”
She nods. “Well, at least now you’ve seen him for yourself. It’ll make my stories more vivid.”
You raise your joined hands and press a kiss to her knuckles. “I like being here with you. We should come to more of these, I want to support you.”
“I’d like that.”
At the other end of the table, Trinity Santos leans in conspiratorially to whisper to Cassie. But she’s a terrible whisperer, you learn this quickly, and the whole table can hear it when she says, “Did Garcia and Walsh ride together?”
Beside you, Baran tenses. Her grip on your hand tightens, she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and she turns to look at you guiltily.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, leaning closer to her. “Baran, are you okay?”
“I kind of—” she cuts herself off, shaking her head. With every passing second, she looks more anxious. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
At first, you don’t understand why. Her words only make you nervous, and a thousand terrible possibilities flash through your mind all at once.
“I didn’t know she would be coming,” she continues. “Please stay calm. We can talk about it at home.”
You turn and look at the door to the event center and your stomach drops to your heels.
—
“I can't go back out there, Baran! Why didn’t you tell me?”
She sighs, leaning back against the sink in the restroom. She looks down at her shoes. “I didn’t think it was important.”
“You didn’t think to tell me that you’ve been working with your ex-girlfriend all this time? My ex? Our ex, which I can’t believe I’m even saying.”
Baran looks up to meet your eyes. She gives you a pleading look, begging you to let it go, but you can’t yet — you’re still angry.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, voice softer now. “Please don’t.”
“I’m not looking at you in any special way.”
“You’re giving me that look you do when you want me to forget whatever you’ve done to piss me off and pull you into my arms,” you accuse. “But that is not happening right now.”
“Baby…”
“No,” you interrupt. “There’s nothing you can say right now to make this better.”
“We share an ex,” she says. “So what? We’re gay, that’s the landscape. Everyone has dated everyone else, it’s nearly incestuous!”
“I’m not angry about that. I’m angry that you’ve had a thousand opportunities to tell me you work with her, and you haven’t taken any of them.”
“She works in surgery,” Baran says tiredly, as if she’s already thought this over a thousand times to assess the risks and talk herself down — she likely has. “She’s not always down in the ED.”
You cross your arms. “Do you talk to her?”
“When I have to, and it’s always professional. I dated Yolanda in college and it was nothing, less than nothing. I know your relationship with her was similar.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I knew you would react this way,” she answers. “I knew you would be upset, and I didn’t want to make you upset. And you know very well that seeing Yolanda at the hospital would be at the bottom of the list of terrible things that happened on my first day at PTMC.”
That last part is probably true, and you won’t argue it. But you also won’t bend and tell her that everything is fine, you forgive her, it’s water under the bridge.
The restroom door opens. In walks Yolanda Garcia, who sees the two of you and pauses.
“Evening, ladies,” she says. She looks between you, a small smile playing on her lips as if she knows exactly what you and Baran have been in here arguing about. “Trouble in paradise?”
Baran gives her a sharp glance. “Yolanda, please.”
“No, no, I’m kidding. Seriously, I hope I didn’t cause any problems earlier. I walked in and the two of you disappeared.”
You can’t look at either of them. You don’t trust yourself. You study the floor, the space between the white tiles.
“Crazy how you two ended up together,” Yolanda says, crossing her arms. “Married and everything. I was like the curve in the queer little road that brought you together.”
“You didn’t bring us together,” you tell her bitterly. “If anything, you’re having the opposite effect.”
She clutches her chest as if you’ve just shot an arrow through her heart, like you’re some malevolent equivalent of Cupid. “Harsh.”
You move closer to Baran. You suddenly remember all the reasons you left Yolanda, all the reasons you started seeing Baran.
“Can you two argue about me somewhere else?” Yolanda asks. “I really have to pee, and I don’t want to hear about how much you two hate me while I’m tinkling.”
You reach out a hand for Baran to take. Immediately, she slips hers into it.
—
Despite the heavy summer heat that blankets the city during the day, Pittsburgh can still get chilly at night this time of year. You shiver when you walk out the doors of the convention center, but you don’t stop.
“We can’t go home,” Baran says. “I know you’re angry, but we can’t just leave!”
You lead her through the parking lot, past rows of cars that make you wish you’d parked closer.
“Being around Yolanda is part of my job!” she continues, struggling to keep up with you. “Can you slow down a little?”
You finally reach the car. You stop, turn around, and Baran nearly runs into you.
“You have to stop hiding things from me,” you say. “You know it’s a bad habit of yours to keep quiet about things you find upsetting. That needs to stop.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” she assures you, stepping closer. “This is exactly what I didn’t want. I don’t want to fight with you. After not telling you about her that first night, I thought I could avoid it altogether.”
You shake your head. “Look at where we are now.”
“Yes,” she says again, and grabs your left hand. She compares it to hers, making you look down at your matching diamond rings. “Look at where we are now.”
You can’t argue that.
“I’m married to you,” she reminds you. “You’re married to me. Yolanda has no place in this.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise,” she meets your eyes. “You know the reasons why I left her. They were your reasons, too. That’s why we work well together.”
You look down at your rings again. You find yourself drifting closer to her, and if you tilted your head up then you would be in perfect range to kiss her.
“I don’t want anyone but you,” Baran says.
You look up, meeting her eyes briefly before leaning in and kissing her, drawing closer to her. The sharpest edges of your anger dull, she softens you.
“I shouldn’t have been so harsh,” you tell her quietly after you part.
She shakes her head. “I should have told you about Yolanda.”
You kiss her again, deeper this time, letting her back you up against the side of the car. The handle of the backseat door digs into your back and you gasp at the sharpness of the sensation, releasing a shaky exhale, and Baran’s lips dip down to your neck.
“Tell me what you want to do,” she murmurs. “Do you want to go home?”
You consider it. It’s appealing to abandon this place and go home with her, let this continue in the privacy of your home. But you’re all dressed up, the night has just begun, and you think Baran would buy you another expensive drink from the bar to atone for her mistakes if you asked her to.
“Not yet,” you answer. “You don’t get off the hook that easily.”
“I usually do. This must be a grave offense, because there’s this spot on your neck that if I…”
You push her away gently, kissing her one more time before taking her hand and leading her back through the parking lot.
mom's best friend baran with butch reader who has a crush on her for a while that he's willing to do everything just to hit.
hearing that baran does yoga from your mom so when baran comes over, you start bringing up wanting to start yoga but don't know how so baran naturally invites you to her house so you can learn the basics.
baran knowing your true intentions but still offering to teach you cuz she honestly has a crush on you too but feels way too guilty and turned on to act on it.
the teaching session going innocent at first but when baran sees your muscles she can't help but start groping you and telling you it's just so she can correct your form.
also, baran sending you videos of her yoga sessions so you have a reference but you can't focus on learning the poses when she's all sweaty and grunting in the videos... definitely not inspired by those sepi gym pies
butch, whose interest in yoga skyrocketed when his mom made him go to baran's house to drop something off, and baran answered the door in her yoga clothes. sports bra, yoga shorts, hair up in a messy bun. you nearly dropped whatever you were supposed to bring her when she smiled at you, all breathless and sweaty. butch, with the biggest strap boner ever, trying not to stare at her chest while walking inside. baran, who can't help but tease you a bit because you're not exactly subtle with your staring, hugging you before you leave, pressing her chest against you tightly.
bringing it up when baran comes over to your house, coming up with something about back pain and wanting to alleviate it. maybe trying to impress her and saying that you find 'inner peace' 😭 baran, who knows you're bullshitting, eagerly offering to teach you. she knows you're just trying to spend time with her and ogle her, and it turns her on so much, even if she feels guilty about the age difference. you're grown enough, but you're her friend's daughter. but she can't help herself! her mind will drift to you when she's in bed with her hand between her legs. she'll have the most perverted thoughts ever when she visits your mom and you're walking around the house in your chest tape and shorts.
butch, who acts dumb just so baran can manhandle them and force them into the correct position :3 mumbling an apology when she walks over to show you the right stance, face blushing and stomach flipping when her hands touch your arms. having to bite your lip super hard while she borderline gropes you, flexing for her and staring at her face, just hoping she'll try something.
butch staring at baran's cleavage while she teaches them poses. having trouble following along because you're so distracted by the way the sunlight highlights her pretty face.
baran growing wet because of butch's strap print through their shorts...
baran whispering into your ear while guiding you into positions, hands forcing your thighs apart and showing you the proper form.
cocky!butch asking baran the best pose for sex which leads to baran getting fucked on her yoga mat :p or maybe it's butch who ends up doing the knee-to-chest pose while baran fingers them :3
going home hard and wet as fuck, needing to take care of the throbbing between your legs because baran got you so worked up :( after cumming, you grab your phone and go to text her, but she sends you an image before you can even type. it's a selfie of her in her yoga clothes, but it's angled down a bit, showing way more breast than her face. she tells you that she had fun teaching you, and that if you need her to send any videos as reference, or if you wanna come over again, just let her know :)
baran grunting louder than usual in her videos just to get you worked up...starting her videos off by giving you a view of her cleavage, then propping her phone up so she can teach you a new pose :)
perv!baran touching herself to the videos you send back, because of course you're gonna send her videos of you in your sports bra/chest tape and your gym shorts!!
desperate, eager to fuck butch who breaks one day and begs to come over after baran sends him a video of her yoga session @__@ telling her that you know what she's doing and that you can take care of her. confessing your crush and telling her how often you've thought about doing things to her. baran getting the best fuck of her life from some butchcock, screaming out your name and scratching up your back. she thinks that her marks are gonna look so pretty when you come over for your next 'yoga' session <3
summary: Kara was sure she’d never love anyone else after losing Argo. then she met you, kind and gentle, you stole her heart before she could stop you. but when you get caught in the crossfire of one of Lex Luther’s robots Kara worries she may have lost you too.
wc: 2.5k
warnings: mention of blood, a lil’ bit of angst but not much. only slightly proofread.
When Kara landed on Earth she was sure she’d never call this place home, or that she’d find someone she could bring herself to truly love. Sure she cared for Clark in a way, she didn’t hate her cousin, but most days it felt like Clark would never truly understand her. She had Krypto and the expanse of space. That would just have to be enough.
Then she met you.
It was at a lame party of Clark’s. She didn’t even really want to go, but she had felt guilty for always turning Clark down when it was obvious her cousin was trying. So, she had just curled up on a corner of the couch wishing she could be drinking something stronger while avoiding everyone around. An hour or so and she could politely excuse herself and leave.
Then you had plopped down next to her with a little huff, sinking into Clark’s couch with practiced ease, and smiled at her. “You must be Kara.” You say. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
And as if they weren’t done with her yet the Gods had decided from that point on that she was doomed. She hated to admit that she found you interesting, a civilian too, but she found herself going to more and more of Clark’s events just to see you.
It was your laugh, she decided, that drew her in first. So soft and melodic, a balm to her ears against the harshness of Metropolis’s noise. Then it was your heart, what she found cheesy when it was her cousin, only seemed endearing when it was you.
The way you’d smile at every dog that passed you, the way Lois recounted a story of you helping an injured pigeon, the way you waved at small babies when she took you to lunch. You were easy to love, not innocent or fragile, but good. Good in the way that made her think of her mother’s words.
She told you the truth about who she was a year into dating you, making sure that Clark was okay with it. You didn’t seem surprised when she said it, just laughed from your place in her lap, and told her how many of your students would freak out if they knew. From that point on you were the thing Kara looked forward to most in her day, coming home to you curled up on your couch, sometimes with Krypto in your lap.
And she swore that this time the Gods wouldn’t be so mean. That she wouldn’t lose you.
She was seriously starting to hate Lex. It was always something, and maybe it wouldn’t be so annoying if Clark gave her permission to use more force. Because, really, she could finish Luthor in a day. Today he had decided to let some robot on the loose, sure it would finally be able to beat her cousin, and now it was wreaking havoc downtown.
Including, presently, destroying some very important buildings. “Got any smart ideas?” She tosses to Clark as they float above it. It shoots at them and Kara ducks out of the way quickly. “I’m getting annoyed.”
Clark huffs at her. “Well gee Kara I’m not having fun either.” He retorts.
She scans the buildings for any vantage point they can get, and when she does she sees the exact path the robot is taking. “It’s going towards the museum.” She says, because Lex always picks the area that will evoke a reaction from the both of them.
Clark is flying down to intercept it in the next moment. She can hear the loud boom as the robot fires at him, sending him crashing back into the lobby.
“Great more damage.” She mutters miserably as she flies in after him. She guides the people that move past her out of the way and to safety, and begins scanning around. Already there’s enough damage to make the whole city upset, and she can see that Clark tries to move the robots focus away, but the damage they’ve managed must have messed up its wires by the way it’s going berserk.
“Get the rest of the civilians off this floor!” He shouts. “I’ll try to get it back out onto the street!”
She can barely hear Clark speak as her eyes already work to scan the area with her x-ray vision, and she sees you then. Her mind is racing as it catches up to what she’s seeing. You’re huddled in a far corner, behind one of the desks, with fifteen little bodies and the other teacher.
You had said something about work today, about it not being a normal day, about a field trip to the…
Her stomach sinks, and she’s moving towards you without thinking. To your credit when you see her you don’t react. You show relief, she can hear your heart beat relax despite your panic, but your eyes don’t linger long enough to imply that you’re familiar with her. It’s a lot better than she’s doing at the moment. She desperately wants to wrap you in her arms and get you as far away from here as she can.
Instead she merely realizes that the only way out is the way she came, past the robot, and she understands why you’ve frozen now. “Okay.” She says, several frightened eyes looking up at her in awe, “okay we can do this.”
A loud bang makes everyone flinch, and her body is tense in anticipation, but when she peers out she sees that both Clark and the robot have moved to the second floor. The city is going to hate them both for this much damage she can already tell, but she could care less if it means getting you out of here.
“Okay, you ready?” She’s talking to the children now, crouching down to be on their level, and they all nod. “Superman is distracting it up on the second floor, and while he does that I’m going to get you guys out of here. I need you to grab someone’s hand, so nobody gets lost okay?”
To the children’s credit, they listen, making a linked line. Your colleague is at the front of the line, and you at the back. And you’re all moving steadily, but quickly, towards the exit. Her eyes trained above her just in case.
Then it happens so fast that even Kara, with all her super speed, doesn’t seem able to catch up. The robot and Clark are landing with a loud bang back onto the marble floor in front of her, the lasers of the robot going off when it makes impact, straight past her and into…
She can hear the tearing of your skin before she sees it. She hears your pained cry and the scream of the frightened child as she turns to see what happened. You crouching in front of the young boy, body covering his, and he goes running off to the other teacher.
She doesn’t think about anything else, just you, as you hit the ground with a tiny cry of pain. She’s in front of you in the next second. “Clark!” She snaps, and her cousin looks over in time to understand.
“Go! I’ll figure it out!” He says, and she feels bad for leaving him like this, but you…
You’re bleeding when she picks you up, her eyes scanning you frantically now, and she sees that the beam must have grazed the side of your stomach. Avoiding the boy, but not you. Of course not you, because of course you’d sacrifice yourself to save one of your students. Of course you’d go last in the line to make sure everyone else got out first, even your colleague, because that’s who she fell in love with.
“You’re okay.” She whispers. “You’re okay sweetheart, I’ve got you, I’m going to get you help okay?” You hear the way her voice cracks as she says it, can see the redness in her eyes as tears are already forming. Her voice the weakest you’ve ever heard it. “You’re going to be just fine, I swear it, you’re going to be okay.”
She takes you to the one place she knows she won’t have to worry about explaining things, the one place with a billionaire’s funding, the Justice League’s headquarters.
She’s barking at Terrific to point her to the med-bay and mean when the doctors take too long to arrive. Not that she’s close with any of them per se, but they cut her a wider breadth than normal.
When she settles you down into the bed you can’t help but let out a soft whine. “It hurts.” You say, as if your brave face is finally slipping.
“I know sweetheart I know. The doctors are going to help now.” She tries to assure.
Kara doesn’t think her heart can pound much harder than it already is. When the doctor comes he doesn’t even try to remove her from your good side. As if he can tell that Kara doesn’t like doctors, and there’s no point in trying. Her one hand slipping into yours and the other holding the side of your face.
She watches as you try hard to bite back your pain as he works, and her lip trembles. “Don’t go.” You plea. “Please don’t go.”
“I’m not.” She promises, sinking into a chair finally. “I’m right here.” She brings your hand to her lips. “They’re going to fix it.” Her eyes are stinging as she kisses your fingers again and again. “Just hang on okay?”
You don’t know how long you’ve been out of it when you wake to the sound of a monitor beeping steadily. You’re groggy, head heavy, and as you shift you can’t help but hiss out in pain. You feel hands on you instantly.
“Careful.” Kara says, voice thick with emotion. Her hands help you sit up just a little, and then settle nearby.
You can tell now by the grandness of the hospital room that you must be in the Justice League’s (or gang you can never remember) headquarters. That makes you relax, at least you won’t have to keep up so many pretences here.
“I’ll get the nurse.” She says, and you frown, because you were sure that wasn’t the first thing she’d say to you.
You watch as she disappears only to return moments later, your mind catching up to the events of the day as you do, your eyes drifting down to your side. The nurse is polite, as Kara hovers near the doorway, she explains the injury and how long you’ll need. It makes your head swim a little, but you do your best to make note of the important details.
“I’ll be back to check in on you soon.” She says as she adjusts your pain medication.
“Thank you.” You whisper, eyes finally leaving Kara to give her a sincere smile. Although you wince a little in pain as you do. She nods to Kara as she goes, and you’re left alone with her now.
“The kids?” You ask, voice a little weak.
“They’re fine. Clark managed to defeat the thing shortly after…” Her voice stops. “No one else was hurt.”
She doesn’t sound relieved, in fact her voice sounds incredibly hoarse, and you reach the hand on your good side towards her. Your frown only grows when she seems to hesitate to take it. You know she’s upset, you know Kara like the back of your hand, and usually the promise of your affection is the way to get her to relax.
You don’t ask when she changed, or who sent the robot, because you have a feeling any question of the sort would only make her more upset. “Love?” You ask, voice a little timid now, and you can tell that upsets her more. “Kara—”
“You shouldn’t have leaped in front of him like that.” She says, her voice gruff. “You…”
You steady yourself before you answer, remind yourself that it’s her fear talking and nothing else, and look at her softly. “He was a little boy Kara. It’s my job to protect my students. You wouldn’t hesitate to do the same for me.”
She freezes, and then shuts the door, coming closer now. “I’m bulletproof!” She snaps, but she keeps her voice low enough. “And when I’m not I’m more than able to take a hit! You’re…” She stops herself.
“Not?” You ask. Her words hurt a little, even if you know they’re not entirely wrong, and she winces.
“I didn’t mean it like that okay? I just…” She takes a sharp breath and looks away. “I could have lost you.” Her voice cracks.
“Come here.” You plea with her, and for a moment you think she may deny you again, but then she does.
She sinks so she’s kneeling beside the hospital bed. You hiss again when you raise your arm, and Kara opens her mouth to argue with you, but you give her a look that silences her protests. You just let your hand rest against the side of her face gently, thumb catching the stray tear that she can’t withhold.
“I’m okay.” She gives you a look that tells you she disagrees. “Kara.” Your voice is as firm as you can make it. “I’m going to be okay.” You correct. “You got me here in time. You got me and those kids to safety—”
“But what if I hadn’t?” Her voice is so small and it makes your eyes grow wide. You’ve never seen your girlfriend this upset before. “What if…”
“You didn’t.” You say. “You didn’t love.” You see the tears fall more steadily, and you just let her cry as you sweep messy bangs away from her eyes. “Listen to my heartbeat okay, I’m alive, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
When your hand falls back to the side of her face Kara twists so she can nestle into your palm. You smile despite the situation, because even when she’s with you Kara struggles to be this vulnerable at times. You feel her kiss your palm.
“I love you.” She whispers. “I love you so much.”
Your smile grows. “I love you too.” You say. “My hero.” You tease.
You see despite the fear that still lingers that Kara rolls her eyes at this. “No more field trips for the rest of the year,” she grumbles. “Someone else can go.”
You pat the spot next to you on the bed, and nervously Kara lifts herself up and next to you. Weary of your bad side, weary of shifting things too much. When she settles you lean your head against her shoulder.
“No argument there.” You whisper, and you see that it calms her even more to hear you say it. You give her a small pout. “You’ll have to take care of me you know. I’ll probably be stuck at home for at least a week.”
“There’s no where else I’d rather be.” She whispers, as her lips find your forehead.
⸝⸝ warnings : angst . little comfort . breach of trust . unplanned pregnancy . slightly manipulative baran . anger . betrayal . complicated reconciliation .
notes : it’s getting harder to write about baran’s son without giving him a name, so i named him kaveh, like i’ve seen others do. also, idrk where i’m going with this, don’t really have much inspiration. so if anyone wants another part (???) feel free to give me inspiration >_<
part one
wc : 1.9k
you hear a knock on the door many days later and your stomach drops like a stone. you’ve been avoiding her texts the whole time. the first one came the morning after, simple and careful: you okay? then another later that day, and another the next. you left them all on read, staring at your phone until the screen went dark, because what the hell were you supposed to say?
you open the door and baran stands there under the porch light in a dark hoodie and jeans, hair pulled back neat.
“hey,” she says, voice calm but quieter than usual. “you haven’t answered me. figured i’d check in person instead of guessing.”
you don’t invite her in. you just stand there in the doorway, arms crossed tight over your chest like that might hold everything inside. the last few days have been hell with mornings spent dry-heaving over the toilet, breasts sore and heavy, this constant low-level panic sitting in your gut that won’t quit no matter how many times you tell yourself to breathe.
you took the test this morning. two lines. faint but there, staring back at you from the bathroom counter like some kind of accusation. and now she’s here, the reason for all of it, looking at you with those soft eyes like she still has every right to show up unannounced in your life.
“now’s not a good time,” you mutter, but she steps inside anyway, closing the door soft behind her. your son is at a friend’s house for a play date, thank god. you don’t need him walking in on whatever mess this is about to become.
baran doesn’t sit down or make herself comfortable. she just leans against the wall in the entryway, hands tucked into her hoodie pockets, watching you with a patient, focused look that always made you feel seen and cornered at the same time. “you look exhausted,” she says after a minute, “talk to me. what’s going on?”
you laugh, but it comes out sharp and bitter, echoing a little in the quiet house. you turn and walk into the living room because standing in the doorway feels too exposed, and she follows without asking, her steady presence right behind you making your skin prickle.
“talk to you?” you spin on her, the words spilling out hot and fast before you can stop them. your chest feels tight, anger and fear and this stupid ache all tangled up together. “after what you did? i trusted you, baran. you looked me in the eye and promised. you said it would just be one time, that you wouldn’t-“ your voice breaks and you press a hand against your stomach without thinking, the test still sitting upstairs like some kind of bomb waiting to blow up everything again. “i think i’m pregnant. i took a test this morning and it’s positive. the lines are faint, but they’re there.”
the silence stretches for a second, thick and heavy enough that you can hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. her expression doesn’t change much at first but you catch the flicker in her eyes anyway, something satisfied and relieved that she tries to hide behind a slow blink. it makes your stomach twist harder, because of course she’d look like that. like this was part of some quiet plan she’d been turning over in her head for months.
she steps closer, slow and careful, like you’re a patient she doesn’t want to spook. “you’re sure?” she asks, voice low and even, no panic in it at all. just steady focus, like she’s already thinking three steps ahead about doctor appointments and due dates and whatever else she’s decided makes sense.
“yeah, i’m sure!” you snap, backing up until your legs hit the couch and you sit down hard. the anger bubbles up hot and fast now, mixing with the fear that’s been gnawing at you for days, making your voice shake. “you did this on purpose, didn’t you? all that ‘just one time’ bullshit, the promises while you were inside me. you lied straight to my face. you always get what you want, baran. always so fucking precise about everything except when it comes to keeping your word with me. god, i trusted you. after everything we’ve been through, i still let myself trust you.”
baran sits down on the coffee table right in front of you, knees almost touching yours, close enough that you can smell her familiar perfume. her hands rest on her thighs, fingers tapping once before she stills them completely. she meets your eyes without flinching. “i’m not gonna lie and say i regret how i felt that night,” she says quietly, honest. she’s so calm and it somehow cuts deeper than shouting. “i missed you. missed us. feeling you like that again… it felt right. natural. we’ve done it before, back when things were good.”
you scoff, the sound sharp and ugly in your throat. “i’ve already told you. we’re not. married anymore, baran.” you punctuate the words, maybe it’ll get through her head for once. “you don’t get to decide that for me. you don’t get to just… take what you want and expect me to be okay with it. i trusted you.”
she offers this small, almost sad smile that just makes the anger flare hotter. “i know,” she says, leaning forward a little, elbows on her knees. “and i’m sorry it happened that way. i meant it when i said i wouldn’t. but in the moment…” she shakes her head, a dry little huff of breath escaping like she’s half laughing at herself. “you felt too good. it came natural, like muscle memory. call it a relapse, call it me being selfish, call it whatever you want. but i’m here now. i’m not going anywhere.”
the anger mixes with something else, this deep ache that’s been sitting in your chest since the divorce papers were signed. you feel tears burning at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. “what am i supposed to do, baran?” your voice cracks, quieter now, the fight draining into something exhausted and scared. “we’re not together. we have a kid already and it’s complicated enough without adding another one into the mix. i can’t just… pretend everything’s fine. i wake up every morning sick and terrified and all i can think about is how it feels like my choice didn’t matter to you.”
she reaches out slowly, like she’s giving you time to pull away, and rests her hand on your knee, thumb brushing gentle circles. “your choice matters,” she says softly, eyes locked on yours. “it always has. i fucked up, i own that. but this baby… it doesn’t have to be a disaster. we were a good family, even when everything else was shit.”
she leans forward, elbows on her knees, looking at you like she’s weighing every word carefully before she says it. “you don’t have to pretend everything’s okay. i’m not asking you to. but you don’t have to do any of this alone either. if you’re pregnant - and we’ll get you a proper doctor’s appointment to make sure, run the bloodwork, all of that - i’m in this. doctor’s visits, go to the gas station in the middle of the night for you, whatever you need. i can move some things around at work. hell, i can move in if you want. help with kaveh,” she pauses and looks down at your belly with a soft smile. “help with this one. we make good kids together. you know that very well.”
you stare at her, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might crack your ribs. part of you wants to yell, to shove her perfect plans right back in her face and tell her to get the hell out. but another part - the tired, lonely part that’s been missing her steady presence in the house, the way she always knew how to make things feel manageable - actually listens. it scares you how much it listens. “you can’t just say that,” you whisper, voice cracking. “move in? like it’s that simple? we fought for months before the divorce. screaming at each other, nights where neither of us could even look at each other. what makes you think this fixes anything? a baby doesn’t magically fix us.”
“it doesn’t fix everything,” she admits, voice steady but softer now, like she’s talking to you the way she talks to patients when things are delicate. she reaches out slowly and takes your hand, thumb tracing gentle circles over your knuckles the way she used to when things got heavy between you. her touch is warm, familiar, and it makes the ache in your chest worse. “but it’s a start. i never stopped loving you. never stopped wanting our family whole. this baby… it could be that. if you let it be.”
you pull your hand back but not fast, letting your fingers linger against hers for a second longer than you mean to. the contact feels dangerous, like it could pull you right back under. “i need time to think. i’m angry with you. really angry, actually. you don’t get to manipulate your way back into my life like this, no matter how much you miss us.”
she nods, no argument, just her patient look that always makes you feel seen even when you don’t want to be. “i know. and i’m not trying to manipulate you. take the time you need, azizam. i’m not going anywhere.” she pauses, glancing toward the kitchen like she can sense the dinner you abandoned when she knocked. “look, kaveh’s at his play date, right? let me stay and help with dinner. i can make kotlet, i know you both love it.” she pauses,” and probably miss it.” she shrugs. it almost makes you scoff, she just smiles and gives you a sympathetic look. “you look like you haven’t eaten properly in days either. let me do that much at least. no pressure at all, just food. and quiet if that’s what you need.”
you want to tell her no. you want to send her home and lock the door and pretend none of this is happening. but the nausea has left you drained, and the thought of cooking right now feels impossible. plus there’s that stupid, traitorous part of you that doesn’t want her to leave yet. “fine,” you mutter, standing up on shaky legs. “but this doesn’t mean anything. we’re not… we’re not fixing anything tonight.”
baran stands too, slow and careful, giving you space but staying close enough that her presence fills the room. “i know,” she says again, a half-smile tugging at her mouth. “just dinner. i promise.”
the words hang between you as you both move toward the kitchen, the tension still thick but softer now, mixed with something complicated and familiar. she rolls up her sleeves without being asked, moving around your space like she never really left it, and for a minute it almost feels normal. almost. but every time her eyes flick to your stomach, the quiet satisfaction flickers again, and you wonder how long you can keep pretending this isn’t exactly what she wanted all along.
taglist : @pinkthrone445
comment/msg/ask to be added to taglist, and to which fandom
Trinity spending the night at yours for the first time, the relationship still finding its feet as you work around Trinity’s horrendous ER schedule—which, more than once, you had referred to as the ‘most toxic relationship since Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown’. It had been a very relaxed evening, takeout and the latest episodes of Love Island that you had dutifully resisted watching until Trin could find time in her hectic schedule to curl up into you on your couch and start her running commentary that you have come to find more entertaining than the show itself.
Everything was still new to Trinity in an oddly endearing way, like Bambi finding his legs on ice. She’d still knock her hip into your kitchen island because it was exactly .5 inches longer than the one in her apartment; and turn to put dishes on the drying rack to her right when yours was actually on the left; and even toss the TV remote onto your carpet because instinct said she had a coffee table, she did of course, back in the living room at her place, but you did not.
Which is why she’s stunned at the sight of you propped on your bathroom sink, a thousand (and that’s hardly an exaggeration!) different creams and ointments spread around you as you dutifully begin your nighttime routine.
“I get acne.” You shrug, in lieu of an explanation and Trinity can’t seem to shut her mouth—jaw still hanging as she looks from you to the nearest bottle that reads Low pH Good Morning Cleanser. You see Trinity’s stare, “That’s for my morning routine.”
“You do all of this? Every day? Twice a day?”
“Uh, yeah? What else would I do?”
Trinity blushes, hand rubbing at the back of her neck. “I don’t know, just splash your face with water? Maybe.”
You are stunned dumb. Blinking at her with the sporadic pace of what you could only describe as the morse code equivalent of a keyboard smash. How did you not know this about your girlfriend? It doesn’t feel like a pertinent question, a make or break like ‘do you want kids?’ or ‘would you sleep closest to the door—no matter what side of the bed that is—and protect me from any intruders that might try and murder us?’, but it does somehow feel like something that you should have known before the 3 month stage of your relationship.
The life of an ER doctor strikes again.
“We’ll have to start you out on something more delicate, I don’t want to overwhelm your skin. Would you say your skin is more oily or dry?” You drop from your perch on the sink, washing off your hands and gently taking Trinity’s face into your hands. “I’m thinking maybe we just exfoliate today and see what happens. And some moisturiser, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Trinity takes your vacated seat, getting on her tippy-toes to reach the lip of the sink. Her feet swing like a little kid’s as she watches you pick out the different bottles, turning them in your hands, weighing them, before either putting them back down with a shake of your head or giving them over for Trinity to hold. “Uh, this feels like more than just exfoliating.”
“Well, I have to cleanse your skin first. Gets all the icky stuff off your skin, and then we can exfoliate. I just—you’re a doctor, don’t you tell your patients about the importance of skincare?”
“Normally they come in with more problems than bad skincare.” Trinity hums, eyelids fluttering shut as you start gently rubbing what she suspects is the oil cleanser into her skin. It doesn’t smell of anything in particular, which means she can get the perfect whiff of you. She hadn’t realised how much she enjoyed the smell of you until she was stuck in the ER, and the cloying smell of antiseptic and iron bombards her senses.
Being in your apartment just solidifies it, being surrounded by your smell; whatever fruity body spray you had fallen in love with that week, the smell of your deodorant—usually something gentle, like vanilla, or that Wild deodorant with the smell ‘Thunderstorm’ which Trinity didn’t know was such an obvious smell until she was tucked under your arm and pretending she wasn’t turning her nose closer to your armpit whenever she got the chance.
She could almost curse the Pitt for denying her more time with you. For times like this, intimate and so pitifully mundane that if she told Dennis how lovestruck she was from you simply caring about basic skincare, he might send her upstairs for a Psych eval.
And he almost does, when he sees her the next morning, scrutinising her as she leans her elbows upon the desk at Central. “Since when did you know how to moisturise?”
“Uh, around about the same time you learnt how to keep your scrubs free of bodily-fluid, Fuckleberry.”
# you get injured in the crossfire. kara will do anything to save your life—even endanger her own. # injured!reader blood # this fic was requested!
“Stay behind me,” you order, shoving Ruthye behind your back, her family’s sword heavy in your grip. Most of the fighting is done by effortless Kara. The stragglers aiming for Ruthye—that’s where the sword you have comes into play. A thrust here, a slash there and it’s enough to have them howling with blood spraying.
Krem differentiates himself from the group. He doesn’t let up after engaging you, each of his blows more powerful than the last. You grunt and stumble back, your sword harshly crossed over your face to guard against the press of his own weapon.
“Give me the girl,” Krem hisses, his tongue flicking out over his lips.
“Never,” you growl back, shoving his sword up and away. Metal against metal blurs as the next hits ring out. Your arms burn from the unbalanced tugging weight of Ruthye’s sword. You can feel her presence a few feet behind you, an eye to the center of Kara’s storm.
You inhale, raising your arms for the next blow, only to experience a sudden ripping pain in your side. A scream bursts from you, alerting Kara to your opponent. She swoops in and has dragged him off into the air before he can land another hit.
Ruthye rushes forward as you fall to one knee, teeth gritted in pain. Your gear isn’t strong enough to withstand such a direct, close-up hit.
“Are you alright?” she asks frantically.
“I—” you groan and look down, blinking the pained tears from your eyes. “I’m alright.”
“Take this.” Ruthye tugs off her jacket and wraps it around you. A look at your wound reveals it’s from some sort of blaster, the edges raw and green-tinged as the skin in the center oozes blood. You press the jacket against it with a grimace, attempting to at least staunch some of the bleeding.
Krem’s ship screams and groans as iron crumples, altering to its near collapse. Ruthye glances up with panic.
“Go,” you wheeze. “Get Kara.”
Ruthye nods once, determined, and bolts across the rock. You fall to both knees, breath labored. If nothing else, you refuse to die here, on this ground, with Krem’s allies behind you and the girls of his trafficking still trapped.
The world blurs, and you concentrate all your focus on staying awake. You aren’t sure how much time passes before Kara and Ruthye reappear, Kara’s worried hands clutching at your face.
“No, no, no,” she mutters worriedly. “Where is it, where are you hurt?”
“Kara…” you exhale, eyes fluttering shut. You lean into her warm hands. It feels so nice to have her touch you.
“No! No, stay awake,” she demands, voice trembling.
“Hurts,” you whisper.
“I know. I know, it’s okay, I’m here.”
Sound becomes jumbled as your consciousness slips. You hang onto Kara’s frantic words, her voice the same familiar one from long, late nights and sleepy mornings. You go weightless as you’re lifted and cradled to Kara’s chest. Safety buoys you in waves and you allow yourself to fully slide into the dark.
—
Kara’s arms begin to shake as she carries you. Leaving Ruthye behind, Kara flies, the wind resistance burning her face as she shoots for the nearest building.
Hot blood stains her costume as she lowers you onto a table. You’re impossibly limp, head falling back. She can already feel the tell-tale burn of Kryptonite. Pulling back Ruthye’s jacket from your side, she’s unable to hold in the pained hiss through her teeth as the kryptonite becomes exposed to the air. Little glowing pinpricks embedded in your skin. A well of blood around each tiny wound.
She digs rabidly through the house’s kitchen until she finds a tiny blade and pair of tweezers. Each move she makes is painstakingly slow. Her vision blurs and shakes as she works.
You scream. You scream and thrash and cry. Kara burns. Her skin aches and tightens as she works, digging into your side with a thin blade and a pair of tweezers. She can hardly breathe through the tightening of her chest.
You scream again, and she wails in response, pure agony tearing through her throat. She pulls out another shard of Kryptonite, vision blurring as she attempts to throw it across the room. Blood spatters and drips from the new open wound and stains her skirt.
Kara shudders and the blade clatters to the floor. Her chest wheezes as she tries to regain her breath, vision spinning. She clutches the table you’re laid across.
“...ara? Kara!”
Kara’s head lolls as she’s tugged backwards. Ruthye’s face, eyes wide, comes into view. Kara can see her lips moving, but the sound is distant and warbled as if her head is underwater.
She’s pulled back and out of the house by Ruthye who hooks her arms under Kara’s and drags her back, boots scoring the ground. Her eyes burn. She looks at you desperately, her weakened body unable to fight back. You’re dying. She can see the mangled mess of your side. A person moves and hides you from view, and Kara feels herself sob.
—
The world fades back in pieces. Sound, light. Heavy warmth over your body and the pulsing numbness of your side.
“Kara?” you ask weakly, voice rasping against the dryness of your throat. You blink your eyes open, mildly confused and surprised at the familiar sight of the ceiling of Kara’s ship above you.
Several things clatter to the floor before Kara’s messy blonde hair appears in your vision. You smile weakly. She’s always been so beautiful.
“I’m here,” she says, reaching down to grip your hand.
“Ruthye?”
“She’s here too. Worried about you.”
“What happened?”
Kara bites her lip and lowers herself onto the bed beside you. She sinks into the soft mattress, looking out of place in her dirtied costume surrounded by a nest of blankets.
“Kypronite,” she says bitterly. “Some kind of injection, like the one I got shot with.”
“I thought Kryptonite only hurt Kryptonians?” you ask softly. Her hand tightens around yours.
“It was fragmented. Sharp, tiny pieces to dig into the skin and tear it to shreds. Each piece had to be picked out one by one.”
You shake your head, wincing at the resounding ache. “You couldn’t have…it would have poisoned you while you tried.”
“It did.” Kara looks away from you, her eyes flashing with something dark. “I couldn’t do it all. Ruthye found someone. A healer.”
“You let someone else operate on me?” you ask softly. You run your thumb back and forth over Kara’s knuckles.
“I had no choice.” Her voice cracks, and you see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “What he did to you…you were dying. And I couldn’t stop it.”
“Kara. Kara look at me.”
She does, bottom lip trembling.
“I’m okay,” you say softly. “I’m okay.”
“But you almost weren’t.”
“And that’s not your fault.”
”I brought you here, I—” she shakes her head.
“Hey. None of that. I chose to come. I choose to be with you everywhere you go, Kara, and I have never once regretted that decision.” You squeeze her hand. “Not even now.”
Kara allows her tears to fall, and you pull her down to lay curled along your side.
“I’m okay,” you whisper.
”Krypto—” Kara’s voice cracks. For a moment you fear the worst. “—he’s okay. We got him the antidote while you were still asleep. Ruthye has him outside.”
You let yourself relax against the pillows with a heavy sigh. “Have them come back in? I’ve missed our boy.”
Kara lets out a watery laugh. “He’s missed you too.”
The moment Ruthye spots you, she hurries over and wraps you in a tight hug.
“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she says as she pulls back. Krypto jumps onto the bed and barks his agreement.
Kara presses against your side, resting her head on your shoulder.
“Thanks to you,” you say. “Could you get me some water?”
Ruthye scampers off and you turn to Kara. “I’m still okay.”
“I know.” But she worries her bottom lip with her teeth, and her eyes have that slightly unfocused look that means she’s listening in to something—most likely your heartbeat.
“Come here.”
You gently tug Kara over until she’s half on top of you, her head resting over your heart. She sighs and melts, muscles relaxing.
“I love you,” she murmurs.
“I love you, my Supergirl,” you respond.
note a little longer than usual! I hope you enjoyed!! remember that reblogging helps support your writers <3
(not proofread) kara has this...habit, that you can't tell if its intentional or not.
she really, really likes to overstimulate you during sex. making you cum so many times until you're totally limp and blissed out on her bed.
like, tonight, she's got her hand pumping between your legs, a wet and repetitive sound being made every time she thrusts her fingers between your folds. she's made you orgasm probably six times already and she's still itching for another.
you choke out a noise and its something between a whine and a moan when her thumb finds your clit.
"karaaa!-"
"cmon, baby. give me one more, jus' one. i promise." she taps your cheek with her hand once, then smiles like your teary eyes and flushed cheeks are the funniest thing in the world to her.
"open those eyes, babe. i know you can." your eyes flutter back open by her words, still half-lidded from exhaustion and the whites of them shaded pink from tears.
her fingers start to pump faster into your cunt that rips out another almost pornographic noise from you and a giggle from her.
"shitshitshit!- kara!-♡"
she actually moans when you cum, like she was on the receiving end of this.
your head falls back against her pillows as the last gush of tears leaves your eyes and her knuckles come down to wipe them. she looks down at your cunt and grins at the image of your lips clenching around nothing.
your chest is still heaving when you feel her breath against your stomach and then your thighs and then- oh god, she's not done.
you like jack. jack likes samira. samira likes you. it should be simple. right?
cw: 18+ !!! mdni. threesome 😛, lowkey sub!jack / dom!samira / dom!reader, jack’s an eater, no actual sex but lotsssss of foreplay and other things, lowkey just kinky, alcohol/drinking, porn with little plot, come-swapping SORRY
wc: 3.7k
You like Jack. Jack likes Samira. Samira likes you.
It should be simple, really.
One attending, one doctor, and one resident.
Where Jack thrived during night shift and Samira tolerated the day, you found your perfect place in the middle slot. Twelve to twelve.
You got to spend the first half of your shift with Samira and the second half with Jack.
With the way the little triangle works, nothing should ever be disrupted.
If no one acted, it would be a perfect harmony.
And yet there were lingering looks, playful teasing, and quiet charged comments.
When you bring Samira her forgotten badge, you clip it on for her and smooth your hands over her scrub top. Your fingers linger as you breathe out “there. Now you’re perfect.”
Or especially when one of those weird overlaps where Samira and Jack are given a patient together. He’s showing her how to do an incision and drainage in a spot she’s never seen before. The embarrassment of admitting she doesn’t know how is quickly replaced by a flutter in her stomach where Jack stands close behind her. His big hand envelopes her as they begin to make the incision.
Or when a patient lunges at you during night shift. There’s no injury but your back hit the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of you. Once the patient is taken care of, Jack takes you to an empty call room and insists he does a full check-up.
Like stated, charged situations that were disrupting the harmony of it all.
And something was bound to snap.
A scheduled coworker outing mixed with copious amounts of alcohol was basically a recipe for a disaster.
You pregamed with Samira and Santos. It was fun and flirty and once Santos pulled out the tequila for shots, you knew you were fucked.
Samira was all dolled up, curly hair pooled around her shoulders, and dressed in a top that was flowy enough to expose the maroon lingerie underneath.
It didn’t help that Samira kept checking in the whole time. She would rest her hand on top of yours and push out her bottom lip to ask “You okay?”
Yeah. You were okay. Except you trying to hide the wetness pooling in your blue lacy panties that you picked specifically to wear out tonight.
The bar is crowded when you arrive. Santos disappears almost immediately leaving you and Samira to battle the sea of people. You reach to lace your hands together, effectively gluing you together. And then you squeeze, just slightly to make sure she’s still with you. She squeezes back.
Strike one.
The various members of PTMC were scattered across the bar. You already said hi to a couple unfamiliar faces before spotting your exact target.
Jack has positioned himself in one of the booths while he nurses a beer. He has one of his plain black shirts on that you swear he buys in a size too small.
Samira leans down close to your ear. “Mind if I split off? Wanna say hi to Clem from pedes.”
You nod. “Come back to us.”
“Always will.”
You cross the bar before sliding into the booth next to Jack, knees bumping against his but make no effort to move.
“Hi Jack!” you giggle.
“Woah sweetheart. You drink before this?”Jack places a hand on your knee to settle you.
You nod. “Sami and Trin and I did shots. Didn’t know the vibe. You know you gotta drink sometimes to make it through these things.”
Fuck, you’re drunk rambling.
“You want something else? I’m buying,” Jack offers. “For you and Samira.”
Oh.
“Drinks on Dr. Abbot tonight?”
Jack leans down to whisper in your ear. “Only for my favorite girls.”
Strike two.
Warmth climbed up your neck and reached your face in one rush. Favorite girls.
“What’re you gonna drink?”
“Maybe a tequila and soda?” you offer sheepishly.
Jack shakes his head with a smile, patting his hand on your knee twice before sliding away.
“With lime!” you call out.
Jack returns with your drink. His hand instinctively finds itself back on your leg.
It’s a blur after that of people who stop by to say hello or chat for a bit. Dana brings you another drink and Whitaker and Santos sit to talk about the insanity of the earlier day shift. HIPAA approved, of course.
A bit into the conversation, you made the move to interlock your fingers with Jack’s under the table.
Innocent enough.
You're giggly, flushed, and holding hands with Jack. What else could you want? Well, there is one thing.
Samira floats through the room, somehow making the dive bar glow with her presence. Your silent prayers are answered when she makes a turn towards your table.
“Was wondering when you’d show up Samira,” Jack huffs out.
Samira rolls her eyes. “I’m being social, Dr. Abbot. Wasn’t that what we talked about?”
“I can maybe recall that information.”
“Besides,” Samira starts. “Heard drinks were on you tonight.”
You press your lips together to hide your smile. “Said he was only buying for his favorite girls.”
Busted.
“Dr. Abbot,” Samira gasps. “I thought attendings weren’t supposed to have favorites?”
Jack leans forward. “Only on the clock.”
You feel Jack’s hand tighten in your grip, a tell-tale sign of the effect her words are having on him.
“Mind if I steal your girl?” Samira inquired.
There it is again. A possessive little word. Hers.
Jack puts both his hands up as you blush.
“You wanna dance?” Samira inquires.
You nod eagerly. “Why not?”
Samira grins and reaches down to tug your hand away from Jack’s. “Sorry Dr. Abbot.”
Once you get to the dance floor, Samira’s hands rest gently on your hips, fingers fully splayed against your ass.
“This okay?” Samira murmurs.
You press your body to hers. There’s a lot of places you want to touch her but unfortunately the resident got her first pick. You lace your hands around her neck.
Your eyes haven’t left hers. She’s impossible to read. You hope you aren’t making a fool of yourself with how needy, how desperate you’re feeling.
Thankfully the bar is crowded enough that the entirety of PTMC doesn’t have their eyes on you.
Samira glances down at your lips. Your gloss has faded as the night went on.
You twist your fingers around the curls at the nape of Samira’s neck. She was intoxicating.
“You look so beautiful tonight,” Samira finally speaks.
You blush, head falling to hide the flush in your cheeks. It doesn’t help that the alcohol already has casted a rosy hue over your skin.
“Stop,” you giggle. “Making me wanna kiss ya.”
The confession spills out easily from your lips.
Samira squeezes your hips almost instinctively. “Do it.”
Strike three.
Jack still sits in one of the booths, now half listening to Santos argue with Whitaker and Robby about something unimportant.
But his eyes remain locked in the center of the room where through the sea of people, he can spot Samira pressed up against you.
To his shock, Jack watches as you surge forward to kiss Samira hard.
Her heart is beating out of her chest. She’s finally kissing you, soft lips messily and hungrily slotting against hers.
It couldn’t have been more than five seconds the two of you were kissing but the damage was done. His face heated the second the two of you touched.
Samira leans down to whisper something in your ear before two heads promptly turn and meet the eyes of the already staring attending.
Uh oh. Busted.
Jack can’t remove his gaze. He feels like a pervert for getting half-hard from watching you two kiss. An otherwise private moment.
Samira brings a finger up to wipe the corner of her mouth, her look as intense as when she takes lead on a trauma.
And you? You wink at Jack.
For a second, the tension stretches tight across the space between you, heavy with the weight of being caught in the act. But instead of pulling away, the thrill of his undivided attention only feeds the fire.
You break the heavy silence with a soft laugh, untangling yourself from the intimate hold to close the physical distance between the three of you before the spell can break.
Samira slides in the booth, hand tugging yours to follow in after.
Jack greets you both right away. He clicks his tongue. “You ladies have fun?”
The resident beside you leans forward to fix something on Jack’s shirt, her fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of his chest.
“We were actually thinking about heading out,” Samira murmurs.
You loll your head off or hers to meet Jack with a look that is already driving him crazy.
“You coming?”
Jack’s jaw clenches. “You sure?”
You shoot him a coy smile. “Positive.”
An irish goodbye is silently decided. People have been slipping in and out of the bar all night. Besides, the three of you getting caught leaving together was bound to spark some questions.
The second the first breeze blows outside, you’re suddenly reminded of the fact that you forgot a jacket.
Your personal space is enveloped by the attending. His fingers run over the cold bumps on your arms. Jack drapes his big jacket over your shoulders.
“Coulda told you it’d be cold,” he states.
You purse your lips.
“Jack,” you whine. “Jackie.”
Samira’s off to the side, holding Jack’s phone as she handles booking the ride home.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
You lean out to reach for his hand. “Will ya kiss me? Been thinking about it alllllllll night.”
“You seemed to have plenty of fun on the dance floor,” Jack chirps back.
Your face flushes. “Just wanna kiss you.”
The older man takes his face in your hands, thumb swiping across the top of your cheek where some of your mascara has started to run.
“Not here baby,” Jack starts. “Wanna kiss you properly at home.”
You deflate as you drunkenly pout. “Not even a little something to hold me over?”
“Don’t be a brat,” Samira interjects. “Uber will be here in five minutes.”
It had been a mutual agreement to go to Jack’s place. No roommates, big space, big bed. All you needed.
The uber might be Jack’s own personal hell.
In a desperate attempt to reduce awkwardness, Jack opens the back door for you and Samira. He himself takes the passenger seat.
As Jack makes small talk, you can’t help yourself. It’s dark, you're buzzed, and the mere thought about the situation you found yourself in was really getting you going.
Jack hears the shuffling in the backseat as you slide over to the middle seat. Naively, he thinks it might just be the fact that you classify yourself as a clingy drunk.
That thought goes right out the window as he watches your nails ghost over Samira’s leg.
“Sami,” you whisper.
The resident grabs your hand before you can move it any closer to her danger zone.
“You’re a problem, you know that?”
You grin. “You gonna punish me?”
“Careful,” she clicks her tongue.
As if sensing what you need, Samira’s lips attach to your neck. Your fingers interlock with hers as she works her away up your jawline until she finally finds the spot that makes your breath hitch. Bingo.
She stays there the remainder of the ride, kissing and sucking and grinning as she watches you writhe.
“Ladies,” Jack interjects. “We’re here.”
There’s a charged energy as you and Samira stumble into Jack’s place. He silently leads you both through the house until you finally reach the main bedroom.
It’s silent for a moment. You had done all the foreplay and flirting to get here, now someone has to act.
“Time for that kiss Jackie?”
“Told ya she’s greedy,” Samira hums.
Jack takes one big stride before grabbing your face between his big hands. He finally presses his lips to yours, setting a slow passionate rhythm. He was savoring this.
Samira slinks up behind you, stomach pressed to your back as her hands roam your body.
It’s a mutual agreement that you’re all wearing too many clothes.
Jack breaks the kiss to reach for the hem of your shirt. He pulls it off quickly, a groan leaving both his and Samira’s mouth at the sight of you. You want to flush with embarrassment at being undressed but then their hands are back on you grabbing and squeezing and kissing.
“So beautiful,” Jack muses, hand coming up to cup your breasts that are already spilling over your bra.
Jack’s thumb brushes over your nipple through the lace, his heat grounding you even as your mind starts to spin. Across from you, Samira catches your gaze, her breaths coming just as short, her eyes dark with a hunger that mirrors your own. The weight of both of them pressing into you is almost overwhelming, desperate desire takes over.
Leaning back from Jack’s touch with a breathless murmur, you slide off the edge of the cushions, dropping to the floor between them.
You're on your knees, slowly pulling Samira’s jeans down her hips to expose the most gorgeous set of panties you might have ever seen. It’s impossible to resist.
You kiss her everywhere: thighs, stomach, hips.
“God Sami,” you groan. “So fucking beautiful, isn’t she Jack?”
“Never been so angry I can’t kneel,” he murmurs.
You look up at him, offering a small, knowing smirk at the raw frustration in his voice. Samira lets out a soft, breathy laugh from above you, her hands resting gently on your shoulders as she looks between the two of you, clearly thrilled by the undivided attention.
“Go,” Jack commands. “I wanna watch.”
You don't need to be told twice. Slipping her panties down her long legs, you press your hands firmly against her inner thighs, pushing them wide to open her up completely for both you and Jack.
You lean in closer, the scent of her arousal hitting you instantly as you press a soft kiss to her sensitive inner thigh. She trembles under your touch, letting out a soft sigh that only makes you hungrier to taste her. You part her gently with your fingers, exposing her softest skin to the cool air of the room before finally leaning down to press your lips against her.
Your face is buried in Samira’s cunt soon after. Her thighs are a mess with the mix of your saliva and her arousal. She was sweet and you were absolutely taking your time swirling your tongue through her folds.
Samira hips stuttered, her fingers tangling tightly into your hair as she arched off the surface beneath her. A sharp, breathless cry broke from her lips as her muscles suddenly clamped down, shaking violently with the intense wave of her orgasm. You stayed right there, drinking in every shuddering tremor of her release until her breath finally slowed to a ragged hum.
It’s a silent agreement between you and Samira that it’s Jack’s turn.
You crawl up to him first, hand grabbing his chin to pull him in for a bruising kiss. He hums when he tastes Samira’s release on your lips.
Samira makes quick work of his belt. She tugs his jeans down, cock springing free against his stomach. The tip is already glistening with precum.
His breath hitches as the cool air hits his bare skin, his hips twitching slightly in anticipation. You slowly break the kiss, leaving his lips wet and flushed, your gaze dropping down to the length Samira has just freed. Jack lets out a ragged exhale, completely at your mercy. His eyes turn dark as he watches the two of you. Samira looks up, offering a quick, wicked smile that says everything you need to know
You slink back to kneel beside the resident.
And then both your mouths are on his cock.
Jack almost finishes right then and there when you grab the base and tap it on Samira’s waiting tongue.
Samira takes him first, eyes fluttering shut as she begins sucking. Her mouth is full of his cock, her head bobbing up and down in a desperate attempt to take all of him. You focus on what she can’t take, tongue sliding up and down the shaft.
“Fuck, god, fuck” Jack groans.
Jack grabs a fistfull of your hair, pulling you away from his cock to bring you to him.
“Come on baby. Please ride me.”
You tilt your head just slightly. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
You position yourself so that your knees are slotted on both sides of Jack’s head. You’re facing Samira, arousal growing as she takes Jack’s cock deeper.
A gasp escapes you as he wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your dripping pussy right down to his waiting mouth. He was relentless. His tongue was somehow everywhere.
Your fingers tangle in his damp hair, riding the intense waves of heat his tongue is driving through you. Every lap and swirl makes your knees tremble, forcing you to lean heavily over him just to stay upright. You arch into his mouth, completely undone by the friction, but your eyes remain wide, hopelessly locked onto Samira.
She meets your blown-out gaze, a low hum vibrating in her throat as she picks up the pace. Watching her take him while he worships you sends a sharp spike of adrenaline straight to your core. The sheer sensory overload pushes the tension in the room past the breaking point, and Jack's hands tighten their grip on your thighs like a vice, his muscles coiling dangerously tight beneath you.
The relentless friction of Jack’s tongue paired with the intoxicating sight of Samira finally snaps the last thread of your control. Your vision blurs as a fierce, blinding orgasm crashes over you, pulling a loud, shattered cry from your throat as your hips arch helplessly against his mouth. You clench your fists in his hair, riding the explosive waves of your own release just as Jack’s hips jerk upward, his choked grunt indicating that your undoing has nearly pushed him right over the edge alongside you.
Jack clenches his jaw, head thrown out as Samira takes his full length. There’s something so beautiful about seeing her plump lips take all of him.
“M’ not ah!” Jack grunts. “Not gonna last much longer.”
Samira rests her lips on the tip with a smile. He’s absolutely wrapped around her finger right now.
“You wanna cum?” She bats her eyelashes up at the older attending. Sickening.
You’re still eating her out relentlessly. You lick up into her, collecting all of her wetness on your tongue. She feels you everywhere: her clit, her folds, her hole.
“Maybe you should make him say please,” you murmur. The vibration on her cunt sends sparks throughout Samira. God she’s close too.
Your tongue flattens against her as you circle her clit. Samira tightens around your head.
Being suffocated between Samira’s thighs might be your ideal place to die.
“I think-“ Samira starts. “Ah!”
You insert two fingers into her, curling up at the knuckle point.
“Come on Dr. Mohan. Tell Dr. Abbot what he needs to do.”
You slow down to forgive her swollen clit. You keep your fingers inside of her, instead flattening your tongue against her pussy to drink her in.
“I think,” Samira starts again. “Dr. Abbot needs to say please.”
You hum. “Good girl.”
Jack feels like he’s gonna explode. He’s been in war, lost his leg, and seen the horrors of the emergency room. But somehow, watching the dominance of you and Samira was absolutely killing him.
And all he needed to do was say please.
Jack reaches forward to pull Samira closer. She twists her body to allow you access while still making Jack finish.
“So? You wanna cum?”
The attending’s hips buck.
“God. Yes. Yes please.”
Samira pats his leg before taking the tip of his aching cock in her mouth, tongue swirling around the slit.
It doesn’t take long after that for either of them to finish. Samira is already immensely overstimulated and cums all while sucking down Jack.
Jack lets go with a bitten off moan. His eyes squeeze shuts as holds Samira’s hair with one hand and the bedsheets with the other.
Samira takes every drop, continuing to work Jack through his orgasm with a mix of her mouth and hand.
Finally, she sits back on the heels of the foot just as you slither in to kiss her.
First her hips, then her stomach, and finally her boob. You wrap your lips around her nipple, a whimper leaving Samira at the sensation.
You’re perfectly fine to stay latched where you are, swirling your tongue around the buds and grabbing at whatever you can.
But when Samira grabs your chin and lifts your head up to face her, you’re putty in her hands. She presses her thumb down on your bottom lip.
A silent ‘open up’.
Your lips part.
Samira spits Jack’s release, gravity taking it down right into your waiting mouth.
You accept it eagerly, waiting until the lost drop for you to close your lips and swallow.
Jack strokes his softening cock at somehow the freakiest but hottest thing he’s ever seen.
Samira pats your cheek. “Good girl.”
The exhaustion begins to creep in. You were all spent. Multiple orgasms and a long night of drinking was taking a toll.
You finally clamber up to the top of the bed.
Jack’s arm loops around you as you duck down to kiss his bottom lip.
The mattress shifts once more as Samira’s weight is added. You rest your head on Jack’s chest as the resident opts to curl around you. Samira kisses the back of your neck as she reaches over to hold Jack’s hand.
The resident ducks down close enough she can whisper. “You know I own a strap.”
The confession mixes with the haze of the room. Jack’s head snaps over. He lets out a low whistle.
The words send a delicious shiver straight down your spine. Your mind races with the mental image, already aching for how wild the next time will be.
But for now, clean-up can wait.
Sandwiched between Jack and Samira is the only place you ever wanna be.
Summary: Kara just has to visit Gotham, and it's all your fault.
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: swearing, typical DC violence
Pairing: Kara Zor El x Fem!Reader
Kara hated Gotham. She was never the biggest fan of Metropolis, but at least it was clean. Clark kept the city safe and saved squirrels from getting run over. Almost a utopia of sorts, depending on who you asked. Him and his, “we have to be good,” nonsense. It was safe, and clean, and somewhere anyone would be lucky to live in.
Gotham was worse than all the dying marauder planets she had visited.
It was dirty, and she swore all the children were on some sort of drugs. Every person she encountered looked feral and ready to tear her head off just for looking at them wrong. Clark had warned her when she first got to Earth. Stay away from Gotham. She knew the wanna-be “masked vigilante” was shit at his job, and Clark barely had the heart to go visit and help when needed. It was a hopeless city.
And you just had to move there.
Kara had come back from another bender, ready to crash on Clark’s couch until he forced her to get back out into the world of the humans. She always felt safe enough to get some actual rest after those trips, eager to get back to Clark’s apartment where it almost felt like something she could call home. Perhaps she would even check in on you in a few days when she didn’t look quite so homeless. She had mentioned one evening that she might ask you for coffee, and Clark had to ruin it all.
”She moved to Gotham,” he had said in his stupid, too cheery voice. “She thought there was a better chance to do something good.”
Good. Such a stupid word. And what a useless waste of time in Gotham. You could do so much better somewhere else, somewhere like Metropolis. What could have possibly possessed you to make such a move? Kara swore you said moving away from Gotham had been the best decision of your life. Now you moved back?
Now she was stuck sitting in a grimy courtroom that smelled of cigarettes and bleach, both of which barely concealed the hint of dried blood. Everyone around her was shouting at the judge, not listening to anything that was being said. You stood at the prosecutor’s table, hands slamming on the wood to emphasize whatever point you were trying to make.
Kara could hear you over the yelling; her ears were fine-tuned to the sound of your voice. That didn’t mean she was listening. Just the frequency of your pitch was enough to leave her chest warm and full. It was a weird feeling that she wasn’t particularly upset about.
“-and may God have mercy on your soul.”
Kara’s ears perked up.
The yelling turned to screaming, and Kara could barely stand up before she saw the gun whip across your face. The crack bounced off the inside of her skull and she froze. Kara Zor-El, commonly known as Supergirl, last survivor of Krypton, froze. Officers quickly grabbed the defendant and retrieved the gun. Her eyes glued themselves to your face and the blood dripping from your nose.
Any remaining patrons milled out of the room, heads down and speed-walking to leave the almost-crime scene. The nerd beside you at the table shook your hand and followed suit, leaving you behind to shuffle papers and wipe the snotty blood from your face.
Kara’s boots clacked against the uneven wooden floor. Your stained hands looked wrong against the crumpled papers you were so gently filing into a neatly organized black binder. How you could be so calm after having a gun shoved into your face was a mystery. Kara would have snapped.
Then again, that was precisely what had drawn her to you.
”What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” You asked with a killer side eye.
”I could ask you the same thing,” Kara answered.
”Cute,” you said with a smile, finally standing tall with the binder tucked under your arm. You gestured your head toward the door, and Kara happily followed you out of the building. “How was your retreat?”
Right. She forgot that’s what Clark often called it when talking to humans. It wasn’t like he could say she went off planet; not when you had no clue she wasn’t from Earth. A ridiculous notion that she took off on retreats all the time but she couldn’t argue that it was better than the alternative. You could get hurt if you knew who she was. After all, look at poor Lois.
Gunshots rang through the back alley.
Perhaps you weren’t much safer.
“It was fine,” Kara answered. “But what’s all this about?” She asked. “I leave for a few weeks and you move to Gotham?”
”It was three months, Kara,” you quickly retorted. “A lot can happen in that time.”
Her feet stuttered before she quickly fell back in step with you. No way it had been that long. Clark hadn’t even mentioned it, and he was good at unintentional guilt trips. Why hadn’t you gotten a hold of her in that time? She was just expected to come back to you having moved to a dangerous city without her?
“I thought you were running for DA in Metropolis,” Kara said softly. “What happened to that?”
You shrugged. “I lost.” Then, with a small frown, “really bad.”
In the distance, sirens raced to reach an unknown crime. Knowing Gotham, probably a mugging. It was a disgusting city. Garbage bags littered the streets, and that was miles better than the free trash that drifted in the wind. Kara swore there were more homeless people than housed. Each one you passed, you handed a crisp $50 bill.
”I thought you would have made a good DA,” Kara insisted.
You scoffed. “Not in Metropolis. Have you seen the Supers? They set the bar too high for regular people.” You opened the door to an apartment complex and held it open for her. “Gotham is more my speed.”
Kara walked in with you, waiting for you to lead the way. She liked when you skipped over all her disappearances. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right, and you had every reason to cut her off and move on with your life. But you didn’t. Time after time, you silently forgave her and opened your door and welcomed her like an old lover.
You opened the apartment door - after a five-story walk up - and ushered her in, swiftly closing and locking the door behind you with three locks.
”Want some coffee?” You asked, your words almost drowned out as you dropped the heavy binder on the small, wobbly kitchen table.
A grunt in the affirmative was all Kara could muster. She was too busy looking through your things that were littered all around the small studio apartment. Newspaper clippings were tacked onto a cork board that took up nearly half of one wall. Each clipping contained pictures, and each picture was of her. Of Supergirl.
”A little obsessed, aren’t you?” She asked.
Your calming laughter filled the space. “I think she’s cool. She’s not perfect, but she’s good.”
Good. Not a word Kara liked to use for herself, but she could grow used to it if it came from your pretty lips. Her eyes lingered on the clippings for a little longer before moving on, smiling at the framed pictures. Some were of you and Clark, others were of you and her and Clark.
Her favorites were just the ones of you and her. The ones where she was smiling like she hadn’t survived the extinction of her people. Where she looked like a normal girl, spending time with her crush. Crush. That was the right word, wasn’t it? She wasn’t sure, she didn’t spend enough time on Earth to really learn the lingo properly.
”We need some new pictures,” you said softly, appearing out of nowhere beside Kara. “I think the last one is a year old.”
A year. That didn’t sound right. Though, if she continuously took months to get wasted then maybe you were accurate. It wasn’t a comforting thought. Her chest tightened and her throat closed.
”Gotham is beneath you,” Kara said, completely changing the subject and taking the chipped coffee mug from your hand. “You should come back to Metropolis.”
”Miss me?” You asked with a smile. A small sigh fell from your lips. “It would be less stressful.”
”Then come back,” Kara said hopefully. “I’m looking for my own apartment, you can just move in with me.”
Instantly, your face flushed. “I… don’t think I’m ready to be saddled with Metropolis insurance again. Besides,” you looked at her with a raised brow, “I’m not paying both halves of the rent when you decide to go flying off to another country for months on end.”
”I could stay,” Kara replied too quickly. “I could take job hunting more seriously. We could live out of city limits and carpool.”
The blush raced down your neck. Selfishly, Kara hoped it was due to her words. It wasn’t right for her to ask you to move again, not when she had given you no reason to stay. As far as anyone knew, she was a flight risk, mentally unstable, and reckless. You seemingly had a stable job here and a cute little apartment.
But she wanted you to stay with her.
In Metropolis. She meant she wanted you to stay in Metropolis.
”I can’t, Kara,” you said softly.
Your fingers brushed against her hand that was hanging at her side. Every time Kara asked Clark about the weird feeling when you touched her, he described it as lightning or electricity. She disagreed. It wasn’t as big as that. It was a warmth that crawled its way up her fingers, reaching desperately for her chest. She wanted to pull away, but simultaneously wanted you closer.
Kara let herself linger on your hand before looking back at the picture frames set neatly along the wall. In every picture, some part of you was touching. Your arm around her shoulders, pulling her further into frame. Heads pressed together until your smiles covered most of your faces. You looked happy. She looked happy.
So why couldn’t you be happy with her in Metropolis?
Her eyes fell to an old, crumpled picture sitting crooked in a splintered frame. For a moment she couldn’t recall when it was taken. You had her hand clasped between yours, pulling as you supposedly walked backward. It wasn’t like the others; Kara was barely smiling and had a sad look in her eyes. Your smile was gentle and more reserved than usual.
Kara tilted her head and studied the picture harder.
”It’s nice to meet you, Kara.”
Your hand looked fragile hanging in the air between you. Kara was half-convinced she would break it if she so much as reached out to grasp it. Her eyes drifted over to Clark who, without hesitation, nodded in the direction of your hand. With abated breath, she reached out and placed her hand in yours, refusing to grip it. Your skin was soft.
“What’s the plan, ladies?” Clark asked. His stupid camera hung around his neck, always ready to snap a picture at a moment’s notice.
“The waterway is pretty,” you mused, still holding Kara’s hand. “Or the park, I think they’ve got-,” you grasped Kara’s hand with both of yours, pulling her ever so slightly closer, “-the sky walk!” Your eyes glimmered when you looked at her. “Are you afraid of heights?”
Kara would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the question. Instead, she just shook her head.
You squeezed her hand tighter. “We have to go, it’s the most gorgeous sight in the world.”
With a gentle grip and a powerful tug, you pulled Kara by her hand. She could have stood her ground, refusing to budge. You weren’t her friend. Truthfully, you weren’t even an acquaintance. You were Clark’s friend, and that didn’t extend to her. But there was a sparkle in your eye and a mischievousness to your smile.
The sky walk would, undoubtedly, be the second most gorgeous sight in the world.
The memory hit Kara like a truck.
”That’s my favorite picture,” you said beside her. “I realised later that I may have come on a bit strong.”
You had. You had come on horrifically strong. Constantly holding her hand, dragging her around the sky walk while Clark snapped picture after picture. It was infuriating and as much as she should have hated every second of it, she didn’t. Your hand was warm in hers, and just a little sweaty, and you subconsciously squeezed her fingers when you were pointing out your favourite things.
”You did,” Kara confirmed with a smirk. “Overbearing, honestly.”
You bumped her shoulder and mumbled, “shut up.”
Something linked around Kara’s finger and she looked down. Your pinky was gently wrapped around hers, linking you together in such a hidden, scandalous way. Unlike the rest of you, your finger was cold. At least she assumed so since you were shaking.
”You should visit more,” you said softly. “Gotham’s not as bad as you think.”
”It’s pretty disgusting,” Kara scoffed. Her brain froze as her stomach turned at what she would say next. “I’ll need a good reason.”
Kara’s face felt hot when you turned your body to face her. You were so close. She liked it. You were a pretty touchy person with everyone, but Kara liked it more than she cared to admit. It left her desperate and almost on her knees to keep you close.
”You need a reason to visit me?” You asked.
No.
”Yeah,” she answered. “It’s hard to compete with Metropolis. No one comes here for fun.”
You hummed and nodded slowly. Shit. She fucked up. That was not the response she wanted. Now you were going to have something quippy to say that would probably hurt her feelings. All because she decided to-
-your hands grabbed Kara by the face and pulled her into a kiss. Her brain malfunctioned. She didn’t know what to focus on. Your nails lightly scratching her jaw, or your breath on her cheek. Soft lips. So soft. Her heart jumped into her throat.
Your lips pulled away far too soon.
”Think that’s a good enough reason, Kara?”
Kara opened her eyes and looked into yours. There was a spark. A spark she constantly searched for. A spark that reminded her of a home she would never forget. It left her speechless. Happy.
”I can work with that,” she answered breathlessly.
Perhaps she could learn to tolerate Gotham. For you.
Summary: Kara loves her girlfriend. Krypto loves her too. But what if the super dog seems to adore her just as much as she does?
wc: 2.423
Tags: fem!reader, fluff, slightly suggestive, kisses, Krypto being Krypto
Kara Zor-El was absolutely certain of two things.
The first was that she loved her girlfriend. The second was that her dog, Krypto, seemed to too.
She wasn't sure when it had occurred to her that her super dog had such a deep and loving bond with her own girlfriend. Don't get it wrong, she didn't think it was a bad thing, in fact, it was pretty great, but she still raised an eyebrow at the thought, after all, for a dog as wild and lively as Krypto, it was surprising that he enjoyed someone's company enough to be willing to lie down completely, or even (which Kara thought was the strangest thing ever), sit on command.
Kara had never had a hard time raising Krypto. At least, if you could call it raising what she meant by the word at the time. It wasn't hard raising him, but it was definitely tiring. Although if you asked Clark, her cousin, he would probably look with desperate eyes, because he was maybe the person who was the most victimized by the dog's behavior.
So the surprise that her own dog would sit down without a word at her girlfriend's request, and even willing to stay still of his own free will, was almost like a slap in the face.
Krypto certainly didn't behave like this. For a moment, she even wondered if this was the same Krypto who would chew a pillow at all hours of the day and shake it constantly so that the feathers inside would fly everywhere in the apartment or on her ship.
But regardless of how strange it was, she was happy. After all, it just meant that Krypto loved her girlfriend as much as she did. And that shouldn't be a problem. At least, she thought so.
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The evening lights of Metropolis, although dim, filled your apartment with enough light.
You loved evenings like this. It was one of those times when no evil threatened the peace of the city that would require the intervention of heroes. Furthermore, it was peaceful, so you could quietly enjoy every moment of the pleasant evening.
Especially now that Kara was there.
The smell of dinner was in the air, even though you had both finished eating half an hour ago.
You were just wiping the last plate over the sink, which was just waiting to be put in the dishwasher with the other already cleaned plates after a thorough wiping.
Kara was sitting not far from you, more precisely at the table. Her eyes followed your figure, watching every small movement of your hands.
A strange feeling always filled her at such moments.
The whole atmosphere was so intimate, almost domestic. It was almost funny to think that a few years ago she would never have imagined herself in such a moment, but now she was the one sitting there, watching your every move with an almost adoring gaze.
A smile tugged at her lips at the thought. It wasn’t too big, maybe not even noticeable if you didn’t lean closer, but it didn’t matter. Because it was exactly the kind of smile that comes to your lips in the midst of the most tender and loving thoughts.
Although she loved looking at you, her thoughts still wandered for a moment.
She stood up from her seat, then in an instant she was behind you, her arms tightly but still gently wrapped around your waist.
You were surprised for a moment, then a smile appeared on your lips, and you turned your head a little to the side so you could see her face better.
“You’re done, right?” Kara's voice came out, sounding really soft after the few moments of silence. The grip of her arms tightened a little as she tried to pull you closer to her.
You could hear the need in her voice. She hid it well, but it was clear to you now. It was a solid, small way of letting you know she wanted your attention. Although Kara wasn't the kind of person who didn't say what she thought, in such intimate moments she sometimes tended to show a much softer side of herself, hiding her feelings or thoughts behind much gentler words and requests. And you loved that you could see this side of her too.
"This was the last plate. I'll run the sink and I'm yours." you finally answered and your gaze turned back to the plate from which you had wiped the last food stain.
Kara just hummed in response, but she didn't let go of your grip.
Her hair, which was still slightly uncombed, fell lightly over your shoulders, which gave off a slight ticklish feeling.
Her eyes watched your hands for a moment, then she pressed a small kiss to your neck. It was softer than her usual kisses on your neck, but there was still that kind of desire in them that just wanted you to be as close as possible to each other.
"I was thinking we could watch a movie before we go to bed." You said, placing the last plate next to the ones you had cleaned earlier.
"Mhm." Kara hummed, and you couldn't tell if she heard what you said at all, which wasn't likely, after all, she had super hearing, or if she just didn't care too much because she seemed more interested in hugging you and pressing small kisses here and there on your neck.
"Kara..." you breathed out softly, and she just hummed again. "Did you listen to what I said?"
"Something about movies." she said lightly, as if it was the most obvious thing to say, but she seemed more interested in showering more kisses on your neck.
You sighed softly, though it was more of a loving sigh.
You turned in her embrace, wrapping your arms around her neck. You felt her hands tighten slightly around your waist in response.
You saw that slightly smug grin that you knew so well begin to appear on her face. It was the kind of grin that said you were where she wanted you to be and had achieved what she wanted.
"Stop being so smug about yourself." you said playfully, and the grin on her face only grew bigger.
"I don't know what you're talking about." she teased as her hands slid under your clothes and lightly stroked the smooth surface of your skin.
You were about to speak again when you heard a really loud and determined bark.
You both looked to where the bark was coming from, only to see Krypto wagging his tail really enthusiastically and his gaze following your form.
"Come on, buddy." Kara growled softly at the for dog interrupting the moment.
Unlike her, you didn't seem that annoyed as you removed your arms from around her neck, much to Kara's chagrin, and moved closer to Krypto, who seemed even more excited.
"What is it, Krypto?" you asked the dog, who just barked again, seemingly unable to decide whether to start running around the house again or simply fly away.
For a moment, you saw his gaze fall to the leftover dinner on the counter.
Now you understood.
Kara sighed. "No, Krypto. You can't eat it. I already told you."
Krypto just barked in displeasure in response, but he didn't look like he really cared. Instead, he kept his gaze on you, looking at you almost questioningly.
"Let him eat it, Kara. It really isn't much." you said, then you took the plate from the counter and placed it on the floor for the dog, who immediately started eating.
Kara just looked at the dog boredly, then grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom.
Well, at least while Krypto ate, you could be alone.
A sigh left your mouth, and after a moment, you lay down on the bed. Your thoughts wandered over various movie ideas, but it was interrupted when you felt a weight weigh on you and a pair of beautiful blue eyes look into yours.
That smug smile appeared on Kara’s face again as she scanned every inch of your face. It seemed her thoughts weren’t filled with the flood of movie choices.
“I guess you’re not thinking about movies.” you noted with a small grin, and Kara chuckled, then leaned closer.
“I thought of something much better than a movie.” she said, almost whispering in your ear, then leaning back against your neck.
Your breath hitched again when you felt her lips begin to press kisses to your neck again. These, however, were much firmer and less soft than the previous ones, but still just enough sensuality to emphasize the not-so-hidden meaning behind her words.
Kara's lips began to search for the more sensitive spots on your neck and when she successfully found them, she pressed a firmer kiss that took your breath away again.
"Kara..." you breathed out and you felt that smug grin on your neck.
She loved it when you made sounds like that. She knew you enjoyed it and it made her want to continue.
Her lips moved slightly up and aimed for the area under your chin. At first they were just soft kisses, but as she moved further, they became firmer.
Your hands rose to her face and you pulled her up a little and kissed her. Kara's grin was still palpable, but as the kiss continued, she tried to get even closer.
Just as you pulled away and Kara was about to lean in for another kiss, the mattress next to you sank and a loud bark filled the space.
Krypto moved excitedly on the bed, and in a moment he was near your face, licking it happily.
The transition was quick, but laughter left your lips as Krypto’s fur lightly tickled your cheek and his tongue licked the side of your face.
“Krypto, stop!” you half-shouted, but the laughter interrupted your voice, only encouraging the dog to continue to pile you in his love.
Kara groaned in frustration.
Krypto managed to interrupt you a second time. At this point, she seriously wondered if it was intentional or just great timing.
“Come on, buddy, not again.” she growled and tried to push him off of you, but it was clearly proving harder than it looked.
Hearing the frustration in Kara’s voice, you tried to pull yourself together and tried to push the affectionate dog away, which ultimately proved successful, as Krypto backed away, though only enough for you to sit up normally, and his tail was still wagging, indicating that he still had plenty of energy left.
“Krypto, get off the bed.” Kara spoke again, which she intended as a command, although it came across more as a whine and a plea.
Krypto looked at her for a moment, his tail stopping wagging, but continuing almost immediately, then a whimper left his throat and he lowered his head into your lap.
Your hand automatically went to his head and you slowly stroked it, which only made him lean more towards you.
Kara’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Rude, she thought to herself as she watched you so effortlessly shower him with love.
"He can stay for a while." you suggested, though it sounded more like a question, and your gaze met Kara's.
Kara knew you wouldn’t send Krypto away now, and she knew she wouldn’t say no to you, no matter how much she wanted to continue what you both were doing before being so rudely interrupted.
She let out a resigned sigh and lay down on the other side of the bed, trying to get as close to you as possible, which was difficult, after all, Krypto’s body formed a slight barrier between the two of you.
Kara’s eyes glanced at the dog again, as if telling him to move away, but he was adamant. He seemed to be enjoying himself too much in your lap and had no intention of moving.
Kara let out another sigh, then grabbed the remote control that was on the bedside table.
"Okay, let's watch a movie then." she said a little frustrated, but she couldn't really get too angry when it looked so beautiful, the way Krypto was almost in your lap and basking in your love.
By the time the movie was over, you and Krypto were both asleep. The only thing that had changed was that you were lying on your side and Krypto was snuggling up to your chest, breathing softly.
Kara could only watch the situation idly. Normally, you should be snuggling up to her side or chest right now.
She sighed many times by then, but finally she settled herself on the bed too. Her gaze scanned your sleeping face, which seemed so peaceful. She glanced at Krypto for a moment, who was so strange to see so calm. As if he was a completely different dog.
Despite this, she still closed her eyes and finally fell asleep.
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The next morning, when Kara woke up, she was a little surprised to see that Krypto was still snuggled up to you, but he was already awake. Despite that, it didn’t look like he was going to pull away from you anytime soon.
Kara narrowed her eyes.
“Krypto, let me there finally.” she whispered to him, and the dog only moved, but made no attempt to pull away.
Kara was competitive, and so was Krypto.
Although Kara really wanted to pull Krypto away now, she didn’t want to wake you up, and she suspected the dog didn’t want to either.
“Come on, buddy, please.” she begged him this time, which seemed slightly more effective than her earlier attempt to appear firm.
Krypto whined in response, but not loud enough to wake you up.
Kara thought. Krypto didn’t want to pull away, but she wanted to cuddle with you. If she wanted to make any progress, she had to compromise with the dog.
"Okay, if you let me there, you can have the leftover from the dinner for a week. Sound good?"
Krypto's ears pricked up, and Kara knew she had finally won. And although it took a few moments for him to actually pull away, he finally did.
Krypto didn't get off the bed, only moved to the end of the bed and instead curled up at your feet. His gaze fell on Kara this time, waiting for her to move closer to you.
Kara didn't hesitate.
In an instant, she was next to you, her arms wrapped around your waist and holding you tightly. The movement didn't wake you up, but you snuggled closer and pressed your face into the crook of her neck.
A smile appeared on Kara's face, then she pressed a small kiss to the top of your head.
Her gaze fell back to Krypto for a moment, who was still looking at the two of you from your feet.
It might have been tiring to convince him to move, but at least she knew that Krypto loved you just as much as Kara herself.
what it’s like to date kara zor-el [sfw + nsfw headcanons]
content: some smutty descriptions, gf!kara headcanons; men and minors dni
a/n: some incredibly self-indulgent headcanons because i’m seeing supergirl again today and i’m so down bad for this woman 🫠
— sfw —
★ Kara is an incredibly affectionate partner, especially when she’s had a few drinks. But even sober, she can never keep her hands to herself. She always needs to be touching you, whether that mean by rubbing your back, caressing your hip, or simply just linking her pinky through yours. It’s her way of feeling connected to you at all times
★ She’s something of a petname fiend. Usually, she keeps it simple with things like ‘baby’ or ‘pretty girl’. But every now and then, she’ll bust out something incredibly obscure like ‘my little spoonful of peanut butter’. And Kara tends to utilize these outlandish petnames right after arguments, when you’re still a little bit mad at her. Because she knows as soon as she calls you something ridiculous like that, you won’t stand a chance against smiling. And she’ll be forgiven
★ You bought Kara a pull-up bar, and now it’s her favorite thing to use for quick workouts. Sometimes, you’ll stand in front of her so she can kiss you on every down rep
★The first time Kara tells you she loves you is on top of one of the highest buildings in Metropolis. You think you told her that you loved her back, but you could barely hear a thing over your rapid heartbeat, the wind roaring in your ears.
★ You do make sure to whisper an “I love you too,” later that night when the two of you are curled up in bed. And she’d respond in kind by smiling against the crown of your head and pulling you closer
★ Kara isn’t a master chef, by any means. She’s barely mastered not burning instant noodles. But she’s never not looking up new recipes, vowing that once she got above skill level 1 in cooking, she’d be making all kinds of neat foods for you
★ Another love language for the two of you was playlists. You were the one to start it, claiming that there were so many songs you wanted to show Kara, and once she got the hang of making playlists, she’d often make you new ones as often as twice a week.
★ She’s always been incredibly in tune with her emotions (and yours). Which is to say that you can never get a bad mood past Kara. All she has to do is take one look at your face to know you’ve had a difficult day. And then she’s cooing, “Hey, talk to me, baby,” and pulling you into her lap
★ And speaking of sitting in her lap, that’s Kara’s absolute favorite place to have you. Typically she prefers to have you positioned so that your back is pressed to her chest while her calloused hands massage miscellaneous shapes into your hips
★ Kara had found it was way too easy to make you blush. All it took to get your blood pumping were a few dirty words whispered in your ear. It was a fun game for Kara. Or it was when you weren’t threatening ‘no sex for a week’ for her teasing
- nsfw -
★ Did I mention Kara likes having you in her lap? She especially loves when that comes with the added stimulus of hickeys. And you’d never hold back from absolutely attacking her neck. She’d often steal your phone and take pictures of herself with those pretty love marks all over her neck. (And you’d roll your eyes and smile when you’d find those same pictures in your camera roll later)
★ Eating you out is something Kara is immediately good at. Miraculously. She’s a fast learner. All it takes is a little instruction, and Kara immediately picks it up: scissoring with her fingers to gather your slick, bringing more wetness to the surface as she absolutely devours you with her tongue and lips. And it doesn’t matter what position you’re in. Every single time Kara makes you come, it’s the hardest you’ve ever come.
★ She’d become something of a sex fiend after the first time. And her stamina is nothing to play with
★ In fact, you quickly realize that Kara’s stamina is the hottest thing about her. The two of you could be going at it like bunnies for hours, only for Kara to barely break a sweat by the end of it. But the telltale signs that she was just as affected were there; namely the hitched breath, the cocky smirk, the blown pupils
★ The roles are always changing. Sometimes, you like having Kara in control. Other times, you like to take the reins, finding out just what it would take to make Kara cry out for you.
★ Between the two of you, you’re definitely the vocal one. But during those rare moments when you have the pleasure (no pun intended) of making Kara cry out for you, it’s like discovering a unicorn in the wild
★ Most importantly, you love that Kara makes you feel safe and protected in every aspect of your life. You trust her more than you’ve ever trusted any other human. You may be her first real relationship with a person, but she was your most important. And maybe even your final if you were lucky
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