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“God, I’m pretty sure I would let Supergirl bend me over my desk and rail me,” Lena says, eyes glued to the television where footage of National City’s resident hero—covered in dust and dirt as she hoists a plane over her head earlier that same day—are playing on a continuous loop.

The thought isn’t necessarily one she’s had before—at least consciously. Has she always thought Supergirl is attractive? Of course. She has eyes, doesn’t she? But she’s attracted to the blonde in the same abstract way she is attracted to Kara: painfully aware of the fact that nothing is ever going to happen, anyway. Which is fine because Kara is her best friend and Supergirl is her something and she doesn’t mind going home alone at the end of the day—at this point, she’s used to it.

That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have needs, though. Important needs. Sexual needs. And apparently that now includes the need to be fucked raw by Supergirl. Oh well.

“I bet she can go at it for hours.” She runs her tongue over her bottom lip absentmindedly as the footage on the screen changes to Supergirl going head to head with three opponents at once. “Imagine how sore you’d be after. Deliciously, delectably sore—unable to walk straight for days.”

There’s a loud thud to her right and her eyes snap away from the tv to focus on the source of the noise instead—Kara, who just dropped an entire container of potstickers onto the floor. Kara, who is beet-red and squirming in her seat.

“I—” she stammers, eyes darting around the room looking anywhere but Lena. “You—”

A wince.

“Please don’t talk about Supergirl that way.”

Lena cocks her head to the side, curious.

“Why not?”

“Because...” Kara starts, trailing off weakly. She takes a breath. “Because it makes me uncomfortable.”

It sounds so earnest that the apology is at the tip of Lena’s tongue almost instantly no matter how concerned and hurt she is by Kara’s apparent unease with her sexuality. Because they’ve talked about men like this before. Well, maybe not quite as explicitly and maybe only when they’re drunk but it’s not like Kara is a prude. So that can only mean one thing.

Before Lena can actually say anything, though, Kara jumps up from the couch, bag in hand.

“Actually, I—I have to go. I forgot about this article Snapper wanted me to write. I just—”

And she basically runs out of the room.

Lena knows there is no article. Lena also knows that her best friend has an issue with her being into women.


She doesn’t see Kara—or Supergirl, for that matter—for the rest of the week. By Wednesday, she is worried and sends Kara a text apologizing for making her uncomfortable and promising she won’t mention it again. There is no reply. By Friday, she is absolutely furious. How dare Kara treat her like this. How dare Kara be homophobic when her own sister is a lesbian as well. (Briefly, she actually does consider contacting Alex and getting her advice on the whole thing but then she doesn’t think they know each other well enough for her to explain what exactly brought this situation about in the first place.)

So, instead, she stews in anger silently, getting more and more frustrated by the hour.

By Saturday afternoon, she is considering calling one of her exes to blow off some steam, no strings attached, but just as she’s about to reach for her phone there’s a knock at the door. She has half a mind to ignore it and pretend she isn’t there when there’s a second, firmer knock.

“Lena, please open the door. I know you’re in there.”


“Hey,” Kara says when she does eventually open the door, offering her a half-smile and a slight shrug. She seems tense.

It’s good to see her even though Lena feels like she’s walking on very thin ice right now and could fall through at any second, with just a single wrong move.

Wordlessly, she steps to the side, beckoning Kara inside. The other woman enters with just a second of hesitation.

“I owe you an apology,” she says as soon as Lena has closed the door behind her.

The brunette shakes her head, resigned.

“It’s fine Kara. You have a right to your opinion and I need to respect that.”

The other woman’s brows knit together in obvious confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“Me being gay clearly made you uncomfortable.”

“Lena, no! That’s not—” She stops abruptly, huffs out a breath as her fingers continue to fidget with the hem of her blouse. Then, suddenly:

“I’m Supergirl.”

Whatever Lena expected her to say, it definitely wasn’t that. She feels like a trap door has opened beneath her and she’s in free fall right now. This seems to overwhelming to even begin to comprehend. First and foremost, she is questioning her own intelligence because how the hell did she not realize that her best friend is a superhero.

In her head, she runs through every interaction they’ve ever had. When Kara walked into her office with Clark Kent, of all people. “I flew here... on a bus.” The almost-plane crash. Every time the blonde disappeared suddenly without explanation.

The fact that her and Supergirl look exactly the same.

Suddenly, another thought strikes her.

She said she wanted her best friend’s alter-ago to bend her over a desk and fuck her senseless. To her best friend’s face.

Oh God.

Oh God.

No wonder the other woman was so uncomfortable.

“Kara I didn’t—”

She didn’t what? Mean what she said? They both know that’s a lie.

“I am so, so sorry,” she settles on instead, hoping Kara can forgive her, that they can move past this somehow.

But the blonde stays quiet, eyes glued to the ground as if Lena’s hardwood floors are the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.

The silence isn’t awkward, exactly, but it’s definitely tense. Like a rubber band pulled too taunt, threatening to snap any second and hurt them both in the process.

Lena doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t even know where to start with any of this.

It’s Kara who breaks the silence eventually.

“I have thought about it too,” she murmurs, voice surprisingly even.

Lena’s eyes snap up to hers immediately upon hearing the confession. The other woman is already looking at her—staring at her, really—as her hand travels up to the collar of her blouse. She pops open the first button without breaking eye contact. Lena’s breath hitches in her throat.

She can feel her pulse picking up as Kara opens one button after another to reveal the tell-tale suit underneath.

“About what it would feel like to be inside you.” She takes another step closer, the shirt sliding off her body completely in the process. Suddenly, she does seem almost like a different person. Confident. Invincible. “To make you whimper my name until you’re begging me stop because you’ve had so many orgasm that you can barely breathe anymore. I think about it all the time.”

She’s right in front of Lena now, so close that they are almost touching. The crest on Kara’s chest is shimmering in the light and Lena can’t help but reach out and trace the S with her index finger. She’s trembling.

Her head is spinning, thoughts going everywhere and nowhere with such speed that it’s making her slightly dizzy. Carefully, she lays her palm flat on Kara’s chest, covering her family’s coat of arms. She can feel the blonde’s heart hammering in her chest at a pace rivaling her own and it’s in that moment that she makes the split second decision to just dive into it head first. They’ve already crossed all the lines, what else are they waiting for?

So she looks up, locks eyes with Kara whose pupils are blown beyond anything Lena has ever seen before and says just two words.

“Fuck me.”

Chapter Text

Supergirl doesn’t waste any time.

In an instant, she’s within the brunette’s personal space, fingers playing with the hem of her pencil skirt.

“Are you sure?” she asks, look somewhere between Kara’s puppy dog eyes and Supergirl’s steel-like resolve.

Lena bites her lower lip. Nods.

Yes—yes, she is sure. Surer than she’s ever been of anything else in her life. She wants the other woman, wants her so much that it has the potential to unravel her completely.

She can see Supergirl’s throat bob as she swallows, then nods as well.


One of her hands finally slips underneath the fabric of Lena’s skirt. It rests there for only a moment before traveling up, bunching up the dark material as it goes further and further north until she feels a thumb just barely brushing against her outer labia through the thin lace of her string.

It sends a shockwave through her but she needs more, needs Supergirl to stop teasing and get the fuck on with it. She lets out an impatient whine, pressing herself into the direction of the other woman’s hand until she finally springs into action and quickly pushes Lena’s skirt up to her waist.

She doesn’t even bother taking Lena’s underwear off; just pulls it to the side before slipping two fingers into her in one smooth motion.

They both moan at the same time.

“You’re so wet,” she marvels as her fingers twist inside the brunette.

And what else can Lena do but whimper helplessly, head falling back against the wall. A moment later, there’s a hot mouth on her throat, nibbling along the expanse of her pale, smooth neck.

“You’re so beautiful, Lena.”

She feels the words against her skin rather than hearing them because all she can hear is the blood rushing in her ears. It sounds like she’s in the middle of the ocean, like she’s drowning in the waves. And she is, in a way. She’s drowning in waves of Supergirl, in the sensations of feeling the other woman add another finger.

The stretch is almost painful, burning in the most delicious way, and her breath hitches when Supergirl curls the fingers against her g-spot without warning.

She does it again. And again and again and again until Lena shudders and clenches around her fingers with a silent cry.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly she comes. Or it would be, if this was anyone else. But it’s Supergirl—it’s Kara—who just presses a soft kiss to Lena’s collarbone as she slips her fingers free.

They stand there in silence, waiting for the others next move, until—

“I wish I had a nice big strap to fuck you with.”

The words go through Lena like a bolt of lightning, a moan escaping her mouth almost involuntarily.


She can’t think, can’t form a single coherent sentence with how much she wants that to happen with every fiber of her being—at how much the thought alone turns her on.

Getting strapped by Supergirl. She wants to. She needs to.

A ragged breath escapes her throat and she squeezes her eyes shut.

Concentrate, Lena.

“In—in my dresser,” she says after a moment. “At home. Second drawer from the—”

Supergirl is out the window before she can even finish her sentence.



The temporary solitude gives her brain—still a bit hazy after that first orgasm—a chance to catch up with... well, everything. She just got finger-fucked against a wall by Supergirl. By Kara. By Supergirl and Kara—because they are one and the same person.

They’ll have to talk about that at some point. Because Kara lied to her (even if only by omission). Kara lied straight to her face for months on end and now they are fucking in Lena’s office and she knows she should be hurt, should be furious because Kara—like everyone else in her life before—betrayed her.

But before she can dwell on that fact any further there’s a thud from the balcony and, a moment later, Supergirl steps back into the room, strap in hand.

“Got it,” she smiles.

And, truly, Lena can’t even be mad at her. Not when she is looking at her like that.

She puts the harness on over her suit and there’s something about seeing Supergirl with a seven-and-a-half inch plastic dick jutting out from her middle that activates a baser instinct somewhere in here brain, a need to get put in her place, to be held down and fucked until she begs for mercy.

“I seem to remember something about you wanting Supergirl to bend you over your desk,” the other woman says then, one eyebrow raised, and Lena almost comes on the spot at how low her voice sounds.


A lazy smirk spreads across the blonde’s face at how uneven her voice is.

“Alrighty then.”

For a moment they just look at each other, unmoving, before Kara extends an arm to Lena, motioning for her to give her her hand. Lena does without a second of hesitation. 

She holds it gently—like it is something precious—running her thumb along pale knuckles. Then she tugs firmly, just once, and Lena’s back collides with the solid muscle of Supergirl’s body before roughly pushing her against the desk, effectively trapping her between herself and the piece of furniture.

The edge of the glass is digging into the fronts of Lena’s thighs while the strap on presses against her ass and she shudders in anticipation.

Supergirl has picked her favorite strap on, the one that fills her up so well, and the prospect of the other woman using it on her makes her stomach drop in the best possible way.

With strong, steady hands Supergirl pushes her down by her shoulders and Lena lets her with no resistance. It’s ironic, really, how much control she is ready to relinquish to the other woman when, usually, she is the one who needs to pull the strings at all times in order to feel seen, to feel safe.

Somehow, though, there is safety in the strong hand firmly splayed across her back, keeping her in place. Because it is Supergirl’s hand. Kara’s. She’s safe with them.

God, this is really happening.

Supergirl’s other hand settles on her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh there with such strength that Lena is sure they’ll leave bruises. She doesn’t mind.

In fact, she wants the blonde to be rough. To hurt her, just a little bit. To fuck all her broken pieces back together and bring her to the point where she can finally forget all the things that are haunting her, everything she is supposed to be and all the ways in which she is falling short.

The strap slips into her then, hard and fast, and she whimpers in response, the stretch of the silicone just on the right side of painful.

“Alright?” the blonde asks, thumb gently running back and forth on her hip. It’s a nice contrast to the dildo currently filling her to the brim. The concern in her voice is all Kara and Lena’s heart warms.

She hums in response because she’s more than alright.

“Move. Please.

Kara doesn’t need a second invitation.

Immediately, she draws back a little only to slam the toy right back in, making Lena arch against the hand still holding her down. The blonde’s pace is fast, rough. Lena has never been fucked quite so well. Just like with everything else in her life, Kara is diligent to a fault, driving into Lena with as much force as she can without actually hurting her.

The rhythmic thud thud thud that echoes around the room with every instance of Supergirl bottoming out inside her before pulling back and driving in again with seemingly never-ending zeal is a reminder of just how not-human she really is, which might explain why the way Lena is being railed right now is literally out of this world.

After a while, Supergirl’s hand slowly travels from her back—maybe she thinks she has sufficiently subdued her—down across her spine and around to her front; to her clit.

When her fingers first make contact, Lena jerks back slightly, strap burying deeper into her with at the sudden shift of position. She groans.

She can feel that she is close, the unmistakable tingle in her body slowly starting to spread through her like liquid gold.

“Yes, Supergirl,” she moans, pushing her ass back into the other woman to encourage her to go deeper—harder—as she buries her face in the crook of her neck. “Kara.”

The blonde’s metronome-like thrusts falter at hearing Lena moan her name—both of her names—before Lena can feel the dildo slipping from her cunt. She whines. 

She doesn’t appreciate being teased, especially not when she’s beyond horny and on the verge of orgasm. But before she can actually complain, Kara gently runs a finger down her back and says, “Turn around. I want to see your pretty face when you come.”

And God, how could Lena say no to that?

So she braces both hands on the table and pushes herself up to her feet, legs trembling. One of Kara’s arms wraps around her middle almost immediately, holding her upright. She’s grateful for the support because standing on her own seems like an almost impossible task right now.

Her arms are firm and strong and Lena lets herself collapse into them. The moment stands in stark contrast to the hard fucking she has been receiving until a few seconds ago—calm, gentle, soft. It gets even softer when Kara noses the back of her neck, placing a quick kiss there before turning her around.

It’s back to business after that.

Their bodies are pressed together knees to chest now and Lena wishes they were both fully naked so she could feel Kara’s hot skin on her own. What she can feel right now, though, is the strap on pressing against her hip and maybe that’s enough.

Supergirl’s hands come to rest on her bare ass, squeezing almost possessively and bringing them even close together before she slips one strong thigh between Lena’s own. The brunette starts grinding against it almost instinctively for friction.

The blonde is still palming her ass, has started kneading the soft flesh, when one thumb catches in the crack between her cheeks. Lena can feel her pussy gush at the mere thought of asking Supergirl to fuck her ass.

She doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because she lifts her up and sits her down on the edge of the table.

“Lean back, baby.”

Lena complies immediately.

The glass is cool against her back, a nice contrast to her skin that feels like it’s on fire.

For a moment, she just lies there and tries to catch her breath. She knows Supergirl is going to bring her back to the edge almost immediately, will fuck her so well that she’ll forget her own name.

She looks up then and directly at Kara, who, in turn, is looking down at her with so much raw lust and affection in her gaze that Lena can feel her eyes well with emotion.

Without breaking eye contact, she sets one palm down flat on the table next to the brunette’s head, the other one gripping the side of her neck. Kara’s fingertips dig into her vertebrae from the back, thumb hooking underneath her jaw. She’s not quite choking her but the feeling of being at the other woman’s mercy takes her breath away anyway.

The blonde starts pumping into her again then, picking up right where she left of, strong and relentless. The fact that she’s on her back now means the dildo hits differently, its slight curve hitting exactly where it is meant to.

God, how is she so good at this? How many other women has she fucked like this? As Supergirl. (As Kara.) She can’t be the only one.

This time, it’s Kara who comes first, burying herself to the hilt as her palm presses against the cold glass of the table next to Lena’s head.

Suddenly, there’s a crack and before Lena can even fully register the sound, the desk beneath her gives way, shattering into a million little pieces.

She braces for the impact, for the feeling of bits of broken glass boring into her skin. It never comes. Instead, she feels arms around her torso, catching her mid-air and holding her there for a moment before gently setting her on her feet.

Kara’s face is beet-red with shame when their eyes meet.

“Oh my God, Lena! I’m so sorry! I—” She looks down. “I’m gonna buy you a new desk, I promise.”

Lena lets out a burst of laughter before pressing her lips to the other woman’s cheek.

“Maybe one that’s a little sturdier.”

A beat, then:

“For next time.”

Chapter Text

It quickly becomes a regular thing.

They fuck in Lena’s office, in Lena’s apartment, at Kara’s place, the Tower, after hours in the CatCo copy room. Everywhere. The more they fuck, the more dominant the blonde becomes. And Lena finds that she likes it—welcomes it, savors the feeling of losing control, of being at someone else’s mercy entirely.

At the same time, she feels safer than she ever has with any of her previous sexual partners. She just knows that Kara won’t judge her for any of the things she wants to do—wants her to do to her. It’s freedom in its purest form—even when there’s a strong hand splayed across her back pushing her into whatever surface they are fucking on or she’s otherwise restrained.

She can feel herself becoming addicted to the feeling of the other woman—the feeling of being held down, of Kara biting bruises into her skin as a reminder that this is where she belongs. She can feel her pussy gush at the mere thought of Supergirl’s exceptional strap game—not to mention the things she can do with her tongue.

But Lena is no pillow princess by any measure. Quite the opposite. She gives as good as she gets, although Supergirl—strong, indestructible Supergirl—is in control even then.

There are also days where she’s just Kara, who wears pastel sweaters and fiddles with her hair when she gets nervous. Where she’s soft and gentle and they’re making love instead of fucking. It’s almost like being with two different people, sometimes. Where Supergirl is rough and dominant, Kara is careful, tender.

(No matter what, she always makes her come, though.)


Tonight they’re on the couch in Lena’s apartment—five orgasms between them in the books already without having made it anywhere even close to the bed.

Lena—topless and increasingly frenzied—is grinding into Kara’s lap, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Kara’s hands are firmly glued to her ass, pulling the brunette closer closer closer, and her mouth has been on Lena’s tits for the past couple of minutes, biting, licking, sucking, pulling, and then starting over from the beginning.

She isn’t even touching her anywhere it really matters—just has her lips wrapped around a pale nipple—but Lena is already teetering on the edge once again as she presses her chest against the other woman with increasing desperation.

“Rao, I love your ass,” Kara mumbles against Lena’s skin at some point as she emphasizes her statement with a squeeze of said ass.

Lena moans.

It’s clear exactly what the other woman is angling for. They’ve talked about it before—in the abstract, in the heat of the moment—and Lena has been unable to shake the thought ever since.

She is no stranger to anal sex—quite the opposite, actually—and there has been many an ex she’s been able to talk into putting her on all fours and fucking her ass. She enjoys the delectable mixture of pleasure and pain of it all, the feeling of being gaped open, penetrated somewhere that feels so wrong and so right at the same time. The ultimate loss of control. Of doing something so depraved and dirty that she can almost feel the entire Luthor dynasty turn in their graves.

Kara’s hands squeeze her asscheeks again, pulling them apart slightly, fingers digging into pliable flesh, and something inside Lena just snaps.

“Fuck my ass,” she rasps, grinding down against Kara’s thighs more intently and even though she’s half-delirious with lust, she can pinpoint the exact moment her words register in the other woman’s brain because she freezes, hands dropping away from Lena’s ass as if she’s been burned.

“Are you sure?” 

The genuine concern in her voice is all Kara.


Truly, she has never been as sure of anything as she is right now.

Kara licks her lips, suddenly almost shy.

“Have you ever—”

“Mhm,” Lena nods eagerly, reaching behind herself to re-attach the other woman’s hands to her ass. “I love it.”

Kara’s gaze is intense, searching, and Lena can tell that the blonde is trying to make sure that this is really what she wants, that she isn’t pushing her beyond what she can take. So she nods again, small but sure, before pressing her lips to the corner of Kara’s mouth.

The moment is soft—entirely too soft considering they’re talking about anal sex right now—and Lena is just about to get them back on track when Kara beats her to it and, without warning, slaps her open palm against Lena’s left cheek, making the soft flesh of her ass jiggle.

And it’s not that Lena’s surprised, not exactly, but she still lets out a quiet “oh,” eyes snapping up to Kara’s. They look at each other, a silent conversation, before Kara smirks and the mood shifts in an instant.

“My dirty girl,” she whispers, one finger brushing against the crest of Lena’s ass. “I’m gonna fuck your ass so good.”

She presses a kiss to Lena’s jaw.

“Turn around. On your stomach.”

She’s done wasting any more time, apparently, and it is clear that the words are a command from Supergirl, not a request. Lena complies immediately.

There’s a tingling sensation at the base of her spine, a mixture of healthy apprehension and unbridled excitement. It’s been a while since she’s been fucked up the ass—James, bless his heart, would have never dared and anal isn’t exactly the thing you ask random one night stands for when you’re Lena Luthor and don’t want your kinks plastered all over the gossip rags.

So maybe she’s a bit out of practice.

Kara settles next to her as soon as she is on her front, hands immediately finding the zipper on the side of Lena’s skirt and slowly pulling it down before tugging the entire thing down her legs and carelessly throwing it to the side—Lena would complain but she’s got other priorities at the moment.

She’s left in a red thong, barely enough fabric to cover even the barest necessities. There’s a part of her that wishes she would have foregone that too, wouldn’t have worn underwear altogether, but then she knows how much Kara likes unwrapping things—unwrapping her. 

Kara hooks a finger underneath the string, pulls it up, then lets go so it snaps against Lena’s ass. It stings, just a little, and for one glorious moment her mind is struck with flashes of Kara bending her over her knees and spanking her ass until it’s red and sore. Instead of actually doing that, however, the blonde grips Lena’s thong on each side and pulls it down her legs.

Her focus is back on Lena’s ass immediately after she unceremoniously throws it beside the couch as well, kneading the pliable flesh, fingers getting closer and closer to the brunette’s puckered hole. Eventually, Kara pulls her cheeks apart once again, in earnest this time.

“Beautiful,” she rasps, mesmerized, before pressing her lips to the soft flesh of Lena’s ass.

“You like it when people kiss your ass, don’t you?”

She chuckles briefly at her own joke, breath hitting Lena’s skin in small puffs, and causing goosebumps to erupt. Those goosebumps only intensify when Kara slowly, gently, runs her fingers up her right leg, nails leaving what feels like a trail of fire in their wake. Once she reaches the back of Lena’s knee, she pivots toward the sensitive skin of the brunette’s inner thigh. Lena’s trying hard not to squirm, not to shift so Kara’s fingers finally make contact with her center because she's craving to be touched.

Kara likes to keep her on edge, she knows that—and she also knows that she’ll have to pay if she gets off before Kara, before Supergirl, wants her to.

A moment later, Kara’s fingers finally—finally—move to the spot Lena wants them. She traces her outer lips with the gentlest touch, runs a single digit along the brunette’s pussy until she reaches the crinkled skin around her asshole, ghosts her finger over that as well.

“God, you’re so wet.” 

She sounds like she’s just discovered the Eight Wonder of the World, like Lena’s sopping pussy is a miracle instead of simple the result of her own two hands. Without preamble she slips her fingers inside, curling them against Lena’s G-spot for good measure.

The brunette groans into the pillow.

As quickly as she slipped into Lena, Kara slips back out, fingers now shiny with Lena’s juices. She brings them to her other hole, starts circling and circling and circling until Lena is shivering in anticipation. The fact that Kara isn’t touching her right now has her on the verge of whining, the verge of begging, because she wants it, because she needs it, because—

“All because you’re desperate to get your ass fucked.”

Oh God.

The words go straight to her core, hitting her like a bolt of lightning. As per usual, Kara’s timing is impeccable—she seems to have reached a new level of dirty talk right as her index finger slips inside of Lena's asshole in one smooth motion, and with just enough lubrication for it not to outright hurt.

The moan that escapes Lena’s throat in response is downright pornographic.

“Such a tight little asshole,” Kara marvels, fascinated by the way the orifice hugs her finger tightly. She pushes it in a little bit further.

She’s still careful, more Kara than Supergirl, and while Lena appreciates the caution, she’s impatient for the blonde to make good on her promise to throughly rail her ass.

“Can you take another one?” she coos, other hand digging into the flesh of Lena’s hip.

The brunette can only rasp a frenzied “please” in response.

Already, she is nearly overwhelmed by the pressure she hasn't felt in so long, isn’t sure she won’t combust on the spot if there’s more, if Kara adds one more. She still wants it, though.

The second finger slides in slowly, deliberately. The sensation is unlike anything Lena has ever experienced before, too much and not enough all at the same time. She needs more, is on the verge of begging Kara to just fucking get on with it.

Because maybe this is it. Maybe she has finally found a way to fuck all her broken pieces back together. Maybe the pain of getting her asshole reamed open will numb all the other ways in which she hurts, will finally make her feel like she’s good enough, like there’s a way she can atone for her sins.

(Who would’ve thought anal sex could be a form of absolution?)

But Kara wouldn’t be Kara—wouldn’t be Supergirl—if she let Lena off easy. Her fingers, two-thirds into Lena’s ass, still as she leans in closer.

“We’ll have to properly train you. Make you my little anal whore.”

Kara slips the last couple of inches into her and Lena almost comes right on the spot thanks to the perfect combination of the stretch that’s just on the verge of unbearable and Kara’s words.

“Plug you up and have you go to one of your important board meetings so you’ll feel it inside you every time you shift in your seat.”

Lena moans at the idea.

There’s nothing more she can do, really. She’s experimented with butt plugs before—at home, in her bedroom—but never in public. Never when there were other people around, when there was a chance she could be found out.

She has always strictly separated her private and professional lives but, lately, the lines are starting to blur as Kara—as Supergirl—takes over more and more of space in both them. She seems to pretty much always be on Lena’s mind these days—their next fuck, the next time Lena can get her fix. It’s almost like she’s addicted to the other woman.

“Would you like that, Lena?” Kara asks innocently, fingers twisting inside the brunette, and what else is there to do than whimper in response because yes. She’d like that very much.

Even without Lena actually verbalizing her answer, Kara seems to know exactly what she needs as she slides her other hand underneath Lena’s body, finding her clit with practiced ease. It takes all of two swipes against the sensitive little bundle for Lena to moan another orgasm into the pillows, legs shaking, and Kara’s fingers still firmly buried in her ass.


Lena is alone when she wakes up the next morning, sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her bedroom and onto her bare back.

She knows Kara is gone even before she turns over and sees the empty space in the bed beside her—both Kara Danvers and Supergirl are in constant high demand. Even without her, she would usually use the time to snuggle back into the covers to bask in her post-orgasm bliss (and enjoy the slight feeling of soreness coming from her asshole) but something catches her eye before she gets the chance to burrow her head back into her pillow.

Right there, in the middle of her nightstand, is a black box with a dark red bow.

It’s about the size of a fist, just a little too big to be a jewelry box. Her hands shake when she reaches for it, just a little bit, because she is ninety percent sure she knows exactly what’s inside. Still, her breath hitches when she actually opens the box.

Among the creamy white cushioning sits a medium-sized stainless steel butt plug.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, really. Not after the filthy things Kara whispered into her ear last night. Kara is nothing if not thorough, diligent, and Lena should have known that she would do everything to turn her plan into reality sooner rather than later. Patience has never been her strong suit after all.

There are no further instructions, no card, no text, but the message is clear nonetheless: Supergirl expects her to wear it. Today.


She’s in the shower, hot water cascading down her body which helps just enough to soothe her sore muscles. It’s what she loves most, the feeling after she’s been with Supergirl; the way her whole body aches because she has been so throughly fucked.

Her eyes fall on the plug then, sitting between Kara’s body wash and her own overpriced conditioner. It’s been a while since she’s worn one—the last time she can remember off the top of her head a particularly wild night with Veronica—and the thought of doing it in public is thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

Honestly, she isn’t sure she can actually do this, if she can wear a goddamn butt plug to work. She thinks of the woman she has been fucking for the better part of the past month and she knows…

Supergirl will be very disappointed if she doesn’t.

Alright, she’ll start with a couple fingers, see how that feels—how sore her ass is from last night’s activities—and then slowly work up to it. She should probably use lube for this as well, she realizes, but then she isn’t sure she’ll actually go through with it if she leaves the shower now. She takes a moment to consider her options, looks around for something, anything to use until her gaze falls on her shower oil in the corner. Well, better than nothing, right?

She squirts some on her hands, rubs them together. It feels nice, smooth and silky, and before she can reconsider, she brings her fingers around to her ass crack, resting them there before applying a little more pressure.

The first one slips in with surprising ease.

It doesn’t feel quite as good as Kara’s finger did last night—it never does anymore—but it’ll have to do.

She rests her other hand on the wall for support, tiles cold against her heated skin, as she pushes the finger in deeper, more firmly. A moan escapes her throat. God, if her mother could see her now, fingering her own ass in the shower before work. She’d have a heart attack.

The thought amuses Lena as she pushes a second finger in, followed quickly by a third.

She pumps them in and out for a while, asshole relaxing more and more with every motion while wishing Kara was here with her. God, how has she ever been able to live without Supergirl railing her on a regular basis?

Eventually, she picks up the plug—it’s heftier than she would’ve thought—and slips it inside herself before she can think better of it.

The steel is cold against her insides, solid, and her heart starts beating erratically thinking about the day ahead.


The text message from Kara comes shortly after noon.

Are you wearing it?

Honestly, Lena is surprised it took her that long because patience has never been her strong suit. She smirks. Might as well test it just a little longer.

Wouldn’t you like to know…

For a moment, she considers sending a picture that’s definitely not safe for work just because she knows it’ll make Kara blush but she’s not quite sure there’s a practical way of taking a photo of her own plugged asshole that doesn’t involve asking poor Jess for help. So, instead, she leaves it at her initial message—sure she’ll have to pay for her insubordination later on.


She leaves the office at 5PM sharp, unable to wait a moment longer.

She’s been on edge for the better part of the day—has masturbated twice in her executive bathroom fantasizing about the exquisite ass-fucking she is going to receive tonight. The plug has stayed inside her all day—during her lunch with Sheryl Sandberg, a board meeting with thirteen straight old white men, a call with the Vice President—a reminder of how dirty she is, of exactly who she belongs to every time she as much as shifted in her seat.

Maybe she should wear it to work more often.

Unsurprisingly, Kara is already there when she steps through the door of her penthouse, having no doubt let herself in with the spare key Lena gave her a while back. (It was originally meant for emergencies but she’s pretty sure that the prospect of mind-blowing anal counts in this case.)

She’s sitting on the couch, the latest edition of CatCo magazine in her hands, and even though she is trying to play it cool Lena can tell that she is just as jittery about this as the brunette herself. Her eyes are trained on Lena—like a predator about to devour its prey—as she looks her up and down once before lowering her glasses and aiming her gaze directly at the brunette’s crotch area. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Unceremoniously, Lena drops her bag onto the floor next to the door before starting to walk toward the other woman with slow, deliberate steps.

“Walking around all day with that plug up your ass.”

They meet in the middle of the room, Kara’s hand immediately finding Lena’s asscheeks and palming them over her skirt.

“Did you love it, baby?”

Her gaze is intense, boring into Lena with such force that the brunette can do nothing but nod.

Because she did love it. She loved the feeling of constant pressure in her bottom. She loved the reminder of how dirty she is, of all the things she does with Kara that no one knows about—the things she lets Kara do to her.

Kara pulls her toward herself then and Lena actually whimpers when she feels the strap the blonde has hidden inside her pants pressing against her clit.

As if that isn’t enough to make her completely soak her panties, Kara’s hands travel lower on her ass, trail along the cleft before she starts to play with the base of the plug—turning it, pressing against it, pulling on it slightly.

“Did you think about me every time you felt it shift inside you?”

The nerve endings inside her ass are on fire—she is bursting into flames, burning alive, and something inside Lena just snaps.

“Fuck my ass, Kara. Please. I need it,” she whines, pushing more intently against Kara’s hands. 

It’s not the first time she’s begged but it’s the first time she’s been this desperate. And Kara knows—she knows that Kara knows; she’s on the verge of losing it and if Kara doesn’t do something soon she will—

A kiss is pressed against the corner of Lena’s mouth, her cheekbone, her forehead.

“Relax for me, baby,” Kara whispers, pushing her skirt up, moving her thong aside, before one one hand pulls her asscheeks apart as she finally eases the plug out of Lena’s poor little asshole with the other one.

It feels almost strange—empty, definitely—not having anything up her ass after hours and hours of pressure, of being filled. She misses it immediately.

Kara turns her around by the hips then so they’re back to front, the strap on grinding against Lena’s ass. The anticipation is almost killing her—she has never been quite this horny before—and she’s trying to wiggle her ass to make more meaningful contact, to force the other woman to fill her ass.

Kara slaps her cunt.

“Bend over.”

The brunette is all too eager to comply—takes a couple steps forward to rest her elbows on the nearest available surface, her dining table. She can sense Kara behind her, can almost feel her gaze boring into her ass, and she cocks her hip as an invitation for the blonde.

“Spread yourself for me, baby.”

Without hesitation, Lena does just that, grabbing her own cheeks to present herself to her lover.

“Such a lovely gape,” Kara marvels, fingers lightly tracing the rim of her slightly open asshole.

For a moment, Lena is afraid that Supergirl will drag this out even longer, that she will tease her for hours before actually properly fucking her ass. She doesn’t think she could take it, doesn’t think her sex-crazed brain would be able to last.

But she doesn’t have to wait long because “It looks like it’s winking at me,” is the last thing the other woman says before slipping two fingers in to the hilt. A surprised groan escapes Lena’s lips at the sudden return of the now-familiar pressure.

It’s good for a moment, just until she’s gotten used to it, and then it’s not enough. She’s had a taste and now she wants more, wants it all.

She presses against Kara’s fingers in a futile attempt to get her to go deeper, harder, but instead of giving Lena what she wants, the blonde pulls her fingers out almost as suddenly as she put them in.

“Do you trust me?”

The words come out breathless, hasty, and it's a very good question indeed. Does she trust the woman who has lied to her for years, who has kept her true identity hidden while playing the innocent, supportive best friend?

Lena nods. 

Because she does. She trusts Kara—trusts Supergirl—with her life. And maybe that makes her a fool or an idiot or downright stupid but, honestly, she couldn’t care less—especially not when she’s about to get her ass fucked with one of the blonde’s biggest straps.

Before Lena can compute what is happening, they’re out on the balcony overlooking National City. Although the sky is dark the city is bright, lights twinkling beneath them—it’s almost romantic.

There’s a slight breeze outside and although it’s not cold, per se, it’s certainly chillier than it was inside just a couple of moments ago. Lena shivers once, then shivers again as Kara finally presses the strap against her waiting asshole.

It slides in with barely any resistance.

For a moment, Kara stays like that, half of her strap inside Lena’s asshole to give her time to adjust to the feeling of being filled, being subordinate. But, really, all she wants to do is drive into her with reckless abandon. She wants to see Lena shiver, cry out, wants to see her toes curl and her spine go rigid. She wants to fuck her so thoroughly that she can’t walk tomorrow—that the memory of this alone makes her come.

She splays a hand on the top of Lena’s back, in-between her shoulder blades, lets it rest there for a second before pushing her upper body down against the glass railing of the balcony. Lena doesn’t complain; who would’ve thought such a powerful woman would enjoy being bent over quite so much. 

Kara’s hand stays where it is, fingers splaying out, the other one finding purchase on Lena’s hip once again. And Lena is ready for it, has been ready for it all day, but it’s still a shock to the system when the blonde finally pushes her cock in to the hilt.

A groan rips out of Lena's throat.

The strap is bigger than her fingers, bigger than the plug—probably bigger than both of them combined. It’s almost too much. Almost.

Like always, Kara seems to know exactly what she needs, lets it rest inside Lena for a moment before she starts to move. In and out, in and out. There isn’t a lot of force behind it, not yet, but it feels like her asshole is about to be torn apart nonetheless.

It's overwhelming until it isn't; until, after a few minutes, Lena's asshole is loose enough to take Kara without much of a struggle. She arches her back, hoping it will change the angle slightly.

“Good?” Kara asks—in and out, in and out. Lena whimpers in confirmation. It’s good. It’s so so good. But it still isn’t enough. Lena needs more, Lena needs—


The word comes out as a breathless groan, a plea, and Kara chuckles.

“You want it harder, baby? I’ll give you harder.”

And oh, it seems like Supergirl has finally come out to play.

The hand in-between her shoulder blades moves up, to the back of her neck, into her hair, to her ponytail, and Lena doesn’t understand what is happening for a moment but then Supergirl wraps the dark strands around her hand before giving them an experimental tug.

Lena’s head snaps back. It doesn’t hurt, not really—or maybe she’s just too occupied with the cock currently in her ass to process anything else at the moment.

She groans as Supergirl readjusts her grip, pulls harder, while slamming the stiff silicone into Lena’s welcoming asshole over and over again with a lot more force than before.

From then on, Lena is reduced to nothing but a sopping, whimpering mess as Supergirl’s cock hammers into her asshole relentlessly, over and over again.

“My dirty little slut, taking it so well.”

Lena can almost feel herself get addicted to this. To the relentless pace at which Supergirl drives into her going deep deep deep with every thrust. To the thrill of being penetrated like this, of being gaped open.

“Rao, I wish you could see this—my cock splitting you open.”

Kara’s hand slips from her ponytail to slowly run her open palm down her bare back instead.

“I wish everyone could see.”

Lena shudders at the thought.

Even though her apartment is on the 87th floor—higher than anything else in the area—there’s always a chance that a news helicopter trying to get some new dirt on her will fly by and the pictures of Supergirl fucking Lena Luthor’s ass on her balcony will be plastered all over the news within the hour.

She moans.

Because that—the sheer thought of someone seeing, of everyone knowing how much of a slut she really is—turns her on to a point where she’s sure she’s about to lose her whole goddamn mind.

Supergirl is still driving into her with wild abandon, the rhythmic sound of her thighs slapping against Lena’s ass with every thrust drowning out everything else. She’s sure her asshole will be gaping for at least an hour after this, that she will still feel the aftershocks of this tomorrow and yet—she almost wishes Supergirl picked out an even bigger strap.

Oh well, there’s always next time.

Supergirl pulls her up by her ponytail then so Lena’s back is pressed firmly against the blonde’s front, one hand coming up to the brunette’s right breast for support, to hold her up, while the other one snakes down toward her pussy.

She’s expecting Supergirl to enter her with at least two fingers—is ready for the additional stretch, the feeling of pressure against her g-spot—but it doesn’t come. There’s a whine somewhere in the back of her throat threatening to spill out, a plea that she wants to, needs to come.

Instead of Supergirl’s fingers against her clit, inside her, she feels the blonde’s hot breath against the back of her ear.

“Do you need more or are you such an anal whore that you can come just from getting your ass fucked?”

It’s hands down the dirtiest thing the other woman has ever said to her and Lena shivers, both from the words and the hard thrust into her that accompanies them.

The change in position has changed the angle at which the silicone cock drives into Lena’s ass, hitting that sweet spot that makes her legs tremble, makes her feel like she is about to pass out.

She can sense the orgasm building, fast, with every thrust into her asshole. It’s like how you know a tsunami is about to hit when the water recedes—the calm before the storm—and before she can tell Supergirl to ruin her ass, it crashes over her. Her thighs are shaking violently to the point where the other woman has to wrap an arm around her waist to hold her upright as she comes all over herself, a rush of clear liquid coating her legs and puddling on the ground beneath her.

Supergirl abruptly ceases any and all movement.

“Did you just—”

There’s nothing but wonder in her voice, eyes big and round and full of genuine adoration when Lena turns her head to look at her.

“Mhm,” she confirms, biting her lower lip. It’s the first time she’s ever done it, actually, and—if this was anyone else—she would be at least semi self-conscious about the whole thing. But this is Supergirl—Kara—her best friend, the person she trusts most in the world, who is looking at her like she just hung the moon.

“That’s so fucking hot,” the blonde breathes, one hand cupping Lena’s wet pussy. “Do it again.”