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dravidious · 6 months

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You're more amazing than tummies

Been thinking about plushies lately and wanted to make a set of fabric-themed Etrian Odyssey classes for playing as and fighting plushies

Scissorblade - A melee class that specializes in attack buffs and basic attacks, and wields limited elemental damage. Sharp Snip: Melee cut attack. Basic attacks guaranteed to crit next turn. Temper Blades: Increases physical damage and crit chance to one ally line for 3 turns. Double Attack: Passive. Gives a chance to make two basic attacks. Heated/Frosted/Static Edge: Increases physical damage and imbue basic attacks with fire/ice/volt to one ally line for 3 turns. Burning/Frigid/Voltic Cut: Melee cut+fire/ice/volt attack to one enemy line.

Ragstainer - A melee class specializing in ailments, with attacks that lower bind/ailment resistance and ailment attacks that can splash ailments. Rip Up: Melee cut attack. Lowers bind+ailment resistance for 3 turns. Mud Blot: Melee bash attack. Inflicts blind on all enemies in the row. Mud Splash: Inflicts blind on all enemies. On failure, reduces bind+ailment resistance for 3 turns. Bleach Bash: Melee bash attack. If the target has an ailment, remove it to greatly increase damage.

Night-Knight - A defensive melee class that can create extra HP in the form of padding and share it with allies to soak up damage. Fluff Up: Gain a large amount of padding. Auto Fluff: Passive. At start of combat, chance to use Fluff Up for free. Swaddle Ally: Gain some padding. One ally shares user's padding for 3 turns. Swaddle Line: Gain some padding. One ally line shares user's padding for 3 turns. Selfless Swaddle: Gain some padding. For 3 turns, all other party members share user's padding, but the user does not. Pillow Hammer: Melee bash attack. Spend all padding to increase damage proportional to padding spent. Nightfall Hammer: Melee bash attack. Stronger with less remaining HP.

Stitchstabber - A melee class with high speed that can use splash and piece attacks to stitch enemies together; when one enemy is hit by a single-target attack, all stitched enemies are hit. Side-Stitch: Melee stab attack that splashes to adjacent enemies. Hit enemies are stitched together. Straight-Stitch: Ranged stab attack that pierces enemy lines. Hit enemies are stitched together. Rending Needle: Accurate melee stab attack that reduces the target's evasion and physical defense this turn. Painful Needle: Melee stab attack that reduces the target's accuracy and physical attack this turn. Sever Life: Remove stitches to make a powerful ranged cut attack on all stitched enemies with a chance to instant-kill.

Laundromancer - A melee/support class with damage and healing skills that purge buffs/debuffs to increase potency. Dry Out: Melee fire attack that purges a buff and a debuff. If a debuff was removed, increase damage. Wring Out: Melee bash attack that purges all buffs and debuffs. Increase damage for each debuff removed. Soak: Heal an ally and purge a buff and a debuff. If a buff was removed, increase healing and restore TP. Wash Away: Heal a line of allies and purge a buff and a debuff. Increase healing and restore TP to each ally that lost a buff. Good as New: Revive a dead ally and restore a large amount of HP. Spin Cycle: Ranged ice attack to all enemies that purges all buffs and debuffs. Increase damage to all enemies for each debuff removed.

Threadspinner - A ranged class that can strike and bind enemy lines with lashes of thread, or throw needles that hit bound enemies extra hard. Head/Arm/Leg Lash: Ranged cut attack to an enemy line. Binds head/arms/legs. Coiling Lash: Ranged cut attack. Binds head+arms+legs. Piercing Needle: Ranged stab attack that pierces enemy lines. Increased damage to bound enemies. Vicious Needle: Ranged stab attack. Increased damage for each bind on the target. Needle Rain: 8 ranged stab attacks to random enemies. Cannot hit the same enemy more than three times. Increased damage to bound enemies.

Dyesplasher - A ranged class wielding elements, buffs/debuffs, and ailments, giving it a versatile and flexible toolkit. Red/Blue/Yellow Splat: Ranged fire/ice/volt attack. Inflict panic/poison/paralysis. Red/Blue/Yellow Wave: Ranged fire/ice/volt attack to all enemies. Color Cloak: Increases elemental defense to all allies. Red Ruin/Blue Blues/Yellow Yelp: Reduce fire/ice/volt resistance and physical attack/elemental attack/bind+ailment rate to an enemy line for 3 turns. Rainbow Mixture: For 3 turns, increase an ally's elemental damage and ailment rate, and make fire, ice, or volt attacks become fire+ice+volt. (note: due to the way damage types work in Etrian Odyssey, more elements is always better)

Plushstuffer - A ranged/support class that uses builds up stuffing as it uses basic skills, then uses it for powerful plushie skills. Cotton Catapult: Ranged elementless attack. Get 1 stuffing. Unwind/Pluck Off: Remove a bind/ailment from an ally and restore a small amoung of HP. Get 1 stuffing. Tiger Plushie: Spend all stuffing (max 3) to make 5 ranged bash attacks against random enemies. Cannot hit the same enemy more than twice. Increased damage with more stuffing. Frog Plushie: Spend all stuffing (max 3) to heal all allies and remove binds/ailments. Increased healing with more stuffing. Unicorn Plushie: Spend all stuffing (max 3) to attempt to revive/heal all allies. Increased chance with more stuffing, 100% at 3.

Outfitter - A support class with a wide arsenal of buff skills, which can be spread to buff multiple allies or combined to use multiple on one ally. Can also steal enemy buffs and bind them with restrictive clothing. Daring Clothes: Unlocks the Phys/Elem Attack, Act Speed, and Bind+Ailment Rate clothing skills. Practical Clothes: Unlocks the Phys/Elem Defense, Endure Chance, and Bind+Ailment Res clothing skills. Comfortable Clothes: Unlocks the Regeneration, TP Discount, and Accuracy+Evasion clothing skills. Fashion Line: Use a clothing skill on an ally line. Mass Production: Use a clothing skill on all allies. Custom Fit: Combine two clothing skills into 1 buff on an ally, then double the duration of that buff. Bespoke Garb: Combine three clothing skills into 1 buff on an ally. Catwalk Showoff: This turn, buffed allies deal more damage. Flattery: Steal a buff from an enemy and give it to all allies. Mask/Mittens/Heels: Inflict head/arm/leg bind on an enemy.

Patchmender - A support class with healing and cure skills that apply patches to allies, boosting their stats or negating binds/ailments. Athletic Patch: Heal an ally and boost their phys/elem attack for 3 turns. Athletic Mending: Heal a line of allies and boost their phys/elem attack for 3 turns. Reinforced Patch: Heal an ally and boost their phys/elem defense for 3 turns. Aromatic Patch: Heal an ally and give them regeneration for 3 turns. Patched Tear: Revive a dead ally and give them a chance to endure death once in the next 3 turns. Mended Knot/Stain: Remove a bind/ailment from a line of allies and negate the next bind/ailment they would receive in the next 3 turns.

#asks #the skills given are just a handful of examples #if they were real they'd have a bunch more #as usual the hardest part was the names lol #both class names and skill names #except for the Outfitter. that one was super easy and fun #also to explain Rainbow Mixture making elemental attacks have all elements:#if an attack has multiple elements the game uses the one that the target is weakest to #so that means that if you want to poison an enemy with Blue Splat but it's immune to ice you can make it fire+ice+volt to still deal damage #and if it's weak to fire then it'll take weakness damage even though it's immune to ice!#also Etrian Odyssey combat has a front line and a back line so that's what the “ally line” “pierces enemy lines” stuff is about #also binds are a really neat mechanic: each skill requires a certain body part (head/arm/leg) and if that part is bound you can't use it #so if the enemy is blasting you with powerful magic you can bind the head and they'll waste their turns trying and failing to cast spells #leg bind is the least useful bind tho because barely any skills use legs lol #it does negate enemy evasion tho!#i'm proud that i managed to make a full 10 because that's the amount that normal EO games have #though i'm just now realizing i want the thimbleknight to be blanket-themed instead #okay i changed it now it's the bedding-themed night-knight and all the skills are the same just with different flavor #had to make sure my love of blankets was sufficiently represented #ALSO i made Nightfall Hammer because you can have low HP but lots of padding so you're safe and i think that's neat #also also i'm just proud of some of the mechanics i made like padding and stitches because they're unique #i'm glad i was able to come up with enough ideas to not just be copying classes from the games

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miroana · 9 months

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Elite moments in the Odyssey

A curated selection of my favorite details in this silly epic that changed storytelling forever. Homer is hilarious.

- Whenever anyone asks Odysseus where he’s from and he seizes the opportunity to lie continuously for several pages.

- Victims of his elaborate, entirely false backstories include: the cyclops, the suitors, the swineherd, the goddess Athena (who immediately calls bull), his son, his wife, and his father. Odysseus just loves lying

- Every time Athena makes Odysseus hotter and taller so he can rizz someone up

- His brilliant strategy to survive Charybdis’ whirlpool (cling to fig tree “like a bat”)

- When Telemachus casually drops that he is well aware that Mentor is actually Athena and she pretends not to hear and continues to act like she’s just some guy

- When Odysseus falls asleep while the Phoenicians give him a lift home, and instead of waking him when they reach Ithaca, the sailors just pick up the corners of his blankets to dump him on the shore and leave

- Odysseus subsequently waking on a random beach and spending several pages violently confused until Athena, slapping her forehead, has to appear to tell him what’s going on

- Penelope’s weaving and unweaving of the tapestry to get out of marrying the suitors. it’s so stupid that it’s brilliant

- When Odysseus goes to the land of the dead and Achilles and Patroclus appear together <3

- That time Odysseus and Athena sit down on a rock together to plot and scheme etc

- When the maid who raised Odysseus recognizes the gigantic scar he used to always brag about and he grabs her by the neck and tells her to shut the hell up. Elegant elegant man

- Odysseus’s dog who stayed alive for over 20 years so he could lay eyes on him before dying on the spot

- Every time someone says bro you’re kind of hot for a beggar and Odysseus says yeah I know right?

- When Circe was like oh dude I can’t kill you? Guess I’ll sleep with you

- “‘You bitch!’ retorted the ready-witted Odysseus”

- Penelope later calls this maid a bitch too

- When Odysseus avoids competing in the Phoenician games until one of the Phoenicians calls him weak and lazy. so he thoroughly wipes the floor with them

- The sheer number of boats Odysseus crashed

- The sheer number of times Odysseus started sobbing in public

- When one of the Suitors smacks beggar Odysseus with a stool and it takes everything in him to not go insane on them

- Every time Odysseus anonymously gasses Odysseus up

- And last, but not in any way least, the Trojan horse plan. We all know it. We all love it. But take a step back and think for a moment how delightfully absurd it is

#the odyssey #odysseus #penelope #telemachus #athena #the iliad #homer #greek mythology #tagamemnon

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malusokay · 8 months

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The perfect September Sunday

Starting the day with coffee in bed while reading a book. (I'm currently rereading the Odyssey!! <3)

Open your curtains and windows and let the fresh autumn air fill your room...

Baking cinnamon rolls as a welcome to September

Play your favourite playlist in the background to set the mood

Have a big breakfast with your friends or family (my family has a tradition of brunching every Sunday!!)

Preparing for the week ahead: Check your calendar, plan a cute outfit, tidy your space, and finish your homework.

Sweet-scented candles to establish a cosy atmosphere <3

Investing some time in your hobbies

Going for a walk while wearing your cosiest knitted sweater

time for some self-care: a long and relaxing bubble bath, moisturising, hair care, skin care, facial mask… the whole routine!!

Call a friend and maybe make some fun plans for the week ahead... maybe a cosy coffee date, going to the bookstore together, or going to a museum on a rainy day? :)

Have cosy and calm evening tea

Fresh sheets and soft blankets...

going to sleep early so you will be recharged and refreshed on Monday morning... <3

Happy September Angel, I wish all of you the cosiest and happiest month!! As always, feel free to share your own suggestions or favourite Sunday activities in the comments!! <33

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

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irate-iguana · 10 months

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Underrated moment from the Odyssey: this description of Odysseus forming a blanket burrito when he’s unable to sleep

You rotate your blorbos like rotisserie chickens? Well I rotate them like sausages full of fat and blood over a blazing fire. We are not the same.

#this is emily wilson’s translation btw #tagamemnon #odysseus #the odyssey #homer #classics #original post #shitpost

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crochetingwiththecat · 1 month

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The Book Cover

So I'm not sure when I'll actually START the blanket cuz right now I am very much in the design and planning stage as it's huge and everything needs to line up.

I'll start with breaking the parts down to pieces, the center most piece is pixel art I made by using a book cover I found online (https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-odyssey-homer/1123741766) which I liked the look of. Then I tried using softwares to pixelate it and it . . . Didn't go well. So I drew it myself. It took 4 days. It was horrible. But now it's done and I'm never doing a pixel art that big ever again.

Anyway, here's the pixel art of that.

To turn this into a blanket piece, I'm gonna be using tunisian crochet purl stitches to create a giant (183x282) piece of fabric that I can then cross stitch the pattern onto. I've done this before to make another blanket for my friend:

The swatch I made of the yarn I'm using (plymouth worsted merino superwash) is 20x20 stitches to 4x4 inches (which is my gauge for the whole project.

Here's the swatch blocked (6×6 inches) made with an F/3.75mm hook.

#crochet #odysseus #odyssey blanket #homers the odyssey #the odyssey #Phoenix blanket #tunisian crochet #cross stitch

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astralnymphh · 7 months

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veiled affections ⚝ | ellie williams

☆࿐-ˊˎ farm!ellie x fem!reader

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

AN: quick little smut to hold me off before i work on a bigger project/series fic!! more casual and less proofread like my last one but still pretty good ifya ask me <3

tags/cw: NSFW!! SMUT!! 18+ MDNI, usual playful bickering, one second of cuddiling, poetic ahh writing, very mild foreplay, hella dirty talk, lotsa swearing, oral (receiving) spitting, clit stim (receiving), petnames (babe, baby, good girl)

WC: 2k+

designated song: stargirl interlude - the weekend & lana del rey

synopsis; swept under your fossil gray wool blanket, a body deprived of slumber and living the effects of back-bending chores all around the farmhouse has you fatigued and yearning to supply the last ounce of energy with a bit of literature. eventually, ellie will set that book on rain check, and your fatigue, ..and her boredom. honestly, she'll definitely be the one to steal your energy instead of the book.

radiance incarnate is what lies behind the glass pane just ahead of your bed-post. lunar light outstanding the dark night, never lacking a few stars that flecked the sky above the nocturnal forest, at least what you could perceive through a regular sized window. fusing with the comfortability of your mattress and cloaked in a warm wool blanket makes for a nice end-of-the-day reward while you immerse yourself in the realm of 'the odyssey'. ellie's not in bed. not in the room. she's presumably downstairs finishing up something, so not a clue of her coming is on your mind.

you wriggle around the soft bed altering your position to have one leg bent and the other draped over, the book upheld by the bulk of your thigh making it easier to flip through. page by page, word by word, space and time diminishes around you and is replaced by this entrancing world of mycenaean greece portraying the aegean sea. the room was dimly lit and still, minus the muted sounds of an owl and crickets chirping beyond the wooden walls. serenity lasts for a good half hour before an upsurge of hard rubber footsteps wake the floor by the bedroom door to the right of you.

"hey babe- ooh, what'cha reading?" ellie's voice grapples your focus to her profile, attired in her white shirt, grubby denim and converse that look like they've been dragged to hell.

"the odyssey." you respond as she begins to lurk closer, arms crossed.

she swipes her tongue across her lips, saying, "y'know.. savage starlight might be more.. fun to read?" in an obviously sarcastic note, creasing her brows together accompanying a brass smirk.

"to you, maybe. I actually enjoy this a lot." you cave the book over your chest, sitting like a roof, "you just don't have a mature taste."

"whadda'ya mean? comics are for everyone, and actually easy to understand." she clambers atop of your hips, descending her face upon you, "unlike the odyssey."

"pshh, the odyssey is a classic." you highlight.

"you're just mad that im right."

you pucker a pout, slowly lifting the book between your noses till ellie knocks it down plumb on your collarbone.

"ah-uh," she intently strikes spires into your eyes with her persuasive peer, narrowing those lids in an undeniably tantalizing way, "can't ignore this now."

"you're right." you spat out and divided the space with your book again.

"c'mon.." she prys the book from your limp grasp, leaving it astray to the bed adjacent to you, "I'm here now, aren't I?" a humbly intimate whisper croaks from her toothy grin.

you banish your sight to the headboard above, pondering the words that would wisp from your lips, "I have a few pages left, babe, then we'll do whatever.."

"mmk, 'gonna lay on you though." she giggles and shuffles along the length of you, interlacing your limbs together and smushing her cheek on your stomach. her arms swathe your hips and tuck underneath your butt.

the book diverged from your fingertips finds its way back, cuddled between your thumbs and eclipses ellie's head from your vision. your pupils root back to the muster of sentences lining the page, with a certain breath gusting onto your mildly exposed midriff.

a scant minute survives before a husk is heard, "mmph- so warm.." the tip of her nose drags on your skin as she faces downward, marking an indulgent smooch to your abdomen.

that brought a melliferous smile to draw out, instilled with admiration from her speckled kisses. it anchors your attention unwillingly when these kisses continue but you'd rather void it and tread on with reading as ellie treads on with a rampancy of taunting kisses. normally, this'd be blasé, but tonight, it's turning your tides.

ellie muffles, "wann' kiss every inch.." her nibbles subside in target of your navel, nuzzling on the pouch of your belly and biting your shorts' band, "fuck.."

"els."

"mhm?"

"what're up to?" the book slants down.

"you."

"elsies.."

"just showin' my love.." her tone airs up and turns raspy.

"I think it's more than that." you dig at her transparent peak in sensuality and prod her foot with yours.

ellie can't necessarily disprove this, she was blatantly horny but wanted to keep that 'under the covers' till you shared the feeling outwardly. a shameless smirk paints her mouth regardless, "y'know what I really wanna do?"

"what?"

a gnaw at her lower lip fracts the answer briefly, uttering, "I wanna eat your fucking pussy." and blunt she was, verdant eyes fastened to yours. she's so eager for you, clawing at your loins.

a shudder bolts the extent of your nerves and you clench around nothing but a throb at the contents of her question, visibly ruffled up by it, "babe.."

"can I?"

nary a gloom of doubt inhabits your mind, the way she's laying on your body, patient to taste you revs you up like a torrent of arousal. oh my fucking goddess. it's making you go wild.

"yes.."

"shit- m'kay, lemme just.." ellie wrinkles up the sheet in her fist, tossing it overhead till her head was obscured by it. the amber hue of her hair is subtle under the thin pearly sheet as she slithers down between the interstice of your thighs.

maybe the now carnal environment made it inconvenient to carry on with the perusal of your book, but you're elevating it back up from your sternum regardless. the vivid thought of her eating you out while you read is a bit elating, is it not?

ellie's cunning lips park at the epitome of your core, locking her biceps under your slack legs and dangling her still shoe-clad feet off the beds' brink.

"can't wait to see that beautiful fucking pussy.." her veiled voice has strings of raw ardor plucking in her throttle rippling onto your clothed entrance with a muggy pant on every word.

an unheard gulp passes through to the trench of your chest, sending out a reflex of sweet sensations to your pelvis, whimpering, "mhh- ellie.."

"shhhshhh.. i got'chu.."

she begins to pleat your panties over themselves and slip them off your legs, whizzing them away to some lifeless nook of the tucked-in sheets.

"fuck.. shit-" ellie heaves in awe, even day after day of seeing you bare, it's so titillating to her, drool is abandoning her lips.

the paragraphs living on the pages merge into an unintelligible blob as your vision drowses and the only sensation you can detect is her breath lathering your exposed slit. an open 'ptui' is heard prior to a wet glob landing on your clit and evoking a jolt from your body.

"so sensitive.." she pokes fun at your reaction, slapping her digits down on your sappy pussy and rubbing the spit through your folds, which to much avail, juts your body again.

"fck!" you hack out a swear at each writhe and prod.

"yeah, like that?"

the grip on your book tightens, causing it to tremor in your shaky hold.

"gonna taste so fuckin' good, mmh.." she murmurs to herself but you catch the gist since immediately after her lips envelop your clit and enlist deft torpedo laps to it.

a heap of pleasurous pricks throb in your cunt and garner a gentle mewl from your chords, whining, "gh- mhhhn.." tenderly in growing bliss.

ellie laps your clit in brisk flicks while sucking it up with noises similar to kissing resounding through the sheer fabric cascading over her head.

you observe the cover moving with every mild thrust of her head, creasing and shuffling with the halo of her hair. a hand prowls from the sheets' hem and searches for anywhere to rest, to which you beckon it to your breast.

she realizes this and gives it duo squeezes for good measure and her unemployed fingers knead the squishy flesh of your ass, all while smirking.

"mmhh~ I wanna see you.." you mumble into the whafted-shut book, knocking off the already sliding sheet with your knee to reveal a flushed ellie with her nose buried in your crotch, her pretty face poised between your thighs, stuffed in your cunt.

her irises hark this newfound horizon before her and diffuse an intense glare that shudders your soul, sinking her lips deeper into those parted folds and drinking up your sticky deluge.

her mouth disconnects with threads of saliva and slick following, "this pussy tastes s'fucking divine, you know that right?"

"y-yeah.."

"could go down n'you for breakfast, lunch n' dinner.. fuck- baby.."

ellie retreats her keen tongue, dipping into your entrance and soaking up the lewd coating of your walls. oral sounds of her mouth practically having a make-out sesh with your puffy lips overflow the room and bounce like an echo betwixt your ears.

"ohh my godd.." your moans enhance and amplify in the sea of ebbing relief and flowing pleasure.

her pecan speckled skin tinted with rose is glazed with a sinful slick from how far she pushed her face in, a terribly arousing sight to behold when she withdraws to praise her own work.

"how's m'pretty girl doing?"

"s-so.. closee.."

"want' you to moan my name when you do, yeah?"

"o-okay.."

"I wanna know how fuckin' good I make you feel." her sharp curses stay unyielding in her expression.

"mh-mhghmm.." your throat clogs up in anticipation.

ellie pours over your bare stature one last time before gripping the back of your knees and pushing them up till your feet meet the sky.

"that's better."

her lips smash into your cunt once again and prove to be frothing with a craving for you, clenched brows and grunting into your groin intently. she explores every attainable inch like she knows it, licking up your pre-cum like it's the last fucking meal on earth.

"oh- fuck!" you wail out, webbing your fingers in her frizzed up locks by habit.

her inhuman speeds catch you out of the blue, binding her tastebuds with your natural taste and delighted in every millisecond of it. she hoists onto her knees and hovers over your bottom half, wriggling her tongue over your entire opening and sending that abused clit into overdrive.

"el-ell.. ellie! i can't fucki- ah!" a high squeak blazes from your gullet.

she blurts out, "cum on m'fuckin' face." submerged in your folds.

"els.. mh!"

it's the end for you when she starts purposefully moaning on your bud, finally ushering your climax to dull your senses and numbfuck your consciousness. your reality is painted with a globe of starlight just by the heavenly feeling of it.

"good girl..-fck, there there..." ellies gingerly tone conflicts with her devilish play, drinking up the breach of cum gushing from your orgasm.

"oof.. jeez.." you recline your legs once her hands flee, huffing your way down from the celestial heavens.

ellie clambers up and collapses next to you, a smug and prideful visage staring back at your profile.

"did ya finish those pages?"

"erm, no."

she butts off a laugh, "eh, well.." her palm advances your bangs, hooking them behind the conch of your ear, "ended up having more fun, yeah?'

"i- yeah.. I guess.."

"you guess?"

"coulda been a lot better."

"whaaaat?" she mimicked an offended countenance.

"like it's nothing to write home about-"

"u're just trynna rile me up!"

"what if I am?" you boldy tease, tutting your skull side-to-side.

and that's ellie's one weakness, teasing. her brows hike, hollering "ohhh- I see how it is!" and rolls on top of you and thrusts her pelvis down with clear intention, "c'mere-"

"fhmm--" her willowy finger seals your lips, heeding the provocation you've cast into her mind.

"you're on."

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

hoep you enjoyed <3

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blackopals-world · 9 months

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Hiii, I have question ab the yuus (any yuus you want)

If they could be sorted into the NRC dorms, which one would they be in?

And may~be what kind of unique magic they would have if they did posses magic? 👉👈

🪡-Tailor!Yuu- Pomefiore

"Let's Stick Together"-Fuse two materials with seamless binds.

Used to fix tears in fabrics and cuts

Can be used to bind someone to an object but the fusion will loosen with enough pulling

🩺-Vet!Yuu-Savanaclaw

"The Lion Sleeps Tonight"- Sedate a target into an instant coma or relieves pain. (Like laughing gas)

Used on unwilling patients and anyone being annoying

Necessary for Spelldrive when players sustain bad injuries that can't be fixed on the field.

🔫-Special Forces!Yuu- Scarabia

"Flower of Adversity"- Summons two weights, strength, and discipline that will attach themselves to the target. The weights are proportional to the target's negative attitude that the caster chooses.

The effect is dispelled if the target overcomes the flaw chosen

It won't work on people too dense to realize their flaws.

Yuu can't find the insecurity to target for the spell to work on Rook.

🌊- Marine Biologist!Yuu- Octavinelle

"Heart of the Sea"- Allows the user to move water no matter the depth.

Used to keep water out of boat and parting the literal sea. Mostly for researching Sea life

Yuu doesn't realize that they are a water bender and doesn't care.

🪶-Harpy!Yuu- Savanaclaw

"Mine!Mine!Mine!"- Give the user the ability to spot valuable objects through any barriers. The objects are highlighted with a sparkling glint.

Used to steal shiny objects.

Note: Kalim is shiny objects

🌷-Gardener!Yuu- Heartslabyul

"Golden Afternoon"- Causes plants to grow at an expositional rate.

Used to instantly get fruits and veggies ready to be harvested

Used to create walls of plants for defense.

🍴-Chef!Yuu- Heartslabyul

"Anyone can cook"- Summons small bag used as interdimensional storage with an unknown capacity. Used to store ingredients and cooking tools

Can store stuff other than food but Yuu has never considered that.

♨️-Onsen!Yuu- Octavinelle

"Be our Guest"- A soothing scent wafts in the air that causes people to relax and forget their worries.

Works like the Lotus Eaters from the Odyssey

The effect makes it impossible to focus on how much you're spending at the spa.

🌙-Celestial!Yuu- Diasomnia

They are a literal God! Do they really need more power?!

Yes

"A Dream is a Wish"- literally grants wishes but only wishes that are the heart's true desires. If the wish isn't clear then it won't come true.

Getting a wish is almost impossible unless you're Silver who never asks for one.

Lilia got one but only because he tricked Yuu. He wished to marry Yuu. Chad move.

🎮-Otaku!Yuu- Ignihyde

"Wildest Dreams"- create a digital simulation that creates lifelike holograms. The simulation can replica any fantasy experience the occupants desire. Functions as an isolated chamber for those inside.

The room can be used to trap people in a simulation of the caster's choosing. The target would need to be very observant to realize they are in a simulation and escape.

The room is soundproof and can used for desensitization for those who get overwhelmed (Idia)

🔮-(???)Yuu-Diasomnia

"Into the Woods"- creates a foggy mist that blankets the area. I mist causes disorientation and over time panic. The targets will become lost and travel in circles while trying to escape.

Yuu has no control over the mist. It follows them.

🎬-Theater kid!Yuu-Pomefiore

"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious"- A very simple spell despite how it sounds. It just makes it so you can remember rehearsed lines without a script and not stumble over words

Despite how it is used this spell is actually a memory spell. The user can use it to recall even the most deep seeded memories and test answers they studied.

⛓️- Disciplinary Committee!Yuu- New Ramshackle

"Chain the Beast"- Creates an anti-magic field that dispels all spells within the radius. Weakens users within to prevent further casting.

The spell is used to stop all fighting from students and disables them to be taken in by the discipline officers.

The spell is used rarely due to the taxing effect of Yuu which is why they rely on their officers to take over after the spell ends.

🧹-Maid!Yuu- Heartslabyul

"Whistle while you Work"- Animating objects to to do tasks like assisting in cleaning, cooking and dressing.

Very Disney princess meets Fantasia.

💎-Noble!Yuu-Pomefiore

"Mirror, Mirror"- Ask your reflection any question to find the secrets of others. They can even use it to watch other people.

A dangerous spell that Yuu uses to spy on others.

If Yuu uses the reflection of another person allows them to interrogate a target.

🪀-Toymaker!Yuu- Ignihyde

"No Strings"- The caster places a part of their being into an inanimate object and gives it the gift of life.

Yuu has only used this spell once to bring a doll they created to life. This became their little sister Dalia or Dolly.

Given its nature, the spell can't be cast more than a handful of times in a lifetime.

588 notes · View notes

themidnightcrimson · 11 months

Text

bubblegum ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda is a lenient mommy, but her leniency can only go so far.

words: 5.2K

warnings: soft mommy!wanda, top!wanda, f!reader, bottom!reader, mommy kink, ownership, punishment, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, use of vibrator, use of dildo, brain goes brrrrr

this post is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Wanda loves you in all things pink.

Ballerina pink walls in your room. A little pink clock sitting high above the varnished white desk, a pink cat in the face of the clock ticking its whiskers towards the morning hour. Your pink bunny slippers lying discarded on the ground. The bubblegum color of your bedsheets that you grind between your fingers as your hands wake first, trying to find that smooth warm skin that you so dearly love. The pink of your lips, of your rosy peaks, of that space between your thighs, kept exposed throughout the night because she discards your pink nightgown before you fall asleep in her arms.

It's morning time, your favorite. Your hand crumples the pink duvet in its odyssey to find your lover. You can feel her slow, heavy breaths and hear them in your ear over the morning birds outside the window. You can feel her legs entwined with yours, your toes resting on the bones of her ankle. Hand meets arm—you’ve found her.

Slowly, your eyes blink open to see her. Wanda is lying facing you, one arm tucked under the pink pillow, one cast halfway over to you where she must have reached for you during the night but lost you before she fell back asleep again. Your hand has found her forearm, clutching it, fingertips pressing into the fleshy muscle there.

“Mommy,” you whisper as confirmation that this is whose arm your hand has found. Your Mommy, who sleeps with you every night, whom you always wake up to. Even if she wakes before you first, she resists the urge to get up to make you breakfast. She wants to be the first thing you see every morning.

A noise stirs in Wanda’s throat. Your hand, as if attracted to the sound, crawls up her arm and over her shoulder so that your fingers can wade through the ocean of orangey red curls to find the ridged column of her throat. Green eyes open to focus on you, a little puffy from sleep, and her ivory grin shines as the brightest thing in the room. “Good morning, baby,” she says, the vibrations of her voice buzzing through the skin of your fingers on her throat.

Her arm finishes its journey that it started sometime in the night, reaching to slide over your waist until it can press into your lower back, ushering you closer to her. You giggle as the front of your body presses against hers, taking in the delight of how warm and soft her skin is against yours. When she inhales, her tummy touches yours, and when she exhales, the force of her breath moves a strand of your hair.

As your thigh opens and cradles around her hips, her hand on your back slides up and buries itself in your hair. She moves your head forward so that she can press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Wanna suck,” you pull away to tell her, your tongue running wildly over the inside of your mouth, eyes darting down to her chest left exposed by the blankets that parted down when she had moved you towards her.

Wanda obliges, as she always does, guiding your head downwards until the hill of her breast presses into your nose, and your eager lips find the peak of it, wrapping around it and sucking. Your hand palms clumsily at her other breast, and you shiver when you hear the satisfied sigh that comes from her throat. One of her thighs comes forward to settle between yours, her knee bucking against the place that is still buzzing from the night before.

She takes pleasure in the sound you make as your hips start to grind against her, already hungry for friction and eventual release as you suckle on her nipple, nose infiltrated with the scent of her perfume from yesterday that is still damp against the valley of her chest. It’s your favorite smell.

Wanda hates leaving you when the pleasures of early morning turn into getting dressed for work, making you breakfast, and then having to leave through the front door. Something that helps the both of you to cope with these hours of absences is a pink leather collar that she belts around your neck loose enough to be comfortable but tight enough that you can feel it always. Throughout the day, when she is at work, she thinks about you at home and knows her collar is on your neck. When you find the house too big and empty without Wanda’s presence, your fingers find the leather and the tiny metal buckle, remembering as if it is her hand on your throat and not the collar.

You will spend the day watching TV or drawing or reading, wearing whatever outfit Wanda has picked for you, accessorized by one of your favorite stuffies cradled in your arm. You will eat the lunch that she prepared for you in the pink tin lunchbox on the edge of the counter, visible enough that you walk by it and remember to eat, since she has to remind you so often.

Wanda takes pleasure in the details. She cuts your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into little crustless hearts. She fills your pink plastic water bottle full of water and tapes a little sticker heart to the front. She makes sure that she cuts your baby carrots into little strips because it looks more like French fries which you are much more inclined to eat. The homemade brownie tucked into its own square in the lunchbox has two chocolate chips for eyes and a bending line of chocolate chips formed into a smile. She cuts your apple into half-slices because it’s easier to chew. She tapes a note to the underside of the lunchbox lid, telling you to have a good day or to make sure you eat all your lunch, always signed with her initial inside a heart.

Wanda doesn’t give you many rules, besides that you don’t leave the house without her, stay away from the kitchen drawer full of knives marked with a red X sticker on the handle to remind you which one is unallowed, eat all of your lunch and finish the entire water bottle, and, as needed, lay out whatever meat she plans to use for dinner so it will be defrosted by the time she comes home. She prefers it when she gets home from work to find you kneeling for her at the door, but she understands when you forget. You are a good girl and don’t get yourself into trouble often, so she doesn’t need to lay out so many rules. The main rule, the one she has told you so many times that she doesn’t even have to tell you anymore, is that you keep your collar on all day. She wants to see it on your neck when she leaves and see it on your neck when she comes home. It’s simple. You’ve never broken this rule.

Wanda is a lenient Mommy. Sometimes babies are prone to accidents, she says. You might forget to eat the last of the veggies in your lunchbox. There may be an inch of water still in your bottle. Maybe you left a mess of your coloring books and crayons on the floor. Maybe you slipped out of the outfit she dressed you in so you can slip on one of her shirts because it soothes you while you miss her. Maybe you spilled juice on the kitchen floor and didn’t clean it up.

The only punishment you know for these simple accidents is when she gently reprimands you and helps you to fix whatever it is you slighted. She feeds you the last of the veggies, holds the bottle to your lips to finish the last of the water, helps you put the coloring book and crayons back in their place, puts back on the clothes she picked out for you, leans down to the floor with you and wipes up the juice with the paper towels that have little hearts and flowers on them.

She never raises her voice, she never gets angry, and she never punishes you further than the upsetting disappointment on her face. She spoils you.

Her leniency could only go so far. That day when you woke and placed your fingers to her throat, you found yourself restless after she left for work. The crayons did not appease you, so you left them scattered on the floor of your room. You tried to watch TV but could not settle yourself comfortably enough on the couch. You forgot to eat the lunch she made you or drink any of your water. She had texted you to tell you to lay some chicken out for dinner, but your mind was wandering, and you forgot. She wouldn’t answer any of your texts after that, which you knew meant she was having a busy day at work, but it upset you more than usual.

Seeking comfort, you tiptoed into the bathroom and tore off the pink skirt and shirt she had dressed you in before you left. You stepped into the shower and bathed yourself in her shampoo and soap instead of yours, taking in all the scent of her you could smell. You even blotted her perfume on your chest the same way you watched her do in the mornings before work, though you didn’t know how fast the perfume came out of the bottle, and accidentally emptied it on your skin and left it lying messily on the sink without even putting the lid back on. You pulled on one of her hoodies and sweatpants, which flooded you, and nestled into the couch, watching one of your favorite cartoons while you waited miserably for her to get back home.

At some point in the late afternoon, you fell asleep, clutching your stuffie to your chest as you napped on the couch.

Wanda had a difficult day at work. All that could go wrong, went wrong, and she found herself rubbing her eyes to stay awake as she drove home an hour later than usual. She expected you to notice, to be kneeling in front of the door waiting for her, having missed her even more than usual since she was late. She felt disappointment sack her in the chest when she opened the door to nothing, and then she saw you curled up asleep on the couch in her clothes.

Though she was irritated, she thought you looked cute like that, so she didn’t stir you. She went straight to the bathroom, eager to change out of her suit, when she stepped on something that cracked between her shoe and the bathroom tile floor. It was the lid to her perfume bottle—her eyes found the matching bottle sitting on its side on the counter, practically empty except for the last bit which had leaked from the upended bottle into a pool of scent on the counter.

She noticed that the shower curtain was left open and so were her bottles of shampoo and soap. Irritation goaded her as she realized how messy you had left her bathroom, and she grew even more frustrated when, in her bedroom, she saw that you had gone through all her drawers to change into her clothes, fabrics lying rumpled on the floor.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself. Maybe you were frazzled because of her distance. She couldn’t blame you for that. When she walked past your room on the way to the kitchen, wanting to start dinner under the assumption that you were probably hungry since she would have had dinner made by then, she saw a mess on the floor of your room. Crayons and toys strewn all over, your bed unmade, some paints spilled onto the carpet. She balled her fists.

When she went into the kitchen, she noticed your lunchbox and bottle still sitting where she left it. Opening the box, anger flared in her when she realized that it was still full of the food she packed in it, and your bottle had not even been touched. She couldn’t take it anymore when she realized that you never laid out the chicken that she had asked you to.

Pursing her lips and taking slow breaths, she walked to the living room couch where you lay undisturbed, the hood of her hoodie you were wearing drawn over your head so that all she could see was your nose and your parted lips.

“Baby,” she said harshly, her hand not matching her voice’s anger as it gently touched your shoulder. “Wake up.”

Hearing Wanda’s distant voice, you groaned and moved, turning onto your back and slowly opening your eyes to see Wanda standing above you. Delight flared inside you, but the wide grin on your face did not mirror Wanda’s.

Her eyes were at your neck, which was bare. Before she could say anything, you shrieked, “Mommy! You’re home!” and jumped off the couch, launching yourself at her like a canon as you threw your arms around her.

Wanda stumbled with the force of your hug, but she didn’t hug you back. She placed her hands on your upper arms and peeled you from her, holding you steady as you looked up at her in confusion. Her eyes were at your neck again, and, out of habit, you slapped your hand to your throat, expecting your fingers to catch on the leather collar, but instead they just slipped over your skin.

Your eyes widened as you clawed at your neck, panic filling you. Where had the collar gone? You didn’t remember taking it off—the shower. You had taken it off to shower and didn’t put it back on. How could you be so forgetful?

It was a substantial disgrace, but as you searched Wanda’s stony eyes, your panic swelled. She must have had a bad day, you could tell. Your eyes sifted past her and to the kitchen where you saw your lunchbox and bottle untouched on the counter—how had you forgotten that, too? Her text message rung in your head—you never laid out the chicken.

Suddenly, as if Wanda’s absence had swept away your brain while she was gone, your brain came back to you with her reappearance. Everything you had forgotten to do during the day came rushing back at you in swirling, panic-filled thoughts as you mentally read the list she too was making behind her eyes. Maybe it would have been okay if you hadn’t forgotten to put the collar back on, but it was just the finishing touch on the unruliest day you ever had.

Excuses formed on your unmoving tongue, but they drained down your throat when Wanda spoke before you could.

“Go to your room. Take off your—my clothes—and put the collar back on. Kneel by the bed.”

There was no softness in her voice, no light, no care, no kindness. You’d never seen the vein in her neck that was bulging furiously for your attention, nor the stormy look in her darkened green eyes, nor the curve that formed between her creased eyebrows. It trembled you.

You didn’t ask any questions or say anything else as you sprinted to your room, listing her commands in your head so you wouldn’t forget. You peeled her hoodie and sweatpants from your body until you were diminished to nudity, found the collar and latched it around your neck, and even cleaned up the mess all over your room floor that went unnoticed by your eyes until now. You kneeled in front of the bed, head tipped down, and waited.

You thought she would come through the door soon after you knelt, but she didn’t. The room grew cold on your exposed body, and your knees started to ache from being bent for so long. Your fingers fiddled together as nervousness filled you—you wanted to reach for your stuffie on the bed, but you wanted to be kneeling obediently whenever she walked through the door. It must have been half an hour that passed, though it felt like years, before Wanda came through the door.

Gasping from the suddenness, your eyes lifted excitedly to see her. Maybe she was using the time to calm down. Maybe she would have forgiven you by now, but the hardness in her eyes told you otherwise. She was carrying a plate, and as she sat on the edge of the bed, you craned your neck to see that it was a sandwich and a cup of water she was carrying. The sandwich was not cut into a heart, and the cup had no heart stickers on it. It pained you, but you were reinflated by the thought that even as your bad behavior and proceeding punishment hung over your head, she still made sure you were going to eat.

“Come here,” she quietly ordered, and you turned and crawled in front of her lap, kneeling back down and feeling grateful that your room was carpeted.

“Mommy?” you began, but she looked at you with a sharp, silencing gaze. She set the cup down on the nightstand and picked up the sandwich, handing it to you. You raised your hand to take it, but she snatched it away suddenly, giving you a knowing look. She was going to handfeed you.

Gulping, you opened your mouth, and she moved the sandwich to it, and you took a bite. Under normal circumstances, she would have made you a full dinner, but you knew that she wanted to get this out of the way so she could deliver her ministrations.

Bite by bite, Wanda fed you the sandwich, feeling your teeth occasionally scrape her fingers. When the sandwich was gone, she lifted the cup to your lips and instructed you to drink the whole thing. You felt the instinct to reach up and hold the cup so it wouldn’t fall, but you trusted Wanda as she angled it so you could drink. Some of the water slipped out the side of your mouth, dribbling down to your bare chest, and when the cup was empty Wanda reached down and wiped the water away from your skin.

Then she sat, hands in her lap, with you kneeling in front of her and looking up at her expectantly. “Tell me what you did wrong today.”

Your eyes darted around, but you tried your best to keep them on her as you thought of the list of things you’d done wrong, which admittedly was long. “I—I didn’t eat my lunch. I spilled your perfume. I…left your clothes on the floor.” You hesitated, but she arched her brows, urging you to go on. “I changed out of the clothes you picked for me. I made a mess in my room.” Your voice was small and wavering, fingers tying together nervously. “I didn’t lay out the chicken.”

“And?”

“And my collar—I forgot to put it back on.”

She nodded slowly, signaling that that was enough. Her eyes were steady on you as she picked at the situation in her mind, trying to cautiously think of how to proceed.

“Come here,” she instructed, patting her lap. Carefully, you stood up and clambered to her lap, straddling her, glancing down in shame as her hands held your hips. “Look at me.” Your eyes met green. “You were very bad today, and Mommy already had a tough day at work. It hurts me to know that after a stressful day, I come home to my baby to find that she has been bad all day. How do you think that makes me feel?”

She wanted to make sure you understood what was happening before she did it, which scared you a little. “Bad,” you whispered.

“Yes. It makes Mommy feel bad.” She paused, her hand gently gliding up your waist. She didn’t like seeing you so upset, but she couldn’t keep spoiling you every day. “Is there anything you have to say for yourself?”

You hesitated, trying to think of the best thing you could say to make her feel better. All you could think of was a teary, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

She didn’t say it was okay, nor did she even thank you for apologizing. She only laid you down on the bubblegum sheets and opened your legs, settling herself between them.

“How do you think Mommy should punish you?” she asked, her hands sliding down your thighs, nails scratching your skin lightly.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, shivering when she brought her hand directly to your slit and cupped it.

“You don’t know,” she echoed slowly, enunciating every syllable as if they had never been strung together before, as if it were a new phrase she’d never heard of. “I don’t think that will do.”

You struggled to think of words as her fingers rubbed your clit, etches of desire already sparking in you. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” you pleaded.

“You already said that,” she snapped, her other hand sliding up your tummy until it found your breast and squeezed it harshly. “Should I ground you? No more going out on weekends, no TV, no coloring?”

Your eyes widened in fear as she threatened to take these things away. You loved going out with her on weekends, walking around the park, getting ice cream, always coming home with arms full of shopping bags because she spoiled you so helplessly. “No!”

“Don’t raise your tone at me,” she snapped harshly, her fingers pinching your clit. You yelped, hips jolting, but settled back down again, eyeing her with pouty eyes. You watched as her eyes softened—this was as hard for her as it was for you. “You have to think of something, baby. You’ve been so bad today.”

She looked down to watch as she dragged her fingers down to your entrance, dipping two of them inside you—you were still wet from grinding on her thigh that morning. You squeaked as she entered you, curling her fingers at their depths before dragging them back out, along with more wetness from your inside.

“I don’t know what to say, Mommy,” you whined as she entered you again, this time thrusting. Your skin was starting to warm up, face getting red, as she fingered you slowly and at her own pace. Wanda’s eyes returned to yours as she pumped her fingers in and out of you, watching your face make expressions of restrained pleasure, her head tilted curiously. Her thumb caught your clit and rubbed it as she kept curling her fingers to find that ridged spot inside you. It irritated you how easily she could wind you up, how you were always wet for her, the way the soft skin of her fingers slipped easily in and out of your hole, the soft wet sounds that your ears caught with every other thrust.

Your hands grabbed at the pink sheets as pleasure twisted and contorted in your tummy, building into a pressure that Wanda stoked at with a third finger inside you. She watched you, wordlessly, expressionless, as she tortured you into a knotted circuit of pressure, back arching off the bed, thighs squeezing around her hand, hips bucking. When she felt your walls tighten around her fingers, and watched you start to dip your head upwards as the pressure began to crack, she removed her hand from you entirely.

The room, that had grown brighter as your orgasm started to reach you, the very beginning of its tendrils having just climbed up your stomach, dimmed down. That horrid feeling, of nearly reaching a climax and having it ripped from you, from being full of her fingers to so painfully empty, crashed upon you. You looked at her with a whine.

“I think maybe I spoil you too much,” Wanda said casually, as if she hadn’t just exerted the worst torture upon you, as if her fingers weren’t wet with your juices. She reached over you and to the nightstand, pulling open a drawer and taking out a pink vibrator.

“Mommy,” you whined, thighs rubbing together in search of friction.

“I give you everything you want,” she said as she pushed your thighs open again. “Toys, gifts, playtime, orgasms.” She clicked the vibrator on, the buzzing sound filling your ears. You wanted to jump away from her when she pressed the vibrating end right to your clit. “I think spoiling you has turned you into a selfish brat.”

Her words hurt more than the vibrator torturing your already throbbing clit. She pushed it against your clit, watching the way your knees shook and your back arched, trying to both get closer to it and farther away from it.

“Mommy, please,” you begged, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets and resting your ankle on her hip as your legs moved restlessly around her.

“You didn’t even have your collar on when I got home,” Wanda said as she pushed the toy harder into your clit until all you could feel was vibrations rumbling up your tummy. “What kind of baby does something like that?”

“I’m sorry,” you said again, face starting to grow moist as the pressure she had just invited within you started to weakly rebuild, growing stronger with every second. “Please,” you said again, words melting away from your lips as the room grew brighter again. “Please, please—”

The vibrator silenced, and all you could hear were your own ragged breaths and the sound of the bed sheets crumpled under your fists. “No!” you whined as you realized Wanda had snatched yet another orgasm away from you with perfectly merciless timing.

“Brats get what they deserve, baby,” she said as she tucked the vibrator back into the nightstand before taking out something else—a pink strapless dildo, curved at the end for perfect pleasure. It was thin but long and bent to the shape of your insides, perfect for the torture she was bringing upon you.

Wanda was no longer finding it hard to punish you. She loved seeing you like this, whining, eyes tearing up, your pussy red and swollen from touch but no release. She eased the tip of the dildo inside you and grinned sharply at the way you screwed your eyes shut and tried to get away from her, but she grabbed you by the thigh and kept your legs open around her. She took pleasure in giving you all of it but nothing at the same time.

“Mommy,” you panted as you felt the dildo slip inside you, still feeling the ghost of the vibrator buzzing on your clit. It snaked inside you until you felt the curved end brush against that sweet spot so deep inside you, and she pumped it just like that.

Your wetness had dripped down to the sheets, staining them a darker shade of pink as you shook and squirmed on the bed, feeling feverish and burning up inside. Wanda traced a gentle palm over your lower tummy, pressing down just to make the feeling even worse inside you.

“If you cum,” she began, “You won’t get any weekend outings for a whole month.”

In the midst of your haze, you weren’t sure how many weekends that was, but it sounded like a whole lot as you whined, tears slipping down your cheeks. You could already feel the tender shivers of an orgasm inside you, and when she rubbed at your raw clit again, you felt helpless under the inciting surrender to release.

“Mommy, stop, I can’t,” you whined, trying to keep your hips still as she pumped the dildo inside you, feeling it deep in your tummy.

“You can’t stop yourself from cumming, but you can be a brat and disobey me all day without caring about I will feel about it?” Wanda said before tutting her tongue. “You really are a spoiled brat.”

Cries left your throat as your vision left you, feeling the air grow hot and the room bright. The orgasm was right there, reaching for you with its heavenly hands, and you tried your hardest to turn away from it. Your heels scraped Wanda’s hips as the bedsheets in your fists grew damp from your sweaty palms.

“Mommy, please,” you begged genuinely, barely opening your eyes just enough so you could look at her. “Please, I can’t.” You brought a hand to your face so you could clamp your teeth down on your wrist, trying to feel anything other than the tortuous pleasure Wanda gave you.

Wanda quickly took your wrist away from your mouth, holding your hand gently in hers. Even like this, she didn’t want you to get too upset and hurt yourself. Her thumb stroked over the wet indentions of your teeth on your wrist.

“Do you promise to be better from now on? No accidents and no forgetting to do the things Mommy tells you to do?”

You nodded furiously, and you meant it. “Yes, Mommy. I promise. I promise.” Your voice was strangled, like if you spoke too loudly you would lose concentration and cum all over the dildo inside you.

Wanda waited a moment, looking thoughtfully before she finally retracted the dildo. At first, you felt relief, but then you felt the shadow of the orgasm that had been hanging over your head the entire time still there, fading away into nothing. It was her last blow of punishment—no release at all.

You caught the whine in your throat, not wanting her to put the dildo back inside you and torture you even more. Now you just had to sit with the discomfort, your throbbing clit, knotted tummy, and wet, empty hole.

“Good girl,” she soothed as she put the dildo back in the drawer and closed your legs, crawling up to press kisses on your cheeks. “You did so good for Mommy, not cumming.”

“But Mommy—” You began, wanting to tell her that it still hurt, that you wanted her to award you for not cumming by letting you finally do it, but she pressed a kiss to your lips to silence you.

When she pulled away, she smirked and stroked your face. A slight change happened in her eyes. “Are you okay, baby?”

You nodded, but the words were tumbling from your lips. “But I wanna cum now.”

She laughed airily, gripping your chin between her fingers and looking at your blushing, distressed face. “Unfortunately, that’s part of the punishment, baby.” She kissed your nose and got up, picking up your clothes on the floor that you had discarded when you showered earlier. You were laying on the bed pathetically, clit throbbing so hard you could hear it in your ears, the ceiling spinning above you.

“Put these back on, puppy,” she said, handing them to you. “And don’t you dare take them off again until I tell you to.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x f!reader #lesbian #marvel #lgbt

1K notes · View notes

cuubism · 7 months

Text

in an attempt to be more offline (absolute failure so far) i wrote the next installment of Nightingales by hand in an actual notebook. imagine that. behold, fanfic that's touched grass... or something.

Dream has taken to leaving random books on Hob's nightstand. This is no abnormal occurrence, except that these aren't from Dream's infinite collection of books he's "currently reading," but rather seem to be left there for Hob.

Hob will finish a book, and within the hour it will disappear back to the Library, miraculously replaced by another. At first this suits Hob well enough. The cafe is only getting busier, and while Hob does love trawling through the Library's endless stacks in search of a new read, he'd rather spend his free time with Dream. Perhaps Dream is only trying to facilitate that through this method, or trying to make Hob happy by applying his knowledge in the area where it's vastly broader.

But then it starts to get weirder. Whereas before, Dream's selected books had been exactly to Hob's tastes--as they usually are, it is his specialty, after all--slowly they start to diverge.

First it's an epic tome about interstellar travel. Post-apocalypse, final earth survivors traveling light years to an untamed planet, and so on. Hob likes sci-fi well enough, but this particular one is getting a little too 2001: A Space Odyssey for his tastes, a little too abstract and philosophical. Perhaps one that Dream likes that he wanted to share?

Then comes the horror novel. And what horror. A man born and raised in underground rooms, who did not realize he was bereft of the sky until an attempted rescue caved in his tunnels and nearly suffocated him. Dragged from the soil, gasping, he had to cover his head lest he go blind.

'David had read of plants that grew upwards. Instead of the deep roots he'd touched all his life, they had stems, and leaves, and these went up, into another world. Birthed into cold fear, David thought.

He was one of those plants. He stretched long fingers up through the soil, gasping for breath. Warm earth parted and air greeted him, air chill and dry as he'd never tasted it. A searing pain in his unused eyes. He did not even have a word for the brutal shine that fell upon his face.

(Light, he would later think. Sunlight.)

No matter how hard he pressed his hands to his eyes it was not blocked out. He whimpered, and the same hands that had pulled him from the collapsed earth, hands painful in their kindness, laid a blanket over him, covering his head in warm darkness again. No, not a blanket. A jacket?

Another head peeked under the collar of the jacket, letting in a sliver of brightness before it was shut out again. Oh. His rescuer. His arms were bare; it was his jacket that David was wearing over his head.

"Hey," said his rescuer. His voice was warm as the soil. "You alright?"'

Perhaps it isn't horror, Hob thinks, only afterwards.

Then there's a book of love poems, though they're strange and hyper-modern, and Hob can't shake the odd sense that he shouldn't be reading them, that Dream has, somehow, snatched them out of a time yet to be.

He finally confronts Dream when he's left a relatively straightforward, if bland, romance of the type he hadn't thought either of them particularly went for. (Even Dream wouldn't be able to pull sex inspiration from it as he likes to do with his bodice rippers, the book isn't nearly spicy enough for his tastes.)

He marches back into the bedroom one morning, after several minutes of making coffee and mulling, and holds the book up in front of Dream's face. "Dream. What."

Dream looks up from where he's reclining in Hob's bed, several books scattered around him. "Did you not like it?"

"Did you?"

Dream hums, looking down again at his own book. "It has merits."

"Why, though. You keep giving me these books. Why?"

Dream continues studiously reading his book, though he isn't turning pages. So it isn't teasing, then. Nor even some lighthearted attempt to get Hob to expand his reading horizons. It's something deeper.

"Dream," Hob says, sitting on the side of the bed by his thigh. "Come on. Talk to me. What is it?"

"Page one-fifty-two," says Dream in a quiet voice, and it takes a second for Hob to realize he means the book Hob is still holding.

Hob hasn't managed to get that far in the book. He flips through it, anxiety building, more anxiety than he thinks a light, beachy romance is ever meant to produce.

He turns to the page, about three-quarters of the way through the book.

'Lacy had calculated it once. Across her entire career, she had written two million, five hundred twenty-two thousand, nine hundred and eighty-three words.'

Right. Hob remembers from the few chapters he'd managed to read that the protagonist is a writer.

'2.5 million words about romance. Who could possibly have so much to say on the topic? 2.5 million words of circling and circling the point. Not letting herself see it well enough to skewer it.

All those words came only to this: she wanted to marry him, and she didn't know what to do.'

Hob drops the book.

It tumbles to the floor in a flutter of bending pages, but he pays it no mind. He takes Dream's hands in his own, letting Dream's book fall closed on his knees. Dream looks up at him hesitantly, from under his eyelashes. You silly thing, Hob thinks, with heart-clenching fondness. I love you so.

All of it had been a message, in Dream's own oblique way. Borrowed metaphors from the vast catalog of his brain. That's how he connects: through the books that Hob knows are -- in some strange way -- a part of him.

He leans down to kiss Dream's knuckles, like he's bowing his head before a shrine. Then he looks up. Dream is watching him, expression somewhere between wary and awed.

"You don't have to know what to do about anything else," Hob says, "so long as you marry me."

Dream smiles tentatively, and tips his forehead against Hob's. He can be so strange and mysterious at times, but more often than not, when they're alone in their bedroom, he's like this: soft, wanting, just on the edge of shy, and that's the version of Dream Hob most wants to bundle up and away from the world. Even if he knows it's impossible, and not right besides; Dream can't just live in his bedroom, he has to live in his stories, and stories are out in the world. Hob can't help but want it anyway.

"I would like that," Dream says, smile soft. Hob kisses his cheek, body full of warm light.

He pulls Dream into a proper hug, tucking his face into his shoulder. He feels Dream's smile against his neck. The warm weight of him in his arms, in his bed.

So improbable to have snagged a thing such as Dream from the expanse of his existence, and cuddled him up in the cozy confines of his simple cafe. But as Dream had said. The door exists because Hob uses it. He met Dream because he went to his shop that day. He went to his shop that day because he was to meet Dream. Each improbability has a circular path.

Christ. He's thinking like that sci-fi novel Dream had given him.

Hob doesn't know what a marriage with a creature like Dream -- he still doesn't know what that is, exactly -- is meant to be like. It's uncharted space.

But he knows that he wants it. Wants Dream.

He holds his darling close and kisses the corner of his mouth. Dream's lips are sweet with happy tears.

"You will marry me, then?" he murmurs, more pleased repetition of the thought than a question.

Hob gets the book of infamous page one-fifty-two off the floor. Turns to page one-fifty-three. Finds the word he needs, swipes Dream's pen from the nightstand, circles it. Hands the book to him, open.

Dream touches the circled word with a reverent fingertip, and smiles.

#not sure how i feel about this hand writing experiment...#it def came out different when written by hand #at least i didn't make you all read it in my handwriting XD #bookstore cryptid dream #dreamling #my writing #dream of the endless #hob gadling #i kinda hate writing proposals tbh. and yet i keep doing it 🤔

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