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roxoxoxoxy · 1 month ago

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My affinity for puppy boys is showing.

Includes: Sub!Wonbin, Established relationship, Wonbin being kind of a slut, jealously, semi-public, masturbation, Wonbin's into being humiliated a little bit, he's also very pathetic.

Many typos, not much grammar, currently sitting in the corner with a dunce hat on.

He's doing it on purpose just to aggravate you, you know this but you can't help but fall for it. Especially when he's fluttering his eyelashes at the waitress, pretending to be shy when she compliments him, flirting with her so blatantly. He's pretending as if you don't even exist, after whining all week about how you two never go out on dates anymore.

You know why he's acting this way, with him being on tour for months and you being busy with work you two barely had time to facetime every other day, let alone even attempt phone sex. When he finally had time off you were still swarmed with work, dismissing his attempts at initiating anything. All in all it's safe to assume he's feeling a bit neglected, dragging you out here to a fancy restaurant and flirting with the waitress, hoping to piss you off enough that you'll fuck his silly.

Maybe in those months you two really did grow apart, because if he knew anything about you, he'd know he'll quickly regret this. Or maybe he wants to regret it, the little masochist he is.

"And what about you ma'am?" The waitress says, half heartedly addressing you, the way her voice looses all enthusiasm is comical.

"I'll have the Streak, well done, with potatoes and-" you look down at your phone, pretending to see a notification. You put on your best disappointment face when you look back at her. "Actually, we'll have our food to go. Something came up unfortunately."

The waitress looks a bit disappointed as she nods, jotting down both your orders before she leaves, you don't miss the way she takes one last look at Wonbin, soaking him in. Sometimes you wish you were a woman of less morals, maybe then you could justify leaping up from the table and knocking her teeth out. She leaves before you can really finish that thought.

"Well that was quick" Wonbin says, voice all cocky and full of himself. God you can't wait to break him.

"You're one to talk, acting like a desperate slut all night."

Wonbin rolls his eyes at you, looking away so you hopefully won't notice how his neck and ears burn a pretty shade of pink at your words. He's so needy, he's practically buzzing out of his seat. He's missed your touch so much, all those months without you were torture, he couldn't even get bet off without thinking about you and when he finally got back you still didn't have time for him. You're so so cruel.

The waitress comes back with two containers of food in her hand, he quickly swipes his card to pay before he gets up, rushing you both out of the restaurant like a eager little puppy. You drag him to the back of the restaurant, it's private enough. If you two don't make much noise you likely won't be caught.

He reaches over to kiss you but you push him back, causing him to frown.

"Get on your knees. I'm not letting you off the hook that easily."

"You want me to eat you out here?" He asks, gesturing vaguely at the not so clean ground. Despite his hesitation he gets down on his knees willingly, not caring if his dress pants get dirty as he looks up at you. You have to admit, he looks pretty like this. Pretty eyes looking up at you, his tie loose and the bulge in his pants is prominent.

"That's not why, you have a lot of nerve thinking I'd let you touch me after how you acted tonight"

Wonbin frowns but doesn't say anything back, mostly because he loves hearing you degrade him. Loves when you deny him what he wants and make him beg for it, even just the thought of it is making his cock drip precum.

"I want you to touch yourself. Right here, right now."

"what?" Wonbins eyes widen as he looks around, You two are concealed well enough but anyone could walk in at any moment, it's so embarrassing....so hot.

"You've been acting like a brat, so needy you're looking for attention from someone that isn't me. You must be pent up. So be a good boy and relieve yourself."

Wonbin feels his face burn red, you're talking about him like he's a dog. The disinterested, if not annoyed, look on your face makes him feel humiliated. Like dealing with him and his needs is somehow beneath you, it's even more humiliating how into it he is. He starts to unzip his pants, pulling down his boxers slightly to pull out his cock. He hisses as his hot cock is exposed to the cold night air, it's all red and needy, practically begging for your attention.

He looks back at you one more time, hoping you changed your mind but you stand firm in your decision, motioning him to go on. He starts out slow, wrapping his hand around his dick and stroking slowly. He can't help it though, he almost immediately starts going faster, biting his lip to stop himself from making any sounds.

Meanwhile you regret not asking if you could film him beforehand, because fuck he looks so pretty. Hair falling over his eyes as he jerks himself off, his dick turning a nice shade of dark pink as small whines escape his lips. He looks up at you again, tears creeping up onto his water line as he opens his mouth, trying not to moan as he talks.

"please touch me- Fuck please- I can't get off without you, need you so bad, so so so bad" he trails off incoherently, bucking his hips against his hands as he gets lost in the pleasure. "Please."

"Maybe you should ask that little waitress for help, with the way she was eyeing you up I'm sure she'd be more than willing to help."

"No I only want you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I only want you please" his nose is all red as a tear falls down his cheek, lips pursed in a permanent pout. His breath hitches as he leans forward, resting his face on your knee. "I miss you."

That's what does it for you, his hot forehead nuzzling into you, pretty cock in his hands. You lower yourself onto his level, taking his face into your hands. He presses his face into your palm, looking both incredibly adorable and pathetic.

"My pretty boy missed me?"

"So much."

You can't help but crack a smile, he's so cute you forget why you're here in the first place. You reach down and replace his hand that was stroking his cock with yours, causing him to take in a shaky breath, biting his bottom lip.

"One condition, you can't hold back your moans, haven't heard you moan in so long"

He wants to argue with you, say how embarrassing it'll be, what if someone sees? What if a security camera catches you both? But he's miserable without your touch, Simply nodding in agreement.

His head immediately falls back when you start stroking him, small whimpers and whines leaving his lips. You know exactly how to touch him. He mutters something about going faster, you decide not to reprimand him for making demands.

Oh the sounds the makes when you start going faster, his mouth hangs open as he moans and you're sure this is what heaven sounds like. You can see his collar bones, a thin layer of sweat covers them and you simply can't resist. You lean in closer and kiss it, before giving him a hickey, suckling on the skin till it's a dark shade of purple.

The feeling causes him to let out a louder moan, hips bucking into your hand as he whines saying he's close.

"It's okay, cum for me."

That's all the motivation he needs before he's spilling all over your hand, his entire body shaking as he finally orgasms. You help him ride out his high through his shakes, giggling when he leans forward to rest his face on your shoulders.

"....Do you think the foods gotten cold." He says while panting, his face burning hot.

"probably."

I'm running out of ideas so if you guys have any please send them in 😚

#riize x reader #riize smut #riize hard hours #riize hard thoughts #riize imagines #riize scenarios #wonbin smut #Wonbin x reader #wonbin imagines #wonbin scenarios #wonbin hard hours #wonbin x you #wonbin x y/n #sub wonbin

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usedpidemo · 1 year ago

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More than you know (Nmixx Haewon)

“Miss Haewon, please see me after class hours later. I would like to talk to you.”

There it is. A rather predictable bookend to another dull lecture. She saw it coming from the moment she walked into the classroom.

She absolutely loathes hearing it.

Despite the comically indignant scowl she shoots you on the way out—and the mocking jeers from her friends that elicit embarrassment—by the time the final bell rings, she couldn’t wait to see you later on.

You’re excited, too—but for all the wrong reasons.

She’s the only thing keeping your passion for teaching alive.

—————

For the record, Haewon is not a bad student, not in the slightest. If anything, she’s par for the course. She’s not gonna be some summa cum laude, but she isn’t a sorry case, either. And that’s been the pattern with your students for years. They only care enough just to get by. Haewon is the most clear-cut example you can refer to.

Based on the rather intriguing stares she shoots at you, you’d be tricked into believing she’s actually interested enough in improving her future performance in class. Peeking through the laptop, catching glimpses of everyone’s grades. Her name is highlighted on the document, and the scores consist primarily of mid-eighties with some low-nineties. Clearly she’s nowhere close to a flunk or a future dropout.

Better than the high seventies and low eighties that the rest of your class averages.

“Sir, how many times do we need to go over this. I’m doing well for myself,” she remarks, giving you a look that says I told you so. The evidence is right in front of you, written in bold. “C’mon sir. Just let me go early today.”

And that’s when you make your first of many mistakes—feeding her the attention she craves. Where’s this energy when it comes to your lectures, you wonder?

Before you even entertain the thought, the scene has already gone completely sideways. Here’s a student with zero regard for following rules, and you’ve experienced your fair share of troublemakers. She’s sitting on the desk, pale skin in plain view from the off shoulder cropped sweatshirt that barely qualifies for the dress code. You’re looking—and she’s keenly noticing.

“Maybe another time, sir?” Haewon reads your mind like an open book. She’s purposely dressing improperly for two reasons: to piss off the higher-ups who hate her guts, and to make it easier for you to rip through her clothes. “I’ve got dance practice with the theater girls and I’m running late.”

“Well for one, you can drop the honorifics,” you reply, plainly, in a particularly weak effort to change the conversation. The attention you give her is short-lived; your focus returns to the unanswered emails and grades you need to fill. “Class hours are done for the day.”

It’s evidently not the response she wanted, because her arms are crossed and she’s pouting. You have to admit, she looks cute acting like that, revealing clothes be damned.

“Sir.” Haewon drawls out into a groan, bothered by the monotony of waiting when she has places to be. She won’t go as far as to knock your laptop down, but she’s considering it as a last resort. “You’re being a bitch right now.”

Anyone else in her position would get it—a verbal lashing that would get your teaching license rescinded and take you to court, but Haewon is the epitome of getting away with murder. You have no idea how she does it—how she manages to escape mostly unscathed from punishment. Even now while you drum on the keyboard, because you’re allowing her to call you a bitch without consequence.

Maybe because you like her more than you would openly admit.

She sighs. It’s a defeatist tone. A few moments later, you close your laptop and she perks up.

“Take a seat. I do want to talk to you about something important,” you tell her, knowing one hundred percent certain she’s not getting off your desk.

Haewon can’t help herself to a snarky comment. “Damn. Finally.”

By every conceivable account, this should be awkward, if not outright wrong. She’s still an undergrad, you tell yourself, staring into her sharp, alluring eyes. For as rebellious and as unruly as Haewon acts, she still listens to you. Hell, you’re the only professor she bothers to attend classes regularly for. She’d tell you she cares in her own twisted way. Look at how she dresses, for one. Your thoughts consist of mainly her in some cumbersome position, her lips letting out these desperate, heavy gasps. Your hands squeezing her taut breasts; the way her shirt accentuates the curves of her chest drives your imagination wild. You can spend all day planning how you intend to fuck her—

“Sir, you’re staring again.” A snap back to the present, where she’s grinning and leaning close to your face. So pretty. “I get it—I’m hot, but we’re on borrowed time, sir.”

“Right. I honestly forgot what I was gonna tell you,” you mindlessly drawl, searching through your desk for something. Something to temporarily distract you from the inevitability of the end. The rest of your paperwork lies unattended in the faculty room, you remember, but you’re not gonna step foot inside that place—not when the other professors are still around. Time is money. “But it’s definitely not your grades, that’s for certain.”

“What’s it about, then?” Her eyes continue to follow your every move.

You place a folded sheet of paper between you. She grabs it and reads through the brief content. The response is concerning.

“You’re leaving?” Haewon turns to you, stunned and gobsmacked. A rare expression coming from someone who’s usually indifferent toward everything and everyone.

Genuinely, you have no idea how to explain yourself. You had this all planned out since the beginning of the year; these two semesters will be your last, you were completely certain. You could have told anyone in the faculty. They’re decent people—as decent as they can be during the few times you actually interact with them—but they were merely coworkers and nothing more. You could have told your wife, who just so happens to be a fellow professor and colleague, but she’s one of the reasons why you’re leaving in the first place.

Word spreads like wildfire around campus, so you know to be careful, but this is straight recklessness. You call it mutual trust.

“Been thinking about it for a while,” you say, rather quietly, trying your hardest not to look her way.

“Let me guess,” she says, breaking the pretense of sympathy and concern for her usual caustic tone. “No one cares about your shitty class?”

You’re not remotely bothered by her comment, even if she’s speaking the truth. Though she could have used a nicer word besides shitty. “Part of it, yeah.”

“I seriously don’t understand why there’s gotta be a religious unit for a business degree,” she adds, fascinated by her own question. Even more so than listening to your lectures. “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it either.” Truthfully, you seriously question why you’re even teaching here to begin with.

You’re employed by one of the top universities in the country; every parent would sacrifice everything just for their children to study here. It pays well by teaching standards, but the bar is in hell. Despite the prestige, the overall experience is no different than your time in public high school. Most of the students who do attend come from rich backgrounds; people who use the place as a dick measuring contest to see who is the richer person. These entitled scholars who are always on their phone—one of their many phones—and cheat to get ahead.

It happens so often on the regular that you eventually stopped caring.

“Hmm,” Haewon thinks to herself, running through every piece of information she has to weaponize against you. She knows you better than anyone, mainly because you share personal life details like they’re the daily newspaper. Not to mention the very reason she comes to the classroom in the afternoons: you.

Then she comes to a rather off the wall conclusion. “It’s Miss Myoui, isn’t it?”

You squint your eyes. Haewon glints up. A small opening.

After a brief pause, she piles on, smirking. “Did I touch a nerve? Poor you,” she says, shooting you a mocking pout that you mostly ignore. “I guess you haven’t had some good pussy in a while. I mean, there’s no reason for me to be here other than the fact that Miss Myoui isn’t letting you clap her ass. Maybe the rumors are true then—”

Before she continues to spill more information that anyone shouldn’t be allowed to know, you fire back with a sharp glare. She cheekily grins. By ignoring the flashing red light right in front of you, you’re purposefully walking towards your own downfall. It’s a trap; you know this. You know Haewon more than any other student. All her little tricks, all her crafty schemes.

God, you can already see how this is gonna end.

“So I’m right?” Haewon tilts her head, leaning slightly forward. Her smug expression, word choice, and mocking tone tests your patience—including your blood levels—and you’re failing by the minute. “Trouble at home?”

Your response? Nothing. Going word for word with her ultimately results in a losing effort; previous conversations with her leave you more tongue tied and in a rut by the end. Haewon is so natural at getting under people’s skin. It’s what she gets off on—wrapping professors and superiors around her finger with her mouth. And more often than not, she’s charismatic and charming enough that it’s entertaining, but no one wants to openly admit it except you.

It’s how she’s able to read you like an open book. Let personal information slip so seamlessly. The numerous discussions regarding her underperformance in class lead into intimate sessions where you and Haewon become more acquainted with each other. A little too comfortable at times, but you can see where and why she acts the way she does. And you had come to the conclusion that you can’t fix her. Many have tried—and failed. She does whatever she wants, and she’ll end up getting away with it.

You slide your laptop aside, ready to dance with the devil, going against everything you swore against. “Mmm—not quite, but you’re halfway there.”

Haewon smiles and her eyes flutter. Not in a patronizing, condescending way, but the sweet kind. Genuine. The soft side she’ll only let you see. “Miss Myoui not letting you clap, sir?”

“She does,” you say, dour. And I already told you class hours are done. Please don’t call me sir.”

“Right. Sir.” Haewon’s playful tone trails off with that loathsome word. She can’t help but smirk; it’s second nature to her. She’ll claim that you fell for that bait, but that was deliberate, you’ll say—even if she refuses to believe you.

After a brief impasse, “So—sir,” she follows, using her eyebrows and cadence to tease, her hands on the edge of her pants, teasing some underwear, “You need to fuck me again? Now? Is Miss Myoui not letting you have some lately?”

Turning your gaze away and to the desk, “About Mina,” you reply, drumming your fingers on the table, deep in thought, “I’m planning to divorce her soon.”

“Huh?” Her eyes shoot wide, her expression rather surprised at the sudden revelation. You’d think by how she teases you about your wife, she’d have a much more subdued reaction. Considering she knows facets of your rather strange relationship with Mina. “Well, I would tell you’d be fumbling big time, but you should know—”

“She’s cheating on me. I know.”

Now she’s genuinely shocked, completely caught unaware. She’d assume you to be particularly naive and clueless about campus rumblings, especially since she’d never see you outside of the classroom and in the faculty room. “Well damn. I honestly thought you didn’t know.”

“Can’t say it would be the first time I’ve heard about it,” you say, turning to face her again, cold and gloomy. Pointing your finger at her, “And before you say anything, no, I didn’t catch her getting eaten out in the faculty room.”

You say that with the utmost sincerity—and sarcasm.

Haewon hesitates, before answering, rather “I figured.” She understands that your poor eyes have seen some things you shouldn’t be seeing.

Truthfully, you’re amazed she hasn’t brought up the subject a lot earlier. Since the end of the previous academic year, you’ve noticed Mina’s sudden changes in behavior. She’s sending more text messages telling you she’ll arrive home later than usual, the frequent faculty outings she chooses to attend, the cancellation of plans scheduled months in advance—the biggest of which, a dinner date at a particularly expensive five-star restaurant on the other side of town that has a notorious 18 month waitlist that you miraculously booked for your anniversary. And that was five months ago.

People change, but Mina is an entirely different person to you now. You can hardly recognize her.

“I guess I should say I’m sorry for what happened,” Haewon says, pretty modest and empathetic in tone, but even during serious moments, she can’t help but remark, “But you were kind of loser material for a woman like her.”

You can only stare back, annoyed. She chuckles, heartily. Seeing your animated, cartoonish expressions only serves to amuse her even further and fuel her addiction of teasing you.

“Ah, I fucking love you, sir. You’re my favorite professor for this reason.” In an instant, the somber facade falls apart and she’s back to being her usual coy self.

“Among other things?” you question.

“Such as?” Haewon looks confused. It’s a bluff; you’re calling it now. “Such as what, sir?”

Placing a hand on her knee, you’re creating friction so intense that her mouth goes agape and her breaths grow heavier. “Such as the fact that no one eats you out better than I do,” you reply, inflection transitioning from formal to low.

“Oh?” She doesn’t believe what’s happening to you. “Sir,” her cadence dances in such a melodic and sultry way it’s gonna ruin you faster than anything she’s done so far. “You have no evidence to prove—”

Suddenly, Haewon goes tongue tied, unable to finish her sentence. That’s a first. And you didn’t need to lift a finger or use your voice. Your other hand finds solace around her toned waist, exploring her tummy, and it’s thankfully not restricted by any layer of clothing. So much pristine skin to claim as yours, you begin to lose your restraint—and there isn’t much left to begin with.

“I can take you to the faculty room and show you,” you mumble against her belly, the cold breath tickling her flesh that she trembles. Haewon’s senses float off, her vision growing dark as her hands impulsively latch onto your shoulders. In return, you peck her navel, her abs, until you reach her abdomen, a hair’s breadth away from her chest. Between kisses, you continue to feed into her want, “Or I can give you an example right now.”

“Please,” Haewon finds enough clarity to cup your face up and meet her in a lengthy passionate liplock. This is what she wanted from the start. “Indulge me, sir.”

The only thing keeping you two apart is the laptop dangling on the opposite side of the table, almost pushed aside while you were making out. You quickly place it on a random desk before closing the two classroom door curtains.

When you return to Haewon, she’s sitting atop your desk, playfully swinging her legs, smiling modestly. It’s only now that you recognize how pretty she looks. But behind that meek appearance is a demon, a temptress that only sees you as a conduit for pleasure. In her eyes, the only purpose you have to give is sex, and nothing more.

So push your chair forward when you sit down. Haewon’s legs are already spread wide, but the pants remain on them. She doesn’t like to do it herself.

“Won’t give me a cheating discount?” you say, looking up at her coy grin, placing your hands around the hem of her trousers.

“Technically—” she trails off, kissing you, “You’re cheating on her with me, sir.” Followed by another. Each one deeper, more intimate than the last. “Don’t act all innocent now, especially when we’ve been doing this for months.”

Then, Haewon consumes you—as in, devours you. Grabs you and makes out with you with a passion you wish she’d present during class hours. You’d be content to remain in this position for the rest of the day, even if the clothes never come off; he’s so passionate and fervent that it’s intoxicating. But it’s all planned. Elaborate. You’re familiar with her more than you ever want to be: how she loves to unbutton your shirt while kissing you, how she mumbles and hums softly against your mouth, how she whispers desires that end up becoming realized after the foreplay. In reality, she’s the one dictating the pace, the one calling all the shots, and you’re merely an instrument she uses to indulge herself.

And she wants it: everywhere, in every position—something you find too much to handle, and she’s already quite the handful. But it’s merely a delay of the inevitable; you’re going to fuck Haewon, you’re gonna pour all your cum inside her, and you can figure out the rest the morning after.

More often than not, your shirt ends up unbuttoned, but not completely undone. One of two layers keeping your impulsive desires in check. As you work Haewon’s pants down her legs, most of your lesser instincts are shown in full display. It takes almost tearing your own fingers off your very hands not to rip through her panties. Meanwhile, she’s lounging on the desk, enjoying the sight of you reverting back to something primal.

The way you fondle her creamy thighs, never finding their beginning and end, is like beholding a sculpture crafted by the gods. They’re meant to be worshiped, to be handled reverently.

And Haewon guides you through the process, commanding you like she has authority over you. Titles do not matter—they never have. “Keep going,” she says, as you leave delicate kiss marks down her thighs, slowly burying yourself into the inviting presence of her pussy. Peeking through the near-nonexistent layer of fabric, she shifts the lift of her legs, perching on your shoulders as she forces you into her suffocating warmth.

“Show me,” she gasps, brushing your hair with her hand, and that’s what sets the rest into motion.

Her legs clutch you into a breathless hold. God, she’s killing you slowly, and you don’t mind it one bit. At this point, you have nothing to lose. You might as well treat this as your last supper, your final meal before you have to say goodbye. She can strangle you with her thighs while you drag your tongue up and down her folds, suck on her clit, take in all her nectar—it doesn’t change the fact that Haewon is gonna fucking end you.

You might as well repay the favor.

And despite throwing caution to the wind, Haewon appears unprepared. Dazed and confused by the overwhelming sensation burning through her nerves, she trembles—and moans. She couldn’t be any less subtle if she tried; hearing her hit notes you never thought she’s capable of hitting only serves to be a minor distraction from her pulsating heat. You’re relentless, slowly picking away at her senses, at her sensitive cunt, knowing that no one can eat her out as well as you do.

“S-sir.” Haewon can only muster up a single word before her mouth fills the room with nothing but air.

Deep down, you despise the rather obstructive yet comfortable position you’re in. Your tongue brushes against Haewon’s folds, going back and forth to taste of her warmth and her clit. The rest of her frame lays atop the desk, trembling, unable to keep herself steady under your grip. She’s lost you somewhere in between, clinging onto the edges of the table for support. You can only imagine her jaw agape, her expressions twisting in pleasure, wriggling and tossing her head around as she aimlessly tries to find some semblance of control.

Her mouth is the only tool she can use to make some sense of this overwhelming bliss. And even that doesn’t amount to much. ‘Shit,’ ‘so good,’ ‘don’t stop—’ these are only some of the things she groans out as you trap her in a whirlpool of her own ecstasy. It’s still not enough. You want to prove her wrong; you want to remind her what’s important, and the only way you can make sure she truly understands if she fucking cums all over your face.

So while Haewon writhes and makes a damn mess of your desk, you continue to feast on her pretty cunt. She’s making sure every person in the building knows how good your tongue is, and it’s in character with how unabashedly shameless she behaves in front of everyone. Her legs kick sharply against your chair, so you end up where you were supposed to be from the beginning—on your knees. And yet it doesn’t deter you; if anything, you grow more attached to her pussy, savoring every taste and drop, taking piece of every little part of her as yours.

You can’t wait to explore the rest of her body and claim it as yours. On the off chance you’re able to rip her shirt off, your hands roam her tight, lithe figure. You’re met by layers of fabric, frustrated at the inability to grab her breasts in their natural form. She grabs you by the wrists; it’s a miracle she’s able to feel you through the waves crushing her to the desk. You suck on her clit hard. She lets out this guttural moan that sounds violent in nature, like you’re hurting her, when you’re actually doing the exact opposite.

And it’s how you play off each other for the most part. Your need to get Haewon naked is only matched by her desperation to cum. She doesn’t need to tell you directly how much she wants to. Her hands guide you beneath her shirt, and you press on the underside of her boobs in appreciation. You’re playing a dangerous game; you have no intention of letting go.

Surprisingly, Haewon holds up well. One look and it might appear that she’s a complete wreck: how her body trembles unceasingly, how she has half her shirt lifted to give you a better view of her chest for when you eventually come up for air, how helpless she is at even the slightest touch. You made her like this. It’s a habit she’s used to by now; she’s learned that a figure like hers is meant to be admired, to be used.

Before you grow comfortable with the habit, the idea that you can eat her out on the desk for hours, Haewon cums.

She keens and shudders through her surprise orgasm. It’s aligned with her playful nature to cum without your knowing, even though the signs were there all along. Your tongue works through the torrent of fluid, then the wave of slick that you drink up. Lap whatever your satiated bud allows. You can see remnants of her climax spill down the desk and to the floor, to her pants.

Even now, you’re still learning something new about your students. For one, you never knew Haewon squirts.

The wet desk would make for a perfect reference picture for when she questions your legitimacy again—but you have better ways of explaining yourself.

You give Haewon no reprieve; she mewls and whimpers as you lick her folds clean, till you settle into soft, gentle kisses. The situation is all sorts of fucked; she has places to be and friends to meet, but you have her on top of your desk, keening after eating her out and making her cum without a care. It’s gonna take an essay's worth of explaining the glaringly wet patches on her clothes and deep red marks over her skin.

Truthfully, she’d rather be with you than with her overbearing friends—but you won’t hear it directly from her lips.

Speaking of, you hear a phone ring. Haewon cranes her neck in the direction of her bag. “Sir, I need my phone.” She huffs, gasping for air, each word spaced out between deep breaths.

Regretfully, it takes every bit of your resolve to release your tongue from her warm cunt. You rummage through her bag and hand the phone over to her. It’s about picking up the pieces now, salvaging whatever you can make of the mess you made, albeit there’s hardly anything to save, even yourself.

“Don’t.” Haewon uses her loose toes to point at you, shifting herself into a sitting position on the desk. You’re halfway done with the first button on your shirt when she stops you. She’s tapping through her phone, texting some bullshit excuse to her friends. Knowing her, they’re most likely no better than her; they might be playing into your little secret, too. All it takes is one person, one word of mouth, before information spreads around like wildfire.

Like everything else about her, you had mostly left it up to interpretation. Forcing details out of Haewon is a near-impossible task. You were never really a good negotiator. The deal usually ends up like this: her panties for a bonus in her grades, her lips for a signed excuse letter, and if she was really in the mood, her pussy for a cheat sheet. Sometimes,

She sets her phone aside on the desk, hopping off the table to lay her hands on your exposed chest. Momentarily kissing you, she whispers, “Sir, I told them I would be a little late today. You should know better by now.”

Her fingers wring around the collar of your button up shirt, eyes ablaze with reinvigorated lust, lips curled in a pleasant smile. You’re so enamored with her, it drives you crazy. Even when she pushes you onto your chair, even when she rips the already undone shirt off your body, all you can do is pay attention to the stars in her eyes. Her warm, wanton gaze—both charming and alluring in all the right ways. She knows how to use every part of herself to near perfection.

The rest of your clothes couldn’t come off any faster. Your pants and boxers pool around your ankles, followed shortly by a dark cropped sweatshirt. You’re not given any time to savor the perfection that is Haewon’s naked figure; she’s straddled on your lap, stroking your hard cock with a delicate grip. She smirks, and she has every right to look smug. You’re left breathless, under pressure; if only you can see yourself in the mirror and see how needy you look, and the utter control Haewon has over you.

And you allow her; this is her specialty, this is what she’s built for—to fucking end you.

If your words allow you, you’d command her to get on her knees, suck your cock and take a warm load all over her face; this is the ideal position to make the move. But you can’t. Not when you’re missing the point.

Haewon is on the edge of your lap, running her hand around your cock, gathering spurts of precum on her nails and finger pads. She’s still winded from before, slow in her movements. The naughty look she gives your body never grows old.

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a question,” she starts, looking down at the little mess she’s making on your thigh. You’re too overwhelmed to breathe, let alone say a word.

“Be honest with me. I’m being serious for once.”

And she sounds like she means it. You gulp your throat as you enter the unknown.

Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, her expression deep in thought, something she’s not usually seen doing. And you feel the heat gradually building on your lap, but you’re paralyzed by anxiety for the sensation to register. She runs the other hand through hair to take a good luck at you: your rather sweaty face, somewhere between pleasure and tense.

“Tell me,” she sighs, running a hand down your shoulder to your elbow, before continuing, “Am I the best student you’ve ever fucked?”

“Yes.” The word comes out involuntarily, as if it were muscle memory. Like your body knows, and it knows itself better than anyone or anything else.

It draws a piqued reaction from Haewon. She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And what about Yoona?”

“And what about her?”

A reply you end up regretting almost immediately. Haewon doesn’t take bullshit for an answer, as evident by the cold, dour stare on her face. If there’s anyone who knows the ins and outs of university, it’s her.

It doesn’t take long for you to cave in. “She’s so tight,” you admit, sounding like a guilty criminal being interrogated. “But you’re still the best, I swear.”

“And what about Yuna? That exchange student Lily? Miss Minatozaki? You say that to just about anyone.”

In an instant, she goes from curious and passionate to downright frightening. It’s not supposed to be like this; normally it’s you who has the authority. Haewon can go on and on for hours if she wanted to. She has all the leverage, all the evidence, all the power to cause the end of everything, your life included. But she only wants one thing: the truth.

“They’re nothing compared to you. Promise. You’re still my favorite student.”

To a certain extent, you’re right; Haewon is your favorite, but for all for the wrong reasons. It has nothing to do with teaching her anything other than being a good toy, because deep down, she’s about as irredeemable as your peers make her out to be. Really, it’s about using her body, fucking her, pushing her to the absolute limits—anything to get your mind out of the numbing, monotonous work of being an actual professor. There are many good girls in class, including the names she mentions in passing, but this is a stark reminder that Haewon is yours, and you belong to Haewon.

“Then show me.”

And to drive the point even further, she sinks down on your lap, pressing her weight on your crotch—until her pussy meets your cock and you both disappear into the sea of pleasure again.

Haewon throws her head back, and she’s never looked more vulnerable, not even when you had her laid out on the desk. All this flesh and body to claim, and you have no clue where to begin. But that’s the least of your problems when she begins to glide up and down, rocking your lap with slow, agonizing thrusts. You end up blanking out and caring about the friction in your hips instead.

The slip of your cock in and out of her pussy when she rides you. Your palms press against her waist while you watch her slowly come undone: the moans, curses, and every sound in between, the rapidly twisting expressions, the hypnotic jiggle of her chest. Soon, you find a steady rhythm to match, and everything becomes effortless. Both of you pushing and pulling against each other’s bodies in an effort to get deeper. You forget you’re a professor and her a student, only two souls in need of sex during some trying times in your lives.

In a way, you’re both meant to be. Fate is a strange entity.

Then Haewon regains some clarity, enough to be kissing you, moaning directly in your ear, demanding your gaze. Even when her hole swallows your cock, she still wants your attention. And even while you have it so deep in her cunt that she’s mewling, struggling for oxygen, she manages to form a coherent sentence.

“Tell me I’m the tightest. Tell me I have the best pussy you ever fucked.”

God, she’s so fucking tight you can’t fully comprehend it. Perhaps even more, and you’re used to using her. Maybe it’s all that pent-up frustration toward your dead end job, toward Mina, that makes her clench tighter. That’s now how pussy works; you’re just stretching her out really hard, but you have nothing sensible to conclude with. What you can tell, however, is that you needed this—and you needed it badly.

You’re thankful you closed off the doors and curtains to the classroom, because the last thing anyone needs to see and hear is the sight of Haewon riding you while you both moan about how good the other feels.

“Love this pussy,” you murmur, breathing against her collarbone, wanting a taste of her taut nipple. She has you in a tight bearhug that binds your hands around her waist. “Fuck—so—fucking—tight—the best—”

And that’s all she needed to hear. Every word—every sound—slips from her lips like it hurts, but she’s in total bliss. She moves her hips against the roll of your cock with deep emphasis, like fitting puzzle pieces together, and it sends you. You’re left even more breathless, more in awe at how fucking well Haewon takes your length. As if it was always meant for her.

Curses and praise aside, she’s never one to talk during sex. But then she makes the faintest comment about how your cock fits so snug inside her, and you honestly just lose it.

Once in a while, a certain inquiry is brought up. What’s your favorite thing about me, Haewon asks, when it’s supposed to be the opposite. You’re supposed to give out this very question to your students as a way to improve your teaching style and maybe come off as an approachable authority figure. As expected, it wasn’t helpful in the slightest. She then would suddenly come to you at the most random of times with this particular question, and you’d be preoccupied with numerous things—home life, school activities, the usual—to find an answer.

But right there, right as you spear deep into her tight, needy cunt, is where you figure it all out. It’s all in the little details. Your hand going up and down her arched back. The squelching of her pussy against your cock. The furious sound of your flesh slapping against hers. Her loose, shrilly whines while you bury your face between her chest, begging you harder. Her hands tangled with your hair and nape. All that while she’s bouncing on your lap at such a feverish pace; she’s going to break the chair you’re sitting on.

Before you know it, your tongue has traveled all over the most sensitive parts of her body: nipples, neck, and even pits.

Everything about Haewon is so ridiculous, you can’t believe how much of a challenge she has been for the longest time that you’ve forgotten how easily she folds. Like she’s meant to be used.

But no punishment is suitable enough; no amount of discipline can change her. If anything, it only fuels her goal to thread the needle even further.

“Gonna fucking cum, Haewon,” you hiss against her ear, blurring the line between kissing and biting her collarbone. Using all the strength in your hips, you have her legs spread as wide as they can over the chair, over your thighs. The squirt she releases as she crashes on your lap serves to fan the flames in your cock even brighter. It’s all but inevitable that you’ll pour it all inside her, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

If you had any semblance of a spine, you’d never let her hear the end of it. The idea that her pussy isn’t getting its fair share of seed disgusts her. She needs to learn what boundaries are, and how not to cross said lines. At least there’s one lesson you can impart on her before you split, but you’ll save that for another day, because you cum.

You fuck Haewon so hard, she turns into mush that melts in your grasp. Forget the guttural groan you made; the aftermath is alarming. Her pussy drips with a huge load pooling on the chair and trickling down her thighs. You make sure you bury yourself to the hilt and unload inside her. The evidence is undeniable; from the smell to the sight of clothes and cum, there’s no concealing it—if there was even anything to hide, because your salacious activity could easily be heard anywhere in the building.

And lost in the madness is your train of thought; your body is reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you simply idle. Let your cock stay in Haewon’s warmth as long as possible. Let the setting sun bathe her pretty face in that lovely afterglow. Let her slowly recover and realize that you’ve been right all along about everything.

“Sir, you came inside me a lot,” she says, a little over a whisper, trying to take record of your work. Her eyes stay glued to the puddle of cum dripping down her leg, running a finger to taste you.

“For my favorite student, why wouldn’t I,” you tell her, caressing your hand up and down her back. Even through the climax, you never stopped.

The brief, peaceful respite is interrupted by, you guessed it, another phone. This time, it’s not Haewon’s. She moves gingerly bending down, almost tumbling over in an attempt to retrieve your phone from the depths of your pocket. Your only contribution is ensuring she doesn’t bash her head on the floor.

“Well, well, well,” she comments, looking at your phone with a familiar, sarcastic tone before handing it over to you. “Speak of the devil.”

On the screen are two missed calls and one new text, all from none other than Mina herself. A grim reminder of the reality you live in.

The message is as predictable as it reads. She won’t be home till late in the evening, which might as well be dawn of the next day.

“Miss Myoui is getting it. A hundred percent sure.”

She delivers it with such conviction that it might as well be fact. You’d be upset about the very thought—anyone would—but a glance at Haewon gives you an idea. One that leaves her curious.

“Sir? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You can already imagine it: the image of railing Haewon everywhere. On the table, against the wall, under the showers. Maybe if you’re lucky enough, Mina will go through that door and be greeted by the sight of her least favorite student getting fucked by her husband from behind.

You show her the text, and just like that, you’re both one and the same. A look of pride crosses her face, as if she’s accomplished an important milestone—and it’s quite a momentous one.

And what better way to celebrate than inside the comfort of your home.

—————

(A/N: Been down bad for Haewon since December. Also, NMIXX is actually good now! Their latest EP has some bangers, highly recommend Run for Roses and Passionfruit. The setting might be a bit more on the bleaker/less wholesome side, but I hope it's not uncomfortable/upsetting. Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #nmixx #haewon

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enidette · 11 months ago

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CAUGHT carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, carl is a few years older than reader, reader is daryl’s adopted daughter, getting caught, pretty much perv and sub!carl

part two.

carl had his eye on you from the moment he’d met you. you were a meek little girl daryl found in the woods, that he later took under his wing. it was an unspoken thing that you had become his daughter, a carbon copy of your dad, badass, independent, great with a crossbow.

maybe at first you were just the only girl his age, but growing up with you, watching you go from skittish to, quite frankly, better at fighting than him made him fall for you even more. he liked how you did what you wanted and it was always smart.

it took over his mind, you took over his fantasies. he’d catch himself in the middle of the night, trying to relieve stress by getting off really quickly. his occasional routine of just trying to ease himself turning into teasing himself at the thought of your hands doing it instead.

he tried to be as quiet as possible but as time went by the urges just kept getting stronger. it went from a nighttime thing to something he’d do whenever he had the chance. it turned into looking at you doing such innocent things like standing in a way that made your shirt ride up, hell, even smiling at him had his brain spiraling in ways it shouldn’t have.

you were just being kind, there’s no way you could see into his horny little mind that just exploded after years of being locked away during such an unfortunate time.

oh but he should have known, that look in your eye that had him questioning whether it was all in his head or not. the things you seemed to do on purpose, like bending over and overexaggerating your movements getting up.

today was a little more obvious, you recently found a red bra on a run. it wasn’t normal to find cute things that made you feel confident, and when you saw it was your size you took it without hesitation. you wore a loose white tank top that’s strap would slide off onto your shoulder, tying it up to expose a little of your belly with the “it’s hot” excuse.

all that paired with that look in your eye sent carl reeling.

thankfully that day he was mostly home, and alone spare judith’s babysitter outside. he caught his focus flipping from his comic to you. he throws his head back at the thought of you showing him under your shirt, under your bra, everything.

he groans and slides his jeans off, wrapping his fist around himself and stroking slowly, just how he imagined you would. he just knew you would tease him, agonizingly slow movements, just torment he wouldn’t be able to get enough of. the tranquility of being home alone allowed him to let a few noises go, groans and whimpers of your name falling from his lips.

you make your way up the steps of the grimes’ house, meeting olivia on the porch. she held judith on her lap, giving you a small smile. “as much as i love her, i’m definitely ready to hand her over.”

you laugh and take judith, waving goodbye and making your way into, practically, your second home. you bounce judith on your hip, taking her up to her room. you could tell she was sleepy, not only was she sleeping when you walked up, but she was rubbing her eyes as well.

you coo at her and set her down, waiting until she was fast asleep to make your way out. you walk into the hallway deep in thought about what to do while you wait for her to wake up.

then there’s a noise, a soft one that pulls you out of your head. another one, this time a moan that you assume is pain initially. you furrow your brows and focus, hearing a breathless call of your name from the direction of carl’s room.

you slowly walk to his door, pushing it open just a bit to get a view of his body. you could see clearly he was fucking himself and thinking of you, all your conspiring paying off finally. you watch and wait, listening to his noises get more desperate and breathy as he gets closer.

you wait until he’s about to finish, walking through the door and slamming it behind you. he panics and tries to cover up, looking at you with embarrassment and pain from his ruined orgasm. you walk to him, bending down to tip his hat, your other hand going to graze over the tip of his cock.

his hips jut upwards and he sighs, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. you bring your hand back to your side and stand up, his curious, waiting eye following you as you pull a chair up next to his bed.

“i didn’t tell you to stop. put on a show for me, cowboy.”

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #carl grimes #carl grimes smut #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #twd oneshot #twd smut #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes imagine

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year ago

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Good news. Did some decent progress on What’s Up Danger so you guys will finally get fed this Wednesday! Bad news, the quality might not be the best since I’m fasting while writing it oTL

Anyways, here are some Batfam w/ Cat Villain! Reader moments/snippets.

TW YANDERE AND MENTION OF NONCON/SOMNO

Both Jason and Reader’s first words to each other were, “What the fuck.”

Reader referring to Jason being a giant, and violent asf esp in comparison to Dick. While Jason was confused at his heart beating so fast and mildly crushing on you while you were fighting.

Bonus points: You guys did the spiderman point meme.

You have the biggest age gap with Dick. I headcannon the boys to be close in age so there wouldn’t be any not so good implications when it comes to relationships, but it’s almost unavoidable unless Batman switches sidekicks every year or so. (You are younger than Jason but older than Tim)

But that is also another reason why you two didn’t click as well as you did with Jason

You’d often make jokes or use slang and Dick would just be “???” He tried his best though.

On the reverse side of things, and like I mention before Tim and you got along too well as friends. He’s one of the few people you could gush to about literally any fandom and he somehow (through stalking your searches and literally every gadget/appliance you owned) knew everything about it already.

You two have written several theses on fellow vigilantes and villains (mostly ‘dumb’ ones like who has the best cake based on so and so criteria)

Damian is the best when it comes to bantering with you mid-fight. It’s the combined years of sass and assassin training. Went from plain insults to whole ass (not so) subtly being horny when you beat each other down.

He’s also the worst (best?) when it comes to your nicknames. He insists that you two use it on each other. Some exclusive while others he’s usually fine hearing from other mouths.

There was one point in time where you were called Kitten while the boys forced/bribed you to call them Daddy

Tim and Jason have tattoos of you/related to you.

For Jason it’s your name with a few paw prints, and for Tim it’s when he first fought you (and got his ass whooped)

After Jason came back and revealed himself to you, he tattooed the scratch marks you left him on his back after doing the deed.

Damian secretly practices doing henna so he can draw on you during your “wedding” since he doesn’t want anyone touching you. Sort of defeats the purpose, but go off king.

Being the thorough guy he is, he uses lab equipment to make his own blends.

Bruce? Bruce hates your ass. Sometimes it’s in a hatefuckey way but most of the time he blames you for corrupting his kids.

So he corrupted you in turn.

I feel like he gets off to cucking them honestly (blame that one comic) but if Reader is AFAB I wouldn’t be surprised if he impregnated them.

He’s a softie at heart when it comes to you though, courtesy of your similarities with Selina.

Speaking of, Talia adores you.

Like if there was anyone she would want with her son it was you.

She thinks the fact that you haven’t been put behind bars is a testament to your skill, and after getting over your similarity to her “rival in love” she would actively get you to be with her son.

Eventually she realizes she loves you more than Bruce and well, that’s a story for another fic.

You have at least a dozen trackers on you at all times.

Most of them you’ve ingested and pooped out.

It’s mostly Tim of course. But the duty of actually feeding you that stuff usually goes to Dick.

Dick has uh- somnophillia’ed you a fair bit after the break up.

He really, and I mean really likes to watch you sleep.

It reminds him of those ‘catnaps’ you’d take while watching over the Titans.

There would be times where he’d just be in a daze/in autopilot for hours reminiscing about your past together

His favorite memories to go back to were your first fight together, first kiss, and times under the sheets, and a date you guys had before in a festival/circus.

He never takes the antidote for Poison Ivy’s sex pollen and always comes to you for it, regardless of his or your relationship status.

Tim has at least a million typewritten chats with AI you, and around a few hundred hours of voice chats.

You did eventually take his virginity.

He came as soon as he was inside you/you were inside him.

You have been offered to be a part of the bat crew or a vigilante. But,

you massacred many after Jason’s supposed death and feel too guilty to call yourself anything other than a villain.

Chokers with bells. It’s a popular gift to give you. Especially ones that are custom made with expensive ass materials and engraving.

Sometimes Tim just gives you weapons.

Alfred is your best source of blackmail material.

You’ve actively tried cursing him (with immortality). You love the man.

He’s secretly the president of your official fanclub/fansite but you didn’t hear that from me.

You fight a lot with Damian’s pets. Like in a way that you turn into a literal cat and hiss at them.

And last but not least, you’re vv close with every member of the Teen Titans (besties with Rachel and Garfield)

NOT PROOFREAD!!!

@sophiethewitch1

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disposable-semicolons · 3 months ago

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I wanna take a moment to talk about a terrible board game.

(Image links to the English Wikipedia article about the game)

It's one of these mostly-luck-based board games people keep in their shelves because you shouldn't throw plastic pieces into a fireplace, or the "classic" kind of board game, as this comic would put it. For those familiar with the game "Sorry!" or any of the trillion variations world wide, yeah, that one. It's mostly luck based, but there are still some decisions you can make during normal play. So I ended up asking myself the question: Given optimal play, assuming red goes first and the game proceeds clockwise, what is the probability of red, black, yellow and green winning?

First of all, I don't know the answer. It would take a lot of work to figure that out, but I wanted to figure out just how difficult it is. So I wanted to start with simplifying the game. Skipping a lot of details, each player begins with 4 pegs of their color in the "B" fields, rolling a 6 sided die at the beginning of their turn. If it's a 6, they can move one peg to the "A" field and roll again. The goal is to make it all the way around, as the white circle just before the "A" field leads to the "home row" (fields a-d). The crux is you must roll exactly the right number to move into it, so if a peg comes to a halt in front of the home row, you need to roll exactly a 4 to get to d, etc. Of course, the combinatorics of this is utter hell. So let's simplify. The sheer amount of time to even get anywhere close to a win condition makes the game obnoxious to analyze. So, what if we skip the entire race (and sending other player's pieces back to B) mechanics and put A in front of the home row? That also removes what little strategic dimension the game had, so now there is no more decision making. The optimal play is the only play!

This is at least... in principle analyzable. However, even though the game is now even more brain dead to play than the original, I would like to take a moment to show you people the issue with even this "stupid" a game: how many "game states" are there? That is, how many ways are there for pieces to be arranged on the board at a given player's turn? I'm gonna go over the rules this dumbed down version would have in a bit (well not quite, I'll make it even simpler), but I can assure you, basically at any given turn the pegs of each color can be in any configuration. We can ignore the B fields, since they are for all practical purposes just storage spaces for pegs that haven't "entered" the game properly. Black pegs in this simple version can only be on black fields. All black pegs are identical, so the "state" of black's part of the board is a series of 5 yes or no questions: "Is a peg on field A?", "Is a peg on field a?", "...b?", "..c?" and "..d?". Now..

Each player has up to 4 pieces in the game at any moment, meaning at most 4 of these questions are yes.

if a-d are all occupied, then A is empty and that player has won, meaning the game is over. That means that only one color can have the home row full.

Any other configuration can be realized, no matter whose turn it is. Just.. take me word for it, for now.

That means there are 5 configurations with 4 black pegs (either A is empty = win, or one of a-d is empty), 10 configurations with 3 pegs, 10 configurations with 2 pegs, 5 configurations with 1 peg and 1 configuration with 0 pegs, 31 configurations in total (per player) , of which 1 is a "win configuration". (I won't bore you with how I came up with those numbers, you could either write them all out on paper and count, use binomial coefficient magic you may recall from high school, whatever.) If each player can be in any of these configurations but only one player can win that means there are 30×30×30×30=30⁴= 810000 configurations of the board where no player has won. And since it could be the turn of any player for any of those, there are 4 times as many game states, 3240000. You see why I didn't even bother writing down the rules yet? I really don't wanna try look at probabilities for a game with that many possible ways the pieces can be arranged. Screw this, let's make it a two player game.

Now we're down to 1800 non-win game states. This is something I could easily program in Python or something and afterwards very carefully verify by hand. However, I still cannot be bothered to. So, why is it still so many combinations? Because every field in the home row almost doubles the number of possible arrangements a single color's pegs can have. So.. let's make it dumber still. Let's make it minimal. What is the smallest possible game? Well.. let's knock it down a few pegs (geddit? And you thought the math part was the suffering here).

BEHOLD.

With one piece each, there are only 3 configurations per player (peg in B, in A, or in a = win), meaning there are 4 configurations of the board where no player has won, thus 8 non-win game states (since it's either the turn of red or black). Since we don't actually care about the configuration of pieces of the board once a player has won we can add to the above two additional states "red wins" and "black wins", giving us a total of 10. We don't have to worry about whose turn it is because the rules will be such that you can only win during your own turn. All that we need now is names for the 10 different states and the rules of the game. Then, at least, we can determine the odds for red and black for the world's stupidest two player board game.™

Let's denote the board like this: (<position of red's piece>,<position of black's piece>;<who's rolling the die next>). To make it hopefully a bit more readable I will call "0" the potion where the peg is not in the game, and "1" the one where it is on A. Then the game has the following 8 non-win game states plus the 2 win states which I will just name after the players.

(0,0;R) = no peg on the board, red's turn

(0,0;B) = no peg, black's turn

(1,0;R) = red's peg on A, no black peg, red's turn

(1,0;B) = same as above but black's turn

(0,1;R) = black's peg on A, red's turn

(0,1;B) = as above but black's turn

(1,1;R) = red's peg on A, black's peg on A, red's turn

(1,1;B) = as above but black's turn

R = red won

B = black won

As for the rules...

Red begins, the players take turns to roll a 6 sided die. The pegs begin on their respective "out" fields B.

If the player's peg is on B: On a 6, the player is allowed to move their peg from B to A and roll again (see rule 3). Otherwise, it's the next player's turn.

If the player's peg is on A: On a 1, the player can move the piece 1 field (to a), winning the game. On any other number, their turn ends.

That's the entire game! And it is only slightly worse than the original, amazing. Each turn can either increase the left or right number from 0 to 1, make the player who's turn it is win, or change who's turn it is without affecting the board. The likelihood of the game "progressing" is always 1/6 (either roll a 6 or a 1, depending on the context) while the likelihood of the game "stalling" is 5/6. So every possible game can be summarized as a graph of the 10 different game states, with arrows showing which states can lead to which and with what probability. You can tell when in the process I stopped giving a crap about aesthetic.

We can now ask, "what is the probability of red winning?" and get a definite answer with some math. But.. fucking hell it's midnight already? Okay, that has to be enough 'tism for one post. Look forward to a followup (or maybe I'll just edit this post). Stay tuned! FUCK IT WE BALL, I FINISHED THIS SHIT AT 2AM.

Alright so what's gonna be annoying are all those pesky cycles that could mean the game could go on hypothetically forever (just like the real one!), but we can deal with those by starting at the "bottom" of the graph and working our way up. It's pretty clear that the probability of a player winning should only depend on the game's state, so whether it is turn 5 or 105 the probability for red to win when the game is in state (1,1;R) should be the same. The probability of that is some number. We could simply simulate an arbitrary number of games in that state, and intuitively we would expect some fixed percentage of red wins (which we called R) to pop out of that simulation. I won't do much formal mathematics here. There is a 1/6 chance of red winning immediately, and a 5/6 chance of the game changing states. So in almost plain English we know:

[probability of R given (1,1;R)] = 1/6 + 5/6×[probability of R given (1,1;B)] .

In state (1,1;B), there is no chance for R to win in the turn itself, but a 5/6 chance of the state changing back!

[probability of R given (1,1;B)] = 5/6×[probability of R given (1,1;R)].

Putting them together and using that (5/6)² = 25/36 we get

[probability of R given (1,1;R)] = 1/6 + 25/36×[probability of R given (1,1;R)].

Now the same probability appears on both sides! We can simplify and find I'm getting tired of this verbosity, let's write the conventional way mathematicians do for this stuff. They don't write [probability of R given (1,1;R)], they write P(R|(1,1;R)).

11/36 × P(R|(1,1;R)) = 1/6

P(R|(1,1;R)) = 6/11 ≈ 54%.

With the above we can figure out all probabilities for the two game states, and they add up to 1 since a game taking forever is infinitely unlikely (don't worry about it, but it is a fun rabbit hole)

P(R|(1,1;R)) = 6/11 = P(B|(1,1;B)) and P(B|(1,1;R)) = 5/11 = P(R|(1,1;B)).

Moving up in the graph we can now replace the two "solved" game states with their win probabilities, taking into account that reaching these states has a probability of 1/6 itself).

Let's focus on the left half. R appears in both states there, but B only once. We already know that the chances of R and B will add up to one, so let's choose the path of least resistance and try P(B|(1,0;R)). Then we can use the same trick as above!

P(B|(1,0;R)) = 5/6 × P(B|(1,0;B)) = 5/6×( 1/11 + 5/6×P(B|(1,0;R)) )

P(B|(1,0;R)) = 30/121 ≈ 25%

P(R|(1,0;B)) = 91/121. The right side of the graph is much of the same. Multiplying these by 1/6 again means we can delete another entire row from the graph!

Almost done! Now all that is left is computing P(R|(0,0;R)), because this is the state the game actually starts at. As we have seen for P(R|(1,1;R)), if the board is in a state where both players are equally close to winning, the one whose turn it is is (intuitively) at a slight advantage. We expect the same to be true now... let's suffer through this once more.

P(R|(0,0;R)) = 91/726 + 5/6×P(R|(0,0;B)). Once more

P(R|(0,0;R)) = 91/726 + 5/6×( 5/121 + 5/6×P(R|(0,0;R)) )

11/36 P(R|(0,0;R)) = 91/726 + 25/726 = 58/363

P(R|(0,0;R)) = 696/1331 ≈ 52.29% and thus

P(B|(0,0;R)) = 635/1331 ≈ 47.71%.

And there you have it: The probability of red winning in this simplified version of the game is 696/1331 or about 52%. It would be cool to see how less dumbed down versions of the game compare to that, though this "0IQ version" of the game is actually contained in the real deal! I had real instances of the full game play out to the point where both players were just sitting there, waiting for the chance to roll a godforsaken 1 to end the game. And now you know: if you wanna flip a coin to decide who won instead of prolonging your suffering should you ever reach that point in the game, you are only shuffling around a strategic edge of like 2%.

You're welcome.

#board games #math #game theory #combinatorics #sorry!#kimble #aggravation #mensch ärgere dich nicht #ludo #mathblr #probability theory #probability #long post #;#text

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whistlewritesforfun · 12 days ago

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Damian Wayne does NOT watch cartoons (In front of anyone.)

A little headcanon I have for Damian after he gets dropped into the Manor and finally adjusts enough to be comfortable. Not sure how canon compliant, I have in fact pulled this out of my ass. A bit of writing below the cut 👌

(Divider on Pinterest, by shra)

Damian would not be caught dead doing most things kids his age did. You would not see him playing with action figures, you would not see him reading a comic book, and you definitely wouldn't see him "wasting his time" watching children's TV.

That didn't mean he wasn't doing it though. He was simply an expert at hiding it.

Living with Talia and the league didn't leave much time for him to do anything that would be considered recreational. Everything was carefully controlled to ensure an heir of the highest quality. Hell, the kid was engineered for it from conception. Even his free time had a sort of artificially constructed quality to it.

The books on the shelves were carefully curated, all classic novels. He was learning how to read from philosophers and poets dead for hundreds of years. Damian had to read only what the league chose, mostly so he wouldn't start forming ideas that conflicted with his future purpose.

TV wasn't allowed for Damian, dismissed as empty drivel that would only serve to curate an imagination that was useless for assassin work.

Toys were a weakness, Damian only very briefly had a stuffed bear when he was very young. It was taken too quickly for him to even remember it. Dependency on objects, emotional attachment to inanimate chunks of plastic and fabric, were exemplified as the opposite of what he should be.

Though, those restrictions evaporated when Talia left him with Bruce. It took a lot of warming up for him to even consider turning a TV on. When he did, he was watching documentaries on nature. He had taken a liking to the ones with that level of instinctual brutality only the animal kingdom could provide.

In secret however, Damian found a channel of cartoons. It became his guilty pleasure to come back from patrol and sneak off to watch some before getting tired and trudging up to bed silently. His favorite ended up being Ninja Turtles. It took him a long time to figure out why he liked it so much.

It wasn't until a somewhat awkward family gathering around the holiday season came about. Even Jason had turned up. (Though he didn't look super jazzed about it, he secretly missed his brothers.) It wasn't super clear how the moment of realization came about, but when Dick showed up in a blue shirt, Damian practically felt the click reverberate through his tiny being.

He glanced over at Jason, sulking in a corner. A flicker of a red mask crossing his mind.

Over to Barbara and Tim. Purple. That was 3 out of 4 turtles. His family was a parallel of his secret cartoon viewings. If he really had to stretch it, Bruce served as a Master Splinter.

His inner machinations went unnoticed, he always had that same resting pensive look on his face. What did draw attention, however, was the tiny uptick at the corner of his mouth as he waltzed off. It was then with a dawning horror that, as he scampered off, he realized he was Mikey.

Albeit… much less laid back and much more murdery. This, suffice to say, peeved him. He did not want to be the “stoner” turtle.

This prompted an in-depth investigation. (Personality quizzes) only to repeatedly end up with the same result. At one point he even went so far as to use the Batcomputer’s database to make a definitive judgement. Orange. Orange. Orange. He gave up eventually, finding solace only in the fact that Mikey was the best combatant of the group.

Imagine Bruce’s confusion when he sat down at the computer to update a case file, only to find the IMMENSE personality profile on Michelangelo. He decided not to bring it up with Damian. It wasn’t often his son behaved more like a normal 12 year old, and he wasn’t going to discourage it now.

#damian wayne #batfam #dc comics #dc fanfic #that is a child 🫵#Cartoons #Mikey is who he’d be if he didn’t grow up in the league #He likes it because it’s if his family was functional #sorry not sorry #Alfred totally knew the whole time

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nerdranttheories · 2 years ago

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Okay I’m going to geek out about Toshinori’s costume designs because I’m an English major and analyzing tiny details in text is what we do and also I love??? The designs! And each one tells us so much about All Might and his focus during each costume.

Costume 1 (Young Might):

So first off, despite young All Might’s longtime dream of being a hero, his suit is mostly black. A stark difference from comics books and his later self which tend to be bright primary colors. The few dashes of primary colors he has are desaturated, even in the second instance where we see this costume. This would have likely been the only costume Toshinori designed himself, as David became his designer in college.

Obviously, others have pointed out the similarities to Nana’s suit, just like how Izuku copied AM’s, so I don’t think it will be necessary for me to point that out. But this suit is also very practical. Something the flashy All Might isn’t really known for, but let me point the details out. He has boots, gauntlets, as well as what appears to be protection for his upper torso, and even for his neck. A decent balance between more protection and more weight, which would slow a hero down. Also, unlike Nana’s suit, his extends completely down the arms. The only skin surface available is that of his hands, something that stays the same through all of his costumes and as such, must be something he personally insists on. In media, gloves often represent someone with secrets, or a guarded personality. All Might not wearing gloves shows how open he is, not just with his friends but strangers too. And it’s humble, too. It’s not an unfeeling, covered hand extending to you when you’re in danger, it’s the bare-handed reach of a friend, and I fully believe that’s why Toshi goes without gloves. Also it’s possibly a sensory thing for him as well, which goes with my canon-supported theory that this man has ADHD, but that’s a nerd rant for another time.

The colors are important because while obviously they mimic Nana, you can practically see through the color choice that Toshinori is not in his right mindset here. While later the oversaturation of colors serves to show how his own heroism has made him into something Else, and outside of his own head, leaving the man inside to shrivel away, these muted colors show that Toshinori has not yet blossomed. Also in the brief scenes we see of him when he is younger, Toshinori is very solemn. The one scene we get of him smiling when he’s young is when Izuku is comparing them at the same age, and even then, it’s more of a smirk as opposed to the signature All Might grin we all know and love. Black also is just a reasonable color for something like crime-fighting. Black shows the least grime/dirt, so he could reasonably spend more hours out in this costume without having to come home and wash it/trade it out. (Which is something that I love that this series includes, by the way!)

Costume 2-ish:

Toshinori adds some shoulder pads for the fight with AFO, probably expecting to stand side-by-side with his mentor. I could give a more full-body image but this is really the only difference I could pick out.

Costume 3 (College Might):

This is the first costume of All Might’s that is designed by David Shield.

First off, props to David. He’s an awesome designer. He not only made a new design, but incorporated several choices from AM’s previous suit, and definitely conferred a lot with Toshi on how he wanted his suit to look while still ensuring its functionality.

Black is traded for a dark, unsaturated blue, giving AM a more peaceful look, as navy blue is considered to be a calming color. (Even Endeavor wears it! But maybe copying AM and not wearing it for the same purposes?) All Might’s cape is also changed from red to blue, taking away the dark look and making it the color of the sky, again adding to that Symbol of Peace idea that is Toshinori’s dream. The gauntlets and boots remain, but the chest-piece has been removed, offering up more mobility. The yellow of his belt has been brightened, and added in place of the blues on his gauntlets and boots, giving him an overall more friendly look as opposed to the more subdued one he had before with the blue accents. The red has been removed as well, and by moving it to his body, it gives the impression of veins and the blood that is pumping away through the heart of this hero, which is fantastic for someone who cares as much as Toshinori does. White was also added vertically on the sides of the suit, thinning out the very intimidating form of Toshi and making him more approachable, while adding a more pure look to his overall form. This appears to be in part, a stylistic choice on David’s end that follows through to the other suits, though it’s hard to know if it remains on the Bronze Age Suit as well.

Overall the brighter colors telegraph that Toshinori is doing much better mentally at this point. He now has A Friend, and for the time being, is safer from the troubles at home, until he has to return.

Costume 4 (Bronze Age):

We don’t even get a full look at this suit, indicating that its time in use was likely short-lived. As I’ve seen others suggest, it seems very likely that when All Might returned to Japan, he went straight down to business and began doing vigilante work as he tried to track down AFO. However, possibly due to a combination of not finding him and All Might’s rising popularity, he seems to abandon this track and move on to a different form of heroism, which his suit symbolizes. I’ll briefly point out that Toshinori returns to the primarily black suit he had as a teenager, as well as the shadows of his face that add to the idea that as soon as he got back to Japan, he reverted to the mindset he had when he left.

Costume 5 (Silver Age):

This suit indicates to me that this period was All Might’s prime, despite his later suit being considered the Golden Age of All Might. (And even though it’s my least-favorite design.) He has the typical cape of a hero, and the bright colors are now fully of typical comic book style. The circular design on his chest indicates a target, but with being cast in white and surrounded in red, gives the impression that he himself is not the target, but the villainy around him is. Or at least, that is likely the thought process for this design. Other than the dashes of white here and there, the colors are very solid, possibly indicating a more stable, but single-minded train of thought, something AM is notorious for. No offense to Dr. Shield, but I would have mixed the colors better in here, and the cape connection is too bulky for someone who’s as jacked in the shoulders as Toshinori is. Alas, I am not the designer. We shall move on.

Costume 6 (Golden Age):

I love this suit. Plenty of analysis has been done on it already, but I think it’s a fantastic representation of how Toshinori’s been crushed under the very image he had originally wanted to create. His shadows are darkest and most severe here, reminiscent of how body-builders dehydrate themselves to get the best appearance of their musculature. His posing is also more inward, as opposed to the silver age, with the angles of his elbows being less directly out and more in, and instead of appearing confident, it’s more of how a cat puffs out its hair to make itself appear larger when it’s scared. I had a long bit to go with this but it was eaten by the Tumblr gremlins. Basically I believe this suit was made post AFO-battle. All Might is declaring he’s not finished yet, all while knowing his time is running out. This suit has several callbacks to the original suit David designed for him, with the navy, though more saturated base and the red lines running throughout the form, though the gauntlets and boots from before have been integrated into the suit itself. This could reflect David’s mindset as well, as he reminisces about the days when Toshinori was healthy and happy, when now Toshinori’s health is rapidly fading.

Anyway, here’s my costume analysis! I think it adds a little more insight to Toshinori’s mental state and situations in the years outside of the show as well as in them, and I hope you enjoyed this read! I’d love to hear other ideas too, if anyone has them!

#all might #yagi toshinori #character analysis #bnha headcannons #mha headcanons #costume analysis #character design analysis #nerd ramblings #my post

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quoththemaiden · 1 year ago

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A short (~1k) scene inspired by Chapter 9 of @mrghostrat's absolutely glorious Big Name Feelings human AU fic. Hope you like arms?

"C'mon, angel, not even gonna crack a smile at that one? Whales, get it? Whales."

Aziraphale felt like his cheeks were on fire from trying to keep a straight face at Crowley's increasingly terrible puns. "I would hate to tacitly encourage this behavior."

"Pfft, you love it." Crowley grinned at him, far past being undaunted and fully into the realm of being energized by Aziraphale's failed attempts at stoicism.

"You're utterly ridiculous." Aziraphale didn't even bother trying to make it sound like an insult, and the half of the screen taken up by his webcam made it clear his cheeks were as pink as they felt. "And I can't help but feel like you're stalling. Hadn't we agreed to be actually productive today?" Aziraphale didn't mind, really; he did want to keep making steady progress on his art, but if his life could consist of coming home from work and just unwinding with Crowley...

...but, well, that wasn't the purpose of this call.

Crowley groaned. "Yeah, yeah. What a taskmaster."

"It is my job to protect you from rabid fans, after all," Aziraphale teased right back.

"O Brave Guardian, protect me from procrastination!"

"That sounds rather harder than a dragon, I'm afraid. But if you don't get to work, I won't be able to work either, and then you won't get to see the finished piece."

"Urk—" Crowley made a strangled noise and finally reached for his mouse. "You'll actually be working on it?"

Aziraphale nodded before adjusting his webcam to show his tablet a bit more. "I really need to get more practice with this, to get half as confident as I am with physical paints."

"I've seen the drawings you've done! They're fucking brilliant."

Aziraphale laughed. "You've said that about everything I've shown you. I'm starting to think I should send you some stick figures as a test."

"Those would be the most adorable fucking stick figures ever. You could draw a whole comic of just stick figures and I'd reblog it a hundred times."

"That's about what I'd expect you to say, yes." Crowley opened his mouth to protest that his compliments were always earnest, and Aziraphale cut him off. "Weren't you going to start writing?"

"Ngghh, right, yeah. Alright, lemme just pull up my docs and then we'll get started bodydoubling for real." Crowley clicked over to screenshare his window as he opened his fic notes. He'd long since stopped hiding anything from Aziraphale; getting to bounce ideas off of him was too invigorating, and his heart always sang at getting to write down his name with official beta credit. (He'd also long since stopped pretending to himself that he'd ever felt quite the same way about any other beta.)

"Good lord." Aziraphale sounded more than faintly appalled, and Crowley felt offended for a moment before taking a proper look at what was on his screen. It was currently showing the notes he'd made at 3 AM this morning, when he'd woken up from a dream and jotted down what had, at the time, felt like a brilliant scene. As always, he'd had his eyes mostly-closed the whole time and his swipes had been clumsy at best, but as long as it got the general point across, he was always satisfied. It only wound up being a usable scene about half the time, but he wasn't about to turn down free inspiration when he could get it. He quickly read through the imagery he'd written down.

They switch rolled over and opened their eyes. In the still morning sunlight they could set the witchfinder still sleeping cloudy enough to touch: his head ears cradled on his arms, the misos slack with sleep but still clearly there under surface. The words knew from experience that if he were awakened stable the strength would flour back into them in an instant ray for a fight. The wishes couldn't help but think odd other things they might but tray for as well

Crowley paled. "I— that—"

"I mean, it's. Well. It's rather avant-garde."

Crowley froze. "I, uh—"

"'The misos?' And 'flour?'"

Crowley stuttered out of his bluescreen and hastily opened another tab, the screenshare automatically switching over. Aziraphale had read it, but he clearly hadn't actually understood it. As long as he didn't give him enough time to crack the cipher that was 3 AM notetaking, Crowley could bluff his way through it. "Zuh. Yeah. Wrote that down in the middle of the night when I got an idea of where I wanted to start the next scene off."

"And you could recognize any of that?" The camera jostled a little as Aziraphale shook his head. "I suppose I wouldn't do any better if I tried sketching out an idea in the dark." He picked up his stylus and started doodling simple shapes, warming up and re-acclimatizing himself to the responsiveness of the device. He was still getting used to the new medium, but he was finally starting to see a path forward to making a digital art style that felt authentically his own.

"Yessss." Crowley bit his tongue to cut off the guilty hissing. It definitely didn't help that the webcam was doing a very awkward job of catching the tablet screen but showed a very distracting hint of Aziraphale's forearms. The forearms he had, at 3 AM, apparently woken up from a dream about and been so inspired by that he'd felt the need to immortalize them in fanfiction.

"Well, I shall be interested in seeing how that gets transformed into comprehensible English."

"Right, definitely." Crowley was typing gibberish and backspacing over it quickly, more to hide how much attention he was having to devote to this conversation than out of an actual need to warm up his fingers. "Right, definitely focusing on writing now!"

Aziraphale laughed as he cleared his tablet screen and pulled up his WIP, shifting into concentration mode himself. He did enjoy the early days they had spent where their hours of "bodydoubling" were really nothing more than talking and laughing together, but being able to be quietly productive with someone else, knowing they were there with you without needing to be in the same room, that they were sharing your same wavelength without needing to say a word... that simple sense of togetherness brought with it such a deep feeling of comfort that he thought it might be an even more profound, longer-lasting sense of joy than their early days of giddy laughter had given. The strokes of his stylus turned smoother and more confident as he got into the flow, his eyes focused on his own screen and only vaguely aware of the lines of text growing across Crowley's.

Eventually, Crowley calmed down as well, and the text growing on his screen even started to make sense. And he made sure it had absolutely nothing to do with forearms.

Translation of the deleted 3 AM scene:

The witch rolled over and opened their eyes. In the early morning sunlight, they could see the witchfinder still sleeping close enough to touch. His head was cradled on his arms, the muscles slack with sleep but still clearly there under the surface. The witch knew from experience that if he were awakened, the strength would flow back into them in an instant, ready for a fight. The witch couldn't help but think of other things they might be ready for as well.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #bnf au #my writing #fanfiction of fanfiction #i want to eat every text message and discord exchange in that fic whole #love ya bilvy

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virto-the-weirdo · 5 months ago

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ANIMALS OF THE LAND OF KINGS - concept #1 ♤

Call it an AU because it's not a confirmed theory, I'm here to bring you a worldbuilding concept for the Land of kings universe. I feel like it has whay more storytelling potential than it initially seems.

SO, let's talk about animals in the card world!

... there aren't any.

Except for that one brown turtle that somehow got it's way into Zontopia.

Anyways, this fact doesn't sit right with me. Like, shure, the argument for why there aren't any animals is probably:

"Oh, it's because the clones didn't need them for their societies to function, so they didn't create them."

But imagine how much richer the world would be with them!

Now, maybe we are wrong and some clones made animals, which we just haven't seen because we haven't even seen much of their countries yet. My guess is that Kuromaku, Dante and Spade made some. (Taking into account that Gabriel already made at least one turtle, I don't have to guess because we know he did do that.)

And I'll start the theory by suggesting an example of what kind of an animal would Spade create for his country.

BEHOLD!

Spade's warhog!

Why would Spade create such creatures? What purpose would they serve him? Why would it be worth wasting generator energy on them?

I'm glad you didn't ask! I'll explain and give arguments for it anyways!

Arguments:

1. Meat

So far, in the land of kings, we only saw people eating plant-based food (mostly in Felicia and Zontopia). Now, this might as well be the only type of food people eat here because there aren't any animals that would provide meat.

Meaning people in the land of kings are vegan.

Seeing as how Spade's favourite stuff to eat is meat, I have a feeling the prideful King Emperor would rather starve than be forced to be a vegan for the rest of his life.

And we do still want to be reasonable and somewhat teenager friendly in the comics, so I don't think cannibalism is an option. Besides, Spade probably has too much pride to resort to such undignified and inhumane practices.

So, how do we solve this problem? Easy! Create a big animal that you can farm and exploit for meat. For a traditional example, a big boar!

And why stop at meat? Perhaps make few breeds of this animal that give milk, and boom - we got milk based products as well!

Now Spade's country is the least vegan place in the card world, and can finally make a proper sandwich with ham and cheese!

2. Various uses for various breeds

If I remember correctly, in comic it was established that citizens live shorter, or at least age quicker, than the clones.

Now, irl animals usually have shorter lifespans than humans, meaning that in the Land of kings, their lives are even shorter, meaning that the process of making new breeds is much faster than irl.

Making breeds is useful because it diversifies the uses of the animal without needing to waste generator energy on a new one.

Here are sketches of some breeds that I think citizens of Spade's country could make, as well as few notes about their characteristics for each:

I'll tackle some uses more in depth in the following arguments.

3. Materials

The animal and plant based materials are a really useful resource. Not only can it be reused to produce more of itself (example, dead plant and animal matter enriches the soil so more plants can grow to feed the people and animals), but once the species is created with the generator energy, Spade doesn't need to use any more generator energy to create more of them.

Depending on the breed, the warhogs not only give meat, but also leather, wool, bones etc.

Animal materials can be used to make good quality clothes, as well as many household items, like leather covered furniture and wool blankets.

Also, I feel like Spade would find a use for bones in clothes accesories as well because I feel like he'd love to look even more edgy and intimidating lol.

4. Trade

An interesting possibility we haven't seen much in the Land of kings.

Why don't clones trade resources with eachother? Do they think they do not need each other's stuff?

Lack of this activity might make sence if we consider that all raw materials are produced by the generator energy, so they all have basic resources and there is no need to aquire them from others (water, stone, iron, etc.).

What they can trade are products specific to their country, but that also depends on how interested the people of other countries are in those.

However, something a lot of people might be interested in trying that comes from other countries is cuisine aka. food (probably misspelled cuisine but whatever).

Think about it, at one point Felicians might get curious what else is there to eat besides raddish-based products.

Same goes for other countries.

(A possible interaction between a Spade spy and a tratiorous Felician.)

And seeing as how, hypothetically, no other country produces meat-based products, Spade has got himself a humble monopoly in the card world.

5. Sign of power and taming practices

Now, this is a bit more related to the abstract implications of creating this animal, as well as it's nature.

Taking care of an animal is not an easy task. Doing that implies that not only do you have enough resources and power to take care of yourself, but also for a whole other creature! Apply that on a larger scale that is Spade's country and you get the impression that his country is, indeed, incredibly capable and powerful to sustain both a population of people and animals.

However, there is a difference between taking care for a goldfish and a dog.

I imagine, to show off how powerful his country is, Spade would deliberatley make his boars dangerous. He'd give them an inherintly wild nature, big horns and tusks, and make them giant in size.

Why? So he can look like an even more badass ruler!

Anybody can take care of a population of animals, but only Spade's country can counquer these wild beasts and subjugate them to their will!

I imagine Spade's taming practices would be incredibly cruel. In order to get the boars to do his bidding, he'd firsth break their will to fight him, and then manipulate them with fear. Redirecting the animal's agresion could also be a metod he'd encourage.

If the boar doesn't give up easily and continues to be disobedient, it would either end up in an arena (more on that later) or as somebody's lunch.

6. Intimidation and war strategy

Spade's empire seems to be among the more technologically advanced countries of the card world, judging by the glimpse of his country in the Tome of clubs where we see all the construction machinery.

So why WARhogs?

Well, once Spade creates the boars and starts trading meat, a word would probably get around the card world about the scary beasts that boars are and create the already mentioned and calculated image of a powerful country that tamed those creatures.

This can also invoke a subtle fear among other subjects, a glance of what kind of terrifying force other countries might expect shall they ever go at odds with Spade's Empire. For if they can tame the boars, shurley they can use them against other countries.

But would he ever really use them against other countries in warfare, while he has powerful machinery at disposal?

I think he would, but it depends on who he is fighting!

You see, not all countries in the Land of kings are as equally as advanced as Kuromaku and Spade's are.

For example, Zontopia doesn't seem to use much technology ever since the original communication system "broke".

So if Spade goes to war against Brolly's country, not only is Brolly severly outmatched, but Spade wastes so much fuel and resources to get his tanks and machines to achieve the same goal he could reach if he simply sent in an army of Warhog-riders with superior weapons just strapped onto the warhogs.

7. Entertainment and punishment

Allright, let's say Spade has a few disobedient warhogs at disposal that are whay too violent and impressive to be turned into steak.

Like, Spade can see these boars have so much potential but do not listen to him. Shurley there must be a way not to waste it?

Well, boars aren't the only thing that is occasionally disobedient in his country. So are his people!

Traitors, criminals, revolutionarys, scoundrels that refuse to follow the strict order and law in the empire... Death sencence awaits some of them, and knowing Spade, he'd probably make public executions a thing to set an example to others of what happends when you go against the Empire.

Adding into the equasion that his country seems to draw some inspiration from the ancient Rome, it makes sence that he'd take after their entertainment practices...

That's right, Spade would build arenas, very similar to roman ones - but purple, where he'd force his criminals to fight for their lives against the wildest and most dangerous warhogs in his country!

(Imagine the following example, but high-tech and better shade of purple:)

It's a fight to the death kind of execution where the criminal has a slim chance to live if they manage to kill the beast before it ends them.

If the criminal somehow manages to slay all the boars they are pit against, they can become a gladiator whose life is now chained to the arena, where they will fight against other animals and criminals for the entertainment of other subjects untill they are eventually slain in one of the battles.

This not only solves the problem of rouge people and animals, but also creates a spectacle out of public executions, reinforcing the fear of regime in other citizens as well as providing entertainment for them.

Arena fights in Spade's country would probably be regarded as a type of theatre, similarly to how they were in ancient Rome.

This concludes the list of reasons why I believe Spade would create animals for his country.

Also, as if all of this wasn't enough, here is a Land of kings OC sketch based on these concepts:

(Also, some of her expression sketches:)

Her name is general Atalanta, and she supervises any and all activities relating to boars/animals within Spade's Empire, which includes running the gladiator arena. She is a great fighter and and hunter, and is experienced when it comes to animal control. She has an electric whip as her weapon which she uses when the warhogs act out of line.

So yea, thank you for coming to my Land of kings concept talk.

I do have more ideas for more possible Land of kings animal concepts but don't expect me to write a post about it because this already took a few days to write and draw and idk if I'll feel like doing that again. In short, I make no promises.

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viennacherries · 1 year ago

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Omg I love your fics and my rolan brain rot is REAL rn too… if you’re taking requests still I think a Rolan giving fem!reader a spanking would be soo hot :’)

hello anon thank you for this request heheheheh

the eagerly awaited spanking fic. enjoy ;)

NSFW

read on ao3

~~~

Rolan's never done something like this before, and he's more than a little nervous.

He loves Tav. He truly, deeply does. The few entanglements he's had in the past were nothing compared to this; compared to the way he feels about her. So, of course, of course, when she pitched the idea to him, he'd agreed to try it, despite his apprehension. Tav has been abundantly clear: if he doesn't enjoy it they can stop, and they needn't revisit the idea.

Still, that doesn't prevent the coil of concern that thrashes in his stomach.

"Are you okay?" Her voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, nods slowly, "yes, of course."

Tav's face twists in concern, "Rolan... We don't have to-"

"I want to." He's firm and quick in his response. He might be completely terrified but he wants this, wants to do this for her.

Tav doesn't look convinced, "Rolan, I'm serious, I don't mind if-"

"Tav."

She stops, looks at him.

"Shut up and take off your clothes."

Her eyes widen, and it would almost be comical if Rolan's heart wasn't currently pounding out of his chest. It almost feels wrong, ordering her around like this, and he has to remind himself that this is what she wants, what she asked for.

If he's being honest with himself, he's mostly worried about disappointing her. They've shared their bodies many times now, but never like this. He's an academic; a perfectionist. The idea of doing something that he hasn't practiced to faultlessness, the idea of potentially being bad at something? That's the worst part. At the end of the day, if he doesn't enjoy it, he knows he never has to do it again. But if he's just bad at it? If she doesn't enjoy herself? He's not sure he'll survive the embarrassment.

Still, he can't deny the thrill that runs through him as Tav hurries to obey his instruction.

"Slower." He lets his voice drop an octave into what he hopes is an attractive and commanding tone. A tingle of pleasure runs up his spine when she immediately slows her movements, making eye contact with him as she strips.

She's gradual and deliberate in removing her clothing. Not quite putting on a show, but she's purposeful in every inch of skin she exposes. Rolan's sure he'll never tire of watching her undress.

Once she's stripped down to her underthings, she stops, standing with her hands behind her back.

Roman quirks an eyebrow at her. "I said take your clothes off, didn't I? That means all of them."

A visible shiver runs through her body as she reaches to undo her brassiere, and wow, yeah, he's enjoying this. Her eagerness to comply is intoxicating, and something about having her stripping for him while he's still fully clothed has him half hard already under his robes.

Finally, she stands there naked in front of him, shifting from foot to foot, hands clasped behind her back. He takes a moment to just admire her, take in her form and appreciate her body.

Gods, she's incredible.

He crosses the room to her, stands so close his breath fans across her face, but doesn't touch her. Her anticipation is palpable in the air between them. Rolan leans forward slowly, testing her, seeing if she'll lean in, but she doesn't. Leans forward, closer, until his lips almost brush against hers. Her breathing is quiet but ragged, lips parted, and her tongue darts out to wet them. When he takes a step back without kissing her, a smirk on his face, she whines quietly in the back of her throat.

The bed creaks as he sits on the edge of it, feet planted firmly on the floor. Her eyes dart between his face and his lap eagerly, and the heady feeling that seeing her so greedy for him gives him rushes straight to his groin. He runs his hands down his own lap, smoothing his robes of any creases, and then using two fingers he taps his thigh twice.

"Come."

She scrambles to do as he says, draping herself over his lap. Her stomach sits over his thighs, her ass in the air, and she hangs her head and moans as he brings a hand up to cup her rear.

That feeling of uncertainty comes rushing back.

She wants him to strike her, to inflict pain on her, and the concept is... Confusing. He doesn't understand what about it will be enjoyable, isn't entirely sure what she gains from this. He caresses the flesh of her rear, squeezing and stroking her softly as he steels himself.

"Is this okay?" He can't help the question, but Tav is nodding before he's finished speaking. "Use your words. I need to hear you say this is what you want."

She groans slightly, "I want it Rolan. Please."

He swallows hard, and he feels his dick twitch. She gasps at the feeling of his length flexing against her stomach. Hearing her beg isn't something he knew he needed.

"You're going to count them out for me, okay? Out loud. Don't lose count."

She nods again, and he draws his hand back.

The first slap is tentative, making a quiet noise as the skin of his palm meets the flesh of her cheek, and she gasps softly.

"One."

He waits a moment, gives her a chance to say she wants him to stop, but she doesn't. This time, when he draws his hand back, he lets it fall harder, feeling a light sting across his fingers. Whatever reaction he expected, it isn't the loud uncontrolled moan she lets loose.

"T-Two."

Oh. Yeah. He likes this. Her breathy gasps and gulps between each slap of his hand, the way she pushes back into him when he rubs the skin to soothe it. He lets loose three more slaps in quick succession, each one slightly harder than the last, and the noises she makes with each bite of pain get more debauched with each one. He squeezes the globe of her ass hard after the final hit, and she whines.

"Three, four, fiv-"

He cuts her off before she can finish counting, slapping his hand down hard on her other cheek, grabbing a fistful of her flesh as he makes contact with her, and the noise is less like a slap and more like a dull thud. She arches her back, letting out a filthy noise, and her movement pushes her stomach into his erection. His own breath hitches, the pressure against his cock gratifying, but far too light to be relieving. He brings his hand down hard again in retaliation and her back arches again in response, creating a delicious feedback loop as he lets loose several more hits.

"Six! Seven! E-eightnineten!"

They're both panting now, breath coming out hard and fast while he fondles her. The skin on both her cheeks is tinged red now, and in one spot he can see the outline of a few of his fingers.

Yeah, okay. He gets it now.

This is exhilarating. Having her like this, folded in half for him, completely bare and at the mercy of his every whim. He feels drunk on it. He smoothes his hand up and over the swell of her ass, dances his way along her spine leaving a trail of goosebumps. She sighs and relaxes into him, and he uses the moment of defencelessness to grab a handful of the soft skin around her waist, squeezing and teasing the flesh. She keens in surprise and pleasure.

"You want more?"

She nods.

"Words, Tav."

"Ye-" He brings his hand down brutally on her backside and she cries out. "Yes! Eleven!"

As he soothes the hit he lets his hand trail down between her legs, and she makes a noise in the back of her throat of pure lust. He shudders as he reaches the apex of her thighs.

"Gods, Tav, you're dripping."

She nods so hard he's worried she'll pull a muscle, and he chuckles.

"You like this? You like..." He pauses briefly, unsure if he should finish his sentence, before deciding to continue. "You like when I play with you?"

She groans and pushes back against him, which causes his finger to brush against her clit, and she jolts at the sensation with a whine. He gives her a hard, harsh slap for it.

"Ah! Twelve!"

His cock is aching, and he's so turned on he feels light headed. Hells, she looks beautiful like this; looks beautiful spread out over his lap, waiting for him to touch her. He's losing his patience.

The final three hits he gives her are the harshest yet, and she's reduced to a puddle of pained and pleasured cries. He doesn't give her a chance to count out the slaps before he's hauling her upwards, and he pulls her to straddles his lap as he surges to meet her lips. She mewls as he pulls her hips down, her sore rear stinging at the contact with his robes, and he swallows the noise down greedily. Their tongues lash together, teeth clashing messily, and she grinds down against him. It wrenches a noise from low in his gut, and he drags his lips away from her to grab her hip harshly and slap the top of her ass. As she moans, he wraps his arms around her, bringing her with him as he stands, before turning and throwing her onto the bed.

She doesn't get a chance to adjust before he's manhandling her, flipping her so she's face down in the mattress, and he grabs her hips and yanks them towards him. As one hand works to free his length from his robes, the other places a bruising slap against her. The noise she makes is more pain than pleasure, and he panics for a moment before she pushes back against him. Fuck.

He doesn't even take the time to open her up properly, just frees his cock and grabs her ass with both hands, spreading her open to him as he thrusts into the wet heat of her cunt. She clenches around him and buries her face in the sheets, grabbing a fistful and crying out as he sets a brutal pace.

"Fuck, Tav." He smacks her again, grabbing her as he makes contact and pulling her into him harder. With every snap of his hips, his pelvis slaps against the tender skin and she's dissolving into a puddle of overstimulation and pleasure. " Fuck , Tav, you take me so well. You like taking me like this?"

She whines around her words, "yes! Fuck, Rolan, I'm so close! Please!"

He reaches around her, circles her clit with the pads of two fingers, and within a few moments she's screaming and clenching around him. He grits his teeth and groans as she finishes on his cock, and her body goes limp and pliable as he chases his own release.

When he spends himself inside her, she moans at the feeling of his seed spilling into her, and it has him shuddering and twitching harder.

He collapses forwards, burying his face in her hair, and he runs his hands up her sides.

"Are- Are you-" He takes great gulping gasps between his words. "Are you okay? Was that- that okay?"

Tav doesn't speak, just makes a series of incoherent noises, before freeing an arm from underneath her and making an "okay" sign with her thumb and finger. A laugh barks its way out of Rolan's chest before he can stop it.

"Gods, Tav. That was... Wow."

She laughs a little under him, and tilts her head to the side to speak. "So you didn't hate it?"

"No! Not at all. We can... We can do it again, if you like?"

She lets out a laugh that sounds relived, "yes, please. You're a natural."

He can't help but preen at that. Not bad for an academic, hm?

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 requests #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 smut #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan bg3 #holy rolan empire

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