#that just seemed a little more dickish than called for
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I have no interest in picking apart every little thing either of our ineffable duo says or does to the other to make them or their relationship look bad, because I really truly genuinely think a lot of the things they say to each other are just banter. But I always kiiiiiind of want to smack Crowley when he says "You really are terrible at magic" in 1941 because come on, your angel literally just saved you from getting dragged back to Hell with his silly little sleight of hand trick and he's so stinking proud of himself about it and you're going to choose this moment to tell him he sucks at it?
For the record, I'm not saying he should have showered him with praise instead, that's obviously not his style or their dynamic and I'm sure they're still kind of feeling out how they are going to be with each other after the holy water fight, but he could have just...not said that.
(In fairness, Aziraphale didn't look terribly offended or discouraged and I realize this is also probably bantery Crowley-speak for "I just almost shot you for your magic show, that was terrifying, let's never do that again," but it still gets my hackles up just slightly. It's such a cute sweet moment otherwise!)
#good omens#good omens 2#aziracrow#1941 minisode#the amazing mr fell#i swear i am not trying to start discourse#i love crowley and his sass#that just seemed a little more dickish than called for#maybe i'm just mad bc aziraphale really came through here#and i feel like this scene undercuts that
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can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.
Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻
omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!
This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.
Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.
You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.
It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.
Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.
"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.
"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.
"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.
"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.
"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."
You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.
The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.
"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.
Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.
//
It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.
In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.
"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.
"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.
"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.
"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.
You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.
"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.
It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.
"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.
Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.
Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."
You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.
Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.
You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.
You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.
"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.
"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."
Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.
"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.
"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#ln4 imagine#formula 1#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#fluff#lando norris fluff#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 fanfic#ln4 x reader#ln4 x y/n#lando norris x y/n#formula 1 one shot#f1 one shot#daniel ricciardo#f1 requests
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˚༄ Tìwäsul
✮ Meaning: competition
✮ Requested by: ⛄️ and 🪐
✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!metkayina!warrior reader
✮ Warnings: rivals, smutty smut, fluff, p in v, Aonung is a munch, pining
✮ Word Count: 10.3k
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It first happened when you were kids. The first time that stupid skxawng beat you, and it never seemed to end. You knew you were just as talented, just as ferocious, just as determined, but he was always just larger and stronger. It probably also helped that he would be Olo'eyktan.
So year after year, after every fight, every hunt, every trial, you would always be second. Silver. Sure, you could smash down every other warrior. Sure, you could outrun and outswim and even outrank any other person in the clan, but there would always be him. Aonung.
He was, in fact, a complete and utter idiot. He was all big and perfect and beloved by the clan, despite all his flaws. Because those flaws seemed perfectly obvious to you, his competition, but everyone else just fawned over his big muscles and pretty blue eyes and you were determined to never do so.
He was cocky. He was a player. He had more muscles in his arms than braincells in his head. He was condescending and entitled and just somehow managed to get away with everything.
So you were determined to be the person to call him out. If everyone was going to baby him and feed his practically obese ego, you would try to keep him in check.
You wouldn't fawn and fall at his feet. Every word you spoke to him was twice as harsh as to others. Every blow you delivered in training was harder than the last, and certainly harder than anyone else would dare to hit the precious little prince. Every look you sent him clearly showed your distaste that he, somehow, always was above you.
And he seemed to get it. As you got older, he became less dickish towards you. By the time you finished your iknimaya, he had congratulated you. By the time the Sully's came to the reef, if you called him out on his taunting, he'd pull his head back in.
You, of course, had no idea why. Everyone else did though. The way Aonung would only do as you say was perfectly obvious to everyone else. Ronal and Tonowari had figured it out early, that their son hardly listened to them, so they managed to sneak you into it when they wanted him to do something.
And Aonung tried to get over it. That's why he spent his days training hard, trying to beat away and sweat out all his ceaseless thoughts of you. Thoughts that mortify him, thoughts that you would murder him over.
That's why he spends his nights with a new girl every time, on the beach, in the water, on the woven floor of marui's, trying to fuck his desires for you out into another girl.
He can't help it- the way he imagines it's always you. You squirming as he lays with his head nestled between your shaking thighs, holding you down and drawing desperate moans out of your mouth so usually full of quips and snarls.
You on your knees in front of him, the same eyes that glare when you look at him now filled with tears as you take him far into your throat, your soft lips brushing over his hard length.
Imagining you're the one under him, riding him, bent over in front of him, the curve of your ass and the softness of your tits on complete display for him.
Fuck.
It was bad. It was really fucking bad.
You were his second in command, you were his biggest competition. What used to be a childish crush was rapidly growing into a mature, dangerous obsession.
What he wouldn't give to have you as his, to be yours...
You, of course, on the other hand, are completely oblivious to his infatuation with you. For years, you've written off the way he treats you differently as simply part of the game, part of the competition the two of you have entertained for so long.
You have no idea of the blunt lust and deep affection he harbours for you, and you're certainly oblivious to his efforts to get closer to you. The first could have been anything, and it never would have occurred to you that it was courting.
In the years since your iknimaya, the rivalry between the two of you had fizzled slightly. You could accept his outranking you- he, at least, was worth the top position.
So you followed his orders with 60% obedience and managed to build a courteous, polite relationship with him. You were not quite friends, yet you both respected the other, and managed to share a good conversation every now and then.
Which is why it seemed so shocking that he was suddenly starting to compete with you again. He, of course, isn't doing anything of the sort, but you think he's falling back into the old rivalry.
It all started with the summer hunt.
Really, it was your fault. You let yourself get overconfident, sure that the huge fish you had speared through the heart would be the largest catch of the clan, and you had been pleased with yourself and returned to the village.
There was much admiration and praise for your amazing catch, everyone congratulating you until suddenly it all stopped. You weren't an attention seeker at all, but you couldn't help feeling irritated that something was suddenly so important.
Which, of course, has to be Aonung.
He's striding towards you, his large, muscular arms straining under the weight of the fish he's holding. It's fucking massive, completely putting your batch to shame, with shimmery scales and terrifying spikes all along it's back and fins and mouth and tail.
Almost instantly, everyone that had been congratulating you practically pounces onto him, gushing over their precious little prince and his unimaginable talents, his incredible strength, his impossible bravery yadayadayada.
You, on the other hand, just stay back, arms folded and a scowl fixed onto your face. You aren't bitter he did better than you (well maybe a little but that wasn't the point). After thinking you both got over this competition on at least surface level, here he was, bringing his haul over to you to completely undermine your efforts. To show, once again, he beat you.
But as everyone fawned all over him, he just continues to walk to you, returning a smile every now and then but staying in silence as he approaches. His bright blue eyes are fixed into yours the whole time.
He doesn't look cocky; there's a strange glint in those ocean eyes that you can't interpret. He's doing something, you can obviously tell at least that, trying to prove himself in some way.
And of course, your competitive, fierce mind jumps straight into the past. You can't believe he's doing this now, making you look ridiculous and small and undermining you with his amazing catch.
He finally reaches your woven basket, in which your now seemingly tiny fish lies. You fold your arms and stare blankly up at him, not bothering to hide your annoyance.
"Hey," he smiles, shifting the fish in his arms so he can see you better.
"Hey," you reply slightly coldly, raising your brows slightly and watching him.
He was attractive, you can admit that. Not just in a pretty way, he was so pretty it had every girl falling at his feet, and he was always happy to offer his time to them. It was something in that white shiny smile and bright blue eyes, maybe something to do with that air of slight mischief and danger that lingered around him.
It also could be his body. That was good too. All muscular and giant and taller than anyone else in the clan, even Tonowari. He moved with confidence and slight cockiness, the curve of his broad shoulders rolling gracefully when he moved. It was something to do with the sharpness of his collarbones and jawline, or the way his lashes curled so gently. Or just his body, the slight X shape to his ribcage, his stomach toned and muscly just like the rest of him, tapering into a slim waist.
“Good catch,” Aonung says, nodding down at your basket that looks ridiculous beside his.
You squint at him, is he making fun of you? But he looks genuinely sincere, and also nervous. Aonung, the prince of the clan, the most confident even cocky person you know, is standing slightly awkwardly in front of you, looking nervous.
You aren’t sure if it’s your face- your glare does tend to have a terrifying effect on people, but you decide you’ve glared at him and he’s never looked this nervous around you before. In fact, you’ve never even seen him be nervous ever. Not at any fight or hunt or even at his iknimaya.
That only makes you more annoyed.
“Yours is better,” you reply bluntly. It’s an obvious fact, and Aonung smiles slightly.
“Thank you,” he grins. “I went outside the reef to three brothers rock-”
“Isn’t that a bit far,” you ask sceptically. “And a little dangerous?”
You go to hunt at three brothers rock every few days, but what was this skxawng playing at, going to such extreme lengths to beat you.
“I wanted to bring something good back,” he shrugs.
You scowl a little deeper. The other clan members that had been offering their congratulations were now dispersing. Sure, your arguments with Aonung were known to be a great source of entertainment for the clan, almost as much as the actual warrior fights, but they also knew better than to overstay their welcome when it came to the two highest ranking warriors in the clan. And this is where this is heading, an argument
Really, you had slackened in your insults and keeping Aonung in line over the last few years, the competition between the two of you dying out slowly let you let him off the hook. He had used his new freedom to fuck around with his friends and girls and you had put your efforts into training and proving yourself.
“What are you trying to do Aonung,” you sigh, sharpening your knife to carve the fish.
“What do you mean?” He asks, sounding confused.
“You’ve never gone hunting beyond the reef except when you’re trying to prove a point,” you say bluntly, not looking up from sharpening your knife. “Like when you nearly got Lo’ak killed when we were kids. So what point are you trying to prove?”
When he doesn’t say anything, just staring down at you, you put your knife down with a small snarl and glare up at him.
But before you can say anything, the next wave of villagers walks past, and they bustle around Aonung to marvel at his incredible hunting skills and unbelievable daring and oh my god you’re just strong! And Aonung just doesn’t seem to care. He usually is aloof and cocky, but he enjoys praise and ass kissing. The new crowd blocks you from his view, and you shift slightly to keep it that way, while you can take another look at him. He looks like he’s trying to find you, craning his neck and ignoring all the praises and flirtings thrown at his fucking feet. His brows are furrowed, and he looks torn between confusion and slight upset that you’ve suddenly disappeared.
Stupid skxawng.
You sigh, gaze flicking to the basket of your smaller fish lying ignored and abandoned beside the group clamouring over Aonung’s massive, incredible one, and sigh.
You leave it there and slip back through the crowd and into your marui.
Tsireya’s waiting there for you, your best friend lying in your bed, admiring something. Her ears flick up when you enter, quickly noticing your annoyance in your huffy silence and agitatedly flicking tail.
“Hey beautiful,” Tsireya grins. “What’s got your tail in a knot?"
“I’ll tell you who,” you say hotly, stripping off your gear from hunting and tossing it angrily into the corner. “Some stupid, infuriating, competitive-”
“Right,” Tsireya rolls her eyes. “What has Aonung done now? I thought you guys were fine now.”
“I thought so too,” you growl, setting your knife down aggressively. “But noooo, apparently now he has to one up me and hunt the biggest fish in my fishing territory. You know, I don’t know why he’s being so competitive.”
“It’s a bit hypocritical of you to be calling anyone competitive,” your best friend comments, raising her brows at you. When you glare at her, she holds her hands up. “I was just saying, don’t get mad at me.”
You just huff a sigh and flop down onto your woven bed, laying your head in her lap.
“You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?” Tsireya says, sounding amused.
“What do you mean, what’s going on?” you snap. “I just know that your brother is trying to beat me, or prove something-”
Tsireya laughs incredulously, and when you lift your head to frown at her, she stifles her giggle and puts on a straight face.
“This is beautiful,” she gestures to what she’d been studying before.
You have half a mind to object to her subject change. But then again, Tsireya had heard you rant about her brother so many times, she’d probably memorised it by now. And you weren’t bothered to spend any more time thinking about him, otherwise you’d get pissed and unproductive.
“Yes,” you smile fondly, taking the top from her. It was beautifully woven, a piece that you had been working on for a while for the hunt festival, beading intricately with gems and shells and seaglass you had collected yourself. It was something you adored, something beautiful and yours, that you could admire as your hard work.
“Well, come and see what I have prepared,” Tsireya grins.
“I don’t want to run into Aonung at your marui,” you sigh.
“Oh, you won’t,” Tsireya rolls her eyes. “My brother’s out preparing for you- um, for something?”
“Probably the festival,” you grumble under your breath. “Where he’ll steal my last respect and status.”
But you follow your best friend out along the village to her marui. The sun was nearly set now, a deep, rich periwinkle colour over the sparkling, still ocean. You wished you could go for a swim, maybe even a hunt right now, but you need to help prepare for the festival tomorrow night. That was who you were, reliable and determined to do anything to prove yourself, helping wherever you can.
Tonowari, Ronal, Tsireya and Aonung lived in the largest marui in the village, obviously. They had the one in the centre, a huge, beautifully woven marui with partings for rooms. You had your own marui now, with a single room, a sleeping mat, a small kitchen, and a shelf for your memories and keepsakes. It wasn’t exactly tiny, given your high status, but as you lived alone you weren’t assigned a larger, nicer marui, and you had no need for one either.
But sometimes you felt a little bitter as you looked across the village to your favourite marui. It had just been recently woven, in the perfect spot at the edge of the beach and over the shallows of the water, the perfect place to fish right off the walkway. It had plenty of room for weapons and collectibles, and a curtain for privacy woven of palm leaves and strung with beautiful shells hung in the entrance, shielding the interior for you.
Oh, how you longed to have that marui. Problem was, there was a reason why it was so beautiful. It was for the next clan leader- Aonung and his future mate.
You sneak a glance at it before you follow Tsireya into her family’s marui. You greet Ronal and Tonowari who greet you happily, exchanging some conversation about the festival and the hunt. As you finish your chat and go towards Tsireya’s room, something catches your eye from another doorway.
You aren’t a snooper. You aren’t a lurker or someone who wallows in other people’s business. You certainly never cared about Aonung’s business. But you can’t help your curiosity, and after noticing Aonung isn’t in his room and hearing Tsireya rustle about in her room to get her top, you quickly slip your head in to see.
Eywa. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Sitting neatly on his bed, amidst several loose beads and string, is the more intricate, gorgeous top you’ve ever seen. Just like the hunt, it puts your top to complete shame.
Each bead sparkles in the light, colourful and happy and beautiful just like the stars shining bright above you. You can’t help feeling impressed, though you’re still frowning. Tentatively, you reach out and lightly trace the top.
It’s so smooth and cool beneath your fingers, and you can already see that it would settle perfectly when worn, showing the perfect amount of skin and delicately covering you at the same time.
Everyone weaves new tops for the festivals, and men often do too to gift to others. Aonung was going to beat you, once again. There was no doubt about it, this top was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
And then you’re suddenly upset, and it’s hitting you that once fucking again he’s won and you’ve lost and it’s all just shit and you’re backing out of Aonung’s room. You’re backing out of the marui, and you’re headed straight for your own home. Flopping into your bed, you just lie in still silence, staring blankly up and scowling.
That night is filled with annoying restlessness. You don’t attend the preparations for the festival held the night after the hunt, resigning yourself that you’ll just figure it all out at the festivities tomorrow. You had, once again, been proved completely inferior to Aonung, and when you woke up the next day and prepared for training, you were determined to not let it happen again.
You made your way over to the training grounds early, figuring maybe you could get in some practise before everyone else arrived and you were once again Aonung’s second in command, but as you gathered some spears and walked over, there was a familiar figure standing there.
“Hey,” Aonung calls when he sees you arriving. “Where did you go yesterday; I didn’t see you after the hunt?”
“I was tired,” you say coolly, tying your hair back.
“Right,” Aonung says, brow furrowing slightly. “And you weren’t helping to prepare last night, either.”
At that, you straighten up and frown at him.
“Since when did you go to the preparations?” you ask sceptically. “I thought you were too cool to help out.”
“I was looking for you,” Aonung says unexpectedly. “You disappeared before.”
“Well,” you huff, lifting a spear, “I wasn’t in the mood for worshipping you like everyone else.”
Aonung chuckles slightly, shaking his head and leaning back to stare at you.
“You’ve never worshipped me.”
“You need someone to keep you humble,” you sigh, bringing your arm back and tossing the spear as hard as you can. It flies far and lands sticking straight up into the sand. You turn back to see Aonung looking impressed. “Unfortunately, being humble isn’t your strong suit.”
“Hey,” he protests. “I’m great at being humble. I’m practically the best at humbleness.”
“Right,” you roll your eyes, picking up another spear. “Be a dear and grab my spear, will you?”
You half expect Aonung to argue, to point out he is your superior, but to your surprise he obediently walks out and picks it from the sand. So he’s still doing as you ask, so what was that sudden resurgence of competition?
“Are you going to try and kill me?” Aonung asks amusedly, watching as you level another spear and throw it again whilst he’s still picking up your first.
“No,” you say stiffly. “I wouldn’t need to try- if I wanted you dead, this spear would already be through your head.”
“You really are strange,” he says, making his way back. There’s a strange fondness in his voice that you don’t understand.
Unbeknownst to you of course, Aonung was not so sneaky at hiding his feelings from everyone else. Or maybe the rest of the clan just wasn’t as oblivious as you. Either way, neither of you noticed your warriors gathering around, watching you and Aonung.
You had always been careful to maintain a courteous, respectful relationship with Aonung in the eyes of your warriors since you passed your iknimaya, but really, you weren’t fooling anyone.
Everyone remembers the two of you when you were younger, in constant competition, your distaste and need to keep him in line balancing his cockiness. And just as infamous (except to you) is just how much Aonung likes his second in command.
Really, it’s obvious to all your warriors- they’re the ones that have to watch Aonung watch you, watch your movements and instructions and teachings and scolding. It’s not secret to them that he likes you, yet their knowledge is a secret to Aonung, and everything is a secret to you.
You start the usual training, instructing all your warriors into warmups and then positions, preparing for them to practise sparring. But, unbeknownst to you, your warriors had a plan, sick of all the pretences and rivalry and oblivious and secrets.
The next stage of training was something of a tournament, all the warriors pairing up and fighting. Winner moves on, loser’s out. You should have known it would end up like this.
You were the best warriors after all, and too soon you found yourself facing Aonung, your warriors watching with interest from the sidelines after being absolutely annihilated by the pair of you. Really, your showdowns with Aonung were almost legendary, but there hadn’t been one since you both completed your iknimaya. But now here you are, about to fight him.
You and Aonung stand at opposite ends, studying each other and moving into battle positions.
You start to circle, before Aonung moves first. He stabs his spear towards you, which you parry easily and we whirl. It's a dance really, charged with tension as you slash and spiral, ducking and stabbing. But after a few moments, Aonung manages to twist the spear from your grip, and it clatters to the ground, rolling out of the circle. You hear groans from the crowd, and the thought that they think you might lose is infuriating.
Not this fucking time. You haven’t come second at every turn for years, your rivalry to die and and then suddenly just return for you to lose again.
You leap at Aonung, leaping over his spear jab and twisting in the air to grab his queue and use your momentum to fling him across the circle. His spear, too, goes rolling away, and he gets slowly to his feet, exhaling and narrowing his eyes slightly.
You exchange a few punches and attacks, enough for you to realise that he must be holding back. There is no way that someone that muscular throws a punch that weak.
"Why are you holding back?" you hiss.
"I'm not," Aonung says, yet the next punch he delivers to your side hardly winds you at all.
"Stop holding back," you growl, and leaping at him, knocking him to the floor and straddling him easily.
And finally, you see his eyes narrow and his breath catch with annoyance, and he moves with his full power. It was an anticipatable offence, and you step quickly aside, ducking under his swing. You move around behind him and kick his leg, bending it and sending him to his knees. You quickly toss him aside onto the ground while he is still confused, and he slides along the sand, digging his fingers in at the last moment.
He clambers to his feet and you crouch a little lower. You trail the circle, eyes fixed on one another. You wait, unhurried and unworried, so he gives in and makes the first move again. This time he goes for your legs, and you leap over him, pushing his shoulders down so he stumbles and you roll to the ground and spring up again.
You exchange punches and kicks, and he doesn't hold back. He tackles to the ground and you groan as his elbow jabs at your gut. Aonung is admittedly stronger, so it takes you some time to wiggle free from his hold, but you move your knee up to smack him in the groin. Then he rolls you over easily and pins me down, his other hand closing around your throat.
You jab your elbow into his side and roll you over again, pinning his hands up and straddling his chest.
“Go on,” you breathe, faces inches from Aonung, pressing your arm up against his throat, ready to cut off his breath if needed.
But he doesn’t say anything. His large, muscular body is warm and still beneath you, his eyes just roving over your face with wide pupils, breath heaving. In fact, his breathing is so strong you’re practically getting lifted up and down on his chest.
Everyone’s watching expectantly, and you press your arm down harder on his throat. You raise your brows expectantly at him.
“I give up,” he breathes, inches away from your face, eyes boring brightly into your own.
“Louder,” you snap, lightly slamming him against the ground.
“I give up!” he shouts.
You let him go, arm moving off his throat, and just resting, breathing heavily. He gave up. You won. You beat him, finally, after years of coming second, and everyone saw you do it.
And the staring eyes suddenly make you realise you’re still straddling Aonung, legs tight on either side and whole body resting on his infuriatingly very prominent abs.
You aren’t one to blush, but you’d be lying if you didn’t scramble quickly off him, readjusting your top and tewng as you look at your warriors. They look satisfied. Not in the way you feel, not like they’re happy you finally beat him. No, they look like something was just confirmed, something you just have no idea about.
“Dismissed,” Aonung calls, waving off his warriors.
You frown, but at the end of the day, it isn’t your call. So you greet your warriors goodbye, exchanging words and waving them off. You don’t miss their knowing smiles, and the way none of them wait for you to follow too. As though they know exactly what’s about to happen, as you pick up your spears and make to follow-
“Wait.”
The word hangs lazily in the air. And, since it was spoken out of his mouth, you had to obey. So, trying to fight off the scowl fixed on your face, you slowly turn to stare at him.
“Yes, Aonung?”
“You are mad with me,” Aonung says, a slight frown on his face. You squint slightly. Eywa, this skxawng really is thick, that it’s taken him so long to realise, and for him to not even be sure about it.
“Is that all you had to ask me?” you reply, with raised brows. “Can I go now-”
“No,” Aonung says bluntly. It’s the first time he’s ever flat out refused you, and you have to take a moment to realise that you actually have to stay and have this conversation now, instead of hiding your annoyance with him behind rolled eyes like usual.
“Fine.” You cross your arms and stand impatiently. It couldn’t be clearer that you wanted to leave, and Aonung shifts a little.
This isn’t at all how he pictured you to be acting. He had tried so hard- hunting the largest fish, trying his best to impress you at every turn with fighting and spear throwing. And you finally beat him. You won, so why are you so upset with him?
Maybe you noticed him staring, maybe you noticed how flustered he got when you had him pinned down and were straddling him?
In no way was Aonung someone that submitted easily. He listened to no one, except you. Really, you’re the only person that could ever get away with having him like that. If only you knew what more you could get away with, that he’d let you do anything, that he’d do anything you let him.
“Why do you dislike me so much?” Aonung asks. Your eyes narrow further.
“I don’t dislike you,” you say delicately, and he scoffs.
“We’ve been stuck in this competition since we were kids,” Aonung points out. “Why did it start.”
“You’re asking me?” you say with raised brows. “Aren’t you the one that’s been determined to beat me at every turn?”
“That’s what you think I’ve been doing?” Aonung asks incredulously. “You think all these years, I just wanted to win?”
“Don’t you?” you ask. “I mean, what have you been beating me and belittling me for years for then, if not to win?”
Aonung blinks rapidly. Oh eywa, this is fucked. He never would have guessed this; that you genuinely thought he dislikes you, that all he wanted was to triumph over you this whole time.
“You just won,” Aonung points out instead.
“Once,” you snap. “I won once, after busting my ass off my whole life. I can handle being second in command. I can handle you being a better hunter and a better fighter and a better leader and beader and whatever, but why are you suddenly rubbing all your victories in my face again?”
“I’m not,” Aonung says, flushing furiously. “I wasn’t trying to gloat or anything, I wanted you to see me do well… because…”
Your eyes narrow further, and your brows raise higher. It couldn’t be plainer you weren’t believing a word he said, and he could guess you’d take some convincing even if he did decide to confess everything right here and now. When he stands in awkward silence, trying to think of what to say, you scoff.
“What about the hunt. What about the spears. What about the top, and the marui and-”
“The top? The marui?”
“Yes,” you hiss. “I spent so long weaving the most beautiful top and you had to make an even prettier one. I mean- how did your massive fumbly fingers even manage to make it? And the marui- building the most beautiful home right in front of mine, blocking my view of the ocean-“
“Stop!” Aonung finally cuts you off, as your tone grows louder and more impatient. “It was for you.”
You scowl. Then you frown. Then you raise your brows, and part your lips in confusion. Then you scowl again.
“What?”
“It’s all for you,” Aonung explodes, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “I tried hard to impress you all those years. I hunted that fish to impress you. I wove that top to impress you. Everything I’ve ever done has been for you.”
And now he’s done it. Spoken the words that break everything, the ones that make fucking sure that nothing’s ever going to be the same. He risks a peek between his fingers at you.
You look like you’ve been broken. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks flushed, mouth parted in confusion, brows raised and head cocked slightly. You’re trying to tell what the fuck is going on. This is a joke, this has to be a joke. He’s taking the fucking piss.
There’s no way Aonung is telling the truth right now- no way anything has been for you. Not the fish, not the hunt, not the fights or the spears or the tops or any thing.
“And the marui?” you whisper. Aonung sighs, covering his face with a large hand. He looks absolutely mortified, as though he wasn’t meant to say any of this.
“Well, I was hoping this would go differently- better. That maybe you would see I liked you without needing me to shout it at you- that maybe you might think that perhaps I never disliked you and that I just wanted you to see me?”
You just continue to stare blankly at him, so he continues in a rush.
“It was perfect,” he mumbles. “Perfect for fishing. You could see the perfect sunsets. The prettiest shells wash up on the beaches underneath the walkway, and I know you love the little ones with the dark spirals. Early morning huts, places to store your weapons, a little cove for the ilu right underneath.”
You blink even more rapidly. Is this skxawng actually making sense? Is he telling the truth?
“So…” you say slowly, swallowing hotly. “You aren’t like… my rival or something.”
“I hope not,” Aonung mutters. “I mean, am I?”
The silence you keep is going to kill him. He just knows it; his heart is thumping so hard he knows it’s about to explode and he’s going to die. His hands and fidgeting sightly. Eywa, he’s never been this nervous in his life. Really, you’re the only person who’s ever managed to make him feel nervous.
And fuck. You had never thought of Aonung like this- never let yourself think of him like this. Because he was always Aonung, prince of the clan, your best friend’s brother, your commander, your rival. But now apparently not. When you think about it, you never hated Aonung. Your distaste for him was purely on a physical level, for his cockiness and taunting, yet noe it was never actually true.
Plus, there were good things about him- that he was a good hunter and fisher and fighter and weaver. And he was sort of sweet, even though you always mistook his crush for dislike.
Plus Eywa, he’s hot.
And maybe it has something to do with the terrified, guilty, nervous, heart-broken, hopeful look in those bright blue eyes, but you find your heart pounding slightly faster. No. Fuck.
The silence is growing longer, and you’re feeling… something. Something in the air between you. Something that had always been there, a tension that makes everything all sharp and strong and dangerous, but you’d always written it off as the stupid rivalry.
Aonung’s just staring, looking large and muscly and nervous in front of you, but also expectant. He expects you to say no. He thinks he’s messed up, pushed things too far, changed everything, fucked it all up. And, as ever, you prove him wrong.
“Aonung,” you say quietly. “What are you saying?”
“I- fuck- I like you,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I like everything about you, even when you hate me. I like that you speak your mind, and you treat me like anyone and not like some king or something. I like that you aren’t ever afraid or nervous, and that everything you do is just… it’s just always right.”
You scrunch your face. A small flush is creeping across your cheeks. Who would have ever thought that Aonung would be the one to be giving you these stupid fucking butterflies, just by speaking and staring at you with those bright blue eyes. And that when it strikes you. All the usual customs of courting. Bringing gifts. Hunting for them. Beading them clothing. And the marui. Everything he thought you’d like- that you do like, and it was for you.
“So, you’re trying to court me?” you ask incredulously, heart thumping loudly in your chest.
“Is it not obvious already?” Aonung asks with a smile. “Do you need me to get down and propose, tawtute style?”
“Oh, absolutely,” you grin wickedly. “I didn’t spend years being second to you to let you off too easily now, did I?”
“Fine,” Aonung sighs. To your surprise, he kneels down instantly and rolls his eyes up at you. “Do you have an answer now?”
“So impatient,” you squint at him.
“Still your commander,” he points out. “But you don’t need to respond right now. I’m happy for you to take your time. I’ve already waited-”
Surprising even yourself, you reach out and pull him up. It’s not something you consciously do- you have no idea what you meant to do- but then all of a sudden you’re inches apart, eyes meeting dangerously, and you’re reaching up and he’s leaning down and your lips meet.
Fuck. It’s all warm and gentle and comfortable, his arms instantly reaching to encircle you, hold you, hands resting in your hair and carefully on your hips. He smells gently of amber and sea-breeze, but you’re most focused on his lips. They’re impossibly soft against yours, gentle, then exploratory, then hungry.
And then all of a sudden, you can see. It’s almost like your eyes aren’t closed; they’re open and you can see everything Aonung said in truth. You can feel the years he spent liking you in secret, the passion with which he wanted to hold you, to kiss you for so long. Too long. You can feel it in the heat of the kiss, the heaviness of his breath, the closeness of his body against yours, as though he wants to hold you as near as possible and never let you go.
But he does, hands sliding off your waist, withdrawing from your hair, stepping back and gazing down at you. And for the first time- you feel nervous. You feel bare, and messy, and scared. Not of Aonung, god no, but of what just happened. Of what you just felt.
And when he opens his mouth, no doubt to tell you there’s no pressure, he isn’t expecting anything from you, you’re free to do blah blah blah, you find there’s already an answer on your lips. It’s that you want his again.
“You’re to be Olo’eyktan,” you whisper. You immediately see his ears lower and face fall, and you quickly shake your head. "Aonung, look at me."
He does, ashamedly and heartbroken, and you swallow before thinking. You try to think what you need to say, bury what you want to say, biting your lip to stop yourself from hurting him. Or yourself. But his hand slides up to gently caress your face. With his fingers so gently touching your cheeks and under his intoxicating gaze, it's so hard to say it, but you know you must.
"Aonung, you have your people and your future to think-"
“I am thinking,” Aonung says firmly. “I’ve thought about this every day since we were kids. My parents knew I thought about this- the whole clan knew. And think about it- you are literally the best fighter, best hunter, best weaver in the whole clan.”
“You are,” you correct, but he just shakes his head.
“Don’t think about any duties or anything,” Aonung says firmly. “This is what I’ve wanted forever, more than being a warrior, more than being Olo’eyktan. Because what is important is you- and I won’t want to do any of those things without you by my side. Not some village girl, not some other shy healer, you.”
You can’t think of anything to say. You stand there for a moment, blinking at him, heart beating fast in your chest, head spinning nervously. So instead of saying anything, because you have no idea what to say, you step forward to close the gap he just made, lean onto your tip toes and crash your lips onto his.
And he catches you in a way no one else could. Really, only Aonung could be like this. He certainly hadn’t been wasting all that time staring at you in training- he knew exactly what to do- where to slide his hands over your waist, how to tilt your head, to graze his fangs lightly over your lips. This obviously isn’t his first rodeo (you know that, you’d heard enough stories about him with other girls), but Eywa, you feel like it’s your first time with the way each of his careful, smooth movements have your heart twisting.
You’re growing closer, his hand traveling lower, your own moving over the muscles in his arms and back and shoulder and holy shit this man is just seemingly impossibly fit. The kisses are growing hungrier, messier, closer, all pressing of tongues and heavy breaths and grazing fangs.
Your insides are twisting nervously, tiny flutters of surprised delight flaring inside you, and also something else. You’re growing hungrier for his touches, greedy for him, and you can tell that he, too, is also growing needier. His hand brushes over the string of your tewng and you shiver in his touch.
But then he’s pulling away again. You frown at him, eyes narrowed, legs slightly rubbing together, lips feeling cold without the press of his against them. Aonung’s breathing heavily, pupils blown wide to ebony moons ringed in clear blue, chest heaving slightly and gaze roving over your face.
When you return to your marui, your heart is thumping fast, and you notice something gleaming on your bed. The top. Aonnug’s top- the one he made. For you. You instantly run a finger along the intricate beading, just as you had when you first saw it, but still just as nervous, as gentle, as tentative. It can’t be yours- it doesn’t feel real- that he likes you, that he made this, that he did everything. For you.
“Where have you been?” an amused voice asks from the entrance. You turn to see Tsireya walking in towards you, a small knowing smile of her sweet face.
“I was training,” you say quietly. “And- um- Aonung…”
“You found out,” Tsireya says plainly, looking delighted. She walks over and leans a head on your shoulder, admiring the top with you. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? You should wear it tonight.”
You frown slightly. In all the haze of the fighting and annoyance and finally the truth, you’d forgotten about the festival. But as you gaze down at the beautiful top, you smile slightly. You nod at your best friend, who grins back and leans closer into you.
Aonung’s sitting at the side of the party. You’ve yet to arrive, and he’s determinedly avoiding the gazes sent his way from other girls. That’s how these sort of festivals always ended, how most of his nights ended, with a new girl. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel the slightest bit of interest, not when he remembered you.
The furious gleam in your eyes as you kissed him, the softness of your skin rubbing against his own, your slim waist held in his hand. The sweet, coconut smell of your soft dark curls, the warmth of your lips against his, the feeling of your teeth lightly grazing his lips. And the sounds you made- all breathy and almost as hungry as he was, eywa, he can’t wait to hear it again.
It was better than he’d ever imagined, and he’d imagined kissing you a million times over the years. Soft and gentle and rough and hungry and desperate and sweet and everything you’d ever want. Because he’d do it. He’d do whatever you wanted.
“Hey,” Rotxo says, nudging Aonung. “Isn’t that the love of your life?”
Aonung turns, faster than he’s ever turned before, and sees you walking besides Tsireya and standing with the Sullys. A small shiver goes through him at the sight of you in that top. He had never pictured it would look like that, but he wasn’t about to complain.
The beadings shone against your teal skin in the pale moonlight and flickering firelight, the intricate strands of the top threading over your chest and leaving little to imagination. He’s barely aware he’s moved over and left an amused Rotxo behind, all he knows is suddenly you’ve stopped looking around the party to find him, and he’s right there in front of you.
Everything seems to fall silent- not only in Aonung’s mind. Girls all over the party are glaring, guys are frowning, your warriors are grinning in a fucking finally sort of way, and Tsireya, Rotxo, and the Sullys are just watching with delighted amusement. Across the fire, you can feel Ronal and Tonowari watching. But when you look over, Tonowari is smiling, and Ronal gives you an appreciative nod and a swift grin.
The festival seems to last a lifetime. It seems completely pointless to Aonung, just a bunch of congratulations to the hunters and a few songs and dances around the fire. Until you get out on the sand. The sway of your hips is hypnotising, as is the way your curls move in unison with your slim body. And of course, he doesn’t miss the way the top shifts as you dance, caressing over your skin like ripples in still water. He’s never been more jealous of an inanimate object in his life.
And then it’s over, and you’re right beside him. He’s not sure what exactly was going through his mind, what either of you were thinking, but suddenly you’re leaving the party together, hurried and hungry and it couldn’t be more fucking obvious what’s going to happen.
You’re alone now once you leave the beaches and walk along the woven pathways of the village; the whole clan is out at the festival. You look up at him, and he pauses to look down at you. Neither of you say anything, but then it’s happening and you’re kissing him again.
Really, none of it feels real. It all stopped being real when he told you he liked you- but now the way he’s leaning down so far to kiss you, to hold you closer just sends you over the edge of unreality. Then he’s getting impatient, and he’s simply picking you up like you weight nothing, hands automatically holding you in place by your back and one steadily holding your thigh.
You’re expecting to go to your marui, or maybe his, but instead, you don’t. You go into the perfect marui, the one you’ve stared at every day, as casually as though it’s your own home. You open your mouth to say something, but the privacy curtain of woven shells closes behind you, and it strikes you that you’re alone with Aonung.
The marui’s dimly lit in the silvery moonlight filtering through the weavings, and really, your attention is going straight to the very comfortable bed. His kisses are getting hungrier as he walks you backwards towards the bed, hands holding tight to your hips until both of you fall back onto the bed, his large, muscular body warm over yours. His hand reaches up to the beading of your top, and in his haste to get closer, he just rips it right off. You gasp, watching the beautiful beads scatter everywhere, but he pays no mind.
“I’ll make you more,” he promises. And who are you to complain- particularly with the way he’s staring at you.
Held in his warm lap, one of his hands big enough to hold both your breasts, both large enough to wrap around your whole neck. The thought of that makes you moan unconsciously, and Aonung blinks at you in surprise. You don't bother to play anything cool; with his hands where they are, he can feel how hot and nervous and hungry you are.
And when he meets your eyes again, you can see he feels the same. He’s trailing kisses down your jaw now, hands reaching up to lightly brush over your skin before he licking over your tit gently, grinning a little at your whine, the stark contrast of your smooth supple skin against his rough tongue just driving you fucking crazy.
He wraps his lips around your nipple and suckles at it, before he nips lightly at the underside of your tit. You gasp, hands gripping his arms tighter, unexpectant and surprised. Each of his moves is calculated, clever, as though he’s planned this a million times in his head.
You blame all the years of training together- he’s the only one that would have such an intimate knowledge of your body without having done anything like this with you before. He knows to be gentle and rough and where to kiss and lick and nip. His hands are trailing down, and they’re sliding along the string of your tewng.
“Is this alright?” he asks gently, pausing to look up at you.
“Yes,” you breathe hastily, desperate for anything. How the tables have fucking turned; now all you want is his touch, his words, him, when just a day ago you were grumbling to Tsireya about what a competitive, infuriating skxawng he is.
“Shit,” he breathes, as his finger slides through your slit. “You’re so wet.”
But despite wanting this so bad, your face is flushing and you can’t help your legs closing slightly when he slides your tewng away, and you’re left bare in front of him. Aonung frowns with impatience, easily pushing them apart and muscling his face between your thighs with such obvious enthusiasm you practically squeal.
When his nose nudges again your clit and he licks a long stripe up your cunt, you jerk away in surprise and he grips your thighs to keep you still. You’ve never gotten eaten out before, and you weren’t at all expecting the sudden twist in you, or the way you clenched around nothing in arousal. You had forgotten to process the roughness of a na’vi tongue, and it feels all large and hot and wet and so unbelievably perfect.
You're squirming from the moment he gets onto you, sucking lightly at your clit, a delighted, puppy-playful glint in his large blue eyes, tossing your legs over his shoulders so his face is pressed even closer to you. He suckles at you so eagerly, tongue stroking over your hole, over and over and over. You can't help it, the way you're simultaneously squirming away from the overwhelming pleasure of it all and the way you're rutting your hips into his face.
It's all messy, you're so wet, his face is shining with your slick and his spit, and he slides a finger back and dips it in. Instantly you gasp, jolting upwards and arching your back high to the ceiling. Aonung's about to grumble at your squirming when you tug at his hair and he groans.
“Go on,” he says carelessly, before he’s dove back down.
The man’s determined, you’ve got to give at least that to him. As you start to relax more and more, your grip on his hair gets tighter, and he’s moaning along with you. You aren’t entirely sure why, but he seems to be enjoying this as much as you do by the way his tail is thumping happily behind him, or how you can tell he’s very obviously grinning.
Aonung continues to lave his tongue against you, the warm roughness creating a perfect friction that has you arching up despite your hips being caged down by his large hands. He’s listening, watching everything you do, his ears pricking at every sound you make, his movements calculated to what you react to.
When he lightly sinks his fangs into your leg, you cry out and accidentally grind against his face, and he does it several more times.
“Fuck,” you groan, fingers threading deeper through his hair. And then he buries his tongue deep into you, nose nudging against your clit, and your orgasm is washing over you with fierce purpose. It takes you by complete surprise, and you writhe and moan and buck against his face until it’s all too much. Even then he doesn’t stop, and you have to tug his head away.
He looks disgruntled you’re making him stop, but his pride and dopey smile is bright on his face face shining like the fucking ocean, but he just wipes it carelessly and moves back up your body to shower your chest and neck with more kisses and light nips.
“That was fast,” he comments, grinning at you.
“Yeah, well,” you huff. “I- it’s never happened before.”
Aonung frowns, shifting closer.
“You’ve never been eaten out?”
“I- um... I’ve never come.”
“But…” Aonung says, frown deepening further. “You’ve been with a guy before. Right?”
He looks uncertainly at you, and you shift nervously. This is humiliating to admit, especially to the guy who’s known to be the most pleasurable man ever- the one who spends every second night with a new girl.
“Just one,” you mutter. “Once.”
“Who?” Aonung demands, and you smile, leaning forward to kiss him again, but he pulls back. “We don’t have to do anything. Just-”
“No!” you say quickly, reaching towards him. “I want to do this, Aonung.”
He opens his mouth, no doubt to speak more comfort, to tell you there’s no pressure yada yada yada, you reach out and cup the bulge of his tewng. He hisses softly, words dying in his throat and his gaze leaping to rake over your face. He waits patiently, but you can see his jaw clenched in the effort it’s taking him not to rock against your hand.
He feels big. To be fair, you’ve only seen one cock in your life, and if you’re being honest, you’d hope most people were bigger than that, but just the clothed bulge under your hand is enough to have your head spinning. You just hope to Eywa you can take it- but you’ve never been a quitter.
When you press your hand against him, his hips rock and you reach to untie his loincloth. He doesn’t rush you, he doesn’t stop you. Aonung just watches with eyes blown to black moons ringed in turquoise, face following your movements, as though he wants to stay as close to you as possible.
When you finally pull away his loincloth, you have to bite back a gasp. You aren’t intimidated, per se, but the sheer size of him is slightly breathtaking. Never once, in all your filthy imaginations, had you truly dared to factor in the sheer size of him. Just by looking at his massive muscular body, one could guess, but they'd still have their fucking minds blown. He's big. So fucking big it has your eyes bulging and heart thumping and mouth almost watering. His cock is just as beautiful as him, just as smooth pale blue with the delicate darker stripes and glowing tahnì.
When you reach out and touch it, his hips jerk slightly and his pupils widen as your smaller hand closes gently around it. Aonung’s looking at you with worship in those beautiful eyes, lips parted and breath heavy as you shift your hand slowly up and down. All the while, you can imagine the size of it pressing into you, stretching you, ruining you. Aonung seems to be thinking the same thing, because all too soon he’s lifting you up and tugging you closer as though you weigh nothing. He places you over his lap.
“Here,” he says gently, guiding your hips to rock lightly against him. The length of his cock slides along the seam of your cunt, both of you breathing heavily at the warm smear of slick you leave across him, grinding against his lap. He props himself up so he can capture you in a deep kiss, swallowing each others lewd moans at the friction. Heat is growing fast, too fast, everywhere in your body- in your face and heart and thighs and you tremble slightly at the drag of your hips over his.
Impatience for the teasing growing in both of you, Aonung gently flips you over so you’re lying beneath him, back carefully resting against the bed, and lining himself up at his entrance. At the slightest movement, your legs stretching further around his body as he presses slightly onto his cock, you know it's going to be a stretch.
“Fuck yawne,” he groans, as he pushes past the first ring of resistance and slowly starts to slide in. “You’re tighter than I ever imagined. Are you okay?”
You nod breathlessly, clutching hard to his shoulders as he slides even deeper, biting your lip. You don’t care that it turns out you weren’t rivals, you weren’t about to let Aonung see how tense you are. But he can probably feel it, given that you’re clenching around him already, and he hasn’t even bottomed out yet.
He just goes in and in and in. When you think he’s all in, he rocks another inch into you and whispers how well you’re doing. He’s careful to be gentle, stroking your hair and muttering praise to you- but you’re still impatient.
You hardly care how much you get hurt, just wanting him inside you, stretching you, marking you, ruining you, and you drop further down so the head of his cock starts to press into you. You try to lift, to fuck yourself further onto his cock, and he holds you down to adjust.
It’s not like you want the pause when he finally bottoms out, but you sit and breathe and whimper, trying to get used to the burning stretch of it all. Aonung’s breathing heavily too, trembling with the effort it’s obviously taking him not to just move and rut and demolish you. When he shakily looks up, his eyes meet yours, all dark with lust and wide with ecstacy, and he finally pulls out just an inch before snapping it back into you.
You gasp, and Aonung hisses. When he’s sure you’re alright, he pulls out, pushes back in, and you annihilate the last pretences of rivalry. It seems impossible now, that you once disliked him. Hated those blue eyes raking over you, despised the large hands holding you so gently while he thrusts into you, detested that smile with those lips that now make you melt.
You’re gasping and moaning and cursing with every thrust, breath getting knocked the fuck out of you again and again and again until you’re living off the tiny moments in which he’s pulled out, where you feel cold and empty and longing to be stuffed and stretched around him again.
It doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to grow again, and by the way Aonung is hissing and groaning and burying his face in your neck, you can tell he’s close too. His hands are gripping the bed so tightly you wouldn’t be surprised if it broke. When you arch up, tits pressing against his chest in a way that makes him moan shamelessly, you can see every muscle in his back rippling, each muscle in his arm taut as he thrusts into you. It has you clenching tight around him.
“Fuck,” he’s muttering, again and again, large and muscular and heavy above you.
You aren’t sure what makes you do it, maybe your natural, primal urge to beat him like you’ve always longed to is taking over, but you’re suddenly rolling over and pushing him back against the bed. His eyes are wide and worshipful as you steady yourself with hands on his chest, hands jumping to your hips pressed against his own, him sheathed deep inside you.
You rock on him, thighs burning as you lift yourself up and down in a welcome pain, that familiar coil building up and up and up. Aonung stares up at you, eyes wide and dark and curious and worshipful and hungry. And then it suddenly crests, in a welcome, overwhelming flood of pleasure.
You aren’t even aware of it- too busy ascending into fucking heaven, stuck in a place where you cant see or hear or do anything- you just know wave upon wave of overwhelming pleasure crashing into and over you. When you slowly come down, vision returning in bright bursts, you have a split second to note the awe and reverence in Aonung’s eyes before something seems to take over him, and his gaze is darkening and he’s lost control.
It never occurred to you, just how gentle he’d been, until he’s completely let go, allowed the crushing desire to overcome him. He's half thrusting up into you, half picking up and slamming down your body onto him, and you're unravelling into a moaning, trembling mess on top of him, teeth sunk into his shoulder to try and quiet your sounds, because you sure as fuck can't hold them in.
You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his final restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you. He's hissing a million unintelligible words against your skin as he spills himself inside you, rocking his hips the whole time until he finally comes to a shaky stop.
You can’t breathe. You don’t know if you want to- you’re perfectly content as you just collapse against Aonung, lying warmly against his solid chest, his muscular arms automatically reaching out to wrap around you and roll you over so he can cuddle you properly. He presses a gentle kiss to your collar, before speaking softly.
“Are you alright?” he asks quietly.
You can’t think of anything to say, you just exhale shakily and give a small, trembly laugh, holding his hand in yours and leaning against him.
“Change your mind about me?” Aonung asks lightly. “Still think I’m a skxawng?”
“Absolutely,” you huff, grinning up at him. “I should get home-”
“Stay,” Aonung says, hugging you closer. “This will be your home, might as well get used to it.”
You smile against his chest. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this, not when a day ago, he was your rival. But you’re more than happy to try, so you lean your head into the crook of his shoulder, his arm trailing down to cloak the curve of your waist.
“We have training in the morning,” you point out. “The warriors will be-”
“Our warriors won’t be anything I say they shouldn’t be,” Aonung shrugs. “You’re forgetting who you’re lying with.”
You roll your eyes.
“Skxawng.”
#avatar fanfiction#avatar fandom#aonung x reader#aonung x female reader#avatar smut#aonung fanfiction#aonung fic#avatar the way of water#avatar#aonung
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Slenderman x SlendermansionMaid!Reader || Oneshot
Plots: You’re shocked to see your boss and sometimes fuck buddy, when things are stressful in the Mansion (nothing more!! he’s still a frustrating ass!!) completely sloshed. *This one is entirely inspired by a Quotev Book I wrote years ago with the same plot- ‘Diary of a Slender Mansion Maid’.
Warnings: Drunkenness (Not that you can really tell 😅 He's just kindof a little looser then usual) and sexual references.
Tagging: @microwavemadness , @miss-understood (Hey there are sexual references but no smut. I hope its okay!! Please tell me if in the future you would like to be tagged in strictly fluff and/or angst ^^), and I hope y'all like this!
“Wh- Slender!??”
You cannot believe this. You cannot believe what you are seeing right now. It’s not that you rely on the man in any way, he’s frustrating and dickish 100 percent of the time and a royal pain in your ass- but generally he is the only other person (Being?) in this damn woods who’s on the same page as you!! That’s why you do your *stress relieving* together!- as the Head and the Maid of the mansion, you both get stressed and pissed off over the same things! It certainly isn’t because you like eachother. The master of this household is a complete asshole.
… But he’s usually a stone-cold sober asshole. One of the few few few things you appreciate about him. Usually the rest of the house is acting insane, even his brothers (Even his brothers who are actually lovely and mean well), you and Slender are the only still ones. Sure, he rarely does the heavy lifting in dealing with the messes his Pastas leave behind, that’s all you, but at least you have a still-spot to look for in the chaos.
You two usually release your own insanity on eachother, alone, away from hearing ears.
… and yet here is your oh-so-sensible leader, sitting at the kitchen table with Offender and Zalgo half slouched over (Well, more than usual. Which is not saying much by regular standards considering his spine is usually akin to an iron rod but still… it’s saying something. For sure.), a full-size bottle of jack between them and 28 empty ones on the ground around them. His and Offender’s tentacles are out and laying lazily on the ground between the bottles, Slender’s shirt is wrinkled and loosened at the collar, and his jacket is placed over the back of his chair. Its almost going to fall off and onto the ground!
Offender chuckles, seeing your face. “Oh Slender… you’re in trouble.”
“She is my maid… she does not do the getting mad. I do.” When Slender turns to you, enflaming your frustrations with his words, you just want to reach over and choke the jerk with his own tie. “Y/N. What are all these bottles doing on the ground? Clean this up.”
… oh that old bastard better be drunk off his ass, saying that to you. “Offender, Zalgo… “Your eyes, hard and angry, flicker over the other two. “Time to go.”
“Haha, oh- yes ma’am.” Offender gets up first, actually pushing out of his chair and turning on his foot as if to walk out when he could just teleport so much easier. Zalgo seems a little more together, grinning mischievously at you for a few moments (Wondering what you’re going to do to Slender), before Offender grabs his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go find some real trouble to get into. Let’s let Slender play house.”
“Oh I do love trouble. Indeed, let’s go.”
Then they’re both gone, and Slender and you are stuck in a showdown. You’re staring at his smooth face, the worst greasy you have ever mustered in your eyes, and he’s not moving an inch. He almost looks bored in his body language. Languid.
You know it’s just a tactic to piss you off more, but damn does it work. “… okay just- what in the world are you doing??” You finally ask, shoulders dropping. Honestly, you’re just surprised. Slender?? Drunk?? Slender drinking with his brother who he calls a moron on the regular and a demon he hates?
Who blackmailed him? Who held a burning rod to his asshole and forced him?
“I am fully entitled to have a drink of this… “Picking it up, he looks to be reading the label- before putting it back down faced away from him. “vile moron juice, any time that I please Y/N.” He explains, destroying the validity in his own statement with his own basic inability to keep his true views to himself. “Tastes disgusting,… makes people into monkeys,... but it has its virtues.”
Sighing, you drop down to a crouch and start collecting bottles. “… so I have permission to call you an ape?” You mutter, knowing he heard you.
“Try it.”
You flash him a look, like ‘I just did’, before getting up to your feet again and setting the bottles in your arms on the bench. While he ignores you and sits there quietly for a good few moments, thinking whatever drunk-thoughts Slender has, you manage to wonder about - careful not to step on his tentacles or trip over his impossibly long legs stretched out under the table so far they stick out the other end, - and collect the rest of the bottles; putting them all up on the bench together. Then you turn to Slender and decide that has to be your next job.
Sighing, you wipe your hands together and approach him. “… coffee or a shower first?”
“… I want to stew, some more.” He says defiantly, and you immediately roll your eyes.
“I’m making you coffee.”
~
A couple of hours later and Slender is no more sober then when you found him. When you were on the opposite side of the kitchen, your arms full of bottles and on your way out to throw them away, Slender pointedly poured the rest of the Jack Daniels into the brewing pot of coffee. Then while you gradually cleaned up the rest of the wrecked kitchen, he sat at the table and drank it all out of a mug that says ‘World’s Best Tallest Dad’ which Jeff got him for Christmas one year.
For that bullshit you cursed him and told him you would never make him coffee again- and he ‘pfft’ at you. Pfft.
That is not the problem now, though. Now the problem is that not only is he smashed-- but he’s energetically smashed.
And you’re the only other one home right now. So, great.
You almost pray for Offender and Zalgo to come back here.
~
You’re just organising the trash (Compost, recycling and dump, plus Good Will which is a you-suggestion), trying to ignore Slender’s presence entirely, still stretched out at the kitchen table across from you- watching you- when he breaks the pleasant silence and make you groan. “You know a more efficient way to do that would be to utilise the organisational bins I had Jeff steal from a- what was it? Wall-Mart? Yes. And, also- listen to me- this is very important- that shirt is not your colour.”
Instead of truly dignifying Slender’s unnecessary nit-picking, you just turn with a terrible greasy and stick him with it. “Do you know that you’re insufferable?”
“I’ve heard- but even so, I’m rarely wrong.” Looking away momentarily, Slender releases a disturbing sound that you hear very very rarely that you can only describe as his version of a chuckle. Full of joy, and static. “And better yet, you know it~… “Dear lord. How can it be possible that this man can get even more frustrating and annoying. You are never letting this man touch a bottle ever again.
Rolling your eyes though, you turn back to what you’re doing. He returns to his staring, silently criticising you most definitely. You just sigh, and finish sorting. It gets done pretty fast, considering its just you two at home. No chaos, no insane teenagers creating new messes for you making you feel like you’re trying to empty a self-filling fountain with a bucket- just Slender and his occasional energetic-drunk commentary constantly in the room with you, whatever room you move to (The bastard follows you). You then finish the vacuuming, a good portion of the laundry and even get dinner started; it becomes a very productive day and you’re happy about it!
At least, you figure, when he’s not talking, then Slender’s presence can almost be construed as companionable. Which is probably why today was a relatively peaceful one. After all at least he’s not trying to touch you like Offender, or breaking things like Jeff, or making irritating noise with a videogame like BEN, or even asking you for things like sweet Sally. So once you’re all done with your to-do list, and the stew is on the stove slow-cooking- you go ahead and put on another pot of coffee.
Slender leans over your back, and he’s so tall he doesn’t touch you at all there but you can still feel his presence and you hang your head back on your neck; eyes closed and brows furrowed in frustration, knowing just what he’s going to start on now. “… I don’t want that.”
“Well you’re going to drink it.”
“No, no I don’t think I will, nope.”
“I swear to god you giant cranky turd you will drink this coffee or you’re not getting dinner.”
“Then I have some more bad news to break to you- that man does not exist. The only god here is me, and you aren’t allowed to swear at me.”
Here you just flash him a dangerous smile over your shoulder, so heavily venomous that you don’t need to swear at him. “I don’t know how you drink without a mouth, but I am gonna chuck this burning hot coffee at you and just hope for the best~ “
For a moment, Slender just watches the coffee boiling, over the top of your head. You crane your neck once again to look at him this time, wondering what drunk-Slender-thoughts he’s thinking now. When you’re just about to give up waiting for him to say something else and further the conversation (Or argument. Potato-potahto though with the two of you) you turn around to lean back into the edge of the bench and look at him straight-on for a moment instead, because your neck was hurting. Just then, the bottom of Slender’s mouth tears away from the top before your eyes and the jagged rip curls up at one corner- like a terrifying smirk. Albeit, an awkward and unsure one.
Your eyes bug out of your skull. “You can do that!?”
“I can~ “ Even if his 'facial expression' is awkward, the confidence of a thousand years and also 29 full size bottles of tennesee whiskey, give or take, is still stuck stubbornly in his voice.
No way. You're genuinely surprised and intrigued. "This whole time??"
"Since birth- err, or creation. Our beginning is rather unclear." Mhm.
Thoughtfully, curiously, you raise up onto your tip toes in order to take a better look. It's not the weirdest thing you've seen in this house, but it's new and intriguing even so. Especially since you regularly fuck this man. "... Do you have a- hm." You stop. Maybe you shouldn't ask that, you think, pressing your lips into a firm line.
"A tongue?" Slender finishes for you, never one to let something be when he knows he can use it to make someone else feel smaller. You just sigh, and nod. Yep, that is what you were thinking. When a thick, slimy, dexterous, terrifying-looking black creature-tongue makes a short appearance out the abyss inside his mouth and licks his bottom lip very quickly, your eyes fly open wide again. "I do." He tells you matter-o'-factly; no flirty or vulgar tone in his voice, but a definite pridefulness. A smugness. A teasing intrigue, in your line of questioning.
God you're truly starting to dislike drunk Slender. He's borderline creeping you out. This isn't him.
... Even so though- "Does it hurt?" You ask, reaching up (extending your arm almost as far as it'll go, he's so tall) to ghost your fingers over the tear in his usually-smooth face. There isn't any blood or anything, its just like if you ripped a piece of paper, but- surely- that cannot be comfortable!
"Its perfectly comfortable," He responds, having been listening to your thoughts which makes you sigh. Has he been doing that this whole time?? You hate when he does that- "Its a natural function of mine. And yes- I know you hate it. That's a bonus, thank you."
Now you give his chest a wack with the back of your hand. "So you're saying could've been using that on me this whole time??"
...
-He just sighs. "Such a vulgar human."
"Says the one that insists I wear no underwear when your brothers all come over so you have easier access- "
"That's just practical, Y/N." And dangerous, considering one his brothers is Offender. "You and I both know the mansion is at its most ridiculous when they dare to visit. You benefit just as much as I do."
"... pfft."
"Pfft? Did you just 'pfft' me??"
"You fuck me before they even arrive."
"I anticipate the chaos."
You open your mouth immediately to go 'ha' at him, but no sound comes out. Because... right. He's right. He's completely correct. You two don't do this because you like each other, or out of any actual desire for each other... you do it to relieve stress. You should stop this line of conversation now, before one of you says something silly and incorrect suggesting any different. "Oh yeah." For a moment theirs a silence between you, you retracting your hand from him while you both stop to just think for a second. Because that sure was close. You could have ruined what you have! And that would be a shame- because it works. "Well-- I'm still not the only vulgar one." You shrug, slipping out from where he still hangs over you and collecting the now-brewed coffee with you.
"... right." For a split second Slender seems too caught up in own thinking that he almost lets you win- before flicking immediately back to his senses, insulting you as easily as he breathes (However it is that he does that); heading to the table with a mug for the coffee he 'didn't want', anyhow. "Uh- I mean- you're mistaken, but that's okay. You're only, pathetically human. Its to be expected."
Instead of responding, you pour the coffee for him then step back against a bench and you both sit in silence for a few more painfully awkward moments. He's just sipping and you're just wondering if you can just leave-
when a horrid crash noise sounds from the living room as well as the smell of pot wafting in as well; BEN's high chuckling following shortly after, and your eyes slip slowly to Slender at the same time that his head turns your way. Neither of you move for a second but you can feel a gentle, heated throbbing beginning to rise in your underwear, thinking about the mess that you'll inevitably have to clean up when you go in there and find out the TV is smashed, and the yelling Slender's going to do because a new TV has to be stolen for the mansion now. Which means-
"Laundry room."
"I'll meet you there."
#its so hard to weave all the same emotions in a oneshot as i did in the chapter fic version 😅#i hope it reads right#like they are in love and perfect for eachother but they dont know it XD 😅😅😅#Slenderman x Reader Oneshot#Slenderman x Reader#Slenderman#Creepypasta#Creepypasta x Reader
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Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is
Pairing: Rich Fuckboy!Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader
Summery: An unexpected call from Ben results in an unexpected evening.
Warnings: Smut (18+), Rich kid dickishness, dom/sub dynamics, mostly dom ben and sub reader, but also a little round the other way, a fair bit of derogatory/degrading language (esp whore), edging, cockwarming, a little spanking, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, piv sex, begging, bondage, forced orgasm. I think thats all.
Words: 12,890
A/N: Wasn't necessarily planning to write more of rich bitch Benny but then I saw some promo pics for his movie Love At First Sight and something in my brain booted up. This was written over a stupidly long time, literally months, so hopefully its okay lmao. Also please excuse any weird formatting. The way tumblr works, paragraphs can't be more than 4096 characters so some of the dialogue had to be broken up to make it postable.
Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming@queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini
“You get two questions.”
“Five,” Bianca countered.
“Two. I want to have a shower.”
“Fine.” She agreed, disgruntled. Bianca had ambushed you the second you got home, having stayed up waiting on the couch to hear all about your date with Ben. She’d listened patiently, laughing or nodding and squealing a little, as you told her about the restaurant he’d chosen and the club and ending up on the yacht. But when you’d admitted you had slept with him, she got so excited you were a little worried she’d forget to breathe. Bianca thought for a moment, choosing which of her questions were most worth asking, “Okay, one, was he good? Like did you get off?”
“Yeah, he was very good,” you smiled to yourself thinking about just how good he’d been, following all your orders.
Bianca seemed a little relieved that the exceptional lover she’d fantasised about so many times could live up to the image. “Was he into any weird kinks?”
You thought for a moment, contemplating how little you could get away with saying, “Nothing super unusual. But y’know that’s stuff you don’t necessarily bring out the first time.”
“Nothing kinky? Not even like some bondage or spitting or anything?”
“You asked me about weird! Yeah there was a little bondage. Spanking too.”
"I knew it!” she said before the loudest squeal yet and you hurried to shush her before a neighbour complained.
“He was hung right? Please god tell me he was hung.”
“Thats more than two questions.”
“Fuck, c’mon Y/N. Just describe his dick for me. I've been trying to picture it for years, it’d be mean of you not to tell me.”
You laughed, enjoying teasing her but you felt a little bad for sleeping with her celebrity crush so held up your hands to demonstrate an approximate length, “Comparisons could be drawn to horses.”
Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas, “I knew it.”
“He wasn’t super thick but he was decently long. Nothing crazy but more than enough. Very slight curve.”
She’d closed her eyes and hummed as you described him, “It’s beautiful,” she said dreamily.
Laughing, you bid her goodnight, looking forward to showering and then heading to bed, but once more she stopped you.
“Wait, are you going to sell the story?”
“Oh, I can’t. He made me sign an NDA. I’ve probably said too much already so don’t go repeating it okay.”
“So that’s why no one ever spills too many details.”
“Yeah, must be.” You felt a little bad for lying but you really wanted to shower, and you knew she’d ask more questions if you admitted you didn’t want to tell anyone now. If the night had gone more to Ben’s plan, if you’d let him be in control, you wouldn’t have had any qualms about writing to a magazine with the big scoop. But he’d obviously cultivated a particular image in the public conscious, one that didn’t necessarily align with ideas of him as a willing, even eager, submissive. The thought of selling that story made you feel dirty in a way the other versions just wouldn’t. So, at the end of the night you’d promised to keep it a secret, even if that meant remaining poor. You’d gotten to domme The Benjamin Hardy after all, what more did you need.
As it happened, it wasn’t so much what you needed, but rather what Ben did. Around two weeks after your night together, you answered a call from a private number, hoping it wasn’t a scam caller. Your surprise at hearing Ben’s voice saying your name was rivalled only by his apparent surprise that he was calling.
“Um, what’s this about?” you felt entirely caught off guard.
“I- well, I guess I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight?” It didn’t sound so much like he was asking you, as he was questioning his decision to call.
You laughed, stepping into your cupboard and pulling the door closed so you’d be less likely to be overheard. The darkness made everything feel more surreal than it already did, “You already bored of the airheads who just do what you say?”
He scoffed, his uncertainty falling away at the first opportunity to be a tosser, “No, actually, I’m looking for an easy shag. Most of my regular options are at this fashion thing this weekend but I knew you wouldn’t be invited.”
“Fashion event? Is that what they told you? They’re probably off trying for a different sugar daddy.”
“Good luck to them. They’ll all be back, but my cock’s hard now.”
You rolled your eyes, “C’mon Benny, you don’t have to lie to me. Just admit you liked what I did to you and want me to do it again.”
“I just liked your cunt.”
“You liked me threatening to peg you.”
He paused for a beat, “I like the idea of fucking your arse more.”
“Okay, this is cute,” you said, growing bored of his asshole attitude, “but I’ve got better things to do. Bye Ben.”
“Wait, don’t hang up.”
You let him hang in silence for a few seconds before saying, “I’m listening,” intrigued by the way the bravado had dropped from his voice.
“Would you like to get dinner with me?”
“Just dinner?”
“Yes. Your call if anything else happens.”
You hummed in thought, weighing up your options. On one hand, Bianca would freak out at even the smallest hint there was more than just a one-night stand between you and Ben. And you didn’t really feel like being paraded in front of cameras or his boorish friends again. But on the other, you’d clearly awoken something in Ben. To the point where he seemed willing to go out with you again, even without the promise of sex. And that was after just one night of being edged....imagine what you could do with more time. “Okay, dinner sounds nice. But not at that ridiculous place you took me last time.”
“You didn’t like it there?”
“It was nice, but the cameras are a bit of a buzzkill.”
“Well I can get us in anywhere else, but the paparazzi will find me wherever we go.”
“So then let me pick where we eat.”
“Do you have a standing reservation at any Michelin star restaurants?”
“No but they’re not the only places to eat in this city.” you only just managed not to call him an idiot.
“The only worthwhile ones. Michelin literally means delicious in French.”
“It’s a tire company Ben, it means jack shit. Just let me pick where we eat.”
“Fine, but only if I’m guaranteed a shag. A good one, that I get to control.”
“What happened to just dinner?”
“I think we both know just dinner wasn’t really going to happen. You liked my cock too much. But if I’m not allowed to choose where we go, you’re not allowed to dom me.”
“But isn’t that the entire reason you called?”
“Not the entire reason. I’ll have you know there were ulterior motives.”
As it happened, it wasn’t so much what you needed, but rather what Ben did. Around two weeks after your night together, you answered a call from a private number, hoping it wasn’t a scam caller. Your surprise at hearing Ben’s voice saying your name was rivalled only by his apparent surprise that he was calling.
“Um, what’s this about?” you felt entirely caught off guard.
“I- well, I guess I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight?” It didn’t sound so much like he was asking you, as he was questioning his decision to call.
You laughed, stepping into your cupboard and pulling the door closed so you’d be less likely to be overheard. The darkness made everything feel more surreal than it already did, “You already bored of the airheads who just do what you say?”
He scoffed, his uncertainty falling away at the first opportunity to be a tosser, “No, actually, I’m looking for an easy shag. Most of my regular options are at this fashion thing this weekend but I knew you wouldn’t be invited.”
“Fashion event? Is that what they told you? They’re probably off trying for a different sugar daddy.”
“Good luck to them. They’ll all be back, but my cock’s hard now.”
You rolled your eyes, “C’mon Benny, you don’t have to lie to me. Just admit you liked what I did to you and want me to do it again.”
“I just liked your cunt.”
“You liked me threatening to peg you.”
He paused for a beat, “I like the idea of fucking your arse more.”
“Okay, this is cute,” you said, growing bored of his asshole attitude, “but I’ve got better things to do. Bye Ben.”
“Wait, don’t hang up.”
You let him hang in silence for a few seconds before saying, “I’m listening,” intrigued by the way the bravado had dropped from his voice.
“Would you like to get dinner with me?”
“Just dinner?”
“Yes. Your call if anything else happens.”
You hummed in thought, weighing up your options. On one hand, Bianca would freak out at even the smallest hint there was more than just a one-night stand between you and Ben. And you didn’t really feel like being paraded in front of cameras or his boorish friends again. But on the other, you’d clearly awoken something in Ben. To the point where he seemed willing to go out with you again, even without the promise of sex. And that was after just one night of being edged....imagine what you could do with more time. “Okay, dinner sounds nice. But not at that ridiculous place you took me last time.”
“You didn’t like it there?”
“It was nice, but the cameras are a bit of a buzzkill.”
“Well I can get us in anywhere else, but the paparazzi will find me wherever we go.”
“So then let me pick where we eat.”
“Do you have a standing reservation at any Michelin star restaurants?”
“No but they’re not the only places to eat in this city.” you only just managed not to call him an idiot.
“The only worthwhile ones. Michelin literally means delicious in French.”
“It’s a tire company Ben, it means jack shit. Just let me pick where we eat.”
“Fine, but only if I’m guaranteed a shag. A good one, that I get to control.”
“What happened to just dinner?”
“I think we both know just dinner wasn’t really going to happen. You liked my cock too much. But if I’m not allowed to choose where we go, you’re not allowed to dom me.”
“But isn’t that the entire reason you called?”
“Not the entire reason. I’ll have you know there were ulterior motives.”
By the time Ben pulled up you were waiting out on the street. You’d decided it was best to get out without Bianca finding out who you were going out with, just to minimize the questions and potential jealousy or excitement. You weren’t sure which direction her emotions would go in. So you’d twisted the truth a little to make it sound like Ben was a random guy you’d matched with on tinder. Bianca had been interested but not as overbearing as she might have been had she known, her questions more general ones about where you were going and how long you’d been messaging the guy. Ben seemed a little surprised when he saw you waitingbut got out and held the limo door open for you.
“Worried if I came up you’d forget yourself and just have to get my cock out?”
You snorted, “No, I just don’t want Bianca to know I’m going out with you again.”
“Bianca....why does that name sound familiar?”
“She’s my roommate. I mentioned her last time. She was with me when we met and you first asked me out.”
“Oh, right, the chick who puked.” Ben laughed, “You worried she’d be jealous? Should have invited her, she sounds easy and you know that’s my type.”
“Ben,” you said firmly, beginning to regret not just hanging up on him, “you know that sort of comment isn’t going to work on me, especially since you’re talking about my friend. Now either stop acting like such a prick, or I will go back upstairs and block your number. There is no one here who is going to be impressed by your bullshit.
“Sorry.” He said softly and surprisingly sincerely, “You look nice, by the way.”
“Sure you don’t want to tell me I should have dressed sluttier?” You waved a hand in front of yourself, indicating the dress you’d chosen. It was neither as short, nor as tight, as the dress you’d worn last time, falling to your knees, not clinging to your skin. The only vaguely revealing part of the dress was a little bit of cleavage on display and even that wasn’t much.
“No, it suits you. And you look lovely in it.”
You were a little suspicious but chose to accept the complement, thanking Ben before saying, “I did do as you asked though. No underwear.”
He tried not to look too pleased, “Can I see?”
“Not yet.”
“What if I promise to go down on you until we get to wherever you’re taking me – which is where by the way?”
You gave him the address and he passed it on to the driver.
“So?” he asked as the car began to move, “You know I know how to eat pussy.”
You rolled your eyes, though you felt that at least his tact included offering to pleasure you rather than just himself, “No. Not yet.”
“I thought you promised to be my whore,” he pouted. Ben still wasn’t used to not getting his way immediately, “My whores do what I say when I say it.”
“Well we both know that doesn’t work with me, does it baby,” you weren’t sure how far Ben would let you push him, but it was fun to test the waters. He made a low rumbly sound, almost a growl, and for a moment you wondered if he’d put his hand on your throat like last time, attempt to intimidate you into complying. Instead, he just nodded and subtly palmed the front of his pants.
“I know I let you maul me in this limo last time,” you felt confident enough that he wouldn’t try anything to continue, “but that was when I was trying to lull you into a false sense of domination. So we’re going to have dinner first and you’re going to be nice to me. And then, once we’re on the way to your place, that’s when I’ll let you take control.”
Ben was quiet for a moment, contemplating what you’d said. You could see his habitual tendencies to objectify every women he talked to were battling with his clear enjoyment of being bossed around, “Okay, deal. But you’ll be fucking in for it later.”
By the time Ben pulled up you were waiting out on the street. You’d decided it was best to get out without Bianca finding out who you were going out with, just to minimize the questions and potential jealousy or excitement. You weren’t sure which direction her emotions would go in. So you’d twisted the truth a little to make it sound like Ben was a random guy you’d matched with on tinder. Bianca had been interested but not as overbearing as she might have been had she known, her questions more general ones about where you were going and how long you’d been messaging the guy. Ben seemed a little surprised when he saw you waitingbut got out and held the limo door open for you.
“Worried if I came up you’d forget yourself and just have to get my cock out?”
You snorted, “No, I just don’t want Bianca to know I’m going out with you again.”
“Bianca....why does that name sound familiar?”
“She’s my roommate. I mentioned her last time. She was with me when we met and you first asked me out.”
“Oh, right, the chick who puked.” Ben laughed, “You worried she’d be jealous? Should have invited her, she sounds easy and you know that’s my type.”
“Ben,” you said firmly, beginning to regret not just hanging up on him, “you know that sort of comment isn’t going to work on me, especially since you’re talking about my friend. Now either stop acting like such a prick, or I will go back upstairs and block your number. There is no one here who is going to be impressed by your bullshit.
“Sorry.” He said softly and surprisingly sincerely, “You look nice, by the way.”
“Sure you don’t want to tell me I should have dressed sluttier?” You waved a hand in front of yourself, indicating the dress you’d chosen. It was neither as short, nor as tight, as the dress you’d worn last time, falling to your knees, not clinging to your skin. The only vaguely revealing part of the dress was a little bit of cleavage on display and even that wasn’t much.
“No, it suits you. And you look lovely in it.”
You were a little suspicious but chose to accept the complement, thanking Ben before saying, “I did do as you asked though. No underwear.”
He tried not to look too pleased, “Can I see?”
“Not yet.”
“What if I promise to go down on you until we get to wherever you’re taking me – which is where by the way?”
You gave him the address and he passed it on to the driver.
“So?” he asked as the car began to move, “You know I know how to eat pussy.”
You rolled your eyes, though you felt that at least his tact included offering to pleasure you rather than just himself, “No. Not yet.”
“I thought you promised to be my whore,” he pouted. Ben still wasn’t used to not getting his way immediately, “My whores do what I say when I say it.”
“Well we both know that doesn’t work with me, does it baby,” you weren’t sure how far Ben would let you push him, but it was fun to test the waters. He made a low rumbly sound, almost a growl, and for a moment you wondered if he’d put his hand on your throat like last time, attempt to intimidate you into complying. Instead, he just nodded and subtly palmed the front of his pants.
“I know I let you maul me in this limo last time,” you felt confident enough that he wouldn’t try anything to continue, “but that was when I was trying to lull you into a false sense of domination. So we’re going to have dinner first and you’re going to be nice to me. And then, once we’re on the way to your place, that’s when I’ll let you take control.”
Ben was quiet for a moment, contemplating what you’d said. You could see his habitual tendencies to objectify every women he talked to were battling with his clear enjoyment of being bossed around, “Okay, deal. But you’ll be fucking in for it later.”
“Who’s house is this?” Ben asked as he offered you a hand out of the limo, the bag of food in his other.
You leant back in to grab the bottle of champagne and the glasses, able to feel Ben ogling the hem of your dress as it rose up the back of your legs, “It’s not the house we’re here for, c’mon.” You led him around the corner and up a little alley that ran behind the houses.
Ben scrunched up his nose a little, “Bit…dingy isn’t it. Not really the sort of place I want to eat. Quickie during a party is a different story though.”
You ignored him, leading him further down the path until it opened out into a little garden which was surrounded by trees, making it feel removed from the outside world.
Ben’s dissatisfaction with the alley turned into a bemused approval, “Well this is quite nice. You set it up yourself?”
“No, the lights got put up for a Christmas party a few years back and they just left them up.”
Ben looked around at the twinkling white solar lights draped throughout the tree branches, “Well it’s not what I was expecting but it’s nice. Cute. Little bit romantic even with the moonlight and all. Well done.”
You laughed a little and took the bag from him as you sat down in the middle of a circle of stone pavers, pulling out the few dishes you’d ordered as well as some paper plates and bamboo cutlery. Ben watched you for a while until you told him to sit down.
He warily crouched down, brushing leaf litter from a patch before he sat proper. When he caught your raised eyebrow he shrugged, “This suit is worth more than you make in a year. Not even the best cunt in the world could make me ruin it.”
“You think I have the best cunt in the world? I’m flattered,” you continued dishing up the food, handing a plate to Ben.
“That’s not what I meant. We’ll see after tonight though. If you behave and take me the way I want, you might be in the running.”
You did your best to hide a smile, trying not to give away how amusing his comment was. That is, until he took it too far and your smile turned into an eye roll.
“Although, to really be sure I’d have to have all the contenders lined up for me to test out one after another. Hmmm, now that’s a thought."
You cleared your throat, hoping a gentle reminder would be enough but Ben remained lost in pornographically unrealistic fantasies, the outline of his cock much more visible than it had been a moment before. “Fork Ben?” you asked, tempted to poke him with the implement.”
“You’ve gotten eager but alright.”
This time you did poke him, just quickly in the shoulder, emphasising correct articulation as you repeated, “Fork.”
“Ow, alright.” He took the cutlery from you, “you’re the one who was talking about cunts though. Can’t blame me for mishearing.” Before you could do more than huff in response Ben quickly said, “So, you gonna explain this place to me? Because I can tell you, if we’re caught trespassing here, we’ll definitely end up in the papers and that sort of publicity is much less fun than being seen at a nice restaurant.”
You shook your head as you settled back with your own plate, “No, we have permission to be here. Hows the food by the way?” “Incredible. Can’t believe I haven’t heard of them before.” “Well they don’t have any Michelin stars so maybe that’s why. And don’t you start telling your rich friends about it. I don’t want you ruining my favourite Thai place.” Ben laughed, “So when you say we have permission to be here what do you mean?” “Well, I grew up in this area actually. One street over, but I used to come to this spot a lot. It was designed to be a little community garden, there’s still some planters over along the fence, but mostly it gets used for street parties and things, so usually it was empty. I used to come here when I wanted to be alone. It seemed so secret and secluded and, I don’t know, kind of magical I guess. I mean, now I know it wasn’t quite as secret as I thought. The house that we’re behind can see directly between those two trees,” you pointed at them, “and the old couple who used to live there were friends with my parents, so they’d keep an eye on me. And then when I was a bit older I did some baby sitting for their daughter who eventually moved back into the house to look after her parents and who still lives there now since she inherited it.” “So she can see us? Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism.” “She’s overseas at the moment. But our families have kept in contact and when I said I had a date I wanted to bring here she said it’d be fine.” “Condemning silence about exhibitionism which I’ve definitely filed away. But this place is nice. A little dirty perhaps, but nice.” He had another mouthful and then said, “So, why exactly did you bring me here?” “Isn’t that obvious?” He hummed thoughtfully, “Because you’re a dirty girl who likes doing it outside? Because you didn’t want me to have home ground advantage? Because you don’t like the idea of other women having me and this way you get me all to yourself? Am I getting close?” “I wanted to see you away from the cameras and the fawning models and the arseholes you call friends. I wanted a nice, normal sort of a night where we weren’t going to end up on the front page of every gossip website. And I wanted to see if you were a prick even without an audience.” “Please, you like it” he scoffed teasingly, “And I don’t understand what you’ve got against having your photo taken. I told you last time that being seen is half the fun. I mean, don’t me wrong, this is nice too. Just a bit boring in comparison.” “Mmm, well I’m sure there’ll be plenty of articles speculating on where you were tonight since no one’s got a picture.” Ben perked up a little at the idea, “That’s a good point. Maybe a quiet night every so often isn’t a bad idea.”
For the next little while, as you finished your dinner, Ben oscillated between total sweetheart and utter dickhead, as though he were playing Double Dutch with the line between. You’d hoped that getting him on his own would discourage some of the behaviours he’d displayed last time you’d been with him. If he wasn’t around his idiot friends, he’d have no one to objectify women with. If you weren’t at a restaurant, none of his previous or prospective conquests could remind him of wild nights that he’d then tell you all about. If he couldn’t throw money around in order to buy your company for the night, he’d have to offer stimulating conversation and a genuine reason for your interest instead. But apparently it was not as cause and effect as you’d assumed and Ben still managed to do all the things you’d hoped to avoid. And if anything, being alone with him with no other women to distract made him even more intent on getting you out of your clothes. He suggested first that dinner would taste better eaten off your tits. And then when you tried to come up with a new topic of conversation, he decided to reminisce about a time he’d seduced a TV personality on the set of a cooking show after they’d both been judging it. And every time you took a sip of champagne he’d watch as if telepathically trying to get you drunk. The annoying thing was that in between he was absolutely delightful. You knew there was a decent man buried beneath the layers of wankery his affluent lifestyle had imbued him with. But it was only after he smiled charmingly, leaned in close, and suggested you give him a quick handy if you weren’t going to lift your skirt, that you grew fed up enough to voice the opinion you’d formed about his style of flirting.
“Y’know, I thought you’d be better at it.”
“Better at what?” he asked suspiciously, “I can assure you I’m incredible at it, you just need a proper demonstration.”
“No not that. Flirting. I mean, that is what you’re trying to do isn’t it?”
“Obviously,” he said, taken aback.
“I guess you’ve never had to really try have you? You were blessed with looks and money. Probably never been turned down in your life, even when you should have been.”
“What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you actually are as dumb as the rest of them. And here I was thinking fucking your brains out would be an actual accomplishment.”
“No, I just….it’s not good flirting. You realise that right?”
“What do you mean not good flirting? It works every time.”
“No, I think it’s the money that works every time. Being rich means you can get away with a lot of other bullshit.” When he seemed likely to try and contradict you, you spoke over the top of him, “Listen, I know I can’t speak for every woman you hit on but I can tell you that if an average looking guy with an average amount of money tried to flirt the way you do, he would be shot down. Very, very quickly. For the most part women don’t want to be degraded by random guys they go out with. And they don’t want to hear about all your other conquests when you’re hitting on them.”
“Well what would you know,” he said, crossing his arms in sullen defensiveness.
You turned up the condescension, “Aww baby, I get it. You’ve never had to learn how to keep a girl interested without buying her attention."
Ben was still pouting but his expression had changed, less cocksure.
“It’s okay baby, I’ll keep you in line.”
Ben gave half a nod but then paused, “Hey, wait. Stop making me feel subby, I’m meant to be domming tonight.”
You laughed at how he sounded almost like he was going to throw a tantrum, “but it’s so easy and fun.”
“Well turning you into a fucked out cockslut will be fun too.” There was a short pause and then Ben, much more seriously said, “But you really think my flirting is bad?”
“I hate to break it to you but, kinda yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad. You just need some work. Sometimes you take things a bit far with the teasy banter.”
“Like when?”
“Hmmm well, just before when you were bragging about how expensive your suit is – which is pretty unsexy by the way – and then I countered with a joke about having the best cunt in the world. Personally I didn’t mind your come back about making me behave or whatever. It was a little crass maybe but not too much more than what I’d said, and since we both know I’m letting you take charge tonight it was a bit hot. But then you took it too far by inventing a scenario in which you would have the chance to compare me to other women. We went from hot to ick in a matter of seconds.”
“I’m pretty sure I was implying that you would win.”
“Didn’t really sound like it and absolutely not the point. How can I put it? When you talk to me like I’m a normal human being not something put in front of you for your sexual gratification, when we have a proper conversation with a little bit of banter, that’s fun and enjoyable and makes me want to sleep with you. But then you’ll tell me about some other woman you had sex with or you’ll make a derogatory comment about my friend, whom you’ve not even properly met, or you’ll act like you expect me to get my tits out as, I don’t know, decoration while you eat. Basically anything to imply that the only reason you’re even here with me is to have sex.”
“But that was the agreement.”
“I know. And I am totally fine with having a night out with the expectation it’ll end in sex. But it would be nice, and it would make me want to fuck you more, if you acted like getting laid wasn’t the only thing you care about. Especially because sometimes it’s like you don’t even care who you have sex with as long as you get off, like you have no interest in if I enjoy it, you just want to use me cause I'm there.”
“And that’s bad?”
“As a flirting technique yes.”
“But it’s a complement? And I’ve been with loads of women who say being used is hot.”
“Well it’s not the nicest complement ever. And I’m not saying it isn’t hot in some situations. But not everyone likes it and even women who do enjoy it don’t necessarily want it all the time or with someone they’ve never slept with before.”
“Lighten up, it’s a bit of fun and I always get them off."
“Yeah but you imply that you don’t care if they cum or not which makes you seem like a bit of an asshole. Plus sometimes it can come off a little rapey. Less like a ‘I don’t care if you cum’ and more of a ‘I don’t care if you actually want it’ type thing. I don’t think I need to tell you why that’s unattractive.”
“I- no- how,” Ben spluttered before he finally managed, “I would never!”
“I’m not saying you have and I’m not saying you would. But sometimes you can come off a bit like that, even if it’s well intentioned. Last time we went out you pinned me down in the back of your car, your hand on my throat, and told me I was going to do everything you wanted. You were practically a stranger, I didn’t know where we were, I had no quick way of leaving partly because we were in your car and partly because of the stupidly high shoes I was wearing. It was kind of threatening. I mean I know that wasn’t your intention but…” you trailed off letting Ben absorb what you’d said.
“I really didn’t realise that’s how I sounded, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I was never scared or anything, I didn’t think you would rape me. And I don’t say this to accuse you of something or to be mean. I’m just sick of some of the things you’ve been saying, and I think you deserve to know that what you think is cheeky flirting can come across differently to the women you’re flirting with.
"Um, well, thanks I guess. ‘Spose it is better for me to know. Don’t want to get cancelled or whatever, father would kill me. So, do you want me to take you home now?”
“What? No, not at all.”
“I don’t want you to think you have to sleep with me. If you want to end tonight early, I’m okay with that.”
“Oh, baby, no, that’s not what I want. I came here knowing I’d end up in your bed and I think we can still have fun. Besides, I’m still eating.”
“Are you sure? Wouldn’t think you’d still be up for it after everything you said.”
“To tell the truth I'd really love to dom you now. Punish you for some of the gross bullshit you’ve said, put you in your place again. But we made a deal and I’m very happy to hold to it.”
“Really? I think you killed my boner.”
You giggled, “Well if you don’t want to, we can just finish dinner and you can drop me home. But I think I can get you back up.”
Ben eyed you suspiciously, “How?”
“I train you to behave better.”
He shifted surreptitiously but didn’t say anything.
“We stay here, finish dinner, finish his bottle of champagne, talk for a bit. But every time you say something I would consider bad flirting technique, I will do something to remind you to be better. Pull your hair, maybe edge you, whatever will get the message across.”
“I guess that could be fun.” Ben said, trying to sound as if he didn’t mind and failing, “Not really the deal we made though.”
You laughed, “Are you telling me that wouldn’t make you want revenge? Being edged and teased when you were meant to be in charge. Wouldn’t that rile you up. Make you want to turn the tables, show me who’s boss. I mean, all your cocky dom behaviour is what got me wanting to tie you up last time, but maybe it doesn’t work like that for you.”
“Oh! I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“Because you like when I tell you what to do.”
“No. Well maybe a bit. But mostly because I feel bad and thought I should just do what you want so you’d know I wouldn’t, like, hurt you or whatever. I mean, I would have expected another night for you to make it up to me but…”
“It is tempting but I’ll admit I might have some ulterior motives for letting you dom me,” you leaned closer to Ben as if you were about to reveal a big secret, “You can learn a lot about how to control a guy by letting him control you. So I’m happy to let you do virtually anything you want to me. With a few exceptions.”
“What sort of exceptions?”
“I don’t mind anal play,” you dropped into a more serious tone rather than the sultry one you’d slipped into, “but I haven’t done any prep for it so none of it tonight please. Also, I would prefer any marks left are in easy to hide places. Concealer can be bloody expensive and I don’t want to waste any on whatever hickeys and bruises you want to leave. And I’m not super into choking. I don’t mind a hand on my neck but no squeezing if possible.”
Ben hummed, “But everything else is on the cards? Mouth and cunt? Spanking? Hair pulling? Tying you up?”
“Mmhmm. Whatever you want. As soon as we’re back in that car of yours. Of course, if you’re feeling all subby then that could be what you want.”
A low rumble emanated from Ben’s throat as if he were growling and it made you intrigued and a little wet. But you did your best to play it cool, “See, looks like we’re fixing your boner already.”
Fortunately for you, it seemed to take Ben a little while to grasp just what you considered inappropriate flirting. At first you kept your reminders small, giving him firm taps and small pinches, maybe cutting him off to tell him to try again. But, when the lessons didn’t seem to be sticking, you ramped it up a little. By the time you were finished with the food and had moved on to finishing the champagne, he once again tried to describe a night he’d spent with another women, going into unnecessary detail about her figure in less than polite terms. You let him talk as you undid his zip and reached into his pants.
Ben hummed as your fingers stroked along his already semi hard length, easily pulled free since he’d not worn underwear either, “Your gonna try and outdo her now are you?” he asked, seemingly having forgotten your threats, “Hope you know how to suck properly cause she was an expert.”
You didn’t respond, just kept focused on the handjob as Ben went back to describing what the young woman had done to him. His voice became strained as he got more excited, his cock well and truly hard within your grasp, beads of precum at his tip.
“Why’d you stop?” he groaned when you removed your hand before he could finish.
“I told you I’d edge you.”
“I thought you were bluffing,” he admitted, his face flushed.
“Oh I never joke about edging baby. Especially when I’m using it to correct bad behaviour.”
“What’s to stop me just finishing myself off?”
“Well then you obviously wouldn’t need me at all tonight.”
Ben’s hand hovered over his cock for a moment before he moved it aside.
“Good boy. Now tell me more about that art show you mentioned. Did you say there was an auction?”
“Um, yeah.” He blinked like he was trying to get his brain to switch thought, “Father thinks I should be seen at fundraisers and charity events more than at clubs and restaurants so I mostly went to keep him off my back. It was mostly pretty boring but I ended up winning this stunning painting, only good piece of the night. Very detailed nude. The tits on her, phwoar. I even met the model who posed for it. Wanted to com-” Ben cut himself off as you began wanking him again. “Sorry.”
“Thank you for apologising baby,” you sped your hand up, figuring since he’d caught himself before he said anything really bad you wouldn’t draw this one out.
“You can stop, I didn’t say anything.”
“Aww baby, I still have to edge you. Otherwise you’ll never learn.”
Ben swore when you did release him, his breath heavy as he said, “That wasn’t fair. I wasn’t even going to say anything bad. Besides your tits are better. Not as big but I’ve touched both and yours are better. No, no, please.”
“You can come up with a better complement than that.” You sighed, as if edging him was a chore you didn’t enjoy.
“Fucking bitch. I know this is just cause I’ve got the best cock you’ve ever had and you wanted an excuse to touch it.”
“Amazingly, that’s worse. And it’ll cost you another three edges. One for calling me a bitch. One for being so far up your own ass you think I couldn’t possibly have had better. And one because I know you’re enjoying this and that’s why you keep saying the douchiest shit.” You pulled your hand away, “Thats one.”
Ben whined when you started on the next, the break between only short.
“Don’t cum,” you reminded him, “it will not stop me, I’ll just overstimulate you instead. Maybe then you’ll really learn your lesson.”
“Please, please, close,” Ben managed to whimper, and you pulled your hand away again to reward him.
Ben whined and pounded his fist against the ground once, but he managed to keep whatever thoughts he was having to himself. He was clearly learning.
“Just one more, okay baby?”
Ben nodded, leaning back on his elbows. His cockhead was dark and precum dripped down his shaft. He wouldn’t last if you began another edge too soon so you decided to toy with him in other ways while you waited. Pushing yourself to your knees, you gathered the hem of your dress in your fists and slowly began to raise it.
“Wasn’t sure I believed you,” Ben said, not quite managing to sound as cocky as he had before the edges but making a valiant attempt “Good to know you can follow instructions.” He reached a hand out as if to touch your naked pussy but you tutted and grabbed his wrist.
“Not yet, baby.” you shuffled closer, keeping the front of your dress lifted as you placed a knee on either side of his legs. “Now edge yourself for me.”
Ben groaned with longing as he looked at your cunt, but then he switched to glaring at you as he did as you’d said, slowly working his hand along his shaft, aided by precum and a little of his own spit.
You’d been fully prepared to rub yourself along his cock or even against his thigh if he’d made a fuss, but he hadn’t even tried to argue. He was clearly planning your demise, if his expression was anything to go by, but you had expected that and only minded in so much as you were missing out on the subby little face he made when you’d had him last and he’d given in completely. But you let him go, occasionally instructing him, but mostly just watching his reactions, seeing if you could pick when he was close. It didn’t take long for him to get there, whining as he pulled his hand back.
“Good boy,” you let your dress drop again, leaning forward to carefully tuck his leaking cock back into his pants, hoping that just your touch wouldn’t set him off.
Settling back onto the rug you continued the conversation as if nothing had happened, sipping at your champagne. Ben drank his a little faster, still staring daggers at you from over the rim of his glass, even when responding to you. But he seemed to have learnt his lesson. Once or twice he started to say something but cut himself off and changed tact, and you ended up having a genuinely pleasant chat. He was still flirty, still explicit about how much he wanted to fuck you, just less obnoxious about it. You didn’t have to hear about any more of his previous sexual escapades at any rate, and he was attentive enough to make you feel like sex was only most of what he cared about. Finally, you decided to put him out of his misery and see what he had in store for you.
“Bottles empty."
“I’ve got more back at the hotel” Ben said, catching on instantly – the bottle had been empty for a little while.
“Perfect,” you smiled and let him help you to your feet, collecting the rubbish in the bag from the Thai place and dropping it into a bin out on the street as he hurried you back to the car. The driver stubbed out a cigarette on the road when he saw you approaching and was holding the door open by the time you reached him.
You were barely inside when Ben put his hand on your knees, pushing your legs open.
“Already?” you asked, breath hitching as he exposed you.
“Are you kidding? After what you did tonight, you think I’d wait?” he leaned in closer, one hand sliding up your thigh as the other remained firm on your knee so you couldn’t close your legs again, “After last time you really think I wouldn’t be itching to get my hands on you? You got something no one else has had and I’m so fucking annoyed that I liked it. I went home so pissed off after we docked because I know that you could have me on my knees, at your beck and call, in an instant. And I can’t have you out there bragging about it, telling anyone else, or I’m ruined. Especially because I also love domming sluts. Now, we did your quiet little dinner thing, I listened to you criticise me and imply I don’t satisfy my women. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, I let you have some fun at my expense. You were obviously so desperate to get my cock out that you had to make up an excuse to touch me,” his fingers stroked against your cunt and he smirked as if your wetness was proving him right, “but that’s okay. I like my whores desperate.”
You wanted to interrupt him, to tell him that he was wrong, or better yet to steal control from him again, but as soon as you opened your mouth his palm was covering it.
“Shhh no, it’s my turn to talk. I think it’s time for you to have a lesson, a hard lesson, in what it means to be my whore. That was our deal anyway. So you’re going to be quiet and do what I want. Nod if you consent.”
You decided you must have got through to him at least a little bit since he was now trying to make consent clear, it was a far cry from when he’d last had you pinned down in his limo anyway, and you had agreed to it beforehand. So you nodded.
“You’re going to be an eager and willing slut for me aren’t you?” You nodded but it wasn’t enough for Ben who moved his hand away and ordered “repeat what you are.”
“You’re eager and willing slut. Sir.”
“That’s what I like to hear. And you will enjoy everything I do to you. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise. Now show me your cunt again.”
He sat back and you readjusted yourself in the seat, hitching your dress up as you spread your legs wider.
Ben hummed in appreciation, “Touch yourself for me.”
You swallowed thickly and did as he asked, stroking your fingers over your lips, already a little wet from teasing him.
But Ben expected more, “Do it properly. You know how big I am, get yourself ready so I can fit.”
It made you want to roll your eyes but you resisted the urge, ready to play along like you’d promised. Instead, you kept eye contact with him as you stuck your fingers in your mouth, slicking them up with saliva before moving them back down to your cunt. On another day you might have been able to use the position to your advantage, make him so eager for you with your display that you could take charge before he realised what was happening. You were certain that if you’d made Ben watch you fingering yourself last time he would have turned submissive before you even made it onto the yacht. But he seemed determined to give you a taste of your own medicine today. He made a pleased sound and just watched. There was definitely a tension to him – something in the way he sat back from you and how his hand rested on the edge of the seat as if he were about to dig his fingers into the soft leather to keep from giving in – but he kept up the appearance of nonchalance. Which made you less sure of your assessment, and more worried about what he had in store for you. By the time you were adding a third finger, you felt very flustered and warm. Ben hadn’t looked away once. He’d relaxed more, content with watching despite how he was straining against the fabric of his pants. He’d made a couple of comments to either instruct you more specifically, or to gloat about how following orders suited you.
“You like to play at taking charge, but we both know you want a man like me to control you.”
You shook your head but your defiance was undercut by a whine.
Ben just laughed, “you’re cunt agrees with me. I can see how wet you are. I can hear it. Don’t think you’re wet enough to handle my cock yet though. Guess I should give you a hand.” He’d been slowly rolling up his sleeve as he spoke but once it was up he quickly moved to take over. His body boxed you in against the seat and he pulled your fingers free, replacing them with his own.
You half expected him to reach for your throat like last time but he didn’t. He did however shove three large fingers into your cunt, making you whine a little at the extra stretch of them.
“Knew you needed help,” he smirked as he began fingering you relentlessly, his movements shallow and fast but reaching deeper. After a few rapid strokes he added in a little curl of his fingers against your front wall and you moaned suddenly.
The look Ben gave you was his most insufferable yet, entirely too pleased with himself, but there wasn’t much you could do since he was making you feel so good.
Entirely too quickly he stopped and you looked around confused, wondering if you’d arrived already.
Ben didn’t answer, more concerned with getting his pants undone and pushing them down.
You were about to suggest that maybe he was the desperate one when he sat down and beckoned you over.
“You wanted it so bad, whore, here you go.” When you didn’t move straight away he clicked his fingers, “I know it's a monster but your cunt can take it. C’mon.”
You moved closer and Ben grabbed your hips, manhandling you onto his lap, groaning as you sank down he shaft.
Your back was to Ben, so you braced your hands on his knees, assuming you were meant to ride him. But he stopped you, wrapping an arm around you to keep you still, “no don’t move. You can warm me for a bit while I explain the trouble you’re in.”
You squirmed, not out of a strong desire to exhaust yourself riding him, more to show he wouldn’t have it too easy, even if you had agreed to submit. Ben’s grip remained tight but his other hand did slip down to your pussy, his fingers finding your clit with surprising ease and rubbing it lightly. Not firm enough to get you very far but enough to make you want more.
“You’re going to get a taste of your own medicine. I’m going to make you wait, and I’m going to make you beg, and I’m going to have you as much as I can tonight. And maybe again in the morning if you’re lucky.”
“How do you know I’ll beg?”
“Well if you don’t that’ll be your problem. Because you won’t be cumming until you do. But, see, I’ll get off as much as I want. Your little edging game means that even just being in you has me close already. It gave me some ideas too.” That was when he started rubbing your clit properly, his fingertips pressing against it, pulling you closer to the edge.
You knew it wouldn’t last, that he’d stop before you got anywhere near orgasm, but that didn’t change how disappointing it was when he did. Especially because you involuntarily clenched around his cock at the sudden lack of stimulation, and heard Ben groan in your ear.
“God you feel good when I deny you,” he said as he started again.
You quickly lost track of how many edges you had and how long you’d been in the car.
Ben hadn’t had the satisfaction of hearing you beg, but he’d made you whine and whimper. And he’d had more actual satisfaction than you, managing an orgasm just from the wet warmth of you tightening around him a few times. He’d gone rigid for a moment as he reached his release but then he’d recovered himself and gone right back to edging you. You’d tried to clench around him more intentionally, hoping to overstimulate him a little, but if he felt much he didn’t let on. Which meant that by the time he pushed you from his lap you could feel a combination of his cum and your slick on your thighs and dripping from your cunt.
The car pulled up as Ben said, “Clean yourself up,” tossing you a few tissues from a pocket inside his suit jacket, “Can’t have you dripping through the foyer.”
That felt more humiliating than anything else he’d done or said, especially because of how horny and wet you were, but Ben didn’t seem to notice as he tucked himself away again and smoothed out his suit.
Once you’d straightened yourself up as much as you could in the confines of the limo, Ben helped you out, once again acting the gentleman as he offered you his arm.
You tried to act as normal as possible as you walked through the foyer of what was obviously a five star hotel, an ambitious goal considering what had happened on the drive there and how fancy the place seemed.
"Do you live here?” you asked, hoping that having a conversation to focus on would help with the image you were attempting to cultivate.
Ben shook his head as you approached the lifts, “No, I have a house. Father bought it for me when I turned 18. He thought it would do me good to live on my own or something. But I never take the women I fuck there.”
You blinked, surprised, “why not?”
“If I was dating them it would be different, and in fact one of my exes did move in there with me for a while. But one night stands don’t get to see where I live. I permanently keep the penthouse suite here for getting my dick wet. That’s how you know you’re one of my whores.” He didn't give you a chance to respond, pulling you into a demanding kiss, his hands roaming over your arse until the elevator dinged at his floor.
It was a short walk to his door and Ben already had the keycard out by the time you reached it, clearly eager for more. He took just enough time to place a do not disturb hanger on the door handle before he pushed you to your knees right there in the entry way. When you looked up he was working on unbuckling his pants again, his cock already hard as he pulled it out, his quick refractory time a result of the edges, or so you assumed.
“I’m sure you’ve got some little plan to get on top going on in your head right now, Y/N,” he said as he worked on his pants, “But I assure you it won’t be happening tonight, so I think a little test is in order. You need to prove you can submit before you go any further.”
You nodded meekly, already horny and resigned to your fate.
“Well go on, suck.”
You shuffled forward, feeling Ben’s large fingers twisting softly in your hair to guide you. Bracing yourself for his fist to tighten or for him to force you down his shaft, you pressed your lips to his tip. But he defied your expectations, his hands leaving you altogether once he had you in place. It was strange but you didn’t complain, focusing instead on his cock.
Ben sighed in pleasure as you brought a spit wet palm up to stroke his shaft, your mouth busy becoming acquainted with his tip, but otherwise he made little acknowledgement of your actions. Instead he preoccupied himself getting undressed.
You felt more than saw him shimmy out of his jacket, flinging it unceremoniously to the floor behind him. Next came the sound of his wristwatch being placed, much more carefully, on the hall stand beside you. A moment later his cufflinks joined it. When he took off his dress shirt you had to pause your bobbing, letting him fall from your lips as you pulled back to watch. He did have a very nice chest, you remembered that from last time, and you were sure he’d take your looking as a complement.
Ben flashed you a pleased look as he noticed you, allowing you to watch as he slipped the shirt from his arms and dropped it to the floor, but once it was off he considered the show over. His fist was once again in your hair, this time much more forcefully tugging you back towards his cock.
“I didn’t tell you to stop.” he drawled as you got your lips around his tip and felt his palm pushing you further down his length.
You managed okay to start but without being able to control your pace as much you couldn’t keep from gagging as you took Ben deeper.
Ben hummed, clearly satisfied with the sound, his hand loosening a little as a reward.
You took the hint and found a rhythm that pleased him, working yourself up and down his shaft, your hand stroking whatever wasn’t in your mouth. You gagged a few more times as you pushed yourself further, but Ben definitely enjoyed it when you did. All of a sudden he stopped you, both hands in your hair to keep you from moving.
“I think you’re ready now, hands off.”
You had no idea what he thought you were ready for but you did as he said, partly because you wanted to prove him wrong about your ability to follow orders, but mostly because you were very turned on and wanted to hurry up and get to the bit where he’d fuck you for real. The thought was distracting enough that you were caught off guard as he pressed his hips forward, pushing more of his cock than you were ready for towards your throat. You gagged again and Ben groaned.
“Good girl, just take it.” He said grunted as he thrust into your mouth again, and then again, not worrying about going slow.
Your hair was tangled tight in his fingers, keeping you from moving too far from where he wanted you. Instinct made you try to lean back a little but aside from Ben’s grip, you were too close to the door to get very far. You heard Ben’s knuckles bump against it, the solid wood an intimidating barrier behind you that made it clear you had little choice but to do as Ben wanted. You assumed that if you’d tapped out, Ben would have let you, but you didn’t want to. Ben had been right when he’d said it was hot to be used. You were already very wet but your pussy ached as he fucked your mouth, denying you what you really wanted so he could take what would satisfy him. Each shift of his hips made indecent wet sounds as saliva built up and dripped onto your chin and he pulled more gags from your throat. Tears pooled in your eyes but Ben didn’t seem to care. He kept up fucking you for longer than you might have expected if you’d been able to think clearly enough to guess. Especially with how turned on he must have been, just based on the groans and moans he made as he used you. But finally Ben seemed to reach a limit of just how much pleasure he could withstand. His hips sped up, and he grunted each word on a new thrust as he said, “Gonna fucking cum. You better fucking swallow.”
You blinked more tears from your eyes which Ben took as compliance with his wants as he got himself off, rutting against your tongue until he stopped, keeping you pinned between his hips and the door as he filled your mouth with cum. Ben pulled out quickly which you were thankful for. You’d been able to steal breaths throughout the blowjob but had unwittingly held your breath as he finished, and were eager to be free. He took half a step back, hands rising to his hips as he stared you down, daring you to recoil at the taste of his cum or worse still to spit it out. Between heavy breaths through your nose your swallowed, fighting the urge to wipe your eyes or face.
“Good girl,” Ben cooed as if he’d expected a brattier display, “I knew that fem dom shit was just a cry for attention. This was what you really wanted all along.”
You shook your head so that you could at least say you tried to disagree, but Ben was more concerned with tucking his cock away again and missed the display of defiance altogether. Once he was sorted he helped you up, taking a moment to examine your face before dragging his thumbs under your eyes to clear up the mascara that had transferred there.
“Pointless,” he muttered softly when he realised he was mostly just spreading the mascara around, “I’m sure it wont be the last you cry tonight. Unless of course you want to admit you’re nothing more than a desperate whore and beg for my cock.”
“I’m not begging,” you frowned, sure he’d be quicker to give in once he got close to your pussy.
Ben just smiled, “You will. For now I want you on the bed.”
You made to move down the hall but he stopped you before you made it more than a step.
“Wait. There’s a rule I have. Whores aren’t allowed to wear clothes past this point. I might make an exception for nice lingerie but not tonight. Not for you.” He didn’t even give you the satisfaction of stripping for him, pulling the zip of your dress down and tugging on your dress until it slipped down to join the mess of discarded menswear on the floor, quickly followed by your bra. “Mmmm,” he hummed as his eyes raked over your naked body, “Perfect. Bed, now.” A spank landed on your arse cheek and you hurried ahead of him, able to feel Ben’s eyes on your arse for the whole length of the corridor.
The upside of being on the bed before Ben had even entered the room was that you had ample time to admire how good he looked without a shirt. You openly ogled him as he moved to the cupboard, taking a moment to dig something out, though his delicious back was blocking your view of what it was. Although your preoccupation with his naked chest also meant you weren’t as observant as you might otherwise have been. You were too distracted to notice him tuck something into his pocket, and you entirely missed it when he began speaking, only realising when he seemed to address you.
“-only fair I get to do the same to you, right?”
You blinked, knowing you’d missed something but not wanting to let on because you knew he’d be a dick about it.
As it was he raised his eyebrows and prompted you to respond, “Well? It’s a simple question. You’re not normally this ditzy, did sucking me off make you too horny to think?”
You shook your head, “No Sir, I thought it was rhetorical.”
For a moment you weren’t sure your gambit had worked but then Ben laughed, “Almost a shame you’re not so cockdumb yet. But maybe you’re right,” Ben strode around to the top right corner of the bed, squatting slightly to pull something from under the mattress, “My expectation was that you’d agree.” He grabbed your wrist and tugged it back, fitting a black loop around it.
As he tightened the restraint you realised what he’d been talking about. That this was pay back for when you’d tied him to the yacht’s bed. He’d been eager for it then, practically walked you through tying sailor worthy knots with the rope, but you couldn’t blame him for wanting to see you bound to his bed in the same way. So you just wriggled yourself into a little more comfort as he rounded the bed and restrained your other wrist too.
“Now what are you going to do to me?” you pouted at him coyly, feeling a little like you were poking a bear.
“I already told you.” he said, kneeling on the end of the bed, “I’m going to make you beg.”
That was when he revealed what he’d taken from his cupboard and tucked into his pocket. The vibrator wasn’t huge but it was powerful, making you jolt as he pressed it to your clit.
You squirmed but the wrist cuffs kept you from being able to move too far from its buzzing and you couldn’t help but moan as your long denied orgasm built.
Ben quickly stopped the toy, replacing it with his fingers, dragging them through the wetness between your lips, “Go on whore, tell me you want my cock in this needy cunt.”
You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from moaning again as his fingers entered you easily. He thrust them in and out of you a few times before bringing the vibrator back to your clit. Whenever Ben sensed you were getting close he’d stop touching you entirely. Sometimes even before you were close, preferring to hedge his bets and stop early rather than risk giving you the orgasm. It would undercut his dominance if you came earlier than he wanted, even if he ruined it. So he was careful with how he edged you. He alternated between his fingers and the vibe. When he felt you were enjoying yourself too much he’d intentionally ignore your clit. You’d be left with three of his fingers pumping into you, hearing Ben make pleased little hums when he found spots within you that made you whine or gasp. When that didn’t seem to be enough to make you give in he upped the ante, pressing the tip of the vibrator into you. It didn’t stretch you as much as his fingers (or his cock) did, but the patterns of vibrations when he turned it on made up for what it lacked in size.
While you’d already decided you’d let Ben have it his way, part of you still wanted him to have to work for it. Unfortunately, any ideas you had about withstanding his onslaught went out the door very quickly. You were way too worked up to hold out and the combination of his fingers and the toy he was fucking into your cunt had you begging in only a few short moments.
At your first, “please Sir,” Ben laughed.
“Embarrassing how easy that was,” he smirked, “I expected more but I guess you really are just one of my whores.”
You whined as he removed the vibrator and his fingers, worried the edging would continue all night.
“S’pose it’s about time I fuck you properly. Lord knows im stiff for it.”
You watched as he undid his zip and finally removed his pants, his cock semi hard again, and you couldn’t keep yourself from begging again.
“Only one question left. How should I do it? Flip you over and take you from behind?” He wrapped his fist around his cock and you whimpered as he stroked himself harder, “Make you ride me? I know how much you like being on top. Think I like the idea of seeing you under me too much for that. This time anyway. No, I know what I want.” His breath came a little harder as he moved onto the bed, cock still in hand as he pushed your legs open again. “I want you to watch me while I fuck you. I want you right where you are, tied up, incapable of dominating me. You’ll soon see how much you like it.” As he spoke he pressed against your hole, teasing you one final time before he finally gave you what you wanted. His cock slipped in easily, and Ben’s groan was nearly as loud as yours. At another time, with free hands and a clearer mind, you might have enjoyed that more, knowing Ben was as desperate as you were. But after so much edging and teasing, you could only focus on how good and full you felt. Ben’s eagerness extended beyond just sounds of delight too. Any plans he might have had to draw it out, go slow and deep to torment you more, went out the window as soon as he felt you clench around his shaft. His hips jolted forward, cock sinking into your audibly wet cunt, and he couldn’t help but do it again and again, falling into a rapid rhythm. Barely half his length made it in you, his thrusts too rapid to allow him to get much deeper, but it didn’t matter. The feeling of him dragging against your walls would have been enough, but Ben also added a thumb to your clit. He rubbed you messily, more concerned with how it felt to be inside you, but you didn’t need much stimulation to get close again.
“Cum,” he said simply when you moaned about how good he felt. He fucked you through the first orgasm, praising you for being such a good whore, not even relenting when you were panting, no longer arching under him.
“You’re going to cum again, sweetheart” he ordered, pounding into you with a particularly hard thrust that made your head spin. A slight breathlessness was the only sign he was at all worked up, which just added to his control, and all you could do was nod in agreement, sure you would cum as many times as he wanted no matter how hard it became.
Ben chuckled, clearly pleased with how fucked out and compliant you were, but focused his energy into fucking you rather than any banter. You squirmed a little more, a touch sensitive after your first orgasm, but not uncomfortably so, and your second came up quickly too, your body eager for release after being denied it for so long. Ben didn’t last much longer either, the feeling of your cunt tightening round his cock again enough to undo him. He groaned more and more as he got closer, finally pressing himself as deep as you could take him as he hit his release with a satisfied moan.
Ben collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you comfortingly into the mattress as his lips found your neck. He was breathing harder now, the puffs of warmth tickling your skin.
You groaned as you tried to shift under him, your thighs aching from being spread open, but you found you couldn’t close them since Ben was still filling you.
“Uh uh uh,” he tutted into your skin, “Didn’t say you could shut your legs.” He pushed himself back up, leaning back to look at himself disappearing into you, “You look good like this.”
You shivered as he ran a finger around where you were stretched around his length, your wrists jolting in the bonds.
Ben remained thoughtfully silent for a moment, absentmindedly touching your pussy and your thighs, as he took in your dishevelled and restrained appearance.
“I think I want to see you cum again.”
“Again?” you whimpered, partly from his touch and partly from his tone.
He answered by reaching for the vibrator again, pressing it to your clit and holding it there until he’d forced a third orgasm from you, just because he could.
It was good but a lot, your body more sensitive now, and unable to move as freely as you’d have liked. There was no escaping the stimulation, no shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrations or to spread them over more of your cunt than just your clit. You had to take it the way Ben wanted you to, the vibrators setting higher than you would have chosen, pressed firmly in place until your toes curled and your thighs shook.
Ben pulled out as you neared the climax, so that when you came he could watch his own release dribble onto the sheets, grinning cockily at the sight.
When he was finally satisfied, he turned the toy off and let you collapse, chuckling as he leaned over to free you from the restraints. Gently he rubbed your wrists, making sure you were okay as you gathered your senses.
“What was it you said about me not caring if my whores get off?” he asked, flopping on top of you again.
You wanted to come back with something clever but your brain was still too hazy to manage anything more than, “Oh shut up.”
“You beg real fucking pretty by the way. It’s obvious I’m the best you’ve had.”
You rolled your eyes at his smirking, the insufferable way he was speaking reigniting your desire to put him in his place, “Keep being such an ass and I’ll have to pick out a toy to use on you.” You squeaked as Ben cut you off, grabbing your cheeks so your lips were pushed into a pout.
“No. Eager and willing sluts don’t threaten their Sir’s. While you’re here, you’re mine,” his hand covered your cunt possessively, “I’m going to want you again tonight and I expect you to keep being the good girl I know you secretly love being.”
You swallowed thickly, nodding in his grasp.
Ben let you go and, as if to soften his words or placate you, added, “But maybe tomorrow I’ll let you tell me some of your silly ideas, see if you can convince me they’re more fun than fucking my new toy brainless.”
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EPISODE REVIEW TIMEEE:
(contains spoilers for "a rick in king mortur's mort")
i actually really loved that episode. i've been so fucking starved for morty content that this was really nice. i loved the callbacks, parallels, and contrasts that were drawn pretty clearly between this episode and "the vat of acid episode." TVOAE is actually one of the episodes that makes me the sickest to my stomach. it's so unsettling and bone chilling to watch.
this episode, on the other hand... this felt earned.
(perhaps because of my morty bias and the fact that i've gotten basically no morty this season, buuuuut...) i'm giving this one a 10/10???
wow... didn't think i'd go that far, but uhhhh... yeah. i went there.
it just mastered the art of parallels, callbacks, and development beautifully.
my initial thoughts, as always:
(this is a long one… yk how i am with morty…)
-morty acted so much like early-series rick at the beginning that i was honestly a little bit ready to accept that part of his character progression is becoming a mini-rick. to be honest, i still see that being a possibility, but this was... not exactly that.
he still took the sword for a reason early-series rick would have instead of a classic "these guys seem cool" morty reason ("oh shit these other guys want the sword so now i want the sword, even if i'm jaded and cynical about it"), and it almost felt like the "rick and morty" dynamic was flipped a little bit- as in, morty being the rigid jerk and rick being berated verbally for a second. that being said, morty was still childishly excited about being a medieval knight and it was cleared up that morty was only being rude to rick initially as a trauma response. he expected rick to abuse him, but that wasn't the case. when he realized he was safe, he let his guard down.
(look at him sulking in line awww)
-RICK USING MORTY PET NAMES. RICK USING MORTY PET NAMES.
i think a little part of me melted when he called morty "lil junebug."
SHUT THE FUCK UP- i am so unwell. so mentally normal about that.
i genuinely cannot believe that's a canon nickname rick uses for morty. that. is. so. cute.
just the sweetest lil pet name.
(plus grandpa rick putting a hand on his lil junebug's shoulder, because why not?)
-OMFG RICK APOLOGY?? like genuinely?? oh my god??
i mean... that was still kinda dickish lol. "i'm gonna intentionally do the least amount possible to actually change, but make you feel like i am."
you know what, though? bc of the fact that this is essentially a follow-up to TVOAE, i'd say the entire premise of this ep WAS change, and highlighted that... so i'm giving the undercut a pass.
-i also liked the subtle callback to the "auto park feature" with the sword "fighting deacon frost." i liked that morty didn't think it was cool, but it didn't trigger some insane reaction in rick.
he's just like, "i dunno... i thought it was cool... :(" and he moves on.
-"holy shit, this is who i am to this kid?!... i've gotta fix this!"
and then he... actually puts in the work to better a real human connection instead of manipulating morty to keep him pliant?
wow.
-like i said, rick is still being a fucking dick here and there in the convo, but i'm genuinely proud of him.
-i'm also so happy for morty. this must have been such a healing experience for him. god. he's been through so much. shoutout to the writers for not putting him through more emotional abuse for fun.
-another bit that made me think that morty is slowly developing into a little rick was the moment where he uses a science lecture to ruin the knights' faith in their culture. during that whole sequence, he does sound a lot like rick...
-SPACE BETH CHILLING WITH HER GIRLFRIEND, GUYS.
-RICK BRAGGING ON MORTY ABOUT THE LITTLE LECTURE! THE HANDS ON THE SHOULDERS! EVERYTHING!
this reminds me of an ask i answered a little bit ago where i talked about rick being morty's primary caregiver. this episode felt a lot more like a father/son type development than a grandfather/grandson.
i get that the rest of the family was proud of morty, but rick was the one saying "hey! this is the little dude i'm raising! look at him go!"
-i was a little nervous that morty was going to kill/let rick kill the knights, which would have meant that he's veeeery similar to rick now, but he chose not to. that was a nice touch.
-(i thought the little moment where jerry was like "what's happening? appliances are breaking that i haven't touched!" was funny hehe..)
-i thought it was sweet that rick got the meeting's attention just to give morty the floor.
-i wasn't a fan of morty begging rick to stop supporting him, though. it felt like punching the underdog character with his own fist, but i guess i like it better in hindsight because it shows yet another trauma response. morty doesn't trust himself AT ALL. he thinks that by doing this his way, something will inevitably go wrong. damn.
-i also liked the little details about how witchy rick can be, haha. first, we see him ACTUALLY bend down and read the bones himself, then the witchcraft penis? that was a nice touch. rick definitely has an interest in witchcraft.
-(one of my favorite songs as a kid was "ruby tuesday," and i got so excited that the montage song was a cover of it, but... alas... no.)
(i just thought mort looked cute here lol)
-THE HUG? (of course they had to make it less heavy with the "we're gonna make your dick so fake," comment, but it's so nice to see rick hug morty and try to calm him down.)
-TELEPATHY? WHAT THE FUCK? THAT THREW ME SO HARD I GOT WHIPLASH.
-shit, man....
"i love you."
"i love you, too..."
-as soon as morty asked rick if he was a robot/clone, i was on the edge of my seat, chewing my lip, biting my nails, pulling my hair- waiting for the reveal that he was, but...
they didn't fake us out! hey! :)
(will say that the "this family has enough clones and robots in it" comment did make me a lil nervous, bc we KNOW of a clone, but... uhhh... who's the "robot"?)
-one of my biggest issues with "rick: a mort well-lived" was that marta stayed in the game, meaning that the only part of morty that heard rick say he loved and respected him didn't join with our morty. it bothered me that our morty didn't get to hear that.
i'm so happy that they fixed that this ep. MORTY HEARD RICK IS PROUD OF HIM. MORTY HEARD RICK LOVES HIM. i hope this is the "morty gets the grandpa he deserves" beginning. i'm loving it, and hope it's far more than just 22% of the time.
overall, AHMAZING EPISODE! kinda sad we had to wait until the end of the season to get a decent in-depth exploration of morty, his current character, and his reaction to rick's healing, but i'm so glad my boy got his apologies. he got his "i love you." he got his "i'm proud of you." he got is hug.
he got his autonomy.
congrats, lil junebug.
hope ya get more <3
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do you think that a lot of s4 critique (esp on tumblr) is coming from the tomgreg “field”? bc i mean - they all seem very disappointed with the way this season is playing out and, without meaning to be patronizing, i’d say unmet expectations like that can cloud (or at least colour) one’s general opinion on a piece of media immensely. we’ve all had it happen to us in some way at some point, so i get it but also…don’t shit in everyone’s müsli just bc a specific relationship didn’t happen in the way you’d envisioned :( alsooo tomshiv is much gayer than tomgreg could have ever hoped to be idc idc
it's something i've been avoiding saying directly, because it feels slightly dickish, but We Can All See With Our Eyes that there is a correlation between people heavily invested in tomgreg and people who are expressing dissatisfaction with s4. it's also fairly obvious that i stopped giving a shit about tomgreg over the course of the year+ of getting harrassed and finally getting my blog terminated for expressing mild criticism wrt patterns of misogyny in fandom. which i think entitles me to a little bit of dickishness.
the thing is, you can have whatever opinion on a show you want for whatever reason you want. it's fine to say you're disappointed in the relative lack of tom and greg this season, because that's what you were personally invested in. your emotional response to the season is your emotional response. full stop. a big part of why i've been enjoying this season so much is because i started watching this show after my dad died, and it's very cathartic for me to watch such a realistic and thoughtful depiction of grief in all its messiness and complexity. i'm connecting to these characters more than ever because i've been there. that's personal! that's subjective! that's okay!
what irritates me is:
a) being disingenuous about the reason you dislike the season,
b) in a way that implies disliking the season is the 'correct' opinion to have, either on a moral basis or because this season is objectively and uniquely bad writing/directing/editing,
c) to the extent that it creates a noxious and unpleasant fan environment to participate in.
i understand where the urge comes from to defensively say "no, it's not just about my businessman yaoi, there is actually a high-minded, intellectual reason for me to spend all my time bitching." because yeah, there are people who are delighted to go fuck you anyone who cared about tom and greg, you were watching the show wrong, and that's aggravating.
deliberately misrepresenting your opinion as something with a more "rational" basis doesn't make you any better off, because it's laughably obvious when that's what you're doing, and it undermines your initial position, which was not inherently invalid in the first place. it's fine to be sad that the thing you personally wanted to happen did not happen. you can say that. you can call people dicks for being rude about it. it's fine. it's literally okay. we are all just saying shit online.
but you are just not going to be able to convince me that season 4 is overall badly written, or that it suffers from unique mechanical issues that were not already present throughout the show. it's not going to happen! d*sha redscare was literally in s3! the fact is that in a season where logan dies in episode 3, and if anybody tries to say that was a bad writing decision you know they're pulling it out of their ass, it simply Is Not Possible for tom and greg (who barely had a relationship with logan and so has fuck all to do in the wake of his death) to spend 15 minutes an episode engaging in slapstick routines. is it an awkwardly truncated storyline? maybe! but succession is littered with those, and that's because it makes the choice to prioritize its main story, which in s4 is more focused and thoughtfully written than ever.
i won't even touch on the queerbait discourse because i do not think queerbait has ever been a useful term and the idea of trying to apply that kind of analysis to succession is too idiotic to even bother engaging with. the virgin representationcel vs the chad [i will not talk about my politics on tumblr but i am a trans fag of color deeply disillusioned with most of the discourse on 'representation']. representation win! the chair of fictional fox news cheated on his wife with her cousin #gayrights. Be serious.
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BEST DRAGON BALL BIG BADS
1. Cell and Freeza - Eternally the greatest villains that the Dragon Ball franchise has ever had and will ever have. They both just work so well, as characters and as villains, but on different levels. Both are completely and utterly evil to their cores, both are uber powerful, both are superbly designed, both have iconic voices, both serves as ultimate enemies to a generation of Saiyan (Freeza to Goku and Vegeta, and Cell to their sons Gohan and Trunks), both have fun and hilarious TFS Abridged Series incarnations that do them justice, and both have the demeanor of charismatic, sophisticated gentleman whose faux affability is used to punctuate their horrible evilness and conceal even uglier evilness within, giving the reader/viewer a strong desire to see them get dealt a comeuppance, but it’s expressed somewhat differently - with Freeza, his superficial politeness is blatantly false, you can read in his tone that it’s a front he puts on to patronize everyone of lesser power than he, even his own minions, and his inner spoiled brat and brutish sadism seeps through with every line…but those lines are normally courteous and gentlemanly. With Cell, his affability seems much more sincere and there’s much less obvious fakeness and condescension to it, but the things he actually says even with that attitude are so cruel, demeaning and dickish (he’s not known as a Savage Roast King for nothing!) and he just excudes confidence in what he is and all that he is capable of achieving. Their places in the story and what they represent is also great. Freeza was literally the instigator of the entire series, the reason Goku was raised on Earth to start with - he is the dark past that must be conquered in the present day where his reign of terror still spreads. Whereas Cell is literally made up of the cells of the greatest fighters seen across the series, including the previous villains, Freeza among them, who traveled back in time from a future timeline - he is the series’ past amalgamated into a grand present day crescendo and is reflective of a dark future that must not come to pass. While Cell's my preference between the two of them in terms of villainy (character-wise, he’s not quite as developed as Freeza has been), Freeza’s easily my second favorite, and both of them are equally the best Big Bads with the best sagas in all of Dragon Ball.
2. Zamasu/Goku Black and Demon God Demigra - Or as I like to call them, the Lucifer-Satan Duo. As I’ve said before, they’re sort of like the Freeza and Cell of the franchise’s new age - not quite as good but still easily the best major villains we've seen since them. Demigra came first and while he’s not much to write home about in terms of characterization, he’s got an awesome design, an incredibly strong malevolent presence, a flamboyant personality and a particularly sick, cruel, creepy style of villainy that makes him unforgettable. He’s a former Shinjin who fell from grace and became a demon who then rose to such a high state of power that he’s deemed a Demon God, and as such he now possesses a proud, smarmy, mightier-than-thou attitude and believes the entire multiverse should revolve entirely around him and his whims, and that all of existence is his to play with in any way he pleases. At first his villainy seems rather typical of a Big Bad Satan figure, but by the time he puts Piccolo under demonic mind control to get him to kill the kids he’s looked after, it gets more personal and you really want to take the smug bastard down. My two quibbles with him would be his original final form was terrible, being just a recolored, redesigned version of Babidi’s henchman Yakon (thankfully, this got amended later on in Dragon Ball Heroes), and that his backstory comes off as a little too generic and JRPG-esque, which is a big no-no for Dragon Ball. Otherwise he’s a great villain, though unfortunately locked out from mainline DB canon beyond the game universes. Zamasu in Super is sort of like a substitution for Demigra, as he’s a similar character (a fallen Shinjin with a massive ego and divine Messiah Complex) with a similar set-up (a saga that heavily involves time travel, Future Trunks, and a threat to the entire multiverse), but he manages to be his own unique character despite this, more youthful than Demigra and even more insufferably pompous and self-important. And unlike the unashamedly evil Demigra, Zamasu is firmly convinced in his own righteousness and that every action he takes is in the name of divine justice and the creation of a pure universe, even though the actions themselves and his frequent behavior towards others, other deities included, show him as anything but - he’s a cruel, petty, and narcissistic sociopath with delusions of grandeur. Think Light Yagami if he actually had become a god! His other self, Goku Black, is even scarier given how he inhabits a god-tier Saiyan’s body and even melds his own divine power into it’s own to create new techniques and even a new Super Saiyan form, and is a complete badass throughout. And the voice actor performances (both Shinichiro Miki and Masako Nozawa in the original, and James Marsters and Sean Schemmel in the dub) are fantastic. My two quibbles with him would be the explanation for Black’s coming into being was a little convoluted and goofy, and that the Black Hole Eldrich Abomination that melds itself into the entire universe that his consciousness becomes after his defeat/death was just complete nonsense, pushing Zamasu firmly into Villain Sue territory and making him a living Diablos Ex Machina to instigate a horribly bleak end to his saga. Oh well. Can’t all be perfect like Cell.
3. Vegeta - Nowadays with Vegeta being a much better person and one of the most heroic characters in the series (which is great) and also the main deuteragonist/Lancer to Goku in all sagas (which is not so great), it could be easy to forget just what a truly, wonderfully evil bastard, and one of the top greatest villains, he used to be. As the surviving prince of the Saiyan race, even sharing the same name as his late father and now obliterated planet, Vegeta’s pride is monumental and he believes he has, from birth, deserved to be most powerful warrior of all time and space, and supreme ruler of the universe despite him being basically enslaved to serve under Freeza, who also has those ambitions. Before we found out that part about Freeza, though, Vegeta was the Big Bad for the prior saga and by being such a sinister, meticulous, cunning warrior who could back up his arrogance with sheer awesome might, he was more imposing a threat than even Piccolo, the so-called Demon King! Despite his short stature, his ability to keep his composure until he lets out his feral rage made him fearsome to his larger and more brutal partner, Nappa. Toriyama hadn’t initially intended to keep him alive past his saga, but he proved so popular with both readers and his editors that he had his life be spared and it cannot be overstated what a terrific move it was to keep him alive for the next saga, as he received some of the best parts of that saga with his magnificent bastardry, even ending up in an unexpected alliance with the good guys in its latter half that lay the seeds for his eventual redemption arc. In retrospect it’s rather odd that Vegeta got as far as he did since his character was originally written to be nothing but a completely evil prick. I think his success is owed to him being the greatest candidate for an archrival to Goku that Toriyama ever came up with, being of the same race as him and even sharing some similar characteristics, yet being his polar opposite based on how and where the two were raised and thus what they value most. Oddly enough, their development courses have gone in reverse too - Vegeta’s grown more human while Goku has grown more detached from humanity and more in touch with his Saiyan nature. I could go on about what an interesting and fun character Vegeta is, but I’ll spare you all and just mention one minor gripe I have with him (aside from his role in the franchise post-Buu Saga, which remains a major gripe): what the heck happened to his personality after he got revived on Namek by the wish on Earth’s Dragon Balls? Piccolo was one thing, but Vegeta’s more grouchy, aggressive, hot-tempered and bombastic characterization is almost downright irreconcilable with his earlier characterization. Did he come back wrong? Did Freeza’s brutal torture of him before his death do permanent mental and emotional damage? I love the character either way, but it's shaky writing.
4. King Piccolo / Piccolo Jr. - Here’s the guy who was the originally intended Ultimate Evil of the Dragon Ball universe. Oh how times have changed. This spot is both for the original King Piccolo, born of all the inner demons that the nameless Namekian who became Kami Sama exorcised from his consciousness, and Piccolo Jr., who was born from an egg like all Namekian offsprings but imbued with his father’s spirit, making him the Demon King reincarnated. With his appealingly alien design, intimidating voice acting, epic theme music and majestic presence whenever he shows up, Piccolo stands as one of Toriyama’s best villains even to this day. He’s also one of the smartest Dragon Ball villains, one of the few who never succumbed to Bond Villain Stupidity, thinking meticulously and acting with competence from start to finish, damn nearly defeating Goku and all his heroic allies who stand against his reign of terror. The guy even make a successful bid for world domination, holding all governments on the planet hostage with the threat of his power, even planning on making a national holiday in which he destroys one major location in the four corners of the Earth annually, just for kicks! Even after his death, his wickedness endured through Piccolo Jr., who went undercover at the 23rd Budokai just to take revenge on Goku and claim the title of world’s strongest warrior in order to assert his supremacy and put the world under his green thumb once again. Piccolo is very much the same case as Vegeta when it comes to how his character development progressed - for someone who was created and written to be nothing but pure evil, he ended up growing a conscience and caring about someone else, the son of his hated enemy no less, and from there he grew more noble and good-hearted until he was finally willing to re-merge with Kami in order to have the power needed to protect the things and people on Earth that he’d grown to cherish, which was unexpected but beautiful development for his character. Also like Vegeta his characterization had a slight shift before his redemption truly started, but this one was more believable since he’d gotten older and more mellow between the end of pre-Z DB and DBZ, having never been the pure evil beast his father had been and still showing signs in the early Vegeta Saga that the devilish, maniacal Piccolo hadn’t fully gone away yet. As a bad guy and as a good guy, Piccolo is just plain awesome, and one of the most endearing and respectable DB characters for that.
5. Beerus and Whis - After years of the DB franchise recycling ideas, characters and concepts usually from DBZ for all of its content, these two were such a breath of fresh air. Beerus, the God of Destruction for Universe 7, has an immediately appealing design, being clearly inspired by the Egyptian God of death, Anubis, having both canine and feline characteristics in his look and mannerisms. His concept is also great - he’s like a dark counterpart to a universe’s Supreme Kaioshin with destructive power so immense and seemingly limitless that they need a guardian angel to keep them in check, which is where Whis comes in. The personalities of these two and how they play off each other is the best part. Beerus is callous, egocentric, and apathetic to a fault, but also frequently lazy, childish, quirky and eccentric, possessing a strong appetite, and is subject to wild mood swings that effect the way his power is let out. He’s, to put it plainly, an immature psychopath, but being a deity who exists far above mortal beings, he lives by his own code and his thinking is far beyond the morality that mortals or other deities tend to possess, so it's hard to call him truly evil. He’s as great an ally to have on your side as he is as terrifying an enemy to have against you. His growing bond of friendship with Goku and the Z Warriors all while he still stays true to his character but slowly comes to soften up and learn to act in more reasonable ways has been one of the best parts of DBS. Oh, and Whis - he’s cool. And nice. And scary powerful. And both he and Beerus, together or apart, are super hilarious. Some of the best characters to be iconic fixtures of the franchise for years to come.
6. Android 21 - A secret 21st android created by Dr. Gero who got loaded with energy from a super computer that gave her more power than she knew how to handle, driving her batshit insane, spiteful, and destructive as a result, having a very attractive design and an equally sexy Majin form, being pretty much an android version of Launch who ends up going through a literal personality split similar to Majin Buu, is a glutton for delectable treats who has a tragic character arc, a personality like Zero Two from Darling in the Franxx, and the dub voice actress of Riko Sakarauchi from Love Live Sunshine!!? How could you not fall for this bitch? Easily one of the coolest, most creative and most enjoyable DB villains in recent years to be sure.
7. Fu - Another really fun villain to enter the franchise in recent years. The son of Mira and Towa, and the nephew of Demon Lord Dabura, Fu could care less about the ramifactions of his heritage or the dull politics of the demon realm, as he's set his sights on bigger things. Inquisitive and experimental by nature, he's made his M.O messing with the stream of time and intervening in different worlds branched off from different timelines so that he can create any wild and wacky scenario he wants to enjoy. Yeah, he's a DB fanboy surrogate, and it shows in the joyfully eccentric, geeky personality he expresses. Fu goes so meta with his canon-defiling, reality-bending passion projects and with his brand of humor, he's like DB's own Deadpool! But he is absolutely not one to be underestimated just for his silly behavior, for he's one of the most cunning, meticulous and unpredictable adversaries in the franchise. In the Xenoverse canon, he's become the recurring arch nemesis to the Time Patrol who's yet to be brought to justice, and in the Heroes canon, he steals from varying alternate timelines and uses what he attains to devastating effect, gaining more power for himself as he does to the point where he's eventually made the Dark King of the demon realm and seeks to create his own universe that'd play to his ideal rules. Wherever or wherever Fu shows up, disasters are always guaranteed to follow.
8. Emperor Pilaf - Putting this guy up so high seems ridiculous, especially since he wasn’t ever a Big Bad in the original manga, only getting that status from the anime adaptation beefing up his role and giving him more screen time in the series’ first saga. Three things score him this spot - he’s just plain hilarious, he was actually a legit danger to our heroes (and possibly the entire world had his wish been granted) in his earliest appearances despite having no power, and he’s been brought back to the franchise and received a good deal of character growth to the point of becoming a friend/ally to the heroes just as Tien, Piccolo, Vegeta, Buu, and Beerus have. His chemistry with his two agents, Mai and Shu, is always a delight to watch, and his VAs tend to make him immensely entertaining, especially Chuck Huber in the Funimation dub, whose voice and delivery for him has not changed in the slightest in all these years.
9. Tao Pai Pai - I'm kind of cheating here as well since he’s technically not a Big Bad in any saga he appeared in, but he was the source of the most tension and peril in the Red Ribbon Saga in how an act of evil committed by him changed the trajectory of Goku's quest for Dragon Balls, and he had a part in the entire drama of the 22nd Budokai Saga’s plot, so he deserves a spot here. Introduced as a mercenary killer hired by Commander Red to kill Goku, Tao became the Heavy for the saga during this period. Up to that point Goku had faced enemies who could nearly take him in a fight before (General Blue, who Tao kills with his tongue) but hadn’t ever seemed in any real danger from an enemy who could kill him. Tao changed that. He was very dangerous, very formidable at fighting, and very murderous, with there being a very real possibility of him actually killing Goku because he's the first character to kill others on-screen. His character was also a notable change of pace in how villains before him were all light-hearted and comical, or at the very least generic., but Tao, by contrast, was a stone cold professional killer with seemingly only two looks to give: serious poker face or psychotic evil smirk. He doesn’t just kill because it’s profitable, he relishes the hunt and the sensation of bringing other living creatures down before he takes their life. He’s a true villain played straight, which makes his eventual ass kicking at Goku’s hands and the comical reactions he starts giving all the more satisfying and hilarious. While he’s nowadays not as notable or cool as other villains and even seems rather dated, one thing to consider is that with his greed, sadism and fondness for killing, pink and purple color scheme, courtesy and formality when speaking and conducting business with others, attempting to kill Goku after being granted the mercy he’d pleaded for only to have Goku knock his attack right back at him so that it blows him up instead, and then coming back as a cyborg, working alongside an evil family member in the name of revenge…yes, Tao seems to have been Toriyama’s prototype for Freeza.
10. Majin Buu - While his saga was notoriously poorly done on the whole, his character and effectiveness got messed up in its last stretch, and he nowadays almost reads like a prototype for what would later be perfected by Beerus, Majin Buu was still a fine villain(s) for what he was, as well as a fairly unique and memorable one even if he didn’t make for the best Big Bad. Brought into Universe 7 by the dark wizard Bibidi to match and even surpass the Kaioshins, Buu got more powerful the more Kaioshins he slayed and devoured the energy of, and by the time he was sealed away he’d become the most powerful mortal being in existence. Which is an asset to him but also a fault: Freeza had declared himself the most powerful mortal being in the universe, but now we learn that there’d once been a being even more powerful (and later learn that Freeza knew that)? Cell being more powerful than Freeza was justifiable because his literal creation happened only after Freeza’s time and he was made to be the most powerful fighter ever from the cells of the most powerful fighters, Freeza included. Pulling out this random ancient demonic djinn as the next most powaful evul threat evah!!! just felt cheap. But back on his character, I like Fat Buu and the initial Super Buu the best out of all his forms, the former for being the most unexpectedly silly and endearing of all the Buus and the one who actually reforms and sticks around after the saga’s over, and the latter for impressively balancing being ridiculous and humorous with being sinister and menacing, and much smarter than his brutish demeanor suggests, plus he got some wicked awesome theme music in the original dub. Kid Buu’s in the middle, as he’s alright and a well done example of a Generic Doomsday Villain with no personality, goal, or motive for living other than to kill and destroy…but he’s still a Generic Doomsday Villain, so he lacks a character and can’t hold my interest for very long. I don’t care for the briefly seen Evil Buu that ate up Fat Buu to make Super Buu, and I completely abhor Super Buucalotenkshan or whatever we call that long headed abomination - yeah, Super Buu is one of my favorites AND my least favorites among the Buu forms! Go figure. All in all, Buu was a good idea for a worthy foe to be faced by Gohan and pals, but horribly marred by poor execution of his character, his powers, and his saga as a whole. So he’s pretty above average to me.
11. Janemba - The Majin Buu substitute of Movie 12, Fusion Reborn, created when some slacker custodian of Hell got infected with the accidental leak of an unstable dark substance made from dark souls that began tearing at the fabric of life and death, letting the denizens of Hell loose onto Earth. While I wasn’t the biggest fan of him in his initial large, chubby yellow form, when he changed into that smaller, red Satan looking motherf**ker up there, he immediately caught my attention. He’s just so menacing, so psychotic, and so diabolically evil in even the way he fights that I think I like him better than Kid Buu, the canon villain he was emulating. He’s a pretty unique DBZ movie villain, and his big face-off with Gogeta is simply unforgettable.
12. Dr. Wheelo - The main villain of the second movie, The World's Strongest. Two things score him a spot here - his creepiness factor and his motivation. His mind was wished back into the world by his old associate, Dr. Kochin, but his body was not, meaning that the only physical part of him to be seen is his brain, which is placed in a special tube that just happens to connect with a large mechanical body, and he always speaks in a low, calm, sinister voice that’s slightly modulated by a robotic filter. That’s just nightmarish. And unlike many later DBZ movie villains, Wheelo actually has a clearly stated goal and motive - he wants to weed out the world’s strongest fighter so that his brain can be put inside of that fighter’s body, and he can then wield awesome power and test his new body’s fighting capabilities for science in order to become the greatest and the strongest scientist to ever live. It’s sick, weird, and a little bit B-Movie mad science plot, but it works and helps make Wheelo stand out as one of Goku’s most unsettling foes. In fact, it could be argued that he even beat Dr. Gero to it with the whole "mad scientist creating androids to go after Goku" thing. We later got to see Dr. Wheelo's original body when he partnered up with Fu in Dragon Ball Heroes, and he even gained a sleeker metallic form that he could control.
13. Coola - No, I refuse to call him Cooler. That only works if Freeza is named Freezer, but he’s not, so it’s just silly. Anyway, Coola is the older brother of Freeza and the villain of two movies in a row, Movies 5 and 6. If there’s any movie villain who seems like he could fit right into Toriyama’s canon, it’s Coola. He leads his own section of his clan’s Planet Trade business empire and while he’s a notably better boss than his brother, that doesn’t make him any better an individual. Coola is actually a lot more level headed, mature, and pragmatic than Freeza, which is why he’s always been envious of how far ahead Freeza got in terms of power since birth, and how their father blatantly favored Freeza despite all the errors he made that seemed obvious to Coola. But when Freeza seemingly died by Goku’s hand, Coola’s loyalty to the notion of clan supremacy meant that he had to seek vengeance for his brother’s death, which is when he also showed off that he mastered an additional transformation of his final form that makes him even more powerful than Freeza! So let’s see, older brother of the series’ most iconic villain who is smarter and more competent than he, a better boss who inspires the actual loyalty of his minions, and has mastery over a fifth, even more powerful transformation that not even Freeza, the “most powerful being in the universe”, had or knew of? If you’re getting “fanfiction OC Villain Sue” vibes, I wouldn’t blame you, but that actually brings up the most brilliant part of Coola’s character - he’s actually a deconstructive subversion of a Villain Sue. For all his dismissal of Freeza’s overconfidence and being blinded by hatred of his Saiyan enemies, he falls prey to the exact same things during his battle with Goku, and then as he’s dying he realizes that Goku only lived to get as strong as he is because he’d seen his space pod shooting off into space but made the colossally stupid mistake of just letting him go while at the same time he was chiding Freeza for making the stupid mistake of overlooking the escaping pod! Seeing this hit Coola as he burns up in the sun is an immensely satisfying payoff. He kinda-sorta makes a comeback for the following movie, and has appeared in The Plan To Eradicate The Saiyans and a handful of video games, but nothing beats the memorability of his big debut.
14. Turles - The main villain of the third DBZ movie, Tree of Might. If Turles' appearance looks familiar to you, it's because he's sort of the OG Goku Black years before Black was a thing. In the movie he's depicted as a surviving Saiyan who swayed a handful of Freeza forces to defect from the Empire with him and form a competitor business, the Turles Crusher Corps, and there's literally no reason for him to share a face and hairstyle with Goku other than for symoblic purposes, as he represents with Kakarot might've grown up to be like had he never landed on Earth, gotten adopted by Gohan, and got a concussion, as the movie spells out towards the end. This setup seems pretty lazy, but Turles somehow manages to be an interesting, enjoyably fiendish and clever villain with a unique plan for sucking the life out of Earth so that he can lay claim to it and all its resources. My only lament with him is that the thrilling fight between him and Goku is for whatever reason continously interrupted by shots of the Earth as it's being effected by the Tree of Might, which weighs down the pace of the movie. But at least he goes out with a bang!
15. Garlic Jr. - The first DBZ anime movie villain and one of the good ones. The reasons for this is twofold - how he actually succeeds at what both Vegeta and Freeza wanted to do, wishing on the Dragon Balls for eternal life. But rather than making him too broken, this actually became a drawback for him in the end, as he’s stuck with a fate worse than death that he’s unable to escape. And also just how freaking dark and devilishly wicked he is. Seriously, here’s a dialogue sample from him: “The people of the universe better hear my voice now! From this day forward, I, Garlic Jr., will rule over all. I command all evil spirits to come forward and take on their physical forms once again. You are free to walk! A new dark age has finally begun! Let this world be drenched in the blood of the righteous. Now that I’m immortal, I will rule the universe forever! All creatures will obey me or perish. With every power I posses, my reign of terror will be everlasting!” Gives me chills, especially Don Brown’s rendition. Unfortunately, he also has two serious drawbacks. Not only is his entire evil plot that gains him immortality founded upon a massive plot hole (he tries to have Kami and Piccolo killed even though that would erase the Dragon Balls too, and he has Gohan abducted for no reason rather than simply take his Dragon Ball), but he was also recycled as the Big Bad of a godawful filler saga between the Freeza and Cell sagas of the anime that sort of suffered the Return Of Jafar syndrome - he himself wasn’t awful, he just didn’t show us much that we didn’t already see before and done better in his movie, wasn’t well serviced by the plot, and in general it just wasn’t a smart move to bring him into the anime’s narrative, as he and the events of his movie are incompatible with the canon story. His saga’s not quite Noah Kaiba level bad, but it’s close. That might’ve forever tarnished his image with fans, but he was a great villain in his debut movie.
16. Broly and Paragus - The evil Saiyans of Movie 8, The Legendary Super Saiyan. While the concept of two other surviving Saiyans of Planet Vegeta’s destruction seemed hard to swallow at first, they’re given some backstory that actually makes it plausible and even damn interesting, so they’re not merely another Turles situation. Paragus is fascinating due to how you can sympathize with him and understand why he’s bitter and yearns for a world to claim as his own and start up a new Saiyan race. However, he’s not only evil, deceptive, and a cold-blooded bastard, he is wildly, theatrically villainous, always flailing around with excitement and energy that makes him fun to watch. But its his young son Broly who’s the true theat. While he seems timid and quiet at first, it’s revealed that he’s the first known Saiyan to transform into a Super Saiyan outside of legend…and he’s also completely off his rocker. Broly is a psychotic monster, a sadist and a bully who relishes the opportunity to flaunt his power and destroy the lives of others for his own sick pleasure and amusement, and once a rampage starts for him, it will not stop until everyone and everything in his path is dead. His power is also very out of control, which is why Paragus does his best efforts to control his son and contain that power, which proves to be in vain when Goku becomes a factor, as Broly is 100% single-mindedly obsessed with killing Goku, or “KAKAROOOOTT!” as he's known to call him. There’s actually a reason for Broly’s madness, and while it's notoriously petty, it's not entirely nonsensical - when he was a newborn infant, his power rose to an abnormal level, as did that of the baby born on the same day who was right next to him: Kakarott. When Kakarott started crying, Broly eventually started crying too, with both babies shut in tubes unable to budge anywhere….and then King Vegeta ordered for baby Broly to be killed for his abnormal power level. Both he and his father barely survived…and Planet Vegeta got blown up soon after. So Goku isn’t really a reason for any of Broly’s insanity, he’s a trigger for it. His warped mind forever associates Kakarott and his crying with that trauma, so naturally he wants to silence Kakarott for good. Which still doesn’t even begin to excuse the level of cruelty Broly displays, though - as Gohan put it, he’s pure evil. Even Broly himself proudly proclaims to be a freak, a monster, even a DEVIL! He really was a solid villain in his debut movie, who unfortunately became an utterly awful one in his two later comebacks and it turned him into an oversaturated mess of a character, which kills a lot of goodwill that some could have for him. Alas, another victim of his own popularity. Thank Kami for Super!
17. Mira and Towa - A demonic duo known as the Time Breakers. Mira is the muscle of the team, preferring to take on enemies with his special powers and enhanced physical capabilities, whereas Towa is both the brains and the true power behind things, possessing both powerful sorcery skills and advanced scientific knowledge that she uses for her sick little experiments. It turns out that Towa is actually the sister of Dabura himself, and Mira is a warrior that she created through alchemy. First appearing in the MMORPG, Dragon Ball Online, and reappearing in the Xenoverse games, Heroes, Fusions, Kakarot and more, these two fiends have been relentless, formidable, and devious in all of their appearances to date.
18. Sealas and Aeos - Two of the most notable exclusive villains to come out of Super Dragon Ball Heroes, owing a lot to their designs and how they're both fallen heroes connected to time and space. Sealas is the founding operative of the Time Patrol and a strict believer in cosmic justice and in the greater good of necessary evils, wishing to do what's righteous even if he has to break natural laws and alter history to do so. Taking "with great power there must come great responsibility" to its most extreme, unhealthy level, Sealas broke with the Time Patrol and concluded that evil itself must be eradicated, and that this can only be truly done if history is rewritten to exclude all evil. It's a bit familiar and akin to Zamasu's motives, but much more "puritan" and semi-heroic in style and substance. Aeos, meanwhile, is the former Supreme Kai of Time who predates the Time Patrol and she cares nothing for any moralistic ideals such as justice: she is concerned only with balance and natural order, believing the existence of multiple timelines to be a threat to that. Personality-wise, she's one of the most fascinating antagonists in the franchise, seeming haughty, cold, and disdainful towards mortal beings and dismissive of her successor, yet she also showcases softer, kinder qualities, does deeds that seem good and fair, and isn't always so above it all when it comes to tactful reactions and behavior. She's hard to peg down, but after joining up with Chronoa and the rest for the final battle with Demigra, she has a change of heart regarding the multiverse and makes peace with her successor.
19. Hearts - Also hailing from the Dragon Ball Heroes canon is this dude. Hearts is a pale elven man who leads the Core Area Warriors and is known as the God Hater for his acts of revolt against the cosmic divine pantheon of the multiverse, as he seeks to liberate all mortal beings from the gods' grip. In this sense, he's like a Reverse Zamasu, cursing the existence of deities and wanting to kill them all in order to achieve a truly "free" multiverse. While arrogant, brash, hypocritical and self-righteous, Hearts is one of the more principled and values-believing baddies. He believes strongly in the multiverse's "nourishment" but has no qualms with launching terrorist attacks on planets and killing countless people in order to free only the surviving remainers, and it's a hypocritical contradiction he openly admits to and welcomes with grace. He's a rare good boss for this franchise who values his mortal comrades, and he appreciates a good fight with strong opponents just as much as the likes of Goku. Fittingly, he makes a Heel Turn later on and becomes as cool an ally as he was an enemy. My one huge issue with him is in his design - I think the hair he had during his initial appearance as a villain is way too similar to that of Fu, which makes looking at him a bit confusing. Thankfully he got a longer, more spiked out, better hair style later on.
20. Jiren the Gray - In what’s almost a reverse of Majin Buu, I didn’t care for this guy at all when he first came on the scene but he had a fairly strong finish to his run. He was this cookie cutter big, strong, silent, uber powerful warrior whose character was flat, archetype was done to death, and he just there to be what you were made to think Hit was going to be back in the Universe 6 Saga. In fact, I wouldn’t have classified him as a villain and put him here at all had the final round of the Tournament of Power not gone the way it did. We gradually came to learn that Jiren did have a single belief he followed in addition to his conviction to being the strongest fighter for the sake of his universe - that trust in others only ends in pain and disappointment, and that friendship need not exist among allies and teammates. He’s here for alliances, never for bonds. We even get his dark and troubled backstory that informs why he thinks and acts the way he does, which made him a lot more interesting in retrospect. And finally there’s his show of power in the final battle of the tournament. Holy crap, this is like what Majin Buu should have been in terms of how his full power was expressed. Jiren just feels like a nigh unstoppable engine of raw power and destructive fury. He exudes pure stamina, and for fighters with the power that the likes of Goku, Vegeta, Freeza, and even Android 17 have, there could be no worthier opponent. And if his “villain” status was in doubt, he fucking throws an attack straight at Goku’s friends in a spiteful act that forces Goku to jump in the way and ultimately de-powers him, which does effectively ensure that it was then impossible to root for Jiren and we wanted to see him get his ass handed to him even more! But despite this, he also displayed some honor and displeasure in having to take Goku out in a dirty way as suggested by Belmond, making him hard to outright hate either. The final leg of the fight with him is nothing short of amazing and the way he goes down is incredibly satisfying to see. He even gets a very touching sendoff with his teammates and then when brought back into existence, shows signs of possibly rethinking things and starting to grow and change for the better, and his hope to have a rematch with Goku and the rest of Universe 7′s fighters might be a sign of more things in times yet to come.
21. Lord Slug - The main villain of Movie 4. While he's a flat character with little motivation beyond warfare and conquest of worlds, Slug mainly works for the twist that was pulled with his character, as well known as it is now. Him blatantly ripping off King Piccolo's shtick of being old and wishing for his youth restored should give it away, but the fact that Slug is Namekian is a big reveal in the film, because he actually went to lengths to hide that about himself, wearing a helmet that covers his antennaes and ears, and coverings around his arms and legs. This is what makes him stand out, the fact that he is an actual, genuinely, by choice evil Namekian, who in a brazen act of betrayal of his people has become an invading warlord who makes conflicts and kills others, going directly against the Namekian's peace-loving ways. He also happens to be a Super Namekian, one who can expand his size to even larger heights than even Piccolo could! His big fight with Goku was overall nothing to write home about save for that and the moment Goku becomes a False Super Saiyan, but how he gets defeated, I could never forget.
22. Bojack - The main villain of Movie 9, Bojack Unbound. As hard as it is to hear his name and not think of a certain Horse Man, Bojack was quite the credible threat with a slick design and a charismatic presence. The strongest, most ruthless and fearsome space pirate in the universe, he rought havock across all four galaxies before getting imprisoned by the Kais. He's also a flat character who just exists to provide this movie with a villain, and how he and his crew come into the plot is absolutely ludicrous - turns out he was imprisoned inside of King Kai's planet, somehow even surviving what Beerus did to it, but got released when it got blown up by self-destructing Cell. And then they go on to partake in a beat by beat repeat of the Cell Games. In a movie where the Cell Games were established to have occurred. That's the one thing that takes me out about him, but otherwise he gets the job done well enough and was badass enough to make repeat appearances in Fusion Reborn and games, most notably Dragon Ball Heroes, which fleshed out his character better.
23. Dr. Lychee/Hatchiyack - Technically Dr. Lychee is an old alien scientist and Hatchiyack is his creation that carries on his hateful mind and spirit after he's passed away, but they’re connected in that way so they’ve both got this spot here. Originating from The Plan To Erradicate The Saiyans, the first DBZ video game to actually have a plot and two different OVA adaptations to accompany it, Lychee actually has understandable reason to hate the Saiyans and want them wiped out because, well, the Saiyans when working under the Freeza Planet Trade Empire were horrible and he’s one of their many victims. Thus Hatchiyack was created to be the ultimate anti-Saiyan weapon. And clearly the idea behind this caught on with fans and creators alike, as both Dr. Myuu with Baby in GT and Dr. Paparoni with Aniraza in Super were clearly inspired by Dr. Lychee and Hatchiyack. In that way, this mad space doctor’s spirit still lives on.
24. Dr. Myuu - Speaking of ol’ Dr. Myuu, he’s one of the beter villains from the poorly done turd pile that was Dragon Ball GT. Being one part alien and one part machine, possessing a keen scientific mind and a feverish passion for his experiments, and having ambitions to control the universe and convert all of its denizens into his machines, Myuu was a cruel and treacherous villain who raised the stakes and darkened up the scene in a show that had begun as a stupid wacky throwback to DB’s roots but Recycled IN SPACE! From his very design, you can tell he's essentially Dr. Gero Recycled IN SPACE! He masterminded much of what went on in that initial saga by directing the Cult of Ludd from behind the curtian, had many intimidating robotic and cyborg henchman like General Rilldo (himself a decent antagonist too), even had Giru working with Goku, Pan and Trunks as a spy for him (or so he’d hoped), and the set of episodes on Planet M-2 where the heroes faced him down really was the high point of the GT series, especially when it reached it’s downright terrifying finale. Myuu himself was also the best part of the otherwise abysmal Super 17 saga, where he got to work with his counterpart Dr. Gero, and stab him in the back to try and rule Hell and Earth,
25. Baby - OK, his character is uninspired and derived from other, better villains, his arrival on Earth marked when GT took a turn for the increasingly worse and more boring, and his name is Baby: there is no fucking way I can take that as a serious villain. Yet despite all that, he's objectively the strongest GT-exclusive Big Bad. The idea behind his character arc is actually brimming with potential, how he's a living conduit of wrath against the Saiyans for all the victims they'd claimed as well as seeking a new planet to settle and populate, but in his fervor to achieve his goals he ends up becoming every bit as cruel, self-interested and power-mad as the Saiyans. He's also the source of some genuine horror and Paranoia Fuel with how he can extend his mind and possess anyone he chooses. The execution just fails him like it failed many others, including a needless extended takeover of Vegeta's body, a transformation into a giant golden gorilla, and getting killed while trying to flee rather than engaging in one final fight. Good for him that he's not the worst, but he still could've been much better than a weird pale Hatchiyack imitation.
Honorable Mentions:
Dr. Gero - This guy played Greater Scope Villain for the Red Ribbon Saga, the Androids/Cell Saga, and Dragon Ball Super: Superhero, not to mention had a part in other stuff like (ugh) the Super 17 Saga in GT and the storyline of FighterZ. Gero is unique in that he never really got to play the Big Bad role at any point despite having been the originally intended Big Bad for the Androids Saga, yet stands responsible for as much widespread damage as any Big Bad all due to the bitterness, hatred, malice and stubborn pride within him that refused to die even as he aged and lost all the family he had. While he thus couldn't make the list, it is commendable all the same.
Tienshinhan - Tien played the role of Big Bad for the 22nd Budokai Saga, fighting in the tournament under the guidance of his mentor, Master Shen the Hermit Crane. A good old fashioned martial arts antagonist in the vein of the Cobra Kai jerks in The Karate Kid, Tien played the role with exquisite disdain, cockiness, and cold blooded cruelty while also being the most interesting character who recieves great character development before his explosive bout with Goku and embarking on a compelling redemption arc for the next Sagas. Far from the franchise's best baddie, but servicable for what he was.
Babidi - Initially the primary antagonist of the Majin Buu arc before Buu himself killed him and went rouge to do his own shit, the dark wizard Babidi is completely vile and reprehensible, not to mention absolutely hideous, but managed to retain a certain charm and whimsy about him that is typical in Toriyama antagonists. The terror of Buu would not have been possible without him and his deceased father Bibidi, nor would the good stuff that came with it like the sacrificial redemption of Vegeta, the fusions of Goten and Trunks, and the character development of Mr. Satan! Oh, and the debut of...
Dabura - While introduced to the franchise as a cultist working with Babidi to revive Majin Buu, Dabura was also stated to be among the most powerful of lords from the demon realm, someone who even the Supreme Kai feared, and carried about him quite the fiendish, sinister presence, making how he got done in by Buu to feel like quite a waste. Thankfully, he's made a resurgance in video game canons like Xenoverse and Heroes, expanding upon him as a Big Bad devil!
Black Smoke Shenron - I actually don’t like this one - I just like the idea behind him. The concept that the great dragon diety of the Dragon Balls turns into a dark, evil creature as consequence of the Dragon Balls being overused for selfish wishes was a very inspired one, and that’s…actually an even better idea for a franchise final boss than Freeza, Cell, Buu, or Beerus, as it hearkens back to the very start of the story. So it's a damn shame that this concept had to be utterly wasted with the underwhelming, unitelligable usage of the 7 Shadow Dragons, even the cool looking Omega Shenron! Just give me the initial cigar chomping evil smoke dragon and I’m good!
#Dragon Ball#Dragon Ball Z#Dragon Ball GT#Dragon Ball Super#Dragon Ball Heroes#Xenoverse#villains#opinion#analysis
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Babylon 5 s02e16: In the Shadow of Z'ha'dum
s02 ToC • previous episode
Dislike that they're turning the Narn refugees back unless they're injured. At least they're taking the injured, but damn, Earth won't take any refugees, even temporarily? That's awful.
Vir: Stop asking me things with uncomfortable answers. It makes me uncomfortable.
Not a great time to be a Centauri with a shred of a conscience, but a political position. Especially gross to be anyone dealing with fuckhead the asshole. Mor something?
Great hate speech by Vir, he's come a long way in expressing himself. It would be nice to see Shadow-lackey die a terrible death.
I, personally, would not name any kind of ship or vessel which I wished to remain in one piece, the Icarus. I'm not superstitious superstitious but I am a little superstitious. Don't wanna get on a submersible boat named Titan Titanic, either. Just seems like tempting fate. Or if not fate, then getting mocked in memes by teenagers after your ironic death.
Dun dun dun!! Shadow asshat was supposed to have died on the Icarus with Anna! Is she dead? Is any of that crew dead?
Morden. And he's on the station!
I reflexively distrust and dislike every single person who comes onto the station specifically to see Talia. Matt Stoner. Every PsiCorps episode. That time Kosh and the Guy With The Good Hat indulged in a little, light, mental torture to evaluate her. People just fuck with Talia and she deserves a break and a nice episode where she kisses Susan and relaxes a little.
This security guard taking Morden aside looks a lot like Willem Dafoe. But I don't think he is. Probably?
Morden's playing it slick, but Sheridan is in a bad bad mood. He's got a good explanation. He's a damned liar and he's AWOL. Just because he was assumed KIA doesn't mean he isn't still obligated to report back to duty.
But of course, Sheridan prefers to threaten him with making his legal status become his actual physical status (dead).
It makes sense that someone who's seen as much trauma and been traumatized as much as Stephen Franklin would need to talk it out. And it makes sense that he would have lowered inhibitions and feel compelled to talk about it when he's in the middle of another traumatic scenario. But the religious musings spoken through the characters' mouths is pretty tedious and not my favorite aspect.
Gross earthforce spy network setup.
Garibaldi being the voice of reason and urging adherence to moral guidelines is hilarious. Maybe that's what he needs: someone who's more of a loose cannon than he is, to keep in line.
This dichotomy is dumb. Message earthforce and be like "May I detain this AWOL member of earthforce that, surprise, isn't dead!" They're so suspicious and fascist right now, of course they'll support detaining him!
Idk if Talia going to help violate Morden's rights or not. And idk what Vir is going to disclose! Exciting!
The Centauri must go through so much hairspray. Vir's hair hardly even wobbles as he bobbles.
Literally it seems like all of thise would be resolved by calling Earthforce and telling them Morden's alive. I really don't understand why Sheridan isn't using the might of Earthforce to do all this with full military backing and support.
Two creepy shadow being accompanying Morden! I don't like that at all!
People really need to stop using Talia's abilities against her and to manipulate her into using telepathy against her better judgement and against the literal law. Super dickish. Sheridan's making a lot of indefensible calls in this one.
They need a therapist or twenty on board.
The Vorlon are so funny. All of the lesser races are as bugs to us….the Minbari are the best bugs and we prefer the best bugs to any of you annoying ones.
Deep Lore Dump.
The Ancients (who haven't "walked among us" in ten thousand years) fought the First Ones and (?) the Shadows over the millennia. They haven't been around since the last Great War. The Minbari were a space-going civilization at the time! Damn! No wonder they're so elitist! They've Seen It All.
So…Vorlons are some of the Ancients? Or at least they sheltered Kosh, an Ancient among their ranks? Wild that "everyone" will recognize him if he's out of his encounter suit. Or perhaps Kosh's idea of everyone is "everyone who knew me ten thousand years ago," lol.
Very grim outcome for the crew of the Icarus, but it does make me think that Anna will be back.
Anytime there's a debate about allowing mass death and atrocities for some future greater good, I don't care. Save the people in front of you. This WWII story is grim af. iirc, Britain was great at catching German spies. I should think they could totally have evacuated Coventry secretly. Really grim.
"What did you see?"
"Nothing. Shadows."
Ewwww gross, Zach the security guard is going to be an earthforce informer. I really, really do not like the implications of a group of people with armbands being spread around to intimidate the populace.
This is a good decision by Sheridan. He's good at war, and it will be better for him to turn his energy into beating an ancient evil than to spin his wheels at B5.
Kosh saying he will die if he goes to Z'ha'dum doesn't mean he'll die if he fights the Shadows, imo. Many things in this show seem to revolve around loopholes, semantics, and pedantry. What if the Shadow leaves Z'ha'dum and is defeated in another place? That's a Sheridan-worthy escape clause from Prophecy of Doom.
next episode
#babylon 5#b5#morden#that asshole#john sheridan#woodsfae gif#john sheridan x human rights violations#garibaldi x newly discovered ethical principles#woodsfae b5
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So I obsess a lot about how small and vulnerable Jamie looks when he goes to ask Ted to let him come back to Richmond in the second episode of season two, but today I rewatched the second episode of season one and now I'm having Feelings about how similar Jamie's whole vibe is in the “positive reinforcement” scene. They’ve just played their first match under Ted and lost, and Ted’s called Jamie into his office to try out Keeley’s suggestion on how to get through to Jamie.
There's this gifset showing how Jamie tends to look down when he's feeling vulnerable, and that's exactly Jamie's response when Ted compliments him in this scene as well. But also, now that I know what to look for, I realized that that vulnerability never goes away at any point during this scene. Everything about his body language the entire time is SO much like the scene in Lavender.
Watching this scene again also made me wonder if Jamie doesn't actually get praised that often - at least not in meaningful, one-on-one settings by people who are actually in his life. Obviously Jamie's rich and famous and he gets a lot of praise from fans, but there's a different quality to a bunch of strangers singing your praises vs somebody looking you in the eye and telling you, genuinely, that you are "the best athlete I have ever coached."
I mean, our boy is just completely caught off-guard this entire scene - you can see the wheels turning in his head, can see him trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. At the end of the scene he even leaves the room sort of looking around in bewilderment, like he can't figure out what just happened to him.
(Kinda makes you wonder how conversations with his coaches after a lost match usually tend to go.)
It’s also kind of just hit me how much Jamie's specific verbal response (not just his body language) stands out here. "Wow. Um. Yeah, I work hard, yeah." He doesn't say "well, obviously" or "yeah, I'm the shit ain't I?" or "ha, tell me somethin' I don't know" or anything else you'd expect him to respond with based on the personality he's projecting at this time in the series. He’s honest. He’s a little awkward. He can’t seem to make eye contact with Ted for more than half a second. Again, let me remind you, this is episode TWO. This is height-of-prickishness-Jamie.
It's also interesting that, despite the arrogance he’s been showing, Jamie is also very ready to be criticized - and there's no indication he's even mad about it. When he first walks into the room, Jamie looks like he thinks he's in trouble and is clearly surprised when Ted says something kind instead. And when Ted says that Jamie's truly great at everything he does "except for one thing," Jamie immediately suggests that Ted's talking about his left foot cross. Jamie is fully prepared for Ted to point out the smallest flaws in his technique, maybe because that's what he's used to. Now, it's certainly not a bad thing for Jamie's past coaches to have been nitpicky with him - I'm sure it's part of why Jamie's so skilled, along with Jamie's own level of commitment - but knowing about his dad, and judging by the way he responds to Ted's compliments in this scene, I think he's been criticized by authority figures a lot more than he's been praised.
It's also just. fascinating how INSTANT the change in Jamie's whole demeanor is. I mean, damn, "responds well to positive reinforcement" indeed. Up until this point, Jamie's been dickish and performative and over the top - but the second Ted gives him a genuine compliment? Jamie starts speaking more quietly, he looks down, he gets this fucking softness in his eyes that stays there throughout the entire scene. Seriously, look at his face after Ted ends their conversation by adding "that was a heck of a goal out there, by the way."
Just. like. the tiniest bit of genuine praise (given to him one-on-one, without any other people around apart from Beard) and his entire demeanor is completely transformed.
TL;DR: This is our first glimpse of vulnerability from Jamie, and (much like with the first genuine smile) I've realized that it came a whole lot earlier in the series than I'd previously thought because it turns out I just hadn't known what to look for, and I'm having a lot of feelings about it.
#jamie tartt#ted lasso#ted lasso meta#me getting 3/4 of the way thru episode 2 and thinking hmm maybe there won't be a lot of jamie feels for me in this one#i was a fool#also this makes me hope episode 2 of season three will also contain a vulnerable jamie talking to ted scene#a pattern perhaps?#i mean i just want season 3 to contain many vulnerable jamie scenes period#anyway#the great third ted lasso viewing
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Billy Hargrove: In The Rain
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader
Pov: Reader
Warnings: Falling in love, cuteness, cute side of billy, teasing
Summary: Sitting with Billy in the rain.
A/n- @firefly-graphics for dividers
WC: 1k
Stranger Things Master List
The Adults Master List
I knew the minute I saw Billy in class that I just had crack this case. He was quite but brute force to messed with. He scared everyone away, but me. That leather jacket intrigued me, and that smirking grin on his dumb face was dragging me into him.
He didn’t introduce himself as he plopped down next to me. He smelt like heaven, a mixture of car oil, and a hint of cologne. Nothing overbearing, or just like every other in Hawkins High. He was dangerous I could tell by that smug look, and by the way he walked into class almost like he owned everything he set his eyes on.
This went on for months, he’d plop down next to me. We’d work in silence never once talking to each other, until I turned the anticipation was killing me. I wanted to more about this mysterious guy who just so happened to choose the seat next to me. “Who are you?” I asked, it wasn’t all that forceful regardless it was a start.
I felt that air in the room shift as he turned looking at me. His eyes were stunning, ocean blue eyes staring at me. His lips were plump, and that jawline had me dying on the inside. “I should ask you the same.” He said, tight lipped and turned back around to his work.
I continued pushing, “Seriously… I’ve been sitting next to you for months. You have to image that you’ve got a girl wondering who you are and where she can find one like you?” I said. It was a rambling of information coming from the top of my thoughts.
No filter.
That’s what I called it. No filter was the worse was to go, but see as he was looking at me still I’d say I was in the green. “Well Missy if you must know the names Billy. And frankly you don’t go looking since you’re already staring at me.” I stared at him dumbfounded. “You might wanna close your mouth before you start catching flys.” He said to me.
Now this was nearly six months ago, and now we are stuck to each other like glue. HIs stepsister Max never tattled as I climbed through his window, or teased him when she saw the two of us curled up together.
As we laid their in bed together, interlocked with our limbs and heart. The sky turned dark I could hear the rumbling in the far off distance. I shivered as the hot summer air cooled the entire room, the entire house.
He pulled me in closer, and the window outside turned dark. Then the rain started to pour. The pouring rain was steady and the sound was more than comfortable. Soothing in every word. “You know for such a tough girl, you are very much scared of the rain,” Billy said, I grumbled and closed my eyes.
I stayed like that for a moment, breathing in the scent of warmth and oil. Billy's clothes all smelt like the type of smell you’d think you’d want to stay away from, but it grew on you.
Grew into your heart and made everything seem all better in the end. Gave you some sort of comfort. Another strike and rumble came trough Hawkins. Sounding closer, and scarier. I shivered yet again and jumped as the thunder clapped around us. Like it was caving in on us.
It was silent for just a moment, then Billy grabbed my wasit and flipped me over. Sitting on his lap he looked up at me. “Do you wanna know something?” He asked, and normally I’d say ‘no’ and he’d day whatever dickish thing he could think of just to make me laugh. This was different though there was a sort of sersiouness to what was about to come.
“Yeah of course I wanna know something,” I answered. My hands were laid on top of Billy's chest. I could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat and his lungs falling and rising. Billy's hand laid on my hips, not moving, just a nice comforting feeling.
“When I was a kid, you know a little shit head just like Maxine.’ I rolled my eyes, but he kept going. “I used to love to go out in the rain, sit out in the front yard all because of my mother. She’d come out with me. We’d lay on the ground and just let the rain fall.” Billy said, there was something behind his eyes, so blue. So true to his words.
All this time we’d been together. Billy was finally opening up, and so was I. In our own twisted odd ways. “So let’s go out into the rain!” I said, my hands were leaving his chest. “Are you sure?” He asked. Billy was ever so gentle.
“I maybe afraid of the rain, thunder, and even the lighting, but when I do know is that you and I will be out in the front lawn together getting wet from the rain together.” I said. I got up from billys lap, and he followed behind me. Max was in the living room, but said nothing as we left to go out side. Nothing as we went out into the rainy weather.
The rain was cold when we first left the warm house. Billy stayed close to me, as he guided me to a somewhat clean spot on the lawn. That spot wasn’t perfect, or anything grand. “I know it’s not the greatest spot”
Billy went on to say interrupting him was my favorite thing to do. “But it doesn’t need or have to even look perfect Billy. Because I’m with you, that for me is enough to fend off the bad feelings I get from the rain and anything else that scares me.” I said.
Billy smiled and kissed me on the forehead the rain-soaked into my clothes and Billy's. Our hair was soaked. Billy's curly locks become even tighter curls. The clouds were starting to roll away, and even with it still dark outside the night's stars came out and were beautiful.
"Y/n regardless of sitting out here with you in the wet and cold. I love you. I love you no matter your fears." Billy said.
The adults-
Posted: 07/04/22
Completed on: 07/04/22
#billy hargrove#strangers things#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove one shot#stranger things
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(Same IDW Silver anon still)
Yeah no actually I'm putting some more thought into the whole "No, genius. Whisper is her name." part, and what the fuck. There would have been SO many ways to make that line come off as less dickish; hell, the simple act of having Sonic playfully SMILING while he said it would have been so much better than the irked, annoyed face he pulls now. Sonic, that is your friend you are talking to, and I would call their circumstances at that moment hardly warranting of such annoyance towards Silver not understanding something that inoffensive. I'm thinking of 06!Sonic and Silver meeting with Silver's resolve having changed and him just bluntly going "Circumstances have changed. I need to rescue the Princess.". What does Sonic do? Nod, thumbs-up, and let Silver go along easy and with no fuss. No quips and jerkish statements that indicates he thinks Silver is being a dumbass, merely checking out the situation with a "You look like you're in a hurry. So what's going on?". If you look closely I believe you can even see Sonic smiling in that moment! With that in mind, I truly cannot envision that Sonic and IDW!Sonic to be the same person, legit.
I read your response to my earlier post just now after typing the above, and yep, Sonic's thing about his 'over-eager friend' is just also kind of mean. And the literal panel on the next page after "No genius", wherein Sonic does his smug little bow and calls Silver 'Flatware' while asking him to open the door? Also that is yet another jab towards Silver (I think; I don't even understand what flatware is supposed to mean in this context. It's literal definition is something akin to cutlery, it seems? Regardless, I doubt it is anything kind-spirited). It's a shame because I can see so many ways wherein Sonic could have been more friendly while changing so little dialogue, and both he and Silver would have been much better off for it personality-wise.
I think the Flatware joke is supposed to be at best a pun about his name (because good flatware is made of silver) and at worst a jab at his quills that might resemble a fork. Probably the former. Still mean.
Sonic in that issue just sounds like that "friend" who thinks the height of humor is lowkey making fun of you.
"You had to bring the mood down", "I'm Sonic, and my over-eager friend here is Silver", "No, genius, Whisper is her name" (said with a cringy grimace), "care to get the door for us, Flatware?" (mocking bow). Silver even rightfully says "no need to rub it in". I'm sorry, I feel bad for him! Yes, Sonic is snarky and playful, but he never crosses the line where he sounds meanspirited, and if he does, it's when he's 100% sure that the other can dish back, like in that cutscene in Colors where he playfully states that he did all the work and Tails was like "oh I didn't see you build a translator now, did you?". That moment is nice because Sonic and Tails are very close friends and no one is offended. If Tails had been more insecure, Sonic would have immediately apologized and propped Tails up, because it's what Sonic does: he lifts people up!
And it's just with Silver, because he's actually pretty sensitive with Whisper! He immediately understands, without even knowing her, that she's a reserved person who doesn't like interacting with people. He's very respectful of her preference to stay on her own. So it's just an attempt of making Sonic sound a jokester, but the jokes aren't funny.
anyway sonic and silver should interact more and sonic should be nicer to him. I loved a recent fanart of the two discussing about nature together :)
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BIG NEWS
Hey hunny bunnies, I'm finally getting somewhere with the rivals to lovers fic my darlings ⛄️ and 🪐 requested (your ideas were very similar so I incorporated them both 😁)
I'm just going to run a little debrief about it and include a tiny little snippet- and we have a BIG decision to make at the end. I LOVE LOVE LOVE this idea and I'm so sorry it took me so long to get onto it but I've finally started writing, I just have a lot to balance between school and tumblr so it might take the end of the week for me to publish the finished thing, I hope that's alright 🙏
Without any further ado: this is my AONUNG X FEM!METKAYINA! WARRIOR!READER TEASER
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It first happened when you were kids. The first time that stupid skxawng beat you, and it never seemed to end. You knew you were just as talented, just as ferocious, just as determined, but he was always just larger and stronger. It probably also helped that he would be Olo'eyktan.
So year after year, after every fight, every hunt, every trial, you would always be second. Silver. Sure, you could smash down every other warrior. Sure, you could outrun and outswim and even outrank any other person in the clan, but there would always be him. Aonung.
He was, in fact, a complete and utter idiot. He was all big and perfect and beloved by the clan, despite all his flaws. Because those flaws seemed perfectly obvious to you, his competition, but everyone else just fawned over his big muscles and pretty blue eyes and you were determined to never do so.
He was cocky. He was a player. He had more muscles in his arms than braincells in his head. He was condescending and entitled and just somehow managed to get away with everything.
So you were determined to be the person to call him out. If everyone was going to baby him and feed his practically obese ego, you would try to keep him in check.
You wouldn't fawn and fall at his feet. Every word you spoke to his was twice as harsh as to others. Every blow you delivered in training was harder than the last, and certainly harder than anyone else would dare to hit the precious little prince. Every look you sent him clearly showed your distaste that he, somehow, always was above you.
And he seemed to get it. As you got older, he became less dickish towards you. By the time you finished your iknimaya, he had congratulated you. By the time the Sully's came to the reef, if you called him out on his taunting, he'd pull his head back in.
You, of course, had no idea why. Everyone else did though. The way Aonung would only do as you say was perfectly obvious to everyone else. Ronal and Tonowari had figured it out early, that their son hardly listened to them, so they managed to sneak you into it when they wanted him to do something.
And Aonung tried to get over it. That's why he spent his days training hard, trying to beat away and sweat out all his ceaseless thoughts of you. Thoughts that mortify him, thoughts that you would murder him over.
That's why he spends his nights with a new girl every time, on the beach, in the water, on the woven floor of marui's, trying to fuck his desires for you out into another girl.
He can't help it- the way he imagines it's always you. You squirming as he lays with his head nestled between your shaking thighs, holding you down and drawing desperate moans out of your mouth so usually full of quips and snarls.
You on your knees in front of him, the same eyes that glare when you watch him filled with tears as you take him far into your throat, your soft lips brushing over his hard length.
Imagining you're the one under him, riding him, bent over in front of him, the curve of your ass and the softness of your tits on complete display for him.
Fuck.
It was bad. It was really fucking bad.
You were his second in command, you were his biggest competition. What used to be a childish crush was rapidly growing into a mature, dangerous obsession.
What he wouldn't give to have you as his, to be yours...
You, of course, on the other hand, are completely oblivious to his infatuation with you. For years, you've written off the way he treats you differently as simply part of the game, part of the competition the two of you have entertained for so long.
You have no idea of the blunt lust and deep affection he harbours for you, and you're certainly oblivious to his efforts to get closer to you. The first could have been anything, and it never would have occurred to you that it was courting.
In the years since your iknimaya, the rivalry between the two of you had fizzled slightly. You could accept his outranking you- he, at least, was worth the top position.
So you followed his orders with 60% obedience and managed to build a courteous, polite relationship with him. You were not quite friends, yet you both respected the other, and managed to share a good conversation every now and then.
Which is why it seemed so shocking that he was suddenly starting to compete with you again. He, of course, isn't doing anything of the sort, but you think he's falling back into the old rivalry.
It all started with the summer hunt.
Really, it was your fault. You let yourself get overconfident, sure that the huge fish you had speared through the heart would be the largest catch of the clan, and you had been pleased with yourself and returned to the village.
There was much admiration and praise for your amazing catch, everyone congratulating you until suddenly it all stopped. You weren't an attention seeker at all, but you couldn't help feeling irritated that something was suddenly so important.
Which, of course, has to be Aonung.
He's striding towards you, his large, muscular arms straining under the weight of the fish he's holding. It's fucking massive, completely putting your batch to shame, with shimmery scales and terrifying spikes all along it's back and fins and mouth and tail.
Almost instantly, everyone that had been congratulating you practically pounces onto him, gushing over their precious little prince and his unimaginable talents, his incredible strength, his impossible bravery yadayadayada.
You, on the other hand, just stay back, arms folded and a scowl fixed onto your face. You aren't bitter he did better than you (well maybe a little but that wasn't the point). After thinking you both got over this competition on at least surface level, here he was, bringing his haul over to you to completely undermine your efforts. To show, once again, he beat you.
But as everyone fawned all over him, he just continues to walk to you, returning a smile every now and then but staying in silence as he approaches. His bright blue eyes are fixed into yours the whole time.
He doesn't look cocky; there's a strange glint in those ocean eyes that you can't interpret. He's doing something, you can obviously tell at least that, trying to prove himself in some way.
And of course, your competitive, fierce mind jumps straight into the past. You can't believe he's doing this now, making you look ridiculous and small and undermining you with his amazing catch.
He finally reaches your woven basket, in which your now seemingly tiny fish lies. You fold your arms and stare blankly up at him, not bothering to hide your annoyance.
"Hey," he smiles, shifting the fish in his arms so he can see you better.
"Hey," you reply slightly coldly, raising your brows slightly and watching him.
He was attractive, you can admit that. Not just in a pretty way, he was so pretty it had every girl falling at his feet, and he was always happy to offer his time to them. It was something in that white shiny smile and bright blue eyes, maybe something to do with that air of slight mischief and danger that lingered around him.
It also could be his body. That was good too. All muscular and giant and taller than anyone else in the clan, even Tonowari. He moved with confidence and slight cockiness, the curve of his broad shoulders rolling gracefully when he moved. It was something to do with the sharpness of his collarbones and jawline, or the way his lashes curled so gently. There is a slight X shape to his ribcage, his stomach toned and muscly just like the rest of him, tapering into a slim waist.
“Good catch,” Aonung says, nodding down at your basket that looks ridiculous beside his.
You squint at him, is he making fun of you?
But he looks genuinely sincere, and also nervous.
Aonung. Nervous.
Aonung, the prince of the clan, the most confident even cocky person you know, is standing slightly awkwardly in front of you, looking nervous.
You aren’t sure if it’s your face- your glare does tend to have a terrifying effect on people, but you decide you’ve glared at him and he’s never looked this nervous around you before. In fact, you’ve never even seen him be nervous ever. Not at any fight or hunt or even at his iknimaya.
That only makes you more annoyed.
“Yours is better,” you reply bluntly. It’s an obvious fact, and Aonung smiles slightly.
“Thank you,” he grins. “I went outside the reef to three brothers rock-“
“Isn’t that a bit far,” you ask sceptically. “And a little dangerous?”
You go to hunt at three brothers rock every few days, but what was this skxawng playing at, going to such extreme lengths to beat you.
“I wanted to bring something good back,” he shrugs.
You scowl a little deeper. The other clan members that had been offering their congratulations were now dispersing. Sure, your arguments with Aonung were known to be a great source of entertainment for the clan, almost as much as the actual warrior fights, but they also knew better than to overstay their welcome when it came to the two highest ranking warriors in the clan. And this is where this is heading, an argument.
Really, you had slackened in your insults and keeping Aonung in line over the last few years, the competition between the two of you dying out slowly let you let him off the hook. He had used his new freedom to fuck around with his friends and girls and you had put your efforts into training and proving yourself.
“What are you trying to do Aonung,” you sigh, sharpening your knife to carve the fish.
“What do you mean?” He asks, sounding confused.
“You’ve never gone hunting beyond the reef except when you’re trying to prove a point,” you say bluntly, not looking up from sharpening your knife. “Like when you nearly got Lo’ak killed when we were kids. So what point are you trying to prove?”
When he doesn’t say anything, just staring down at you, you put your knife down with a small snarl and glare up at him. But before you can say anything, the next wave of villagers walks past, and they bustle around aonung to marvel at his incredible hunting skills and unbelievable daring and oh my god you’re just strong!
And Aonung just doesn’t seem to care. He usually is aloof and cocky, but he enjoys praise and ass kissing. The new crowd blocks you from his view, and you shift slightly to keep it that way, while you can take another look at him. He looks like he’s trying to find you, craning his neck and ignoring all the praises and flirtings thrown at his fucking feet. His brows are furrowed and he looks torn between confusion and slight upset that you’ve suddenly disappeared.
Stupid skxawng.
You sigh, gaze flicking to the basket of your smaller fish lying ignored and abandoned beside the group clamouring over Aonung’s massive, incredible one, and sigh.
You leave it there and slip back through the crowd and into your marui.
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So yeah, that's what I have so far 😁 pls let me know how i did. ☃️ and 🪐 my darlings, dont be shy to tell me any feedback for this bc this is just how I interpreted the requests, if there is a way you'd prefer it to be written, feel free to ask
ALSO, PLS COMMENT ANY NAME IDEAS FOR THE FIC, BECAUSE I CAN'T THINK OF ANY!!!!!!
Okay that's all for now, don't be shy to chat my pookie pies, I'll just leave you with this beautiful picture of our man I screenshotted 😘 I just know that's the face he'd be making if he found out about all the tawtute simping for him
#aonung#avatar fanfiction#aonung fic#aonung x reader#aonung x female reader#avatar smut#aonung fanfiction#avatar fandom#avatar the way of water#avatar
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kinnporsche ep. 4 part 2: Permeability Of Porsche
-big didn’t set porsche up to get caught skulking around kinn’s room, he just told him to make the delivery. so either he was expecting porsche to just get an eyeful and maybe a telling off, or he (correctly) guessed that porsche wouldn’t pass up this opportunity to be nosy-- which imo you can’t blame big for. but then porsche has this outsize reaction to what he just saw (only when he’s safely out of the room, of course) and scolds big for it, and big... looks like he feels kinda bad? like he’s aware he did something spiritually dickish if not technically wrong? i’m not going anywhere with this is just think big is an interesting character; on first watch i guessed he was the mole and didn’t suspect the INCREDIBLY SUS australian, but in retrospect i think i was just so fascinated by him that i assumed he had a more central role than he did. also, big is really cute and i like his hair :)
-let’s talk about porsche’s outsize reaction to seeing his boss getting head! on one level i think his stress response is purely professional; his worries about getting fired are ramping up as he comes to realize how dangerous this job is and how catastrophically bad it would be to piss these people off. on another level, however, this revelation sends him into a tailspin as he revisits every encounter he’s ever had with kinn and wonders what secret insinuations he missed just because it didn’t occur to him to look for them. he even reverse-represses the memory of getting kissed by his boss while he was blackout drunk! oof.
-which leads me to my next point, about where i think porsche’s head is at right now. it is very very tempting to take this as his first little micro-awakening-- “oh, we kissed. oh, he’s gay. I saw someone sucking his dick and it made me go all squirmy in my bathing suit area!” but i don’t think that’s what’s happening at all. For one thing, porsche may have a bit of tunnel vision, but he’s not exactly sheltered: when he confronts big after the fact, and big tries to corner him into admitting something incriminating about himself and his views on The Gays (i assume big is aware that kinn is standing in earshot), porsche’s response is basically: “are you stupid? who cares if he’s gay? i’m mad because i got caught in his room while he had company.” his concern there is mostly professional, with a side of rapidly decreasing patience for big’s hazing.
-the reason for this is, i think, related to one of the few things kinnporsche have in common: to both of them, sex is always transactional. in kinn’s case the transaction is explicit and financial-- he literally just has a list of guys he pays to come service him, the same way you’d pay a mechanic to take a look at a, idk, broken transmission. (If you tell me those guys aren’t on his payroll one way or another, i won’t believe you.) the guy he calls to help him deal with his porsche problem is aware of this, but also doesn’t seem terribly curious about it-- he’s here to help kinn fuck the wiggles out, not to be his boyfriend.
Porsche’s hookups seem to be more implicitly transactional, folded artfully into his work in the service industry. They’re probably at least a little fun for him, but the way Yok points out prospective hookups makes me think sleeping with the customers is soft-coded into his work duties. he is part of what’s being offered at Hum Bar. if he enjoys these encounters, so much the better-- but the important thing is that the customers leave happy. this is not to say that i think he’s a sex worker, exactly-- just that it’s part of a culture in which the sex he’s having is tied up with profit, so there’s no way for him to navigate pure personal desire uncoupled from a paycheck.
which isn’t exactly made less complicated by his sudden awareness that his boss might have been interested in him from the beginning. i think when he nervously asks pete if it’s normal for people who don’t like each other to kiss, he’s partly looking for pete to confirm what he now pretty much knows, which is that his boss wants to fuck him. but i also think there’s a part of him that’s asking what it means that he kissed back.
(pete’s answer is so good and so cute, too. his little kissy-fish face. the way he assuages porsche’s discomfort with sincerity safely bundled up in humor, even though he doesn’t totally get where that discomfort is coming from. in this house we respect pete.)
i’m not surprised that the next time porsche finds himself alone in a room with kinn, he doesn’t know where to look or what to do with his hands. He left Hum Bar but it turns out his paycheck may still depend upon him letting someone fuck him, whether he wants them to or not. God, and then that conversation where kinn is like “tankhun gave you back to me out of spite,” wow, we get it, porsche has no agency in this place, he doesn’t even own his own ass (figurative) or his own ass (literal). no fucking wonder he can barely make eye contact with kinn! but then, unwillingly, like he can’t believe he’s saying this, he asks kinn if kinn really wanted him back. at this point he’s figured out that he wants kinn to want him, sexually or professionally or just as company, while simultaneously feeling completely helpless in the face of kinn’s-- and kinn’s family’s-- wants. god, and then kinn just gives him the cruelest possible answer: “to me, all you people are the same.” fucccck it hurts, i love this shit
and after all that, he’s drugged, his boss first rescues and then gets him alone and forcibly strips him, and like.. porsche just kinda... makes up his mind all at once. his boss making a move on him isn’t all that different from yok pointing out a customer in the corner, so his willingness to go along with it is similarly well-trod territory-- maybe even comforting in its familiarity. this is something he can do drunk, or drugged; this is something he could do in his sleep. why not just let kinn have what he wants, when kinn saved him, when kinn is being so nice? it’s a better end to the night than the porsche of a half hour ago thought he’d be getting. porsche doesn’t know whether he wants it too, but that’s okay: right now, he doesn’t have to know. he’s just doing his job.
listen, i’m not here to moralize. this scene is hot, i like their dynamic and i respect the character choices being made here. they only know how to come together in a way that’s supported by their preexisting framework of transactional sex and desire. to porsche, this is a familiar dance. (what will not be familiar is the way he feels about it during and after. Clearly, the sex he was having with customers was not on the same level as the sex he has with kinn.)
-i do want to briefly touch on kinn’s pov in all this. we know he’s used to getting freshly-washed, perfumed, petal-scented loverboys who know all the rules and come to him all wrapped up with a bow. this is... not that. porsche is fading in and out of it, he's sweaty and unshowered and he just threw up on kinn’s jacket, and now he’s acting like a childish brat, like he doesn’t even know how serious this is. this is a really weird hookup for kinn. almost as if it’s......... not really a hookup at all.
#please guys please talk to me about this. i am screaming inside i love this episode there is SO MUCH to digest#i hate auction-house scenes i always skip them#i also hate live music scenes and skip those too#i skipped a lot this episode! still managed to not shut up for even a second about it :)#call me Porsche Pachara Kittisawasd the way i (word) vomit every episode#kinnporsche#porsche pachara kittisawasd#pete saengtham#kinnporsche episode analysis#spoilers#kinn theerapanyakul
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I’ve recently managed to get a copy (by which I mean, someone who isn’t me did a bunch of work to get it and all I did was be lucky enough to have it sent to me) of this radio interview that Daniel Kitson did in November 2002, on a show called Unbranded. It was hosted by Ian Collins, on the radio station talkSPORT.
Late 2002 is an interesting point in the Kitson canon, and one from which I don’t have a huge amount of recordings, so it’s nice to have this one to round out that period. If I look at the massive spreadsheet that I obviously have in which I document the data about all the Kitson recordings in my collection, sorted by date, there’s not a lot around that time. The only other things from the second half of 2002 are the Phoenix Nights episodes, and of course that’s not really late 2002 Kitson, as those dates are when they aired, far later than when they were recorded. Though their airing dates being shortly before this radio interview is a bit of interesting context, as they do come up.
Late 2002 is interesting because it’s just after he won the Perrier Award, and just after season two of Phoenix Nights aired, and the combination of those two things seems to be pretty much what created Daniel Kitson’s anti-publicity thing that would come to define his career. Before those two things, Daniel Kitson was on a relatively normal career track. He took a tiny role in a shit movie that came out in 2001, after studying drama in university – the move of someone who trying to build up a profile to lead to a proper acting career. Which would also explain the Phoenix Nights role and the episode of That Peter Kay Thing. He even agreed to have his 1999 Edinburgh run filmed for a documentary. Until 2002, he was doing things that were quite consistent with things people do when they don’t actively object to their showbiz career being tarnished by publicity.
I’ve said before that he might have had an entirely different career if Peter Kay had been less of a dick in 2002, because Phoenix Nights was what really put him off the idea of mainstream success. However, I think it’s a bit more than that. He might have had an entirely different career if Peter Kay and Noel Faulkner had been less dickish, and if Adam Hills, rather than being nominated three times with no wins, had won the Perrier Award in 2002.
There’s an article here, oddly published on the same day as that Ian Collins radio interview, that explains in one spot some things I’d heard him explain a little at a time on other occasions.
Kitson was 24. He’d only been out of college four years. It was too soon. “If he gets it in his first year, he really will just implode,” one of his peers told me on the night before the award. And then, this year, he was nominated again. “I can’t see how he’s going to handle it if he wins,” another comedian said, five hours before Kitson actually picked up the gong. Everyone laughed when, for his acceptance speech, he read out a letter explaining why he wasn’t there that night. If only they knew.
“I wrote the speech because I didn’t want to go and get the award,” Kitson, now 25, explains. “I didn’t want anything to do with it. I said at the start of the festival to my agent, Hannah Chambers: ‘I’d quite like to be ruled out of it.’ And she said: ‘You can’t.’ Why not? ‘Because I’ve got a new dress, and if you say you don’t want to be considered, then everyone will see it as a publicity stunt.’
“In retrospect, that would have been the best thing. The whole process is innately dividing. I’ve met people who I couldn’t speak to because they thought they should have been nominated. These are, if not my friends, then my workmates, and now it’s really awkward.”
So, okay, maybe he'd have had a different career if Peter Kay had been less of a dick and Noel Faulkner had not satisfied the public's demand for horrible bullying crowd work and Hannah Chambers had not bought a dress for the Perrier Award ceremony. To be fair to her, I can't imagine she could have guessed how much he meant it when he said he didn't want to be considered. If I heard a comedian next year who was in contention for the Edinburgh Award withdrawing their name from contention, I would also assume it was a publicity stunt. Usually, it's a publicity stunt. I wonder how many years Daniel Kitson had to double down on his commitment to avoid mainstream success before it became clear that he meant it.
Anyway. The point is that late 2002 - just after season 2 of Phoenix Nights aired and he won the Perrier, before he had implement his "no mainstream success allowed rule" but after the instigating factors of the rule had occurred and he was mad about them - is an interesting point in his career that I mostly know about through stories he's told on stage years later, and a few articles. Not a lot of recordings from that actual time. Aside from this radio interview that I've recently gotten to hear for the first time.
Okay - so first of all, if you do listen to that without a lot of context about Daniel Kitson, I should let everyone know that he is currently touring a show that is written to apologize for the kind of dick he was in 2002. He does not stand by that time that he called that guy's wife a fat whore in 2002, and we cannot hold people to everything they said in 2002. It's... not something that sounds great, the little bit at the beginning of that radio recording. But it is quite interesting to listen to right after seeing his current show, Collaborator (started as First Thing). Which handles, among many other topics, his guilt at having once been exactly that type of comedian (I mean, he's still a comedian who will call his audience a bunch of cunts, but with a fair bit more awareness of how much context and irony can make any insult acceptable that it did not sound like he had back then).
His Collaborator/First Thing show also discusses how much it annoys him when people refer to certain things as "classic Kitson", as it's a reductive way to describe his work. Which is fair enough, wanting the things he worked hard on to stand on their own merits rather than getting branded as "just that thing he does".
However. I find this radio interview both interesting and hilarious because it could not possibly be more classic Kitson. If I had to describe the archetypal ideal of Daniel Kitson circa 2002, I would describe:
Starting off by complaining that it was annoying to win the Perrier Award because it meant he had to go to a ceremony that was a hassle to get to
Saying he didn't want that award yet won it over people who did, initially with the abandon of a man who did not seem aware of how arrogant that made him sound, then sort of trying to mitigate the arrogance but in a way that didn't really quite work
Saying he was up for doing criticism of an important political/global issue, but then not actually doing it
Requesting permission to swear on a commercial radio station where he had to know that you can't do that but felt the need to ask anyway, because no non-swear words were strong enough to describe his dislike for winning a major award
Arriving mid-asthma attack and breaking into a coughing fit while recording live
Swearing anyway, after being told he's not allowed to do that
Getting wildly offended at the suggestion that he might be anything like Bernard Manning, even though at the time he was rather defining himself by offensive material
When asked whether he likes any mainstream comedians, not being able to think of any
"If you're going to have principles about stuff, you have to live on your own in a room, and not talk to anyone you hate ever." - what a Classic Kitson quote
Tell a fairly indiscreet story with another swear word, after being told he can't do that
Talk a bunch of shit about Phoenix Nights, and about any of his own fans who like him because of that show
Use the word "gay" as an insult, entirely ironically, but still in a way that makes me cringe a bit and glad that he has, since then, acknowledged even with irony, that that kind of language isn't as acceptable as he once thought
Explain, with not enough irony on the word, his desire to not be ushered toward the "mainstream"
Slag off (as they say in Britain, that's one of the main British phrases that I wish I could get away with using as a North American, I love the specific thing it conveys for which we don't quite have an equivalent here, the closest would be "talk shit about" but that's not quite the same) Bruce Dessau
Explain his refusal to put anything positive about himself on his posters
Call himself "contrary" with, again, not enough irony on that word
Treat a tired question ("What can't you joke about?", tired even by 2002) with the contempt it deserved
Talk a bit about how cool performing in Australia is
This is the one thing on that list that isn't an example of exactly what I'd have expected from 2002-era Kitson, though it also didn't shock me - call Johnny Vegas the best comedian currently working on the circuit
At the end, apologize for not being a good enough interviewee
It's good stuff, I really enjoyed listening to it. I had suspected for a while, by the way, that Daniel Kitson had some sort of specific grudge against Bruce Dessau, going even beyond his general grudge against all comedy writers. Based mainly on a few Beyond the Joke articles that are caveated with explanations that they had previously contained more stuff about Daniel Kitson, but Kitson himself had requested that be taken out. There's also this article, about some Kitson footage that I and a helpful accomplice (by which I mean, the other guy did all the work) tried to find, but we were told that after that article was written, that footage was locked down tighter at Kitson's request (by the way, the comedy club discussed in that article, that films its acts, is what Kitson was talking about in that radio interview when he said he'd done some stuff in Paris in an English-language club, the article even mentioned that his filmed run there was from 2002). I'm making a couple of leaps of logic here, when I say that I suspect that request was made because that article was written, which combines with those other caveated articles to suggest that Daniel Kitson reads (or at least, for a time around 2014, used to read) Bruce Dessau's work and the moment he saw his own name would immediately shut that shit down.
Anyway. It was a fun thing to listen to. Classic Kitson, all around. Good piece of history to slot into an era when primary-source artifacts are a bit thin on the ground.
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The Book of Job, chapters 4-5
Eliphaz the Temanite is a stupid C-nt
Before fullying analyzing these two chapters where Eliphaz ventures to argue with his friend Job about Job's really dark viewpoint, the quote that really gets me is "See how happy is the man whom G-d reproves, Do not reject the discipline of the Almighty" which is something that you can sew into a pillow and give to Grandma and it sounds nice. (5: 17-18 if you really want to do that) but the fact that it comes from the Book of Job should tell you that it's a perilous venture to quote it out of context.
Actually quoting the Bible out of context is a bullshit exercise that people should fucking stop. But I guess I'm howling in the wind since they are calling Bible Thumpers, not Bible Readers.
This is actually a shitty thing to say to anyone. If someone is relatively happy and their life is going well, then you are basically saying that they aren't truly happy until their wife leaves them and they lose their job. But to say it to someone going throught trauma? Fuck you. It's the ancient equivalent of "G-d doesn't give you more than you can handle" or "Everything happens for a reason". It's a stupid fucking thing to say to anyone who is going through a rough patch.
It's fucking evil to say it to a guy whose children just died as he lost all of his money and his health is failing. So that's Eliphaz in a nutshell. Eliphaz is all full of cute little aphorisms and well meaning phrases that help no one but Eliphaz. He sure feels better about himself.
So let's review Eliphaz's rejoinder to Job anger over being born (and over the Leviahan not being let loose to prevent such a horrible moment in his life).
Chapter 4 (remember these are Christian standards but sometimes the Christians can make things easier) starts with Eliphaz claiming that he's reluctant to talk but then upbraids Job for being so helpful to other people in their suffering and now that Job is suffering he's inconsolable? This is rather dickish, but Eliphaz isn't your standard "well I guess all of your comforting words don't work" jerk. He's actually trying to get Job to summon all the strength that Job doesn't have and then goes "what innocent man has ever perished?" which seems perilously close to the Christian beliefs that we are all damned and wicked and awful. He then talks about lions being humbled and what comes around goes around.
So he's saying that Job is somehow guilty.
The rest of the chapter seems like the Christian doctrine where Eliphaz claims to have heard a word, a rumor, something on the wind that told him that no one really measurs up to G-d so of course everyone dies.
The fifth chapter is a ramping up of this belief. Vexation kills a fool. Eliphaz once saw a fool and cursed him. Also foolishness and mischief are man made. And why is Job so smug as to want to judge God who makes rains and saves the needy.
Which brings us back to the shitty quote where Eliphaz says that G-d is justly punishing him and that this is a good thing. Then Eliphaz promises that G-d will make certain that Job is protected. He will save you from the sword; he will protect you from famine and you'll be old and happy.
Just like G-d did with Job's sons. You stupid fuck.
Note that Eliphaz is hitting on the ultimate speech of G-d about how much G-d has to do and how little Job gets of it, but then Eliphaz goes and says that Job deserved and it and that it's cool because that's just punishment and now G-d will totally make things right for Job.
Fuck you Eliphaz.
#The book of Job#Eliphaz the Tenanbnite#toxic positivity#Job#suffering#bullshit#open a winder#close a door open a window#superficial#punishment#sins#you sinned#grief counseling#bad friends#Tim Lieder#mourning#aphorisms#pillows#Eliphaz the Temanite#The Bible#Religion#Christianity#Judaism#philosophical novels
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