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narraboths · 6 months

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i'd like to think you could just walk into a diner in national city and see supergirl (costume and all, no fucks given) and lena luthor making out like teenagers in a corner booth

[Ao3]

The first time Supergirl comes to The Intergalactic, she’s thrown straight through its glass doors by a giant space lizard.

It’s really not how Ellie imagined meeting the city’s superhero. It’s not that she thought she’d actually ever meet Supergirl, least of all at work. Tucked away in a side-street near National City University and surviving in a cramped space, with minimal staff, and decor left from the beginning of the Space Age, The Intergalactic mostly sees harried college students and late-night party-goers in need of some fuel. Alien attacks and billowing capes are usually not on the menu.

She has no time to be disappointed by the circumstances of their chance meeting, though. She cannot feel anything beyond absolute terror, really, given the giant space lizard that just made the Girl of Steel demolish their sleepy burger joint’s entrance.

But then, Supergirl climbs back to her feet as she always does, shoulders squared, arms raised, ready to fight. She winces a little at the damage, shooting an apologetic smile towards Ellie before she’d fly up up and away, dragging the lizard into the sky with her. The sight of it is so fucking cool that for a second, Ellie is even distracted from the absolute wreckage around her.

(Then, her shoes almost catch fire and she’s brought back to the cold, hard, rubble-covered ground of reality.)

Later, when the news reports are loud with praise for another successful Super-save, and Ellie has managed to sweep up most of the broken glass and endured a hysterical call from her boss, Supergirl touches down in front of their doors again.

“Hello,” she waves with a little smile. She still has soot marks on her face, but she stands tall, impossibly dashing. “I’m very sorry for the commotion,” she says, before Ellie could even process the fact that the hero of National City is at her doorstep, again, engaging with her in casual conversation. “I just wanted to check in and see if everyone here was alright.”

“You just fought with an alien lizard,” Ellie blurts out, and Supergirl shrugs, in a hey, just another day on the job kinda way.

“Dracokardosian, actually. Doesn’t matter,” she adds quickly, then plants her hands on her hips. The Super-pose. It makes her shoulders seem even wider, the fabric of her suit straining against her upper arms. Ellie feels giddy. “Listen, I’ll make sure you’ll be reimbursed for the damage, but can I lend a hand with anything?”

“We’re fine, I think. It’s only the storefront that got hit– that you hit. No great damage, no injuries.” Supergirl smiles with palpable relief, and Ellie feels the need to ramble on, to keep her there, to bask in the glory of the superhero a little longer. The smell of still-hot frying oil wafting from the kitchen gives her the prompt before she’d even think about it. “Would you like a burger?”

Supergirl looks at her with a confused frown.

“Aren’t you guys closed up yet?”

“I mean, it’s not like we can really close right now,” Ellie shrugs, gesturing towards the gaping hole where the diner’s entrance used to be. It earns an amused little snort from Supergirl, just enough of a boost for Ellie to press on, heart beating in her throat. “Plus, you’re the only reason the place is still standing at all and I’d really like to be able to brag about having served Supergirl, like how many places get to do that?“

“Well, there’s this great patisserie on Lamarr Ave,” Supergirl says, forehead crinkling in concentration as she mulls over the answer. “And then my regular Chinese place, and this café in Paris–” She cuts herself off with a grin. “Okay, point taken. I would love one. But mind if I fix your door in the meantime?”

Ellie nods so vehemently that she gives herself a headrush.

“It’s a deal.”

Supergirl touches a hand to her earpiece, speaking low and incomprehensible before she’d speed away again and Ellie saunters off to the kitchen.

Inside, Jay is half-napping over the sink. He wakes from his slumber with dark, bleary eyes and stares in disbelief as Ellie rattles off the order, until she tells him it’s for Supergirl. He laughs first (yeah, and I’m the Virgin Mary), then takes a peek outside where Supergirl now busy welding the new doors using her heat vision, with a swarm of nanites hovering nearby for assistance. She stops for a second to wave at them: Ellie feels her heart fluttering and Jay gets all red and sweaty, rushing back to the kitchen and getting to it with such dedication as if the diner making it into the Michelin Guide depended on it.

By the time he’s done, The Intergalactic is sporting a brand new, shiny pair of doors, and Supergirl is sitting in a booth, excitedly drumming on a table with her fingers. Then, one burger swiftly turns into three, plus six sides of fries, two milkshakes, and some fried onions for good measure, Supergirl wolfing it all down at a speed fitting her superhuman appetite. She still finds the time to entertain Ellie and Jay with details of her fight between bites (his name is Spike, he was just scared), joking around with them with such geniality that makes her seem more like one of the nicer jocks from NCU, not a demigod in a supersuit. She’s sunshine personified. She compliments the food about half a dozen times (Jay blushes so hard that his face ends up looking like a ripe tomato), leaves a tip large enough to foot the bill twice, and even though it’s nearing midnight by the time she steps outside, Ellie feels a heavy pang in her heart to watch her leave. Supergirl smiles and waves them goodbye, and Ellie manages to run outside just as she takes off, yelling after her:

“See you again!”

She thinks she can see Supergirl wink at her before she speeds away.

The second time Supergirl visits the diner, it’s been well over a month since the space lizard incident, and Ellie has honestly given up on ever seeing the Girl of Steel in person again. It’s just past the mid-day rush, the diner mostly emptied out, the staff finally getting a breather. She’s busy cleaning the tables in the back when Lev walks up to her, poking her arm.

“Hey, am I tripping, or is that really Supergirl?”

Ellie turns around at lightning speed, just in time to catch Supergirl leaning against the empty counter with a friendly smile.

"Can I get a booth?” She asks, courteously ignoring the way Lev’s jaw is hanging wide open. “Your burgers smell so fantastic, my mouth has been watering all the way from Metropolis.”

Ellie’s shaking with so much nervous energy that she thinks she might start vibrating like the Flash.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever, I’ll be right with you!”

Supergirl is, well, just super.

Her visits to The Intergalactic are infrequent enough that the place doesn’t get hounded by paps, or Super-fans, or any villain of the week; arriving almost always in off-hours, when the place is almost as empty as the street outside. But her appearances are plenty enough for every single member of the staff to fall head over heels in love with her. She turns out to be just as ridiculously kind and nice as the CatCo fluff pieces would have the public believe: always praising the food, being as courteous with the staff as she is game to take selfies with them. She chats with Lev about their college studies, gives Ellie an air-lift when her car breaks down one night. She makes people smile just by walking through the door.

She’s the best part of the job.

When Supergirl turns up with Lena Luthor at her side one day, Ellie’s already so used to the outlandishness of their superhero regular that she’s only moderately shaken to see the most notorious public figure of National City striding into the diner with her.

She still almost bites down on her tongue and trips over, because holy shit, Lena Luthor is a sight. There’s always a touch of unreal about Supergirl’s appearance – maybe it’s the suit, maybe it’s the knowledge that she’s an alien, maybe it’s the fact that she always looks like she’s glowing from the inside. Her towering physique and artfully drawn features are awing, but they also seem just right for a superhero.

But Lena Luthor is only an ordinary human, and no ordinary human, all-powerful CEO or not, should look like a Greek goddess personified.

Ellie is so engrossed that she doesn’t even notice at first how Supergirl’s hand is resting on the small of Miss Luthor’s back, how they’re standing so close that their shoulders brush together, Lena Luthor leaning just slightly against the hero.

“Quaint,” she murmurs, low and amused, and though there’s nothing unkind about it, Ellie’s suddenly very aware of how pristine she looks in the middle of their greasy little diner. (Shit, her clothes must be worth more than the whole place.) But then, before she could get flustered, Supergirl snorts, bumping Miss Luthor’s shoulder with a grin.

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Their rapport is so charming that at first, it doesn’t even register with Ellie how downright smitten Lena Luthor’s smile is in response to Supergirl’s teasing.

Lena Luthor turns out to be super in her own ways. She’s more reserved than Supergirl, more guarded about her appearances, too, but disarmingly nice all the same. The tabloid headlines screaming ice queen and megalomaniac seem more and more ridiculous with every visit – there’s very little that says Mad Luthor about the small, overworked young woman who makes a point of asking about her day and leaves large enough tips that they can refit the whole kitchen with it and fix up the back room.

They keep odd hours those days, though, popping in for early morning coffees, or late, late night snacks. They share a plate more often than not, and the sight of Supergirl stealing a bite off of Lena Luthor’s fork becomes somewhat of a regular occurrence. (In no particular order, so does the following: Lena Luthor’s head resting on Supergirl’s shoulders, eyes fluttered shut; Supergirl leaning forward a little so Lena Luthor can press a goodbye kiss to her cheek before the superhero would fly off with a grin; Lena Luthor wiping some grease from the corner of Supergirl’s mouth with an indescribably fond smile).

It starts feeling like something that’s just meant to be.

Ellie doesn’t know whether it’s their first kiss or not when she witnesses it.

She’d never want to pry, either. It’s only by accident that she sees it happen at all. But she does see it, late one night, when Supergirl and Miss Luthor are huddled together in one of the booths in the back.

They look a little tired now – Supergirl’s cape is half off her shoulder, Lena Luthor’s hair let down and a touch messy, jarringly for her usually so put-together appearance – but sweet, too, as they always do, and utterly enamored. Supergirl’s hand is cradling Lena’s chin, Lena’s hands are buried in her golden mane, their lips pressing together gently, both of them smiling radiantly, lost in their own world. Then Lena presses forward a little, pushing Supergirl against her seat, and Ellie turns away with a burning face and starts scrubbing a table so hard that she risks putting a hole through the damn thing, trying to pretend she didn’t hear the breathless, overjoyed laugh echoing through the empty room.

It is, strictly speaking, not an issue that National City’s power couple has picked your place of work to be their makeout spot. Supergirl’s still the nicest person alive and Miss Luthor’s tipping habits have only grown more generous. They just take the booth that’s the farthest in the back, Ellie tries not to bother them too much, and if someone catches a glimpse of a red cape or a striking jawline, an emphatic glare and Just be cool, man usually does the trick.

Heroes, they’re just like us.

#Anonymous #supercorp #supercorp fic #my fic #anon you've probably literally sent this three years ago and this is what i am like as a person. if ur still out there: hi

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fazedlight · 10 months

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Stargazing (soft supercorp ficlet, post-6)

She’s always wanted to be in love.

Lena pulled the blanket around her shoulders tighter, as she glanced to the kryptonian opening up a thermos of hot chocolate. Kara passed the filled lid cup to Lena, as she tipped the thermos to her lips, taking a small sip. Lena pulled her own cup to her lips as Kara pointed up at the night sky. “Argo City is about there,” she said, Lena following her finger somewhere west. “And Rao is about there,” she continued, pointing farther south.

She’s always wanted to be in love.

Alex’s words rang in Lena’s mind. It had been a small, quiet conversation. Lena had counted herself lucky, that after everything - her betrayal, Non Nocere, Kara going to the phantom zone - that she had been able to find family in the end. That the people around her had forgiven her. That for the first time in her life, she found peace.

It had been a calm morning, her and Alex - the early risers - having coffee in the Tower, musing about life. The chat had inevitably landed on Kara, Lena finding herself constantly curious about what it had been like to grow up with an alien for a sister, a refugee who had struggled to adjust.

She’s always wanted to be in love.

And now Lena found herself gazing at the kryptonian, knowing that her expression would be revealingly wistful if Kara’s sights were not fixed to the sky as she rambled. Couldn’t she just fall for me? Lena thought, trying to chase off the melancholy.

It was the third Friday in a row where Kara had gently lifted Lena from the Tower balcony, taking her up to a flatter portion of the roof, the sky open above them. National City was a bit too bright to see anything as marvelous as the Milky Way. But the planets, Ursa Major, Orion’s belt - all shone brightly in the sky.

Kara rambled amiably about an old friend’s telescope, how she’d fly it over to the Tower next time so that they could see Saturn’s rings. Lena smiled softly, soothed by the sound of Kara’s voice, the gentle vibration that Lena could feel in her chest from their snuggled position. But it just itched at her mind - what is it that Kara wanted out of life? Had things changed?

Kara paused in her ramblings, smiling curiously at Lena. “Are you okay? Warm enough?” “I’m plenty warm,” Lena said, pulling her blanket in tighter. “Just thinking.” “About what?” Kara said, wrapping her arms around the human, as though to offer help in fighting away the cold evening.

Lena glanced up at Kara, uncertain if… this was a conversation they should really have. But with the warm blues staring back at her, with the itch in the back of her mind- “Alex said…” Lena found her voice faltering.

Kara rubbed at Lena’s back soothingly, as she tilted her head curiously.

“Alex said… you always wanted to be in love.”

Kara’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she replied, the word seeming to fall from her lips. “I- well.”

“Sorry,” Lena said, somewhat flustered. Why did I bring this up? “We can drop it, it’s a weird conversation.”

“It’s fine, Lena, it’s just - I am in love.” Kara’s eyes hesitantly glanced to the side, before meeting Lena’s face again. “I’ve been in love for years.”

Lena’s stomach plummeted, suddenly feeling anxious. “Oh,” she said. “But you’re… not with them,” Lena mulled contemplatively, her wistfulness tied up in some sadness. Because as much as she wanted Kara... more than anything, she just wished Kara could be happy.

Kara’s gaze left Lena, turning her head back up to the stars. “It wasn’t until I was in love that I realized I didn’t have to be loved back.”

“Anyone would love you,” Lena said.

“Not anyone,” Kara replied, glancing down at the roof. “Sometimes, things aren’t meant to be.”

“Who are you in love with?” Lena asked, the words falling from her lips before she could think to stop them.

Lena didn’t miss the way Kara’s throat tensed, a nervous swallow as she resolutely avoided Lena’s eyes. “You know, Lena. You have to know.”

Something tentative bloomed in Lena’s chest. A yearning, a hope. A realization that washed over her. Oh.

It almost felt silly, in retrospect, Lena’s mind parsing through the relationship. Because she thought she had been obvious, with the Valentine flowers, and she had taken the hint when the reporter had emphasized that they were good friends.

But… flying to Dublin, and Paris, just to give Lena a treat? The sobbing confession, that explained the line that Kara could never cross. Risking the world, in a fight to save Lena’s soul. For a friend like you, there are no boundaries.

She didn’t speak. Instead, she lifted her hand to Kara’s cheek, gently turning Kara’s face to her own. Kara glanced nervously back, her eyes shifting slowly between Lena’s eyes, when the truth of what they had both been wrestling with began to wash over her too. A shy smile, a small laugh. After a moment, Lena found her eyes drifting to Kara’s lips.

Lena smiled again, noting as Kara’s tongue darted out, wetting her lips in subconscious anticipation. Lena leaned forward as Kara’s head tilted in, Lena closing the gap to press her lips against the kryptonian’s.

They savored the brief meeting of lips, knowing that soon would come a time for passion and desire - but not now, not yet. On this roof, beneath the planets and Rao and the open sky, they only shared their intent.

Kara pulled away slightly, eyes still closed as she tilted her head to the side, nuzzling against Lena’s cheek in a silent confession that finally gave Lena the courage to say what she needed to say. “I love you too.”

#supercorp #supercorp fanfic #supercorp ficlet #mel writes ficlets

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cinnamonest · 3 months

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Lena thank you for the spanking bit, has to be one of fav kinks ever because it just... fits every single yan regardless of who they are??? Kinda like a "universal" thing, just top notch. Do you think we could ever get headcanons for it?

Thank you for this anon, you're absolutely correct it is a top-tier kink

Also I've been wanting to write more about god-era Morax so thank you for the opportunity to do so, I rambled way more about him than the others here sorry lol

As for those who fit the kink best imo I’m going with Childe, Diluc, Ayato and Morax

//major spanking kink material (obviously) but gets kinda bad in severity/intensity, also mentions of hair-pulling, biting, throat fucking, anal, two cocks for Morax again (as always 👌)

--------

Childe is probably the best one here to end up at the mercy of here for once, for the sake of your poor ass at least.

Not that it isn't still awful and painful — he’s a sadist at heart and just adores making you squeal and cry. What at least makes it comparatively at least bearable is that he tends to use his hand — although that does make it more personable, more humiliating.

He tells you, though, exactly what he intends to do. You're being such a little brat today… come over here…

He doesn't even seem angry, but rather excited. He's all smiley and cooing in a way that feels so utterly humiliating and degrading.

Oh, but please do run. Please, please make it so much more fun for him, run away and try to hide. There's virtually nothing in the world that turns him on as much as either a game of chasing you or hunting you down wherever you're hiding. The fact that you're that scared of getting your ass beaten is kind of cute, actually. Are you that sensitive to pain, or is it more protecting your pride that gives you so much resistance? Not that he's complaining or anything.

He'll even give you a very wide opportunity to run, make sure you have plenty of avenues to do so. His heart rate begins to go up seeing the look of realization in your eyes when you spot an opening to run off, and he'll give you a minute or two of a head start. It doesn't take him long to find you nonetheless, hauling you up over his shoulders and carrying you back to your room with obvious excitement, like a predator dragging squealing, still-living prey back to its den for its inevitable fate.

That being said, doing that will make it worse for you — at that point you probably do deserve a belt at least, you know? Regardless of the instrument of choice though, he keeps you bent over his knee — he can feel your squirming more that way, and he can grind his hard-on into your stomach as you thrash around and squeal. Each strike still lands on bare skin, but rather than having your lower half naked, he likes to sometimes move the hold on your back and grasp at the waistband of your panties instead, jerking them up to wedge between your cheeks, effectively holding you in place and baring your skin at the same time.

He's so mean about it, taunts you that same voice you hate so much—

Aw, are you actually crying? Maybe I'll stop if you beg for something else…

There's no set number or standard of how much you'll be punished for any particular offense, which can be more torturous than anything. At least if you were given a number, you'd know how much more you had to endure. Instead, you just lurch and squeal each time his hand or the leather comes down... you kick your legs and thrash about, to no avail. In fact, you're pretty sure it just makes him hornier, you feel his cock twitch and his breathing grow more ragged the louder you cry out, and his hand on your back forces you down harder.

He’s actually totally shameless about getting off to it, too, so you can’t use that against him.

God, you're so cute when you cry like that... squeal louder for me...

The only real upside is that it's usually abruptly cut off at some point once he's too aroused by it to continue, and needs to just bury himself into your holes. You get slid off his lap onto the couch or bed, barely getting any time to recover — still sniffling and whimpering— before being contorted to whatever position he wants and rammed into without warning… thus for once, him being perpetually horny and having virtually no self-control actually becomes a positive. It still doesn't help, though, that the sex makes his hips smack against your sore ass with each thrust, but crying out about that only makes him go harder.

You know it could be much much worse — he makes sure to remind you that he could easily keep going until you completely break down, but he's so nice and you should be grateful for that — but you're still sore, and it leaves a pinkish-reddish tint under your natural flesh tone — something he likes to point out to you later, groping at your ass and laughing when you jolt at the sting. Your nose wrinkled with your expression of disgust as you jerk your head away from him, and you mutter under your breath.

Bastard...

And then, you squeal and lurch forward as one more harsh smack lands on your backside. You try to ignore the chuckling that follows as your eyes well up with embarrassed tears, and you bury your face beneath the covers of the bed.

-------

Diluc’s punishments are awful in terms of pain, but thankfully they're over fairly quickly because it's largely an act of momentary fury and irritation, and once he gets that anger out of his system, the punishment will be over, too.

He's still very intimidating about it, and it doesn't help that it's always a sort of spontaneous thing he decides on in the heat of the moment — thus you see the exact moment you know you've crossed a line, but also know (or at least, quickly learn) that there's nothing you can say or do at that point that will get you out of being punished. His eyes narrow and his voice lowers and he tells you to get over here in a voice that makes you feel like your heart just stopped, and your stomach feels as if it twists into a knot when you see the confirmation of your dread when he takes his belt off.

Running is not advisable — it's not like you'll succeed, and you'll just make him more mad. He's rough with how he handles you, dragging you by your clothes and hair over to bed, counter, or the back of a couch, forcing your head down.

How bad any one particular spanking is varies a lot depending on how mad you've succeeded in making him. He's not merciful at all, so he hits with force based on the level of his frustration. Thus, your attitude is important — you can technically commit a lesser offense, but if you keep backtalking and being bratty and fighting it, you'll likely get a worse punishment than you would for a worse offense for which you were apologetic and submitted to punishment easily.

What does change with the severity of your offense is that if what you didn't isn't so bad, you can keep your clothes on, but for particularly egregious transgressions, even in spite of the heat of the moment, unfortunately, he doesn't forget to pull your clothes up or down and off to make sure you're bared first.

He virtually always uses a belt, much to your dismay, and prefers to bend you over various surfaces since he can strike harder that way. It’s painful, you always end up in tears quickly, begging and pleading and spilling apologies for whatever you did, but he never has any mercy on you.

Much like you can’t get out of it to begin with, there’s also nothing you can do that will make it end any sooner than he feels like it. Over and over, grumbling with each strike about how you’re such a brat, how you can’t just behave, how it’s your own fault, until your flesh is reddened and burning badly enough that even when it’s over, all you can do is slump forward and cry.

If he went really hard on you, he might feel a little bad afterwards, getting you a wet cloth to soothe the burn… but he’ll still remind you that you wouldn’t be lying there all shivering and sobbing if you just learned to behave yourself properly.

For him, it’s more of an actual punishment first and foremost and not really an intentionally erotic thing, at first he’s too mad to think much about the eroticism of it… but seeing you lying there sniffling with your butt so heavily marked and welting, admittedly he does quickly get hard… and he’ll get incredibly flustered and embarrassed if you accuse him of getting off to it.

But be careful — push him too much on that matter, and such antagonism might be grounds for a round two on your already-stinging ass.

-------

Ayato’s punishments are particularly unpleasant, but the thing is that if you're in that situation, you deliberately chose it. Because he's gracious enough that you get a lot of warnings before reaching that point.

If you're being bratty, temperamental, rude, or whatever other behavior he doesn't like, you get a certain look first. The standard half-lidded eyes, unpleased expression, the universal ‘stop that right now’ glare. Maybe a passive aggressive comment if he can slide one into conversation.

If that fails — in other words, if you keep being a brat regardless, deliberately ignoring his warnings — you then get a verbal warning. He'll address you directly if it's just the two of you, but gods forbid you’re digging your own grave by misbehaving in front of others, he waits for a moment where everyone else's attention is on something else before pulling you close in a faux gesture of affection (with a grip harsh enough to ensure you get the message but not enough to alert anyone else in the room to his quiet fury), lowering his voice, whispering directly into your ear.

We’re going to have a talk about your behavior when this is over. Do you understand?

You know by now what a "talk" actually means, and hearing the words makes you stiffen and swallow. Granted, by the time it reaches the point that you've been that bad, you won't escape without at least a few swats, but if you persist, you'll just make it much worse. All you can do is nod your head and wait in dreadful anticipation.

As soon as the company you had leaves, you try to slowly back away, looking for an opening to run, but he has you grabbed by your clothes or hair and is dragging you off before you can even try. The total silence on his end as he drags you over to your room only serves to amplify your dread, and thereby your little whimpering protests.

The primary thing that will make it that much worse is what he uses to punish you, because from the day he brought you home, he anticipated a need for discipline at some point, and thus had a whipping cane custom-made just for you. One of those thin wooden canes designed for no other purpose than infliction of pain and punishment, which he leaves sitting out in your bedroom at all times, making sure it's always within sight as a subtle threat, a reminder of his power over you and that your behaviors have consequences.

He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get heated, yet somehow that makes it so much worse. He’s perfectly calm as he holds you down on his lap, a hand wrapped into and grasping your clothes on your back to ensure you’re not going anywhere with each sharp pain on your bare skin. He’s very disciplinarian about it, ensuring to emphasize the reason and intention of the punishment itself—

Remember that you had every option of avoiding this. This is only the consequence you deserve. Do you realize that?

You nod and whimper and try to apologize, but it doesn’t make each swat any lighter. He’s rather harsh about the severity too, the degree of pain, duration, number of swats and outright humiliation often feel disproportionate to what is in your opinion a mild offense, although you know better than to voice that thought.

You beg, sure, you cry and whimper and say you'll take any other punishment, but it goes in one ear and out the other, your words have no effect, and while his voice has that characteristic gentleness to it, he's still cold and firm in his reply, if he even gives you one.

You're not getting out of this. Hold still.

He does take care of you afterwards, so lovingly and gently it makes you angry. He reminds you again that it wouldn't have to happen if you behaved, that you have no one but yourself to blame, all while kissing your crying face, holding you close and gently massaging the newly formed welts.

He also likes to make you gauge how many lashes you deserve beforehand, often making the total number a certain multiple of how many times you mouthed off or did something against your rules. And of course, whenever there's a fixed number, he makes you count.

Listening to your voice grow more and more shaky and begin to crack, your speech becoming slurred with sobs and oh, how precious is the sudden panic in your voice when you realize you've lost count. The way you tense and start begging and whimpering when he replies—

I suppose we'll have to start over...

-------

Morax’s punishments are always by far the worst.

That's largely because there's a maddening element of psychological torment involved. It's slow, drawn out, the dread and anticipation are almost worse than the punishment itself. He actually employs a variety of corporeal punishments, each of which make your stomach churn just to think about, but unfortunately, putting you over his knee and beating your ass until there's a deep red hue to your skin is a personal favorite of his.

What makes his style of discipline so unbearable is that you’ll be punished for literally anything. There is no possible offense, no rule to be broken, that won’t earn corporeal punishment of some kind, most usually on your poor ass. You get a very clear set of rules, rules you’re expected to know and obey from day one. Countless little rules, so many of them meticulous and pointless. Things you must do, things you must not do, and rigid standards for your attitudes and behaviors.

Each and every violation is its own offense — not to mention, things like lying when asked about what you did, objecting to punishments, even talking back or trying to defend yourself when accused count as individual offenses too. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve broken a rule until he tells you you’re going to be punished for it, and any protest or whining counts as another offense.

Really, you’re lucky if you can go a few days in a row fully able to sit without any stinging pain, and it’s not uncommon for you to earn back-to-back punishments one day after another. You know for a fact that your record of days in a row without ending up laying in bed, whimpering and crying and clutching your backside in pain is a single digit number.

Sometimes, if it’s severe enough, you’ll get put over his knee right then and there, but he’ll also tally up the small offenses and, at the end of the day, punish you cumulatively for every small offense you’ve made, because he can’t allow even the slightest offense to go unpunished.

It’s not limited to things you do in his presence either, because he has ways of finding out everything you do.

Every day that you can't accompany him, he has an established routine for when he returns. Firstly, of course, you're supposed to greet him when he comes in (any attempts to be petulant by giving him silent treatment or hiding away will result in further punishments), but then, as he sits you down, holds you close, he asks you the same question.

Have you done anything you should not have today?

It's a torturous question.

On one hand, you could have very well been very well-behaved, in which case you can answer honestly with at least some confidence (although even then, part of you hesitates thinking maybe you committed some offense unintentionally).

But when you haven't been well-behaved and you know it — that's what's torturous.

It's a gamble. He asks every single day, so him asking itself is not a dead giveaway that he knows what you did. If he doesn't know — well, you might be able to lie and get away with it. Inversely, how unfortunate would it be if you told him, and it turned out he didn't know, and then you had to suffer when you could have gotten away with it?

On the flip side, if he does know — well, you'll soon be squealing like a stuck pig regardless, but things are much, much worse if you try to lie. You would know — you've taken that gamble a few times now and lost.

He seems to have ways of finding out everything — you only lied when you were absolutely confident, thinking there was no way anyone saw the thing you did, only for your stomach to lurch when you feel the soft stroking against your thigh stop, and are met with a low voice—

…Is that so?

And the tone, the way he says it, you immediately know you've messed up.

Of course, you could hypothetically keep denying it, but entrenching yourself further in a lie is, by that point, the worst decision you could make — you would know, you tried that once and you couldn't sit down normally for over a week. The best thing to do now is to confess… you won’t get any mercy or a lighter punishment, but you’ll avoid the additional punishment you’d get for doing anything else.

But even then, he can’t even give you the decency of forcing your body to bend and getting it over with. It has to be drawn out, torturing you to the greatest degree possible — sometimes, he does this by delaying it, telling you he has something else to do first, leaving you to sit around and wait in anticipation for an hour or more. If an offense is bad enough, one session might not even be enough, and you're told that you'll get another one tomorrow, adding to your dread.

But most of the time, the torment comes from forcing your own participation. He keeps you firmly in his lap, reaching down to grope at the flesh where your butt meets your thighs.

What do you think you deserve to have happen to you?

Another test, a question for which you’ll only receive something worse in addition to whatever will happen already if answered incorrectly. There’s only one right answer—

…Y-you should... punish me...

On the bright side, he’s genuinely pleased once you start learning well enough to know what the right answer is.

You’re stood up, guided over to the drawers, hands firmly on your shoulders to ensure you don’t get any ideas about running. You hate that one drawer, it makes your stomach churn just to look at. He has a damn collection for you— leather straps, whipping canes, paddles with holes in them just to hurt that much more. He tells you to pick one.

That, too, is a test— you know which ones hurt more. You're supposed to gauge what you deserve based on the severity of your offense, and he'll be that much more displeased if you go too lightly on yourself, and will consequently be more forceful, which you do not want. Eventually, you manage to make your choice, biting your lip, pointing with a shaky hand, tensing as his hand runs motions that would be soothing in any other context up and down your thigh, pausing to grasp at the fleshy part of your backside.

Then you're led back— sometimes to face the wall or bend over a counter, but most often he prefers to keep you over his lap. Not that you'll be forced down either— not unless you make that necessary, which of course, you do not want. Unless you want it to be that much worse, you follow the commands— pull your robes up, the waistband of any underwear down, bare your skin (always, no matter how mild the offense), lay down on your stomach, put your hands behind your back so he can grasp your wrists.

And even then, even then you have to be tormented further.

Now, what did you do to deserve this?

You recall to the best of your ability, hoping you didn't forget anything, lest you be accused of trying to be deceitful in hopes of escaping consequences, which will add another tally to the list.

It’s painful. It always is. You've reached a point where your resolve to not cry and squeal is defeated pretty early. You used to try your best not to for the sake of your pride, but you know by now that it will go on long enough that your tears and crying out are inevitable.

He manages to somehow be so stoic and calm and yet somehow so, so cruel about it.

Does it hurt?

Your shoulders quiver with little sobs, you go tense as he gropes and kneads at the raw flesh.

Y-yes, it hurts, it hurts so bad, please no more, please—

You cut off with a high-pitched cry as the stinging pain strikes again. And again. And again. It's always so much, so unfair compared to the weight of whatever you did. That slight pinkish undertone isn't quite satisfying enough either, he never stops until there's a deep, deep red tone to your flesh.

If you've been especially bad, you may have to count… but he actually tends to prefer not giving you a set number. You're more fearful that way, uncertain of how much more you have to endure.

You're certain he gets off on the pain for one thing, the sound of your cries and the way you jolt and squirm, but the humiliation is worse than the pain itself, for you. He knows that, revels in it. He's told you before—

You're such a prideful little thing… that will certainly need to be fixed.

Repetitive subjection to something so inherently humiliating and vulnerable, and being made to break down, any semblance of toughness and dignity being torn away at his hands, is a way of slowly breaking down your pride. You know that, it makes you so angry, but you can't help but let that vulnerability be exposed every time, to act in such a way that ensures he knows how badly it humiliates you.

Your go limp with exhaustion when it finally stops.

What have you learned?

You can barely speak, voice hoarse from the strain of your cries and speech muffled by sniffles and sobs.

I'm sorry… I won't do it again…

And then, he has the audacity to be so, so sweet to you. Looking down at your tear-streaked face, smiling— no, smirking, a belittling, amused expression— leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Poor thing.

Kneading at the sore flesh in spite of how the touch makes you wince. As if it isn't his fault, as if he had any mercy on you the whole time you were begging for it to stop.

It only makes you angrier. More than once now, you've earned a second round for how you reacted to his undeserved kindness. So ungrateful.

It's never a solitary punishment either, always coupled with something else, always something equally humiliating and discomforting, if not painful. You know he gets off to it, because the second punishment is almost always a direct sex act of some kind.

You'll take his cocks down your throat, grabbing your skull and fucking your face without any restraint, forcing you to swallow every last drop of seed, even forcing your head down to lick up whatever you spill off the floor. Your saliva just provides the lube to force you to bed and fuck you until you can't even stand, and all the while his hips bounce off your poor ass, each movement stinging against the sensitive flesh. He'll bite your flesh, unnaturally sharp teeth even piercing you skin, leaving you covered in marks. If he's feeling really, really mean, you don't even get the semblance of pleasure of it ramming into your poor sore, raw pussy— you'll take both cocks into your tight little ass instead, a stretch that makes you squeal and thrash and cry. Your legs kick and you lurch forward, desperate to pull yourself off, but you're jerked back with a growl as he slams into you, completely bottoming out. Eventually, you give in as the stretching pain ebbs away and trying to take whatever pleasure you can from the faint stimulation to spots of pleasure through the walls of flesh. But the act is utterly humiliating nonetheless, your hole left twitching and gaping for hours as cum leaks out and onto your skin. You can't even sit for days, both your poor asshole and backside sore and tender.

Your embarrassment and resentment builds. You loathe him for it, feel so humiliated and angry at yourself and how deeply you dread the punishments that it makes you nauseous.

And thus, in one particular incident, fed up and filled with spite, you made the greatest mistake of your entire time trapped with him— you decided to run, seeing that for once you had an opening to do so.

A stupid choice, really. You don't get far. Not even a full ten steps.

You know immediately that you have severely, sincerely fucked up. The sheer harshness with which you're grabbed, the back of your clothes grasped and twisted with unprecedented force, the draconic growl to his voice that makes your blood run cold.

Oh, dearest, you have no idea how badly you've just stepped out of line.

His other hand latches onto your throat.

You're going to be sleeping on your stomach for quite some time, won't you?

The statement alone makes tears well in your eyes, any bitter pride quickly crushed. You shake your head profusely, start begging for forgiveness, but you know in your heart that it's far too late for that… it still doesn't stop you from whimpering and apologizing as you're dragged back down the hall, no doubt to one of the worst punishments you've endured yet.

#man this was unholy levels of degen even by my content's standards #from what little i know i feel like the two new guys would also fit this so maybe ill add them later

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uraveragelonelyhuman · 1 year

Text

Arcane S/O Seeing Reader With A Child

EKKO

Ekko didn't really think about kids

He didn't really have time, he had you and he needed to think about the firelights

So the topic of kids never came up

And you both were still barely adults yourself, so there was time

But he always did love seeing you playing with the kids in the hideout

Thought it was nice and that you brought them something they missed

The kids loved you, you would play with them all the time

Ekko would watch all the time, joining in sometimes as you all ran around like mad men

Every kid there was a little joy to you all

But two stuck out from the rest

Jamie and Lena

They were 6 years old twins

They were taken off the streets, their parents abandoned them.

They were terrified, the masks scared them and so did the hoverboards

But they clung to you as you reminded them of their older sister they had lost

And they loved Ekko, they thought he provided comfort and safety for them

Which was rare

And both you and Ekko loved them back

And Ekko didn't know what it was, but seeing you taking care of them made him just fall in love all over again

Ekko walked out the dark tunnel, coming back from a mission as he waved bye to his friends and walked over to the tree.

He stopped for a minute, meeting up with Scar as he waved at his little niece his friend held.

"Where's Y/n?" Ekko asked, Scar was about to answer before Ekko heard laughing. It was yours, but mixed in with some others.

He turned around, confused before his eyes caught your hoverboard zipping past him.

He watched as you stood on the hoverboard, Jamie hugging your waist as you tossed Lena in the air.

The girl laughed, falling down as you turned the corner and went back for her, catching her in your arms.

You placed her in front of you, the girl sitting on the board and holding in as you let Jamie hop on your back.

The boy laughed as you did tricks on the board, circling the tree and going upside down, sometimes even sideways and almost tipping you all over.

You finally came down from the air, laughing as Jamie stumbled off the board while giggling.

You picked up Lena, the girl blowing your messed up hair out your face as you laughed.

You tickled thw girl's stomach, the small one laughing as she tried to fight you off. Jamie then came running at your leg, clinging to it as you laughed.

"Jamie!" You yelled, lifting up your leg as he laughed and clung on.

You eventually stumbled to the floor, holding Lena in your lap as Jamie stood up and hugged your neck.

Ekko watched with a fond smile, tilting his head a bit as he watched you all giggling like a small family. How did he get so lucky?

You looked at him, making eye contact and smiling as you waved him over. Jamie and Lena saw, smiling as they ran up to Ekko and almost tackled him to the ground.

Ekko picked them up, one on each arm as you came walking over. You gave him a kiss on the cheek, rolling your eyes as Jamie and Lena made exaggerated gagging noises.

Ekko laughed, smiling at all three of you.

He was really lucky, he had guy guys.

Vi loved you, because of how sweet and snarky you were

You first met her when you guys were young

You were around her age, 15

She was running around the lanes, looking for Powder

She had run off, saying she was going to a friends house but she wasn't with Ekko

And Powder didn't have any friends

So Vi went looking for her

And she found her

But with you, the girl was on your back as you listened to her rambling

You were smiling, joking with her sister when everyone would usually ignore the small girl except Vi

So she was grateful you were so nice to her sister

That's what initially drew her to you

But you were always sweet to anyone

Especially kids

She wasn't used to anyone being so sweet, especially in the lanes and to kids

She also never really got why people valued kids so much and wanted gehm so bad in the Undercity

It was always chaos, she didn't think she would ever have to care for anyone but herself after what happened the night everyone died

Until she found you again, but you had someone with you

Vi sat in your guys' apartment, on the couch as she felt her joints crack after walking around all day. And getting into a few small fights, not that they would ever tell you.

She looked up, hearing the door hinges creaking as the door opened and heard your voice.

"We're back!" You called out, Vi smiling as she heard the small pattering of feet against the hardwood floors. In came Violet, your daughter.

When Vi had found you, you worked at the brothel. You got into some things after it all happened, found a douche guy and got pregnant.

You didn't love the guy, just after Vi left or died as you thought you wanted to feel love again.

But you didn't, you ended up trying to replace her but you couldn't replace the irreplaceable.

And he left, and when Violet was born you gave her the name of the one you lost. Vi was happy, but also shocked when she met your daughter.

Violet was happy to meet the pink haired woman her mother talked so much about, loving Vi before she had even met her.

Violet jumped on the couch, into Vi's lap as Vi smiled at her and ruffled her hair. "How's your day been?" She asked, messing with the clip in Violet's hair she had done that morning.

"Good, mama got me candy!" Violet smiled, looking up at Vi, holding the candy up as the woman nodded her head.

"She wouldn't stop begging for it." You laughed, sitting on the other side of Vi as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

"Sounds eventful." She chuckled, kissing the side of your head as Violet climbed off her lap.

She laid down on her back, her head in Vi's lap now as she rambled on about your guys' day and offering Vi her candy.

Vi smiled, enjoying every moment. She loved these, eventually you all drifted off to sleep, in your own small world. She loved her little family.

Hopefully Aunt Jinx will visit soon, she hadn't seen her niece in a week. The longest she had been without Violet.

JINX

Jinx only knew you after a few years of her transformation from Powder to Jinx

You worked for Silco

Not a hitman or anything, he hired you to watch after Jinx

Essentially a bodyguard

Jinx hated it

She tried to get rid of you in as many ways that she could think of

She hated being watched over, like a child, it reminded her of Vi

And she hated thinking of Vi

Her big sister who left her

And you hovering over 24/7 like a babysitter, like Vi did, made her hate you

She wanted to get rid of you, she did it before she could do it again

So she followed you one night to your apartment

Wasn't the best but she was confused once you didn't go home after being let go from your shift

She followed you, freezing upon what she saw

You were knelt down in front of a small child

Then she heard the little one, no older than four years old saying "Sissy"

She froze, she finally understood why you reminded her of Vi

Because in a way, you were Vi, the older, protective sister

She stood in her place even after you left with your little sister

After that day she didn't hate you anymore

You were confused at that, thinking she was planning something

But after time went on you just accepted it

Jinx was actually nice to you, well the best Jinx could

And after a long time, you started dating

She loved it

But she never spoke about your sister, you told her about the kid but she never really brought it up unless you did

She thought she would never have to meet her

But she was wrong

"Hey, Jinx!" You called out, Jinx waving over her shoulder as she worked at her desk.

She smiled, hearing your voice but sat up confused when she heard another pair of footsteps with yours.

She heard a small giggle, freezing a bit as she turned around on her chair to see you walking over to her with your sibling on your back.

"Sorry, S/n can't be left alone until I can drop her off with Sevika." You apologize, the small girl peeking over your shoulder at Jinx.

Jinx slowly nodded her head, hesitant and a bit uncomfortable around the child. She didn't hate her, she just didnt wanna mess anything up and had never really been around children.

"Hi, Miss Jinx!" Your little sister smiled, sliding off your back and bouncing up to the woman.

"...Hi?" Jinx waved, staring at the girl as she tilted her head. Why wasn't she scared of her? Her name was pretty well known for chaos.

"What's this?" Nani asked, picking up a bomb off the desk and poing at the pin as your eyes widened.

"Nani-" you were cut off though by Jinx taking the bomb quickly from your sister.

She gave a small giggle, nervous a bit but finding humour in the situation.

"Maybe not that one," she stated, humming as she looked on her desk before her eyes lit up.

"Here! Play with this!" She laughed, stuffing a remote into your sister's hand as she looked at it curiously. "What's this?" She asked, pointing at a button.

"Press it!" Jinx beckoned her, your sister smiling and pressing the button causing yellow, pink and blue sparks to fly all over the room.

Your sister looked up at the sparks, her eyes reflected with the lights as she jumped up and down with excitement.

"Again! Again!" She smiled, Jinx nodding her head and standing up as she took the small girl in her arms.

"Forget Sevika! You're stuck with me now!" She laughs, your sister nodding her head as she wrapped her arms around her neck. You smiled at them.

Walking up to them you gave Jinx a kiss on the cheek, the girl smiling as your sister pushed your face away from her.

"No! Mine now." She stated, hugging Jinx closer to her as Jinx's face grew smug. You shook your head, smiling.

Jinx was happy for now, she was content at this moment. Your sister wasn't so bad. Hopefully she would ruin it.

CAITLYN

Caitlyn liked kids

She thought they were adorable with a lot of curiosity

They reminded her of herself when young

She also had a younger sister she would take care of

It was to help her parents and because she loved her little sister

Her name was Briana, she was nine years old

Her parents had her when she was a bit older

She didn't mind though

She also met you after you had found her sister when she got lost

She thanked you heavily as she was worried to death for the girl

When you guys started dating her sister was around a lot

She at first didn't know what you thought of it, she was sorta nervous

But you never said anything about it

So she thought you liked her sister

But she always was bugged never having confirmation

Until one day she found you guys asleep

Caitlyn sighed, opening the door to your guys' apartment and hooked her coat over the rack hook.

She rolled her shoulders, sighing as she felt her shoulder pop. She went towards the hall, confused to where you were because she would usually be met with you as soon as she came home.

She got to your guys' bedroom, opening the door before freezing in the door frame.

She smiled after a moment, seeing the sight of her sister curled up on your side as you had an arm around her.

The blanket covering you guys was thrown half off the bed, both of you leaning against the headboard.

She shook her head, leaning against the door frame as she admired your sleeping face.

How did she get so lucky?

SEVIKA

She had a kid of her own

Sienna, she was four years old, she never planned on kids but somehow she ended up with one

But she never regretted her daughter

She loved her and she would do anything for her

That's why she was so stand offish towards you when you were first hired by Silco

Her daughter always hung around her while working

It was because her daughter hung around the bar a lot with her while she worked

It was because she knew she could give her the best protection, better than anyone else

But you got closer to Sevika

Not on your own, but because of Sienna

Sevika's boots thud against the wood of the stairs going down to the last drop. She had talked to Silco just now, a new mission was coming up and she had to go.

She hated those. She had to find someone to watch Sienna because even if she wanted to stay with her, she couldn't because this one was too dangerous.

She finally got to the last steps, looking around the bar. It was a slow day, nobody really coming in except for a few people. She finally heard the small giggle of her daughter.

Her giggle mixed in with the music in the bar and the stragglers of the bar's conversations.

She shook her head, a small smile gracing her features. A smile only for her daughter, she heard footsteps on the wood, confused as she looked up and saw Sienna.

But she wasn't alone, in the middle of the room you were with her.

She was on your hip, you spinning her around and dipping her to the music as her little carefree giggle melted her mothers heart.

You then set her down, twirling her around and crouching down to let her spin you the best she could.

Sienna then looked at Sevika, her eyes visible lighting up as she saw her mother. She smiled, waving her mom over as Sevika hesitated before walking over.

You looked at Sevika surprised, smirking at the woman as you silently held a hand out to her. She scoffed amusedly, taking the challenge and taking your hand as she spun you once.

You laughed. "Wow, Sevika knows how to dance?" You teased, the woman rolling her eyes and shaking her head with her own, dumb smirk on her face.

Sienna giggled, her plan had worked. She saw the way her mama looked at you. And she loved you too.

She threw herself full force at you and hugged your waist.

You laughed as you bent down and swayed back and forth with her. The girl on the tips of your feet as you helped her follow your step.

Sevika watched, amused. Her eyes follow you and her daughter with an unfamiliar feeling in her chest.

Maybe you would watch Sienna for her. Would give her a chance to talk to you more.

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