#he could very easily do the wounded pride thing here and be a complete dick to her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilfdoctordoom · 3 years

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On Tom Taylor, the Current Nightwing Run & Ableism

I did mention I was gonna do a post about it, so here we are. There are some things I want to make clear before we begin: the issue exploded on Twitter on the very first day of disabled Pride month; disabled people have been discussing the ableism in Taylor’s Nightwing run since it began; nobody has blamed Taylor for what happened to Barbara in 2011. We are, however, blaming him for the way she is written in his series during 2021.

I am also going to be discussing the ableism in the fandom in this post. The reactions I have seen, from here to Twitter to TikTok, are showing not only a great misunderstanding of the situation, but a purposeful misunderstanding. The very real reasons disabled people are angry right now have been twisted to make us seem ridiculous and overly sensitive and I cannot help but feel that is very intentional.

Another quick addition: disabled people are not a monolith. Barbara Gordon spent over 20 years as a paralyzed wheelchair user. Stating (and I would like to note, never truly showing) that she is a part time cane user now is still erasing her disability. These things are not interchangeable.

So, with that out of the way, let’s begin.

Tom Taylor’s run is ableist. That is a fact of this situation. He made the active choice to include a version of Barbara Gordon that is ableist caricature. Story wise, the role that Barbara plays could have easily been filled by anyone else. There is no real season, within the narrative and outside of it, for Taylor to include this version of Barbara Gordon, who has received a decade of criticism from disabled people. It’s very well known that this iteration is problematic, to put it kindly, and Taylor is aware of that.

He made the active decision to include her, anyway, showing, at the very least, that he is passively, if not actively, ableist. Passive ableism is still ableism and disabled people are allowed to take issue with that.

That alone is reason enough for disabled people to be angry. But that’s not why things exploded on Twitter.

On July 1st, the very first day of disabled pride month, the new design for Barbara was dropped. After months of teasing Barbara’s return to a wheelchair using Oracle (see: Last Days of The DC Universe, Batgirl (2016), etc), they debuted... a new Batgirl costume that the artist has openly said draws inspiration from the Burnside suit.

There’s a lot of issues to unpack here, so let’s start small: the issue with consciously calling back to Burnside. The Burnside era of Batgirl stories was... beyond awful. The villain of the series’ first arc, was an AI based on Barbara’s brain patterns when she was disabled. It was evil because of all the rage and pain Barbara felt. The actual Barbara, on the other hand, was good -- because she was able bodied. Because her PTSD had been tossed aside. It was a horrifically ableist era that drove the idea that Barbara’s life was terrible when she was disabled; that it was some horrible, twisted secret.

Comics have kept that narrative going. Barbara is seen hiding books on chronic pain; she reacts aggressively to the mere idea that she could be in a wheelchair again, acting like it would be weakness. Whereas Barbara had once been Oracle not because of, but in spite of, her disability, who was fantastic representation for the disabled community, she now acts like it is the most shameful thing in her life.

To call back to Burnside is to call back to that ableism and make no critique of it. If anything, it’s to embrace the ideas of that era.

There is also the design itself to consider. Many people have pointed out the inclusion of a back brace, as if that saves it from ableism -- it does not. Any person who has ever worn a back brace can take one look at this design and know that they did not consult a disabled person. Hell, by how impractical that thing is, I doubt they even Googled a picture of a back brace.

It’s a superficial acknowledgement that Barbara is supposed to be disabled. Something that was apparently thrown in to appease the numerous complaints of Barbara being able bodied; something that no one working on it put any effort into.

When it comes to aids, this is not a new thing for Barbara in Infinite Frontier. She’s said to be using a cane occasionally, that we got a better look at in Batman: Urban Legends, and as any cane user can tell you... that is not a cane that could feasibly be used. It’s another pathetic attempt to acknowledge that Barbara is supposed to be disabled, without actually doing anything of importance.

[IMAGE ID: A segmented cane with a tri-pointed handle with a wrist strap. There is a stripe across the sections to connection them, labelled “solar battery charger buttons”. The text reads: “telescoping antenna doubles as cane or weapon if needed”. END ID]

Dropping this design (which we have now established to be problematic) on the very first day of disabled pride month is a sickening move. The very first day, and DC has doubled down on their disability erasure, thrown in superficial things like a back brace to act like it’s fine.

Tom Taylor is definitely involved in this, whether you like it not. No, he is not in anyway responsible for the events of the New 52 and what they did to Barbara Gordon, but that does not absolve him of blame for what is currently being done to her in his run.

When the design dropped, it started trending due to disabled fans reactions. To be clear: we were directly calling out the ableism in this design. This was Tom Taylor’s response:

[IMAGE ID: A tweet from TomTaylorMade that says: “Hey, @Bruna_Redono_F I think our new Batgirl suit is getting some attention.” He then adds a winky face emoji and tags @jesswchen and @drinkpinkkink. Attached are a screenshot showing that Batgirl is trending in the United States and a picture of the design itself. END ID]

This is him, bragging about how the disabled community reacted. Perhaps before this tweet, you could’ve made an argument that he was not ableist, but after he flaunted the fact that disabled people were rightly furious over this, like it was something to be proud of? No. If you are defending him, you are a part of the problem.

Taylor has included ableist writing in his Nightwing run, beyond the inherent ableism that comes with the current iteration of Barbara Gordon (whose inclusion, yet again, is his decision).

[IMAGE ID: A panel from Nightwing #79. Barbara and Dick are standing in his apartment. Barbara is saying: “I have some pretty new technology holding my spine together. I’m happy to do most things -- eat pizza in the park, take down low-level thugs -- but leaping from rooftops seems... unwise.” END ID]

What Barbara says in the panel above has bothered a lot of disabled people. The implication that she couldn’t “eat pizza in the park’ and “take down low-level thugs” without a spinal implant that conveniently erases her disability is... fucked up, to put it mildly. Those are both things that Barbara has done in a wheelchair. The first one is something wheelchair users can do and the implication that it’s not is beyond offensive.

But, let’s leave Barbara behind for a moment. I have previously mentioned that disabled people have been discussing the ableism present in this run long before July -- and that ableism is not only centred on Barbara. Dick is also a player in all this.

Dick Grayson was shot in the head. I don’t believe I need to retread the story, but just in case: Dick was shot in the head by KGBeast, developed amnesia from the event, and went by Ric Grayson for a long enough period in comics. If you have been active within the DC fandom for the past year or so, you know all about this controversial storyline and its fallout.

The Ric Grayson arc concluded itself the issue before Taylor became the writer for the series and ever since his tenure has begun, Taylor has completely ignored the reality of Dick being a disabled man. We understand this is comics, that things do not function the way they do in our world, but still -- it is clear that this gunshot wound to the head has affected Dick massively. We had an entire arc dedicated to how he struggled to find himself in the aftermath.

Taylor is choosing to write Dick as an able-bodied man, despite his canonical injuries and how they would impact his life.

This man is choosing to give empty gestures towards Barbara being a disabled woman (as discussed above, the completely dysfunctional back brace, etc) whilst writing her as able-bodied as possible. He writes both Dick and Barbara as able bodied as humanly possible. That is ableist. He is ableist. This is the same man that said he made a dog disabled ‘in honour of Barbara’. I do not think I need to elaborate on why that is bad.

The least he could’ve done, was get a sensitivity reader. We know that Taylor is not beyond getting people from marginalized communities to consult on his work (see: Suicide Squad), so why, when writing two characters that should be disabled, one that the disabled community have been criticising for a decade, does he not reach out to a single disabled person? A mere Google search could’ve improved the situation massively. In both the new design and the current writing, it is beyond clear that this is not just an able-bodied person writing it -- it’s an ableist person.

He could have listened to the numerous disabled fans that spoke out. Instead, he chose not only to refuse to do that, but to describe justifiable anger as ‘raging’. He treated us like we were crazy for daring to speak out about blatant ableism being parading around of us in our pride month.

Tom Taylor has failed to do the bare minimum and in doing so, he is, at very, very least, guilty of complicity. Again: passive ableism is still ableism.

The argument at hand is not just about Barbara Gordon and the continuing ableism that shines out from her current writing. The argument is about the treatment of disabled characters in his run. It has also become about the way he treats physically disabled people.

We also can’t have this conversation without acknowledging the fandom’s role in it all. I waited a day to write this up, to allow all the reactions to flood in... and I am sickened.

We have everything across the board. Able-bodied people that have actually listened to disabled people, who have supported us (which is deeply appreciated). Able-bodied people who may have had good intentions, but a skewed sense of the situation and perpetuating some of the more insidious lies being spread around (IE. that this is only about the new costume).

There are, obviously, the ableist reactions, though, that we will be discussing here. People deeming the current issues as ‘crazy’, calling disabled people ‘overly sensitive’ and ‘delusional’. Many people have completely glossed over the examples given for why Taylor, specifically, is ableist, and instead have resorted to telling disabled people that we are wrong and should be mad at DC instead.

It’s important to note that Tom Taylor is an adult man. He doesn’t need a fandom to attack disabled people for daring to call him out. He is not the victim in this situation; he has, for quite a few disabled people, been the aggressor.

I have seen claims that Infinite Frontier is a ‘slow burn’, implying that disabled people need to patient... as if we have not waited a decade for less ableist writing. There is a complete refusal from able-bodied fans to actually listen to what disabled people are saying. They would much rather rush to the defence of the (honestly rather mediocre) current Nightwing run.

Disabled fans know that comic book spaces are ableist. We know that both DC and Marvel and many of their writers are ableist. We are still allowed to be pissed as hell about it and acting like the current reaction being had right now is disabled people being ‘overdramatic’ is yet another example of how the able-bodied side of the fandom both refuses to listen to and undermine disabled people when we call out ableism.

We know it when we see it. We always do and we always will and we will always be able to recognize it far faster than an able-bodied person. If this many disabled fans are coming out and talking about an issue, calling it ableism, then it’s time for you shut up and listen.

Stop being a part of the problem and start supporting disabled fans for once.

#barbara gordon #dick grayson #nightwing #batgirl #tom taylor #tw ableism #okay to rb

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

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*°:⋆ₓₒCollab Masterlistₓₒ⋆:°*

Pairing: All Might x Gn!Dom!Reader (Theme for this month was sex work au!)

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+ this is a dark fic, both dubcon/noncon, straight up, forced submission, bit of mind break, dom/sub dynamics, sub!All Might, dominant All Might later in, dark All Might, violence against reader, bodily harm, face fucking, spanking (for Toshi), thigh riding (for Toshi), blackmail, minor mentions of blood, bondage/rope play, reader is gender neutral, no pronouns used

Summary: You work as a popular dominant for pro heroes who need to give up control once in awhile and Yagi Toshinori is one of your best clients. But when word gets out to the media about your involvement with pros, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Though you quickly discover All Might does not take kindly to anyone who threatens his reputation.

It was all about the exchanging of power.

About the relinquishing of control—about letting go and the freedom that came with it.

And you?

You were just there to facilitate, to take over, to release all those bottled up years of stress that the camera’s weren’t supposed to see.

But you did.

You saw all of it.

It was about trust too. Trust in you to give them what they need and trust in them to do exactly as you instructed. And most of all, trust that everything stayed confidential. That the things said through tears and whimpers and sighs were kept quiet. Trust that they would show you the same respect and privacy you showed them.

You took these rules very seriously. They were the foundation your business was built on and it had earned you quite a lot of credibility. You prided yourself on it, as you should. Professionalism was key in your line of work. It made the clients feel a bit more comfortable—counteracted the sense of taboo that was usually associated with people like you.

People in “your line of work,” was the common way of referencing it. But you preferred to be clear and upfront, not skirt around the edges as though your job was something shameful.

Language was important too.

“Client,” “session,” etc...all added a buffering degree of separation for those you serviced. It was a crucial part of the balance which has allowed you to be so successful. They needed to be able to remove themselves from who they became once you were alone together. You’d learned that some amount of plausible deniability was key to achieving the complete relinquishing of authority. They had to be able to convince themselves after they’d walked away, that the crying, begging mess they’d become wasn’t who they really were—wasn’t actually a part of them, just something you’d done.

And by them, of course, you meant the heroes you served so dutifully.

And by serve, you meant completely and utterly dominate.

Contradictory to most common misconceptions, your job wasn’t always about sex—though it could be and was at time—but truly, it was about release.

And above all, it was about power and who got to hold it.

When that structure was broken—when the rules were strayed from—that’s when things got murky. But you were good at what you did, so luckily, that hadn’t been much of an issue.

What more could one expect from someone whose services are sought out by the Symbol of Peace himself?

Hm.

You really ought to get that put on your business cards.

***

It was late when he came to you, though that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Occasional hero work coupled with a teaching schedule and numerous media appearances left one very little free time. Fortunately, you conducted most of your business during the small hours of the morning, so Yagi Toshinori showing up at your door as the clock ticked its way past two wasn’t a shock.

You fell into the usual rhythm of things easily.

Toshi was one of your newest, but most favorite clients. You came highly recommended from many of his coworkers, and after an initial meeting over drinks to discuss his needs, you struck up a routine that worked for the both of you.

Of course he paid you handsomely for your time.

Constantly being in the public eye, acting as an unwavering representation of hope for the future was tiring. You were more than happy to take the weight off his very broad shoulders for once.

And bend him over your knee instead.

“Five,” he panted, whimpers of thanks and your name spilling out around his loose tongue as your hand connected sharply with the meat of his ass again.

You always asked to be called by name, no frilly titles to get in the way and complicate the dynamic. When they walked into your space, they set aside their hero personas and you afforded them the same intimacy.

Names meant something. Names were power and so they mattered, particularly in this game you played together. Equality had to be achieved before domination.

“Good boy Toshi, you’re doing so well,” you cooed and brought your palm down twice, watching the skin on the backs of his thighs bloom pink like sakura in the spring.

“S-six, seven,” there was a wet spot forming under his mouth on the sheets and on your lap where his cock was bare and leaking. “Ah, please—harder!”

You raised your brow as he turned his head to look at you with those teary, dark eyes and you could never resist a look like that.

“You want it harder, why’s that?” you wound back and smacked roughly over the raised welts that made him hiss and sob. “Is this what you deserve for being so weak?”

He may have been thin now, skeletal compared to the face he showed the public, but you didn’t mind. He trusted you enough to let his guard down, and his weight was still thick and full across your legs. It was invigorating to see a man like All Might, reduced to this. Whatever pent up guilt he carried inside, you were here to help let it all out in the best way you knew how.

“Yes!” Toshi cried and buried his face into the plush fabric of your comforter as you delivered the last three harsh blows of the punishment he paid you for. “Fuck yes, I’m weak and I’m a failure and I deserve this—!”

“That’s right, you’re a piss poor excuse for a hero and you haven’t earned your title,” you wrapped two thick locks of his hair around your hand and yanked hard till he craned his neck to face you. “What would the world say if they could see what a sobbing mess you are when no one’s looking?”

He opened his mouth to speak, hips twitching and grinding uselessly against your thigh. The second that plush pink tongue dipped past his lips, you were rearing back to spit straight between his teeth.

Toshi’s face was always priceless in these moments. You’d almost be willing to do it for free if you only got to see the way his brows shot up and those red rimmed eyes blew so wide as you steeled yourself and looked him dead on.

“Now, swallow like the little bitch I know you are.”

And he did, of course he does, because behind your bedroom door Yagi Toshinori was your good boy. So you got to watch his throat bob as your spit slid down and he moaned so pretty at the awful things you said to him.

Your palm kneaded against the red, raw flesh of his ass and you watched how he squirmed at the sting. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and expensive cologne. Your head was spinning from the smell alone and the high of the control you wielded over this man. His hands fisted hard in your bed sheets and you let him helplessly rut against you a few times before running your free hand up the graceful curve of his spine.

“Oh, you really are so disgusting Toshi,” you mused as your nails dig into the planes of muscles to drag angry red lines over the skin. “Did you really get that hard from me slapping this tight little ass of yours?”

He groaned pathetically and nodded, not bothering to hide how his dick had been oozing obscene amounts of precum every time you etched a new welt on his skin. The blush that crept up his chest and painted his cheeks had spread between his legs too. The unfairly massive cock that Toshi sported was flushed a dark angry red at the tip and you couldn’t help but have mercy on him.

Well, only a little bit.

You weren’t here to be nice tonight, even if a part of you might have liked to be.

“Do you want to cum, Toshi?” you asked, lacing your voice with the false sweetness you knew he loved. “Have you been aching for it all night?”

He keened, crying your name and rutting his hips harder against you. It sent a rush of warmth between your legs despite your better efforts to remain unaffected. This wasn’t about you, this was about ownership and his pleasure.

“Mhmm,” his voice was little more than a rasp, “wanna cum so bad, please!”

You laughed, but it was a cruel thing and you knew he could feel the rumble of it in his scarred chest.

“You did so perfectly taking your punishment,” you raked your nails over the raised handprints again just to hear him cry out. “I suppose I’ll let you cum, but you’ll have to work for it.”

Toshi’s breathing was ragged as you helped him up to straddle one of your legs. His swollen cock rested on the plushest part of your thigh, the tip nudging your hip and drawing choked gasps from the man towering above you.

He stared down at you, confused when you didn’t move to stroke him.

“Go on, then,” you smiled up at him, resting your weight on your palms so you could lean back and watch the show. “I said you’d have to work for it, didn’t I?”

You punctuated your question with a bounce of your knee that rocked his length against the fabric of your pants. It didn’t take long for him to catch on, eyes squeezing shut against the waves of shame and embarrassment that just made it so much hotter as he slowly began to ride your thigh.

He might be paying you to be ruthless, but Toshi was kind to a fault from what you’ve learned of him and he ke[t most of his massive weight held on the balls of his feet so you weren’t crushed below him. Under any other circumstances, you might have actually enjoyed that quite a bit, but his face—cherry red with spit-slicked lips held parted with the force of his pants—was enough for now.

His cock was so heavy you almost couldn’t believe it was real. You nearly didn’t the first time he’d stripped for you, but even just the drag of it through your clothes was delectable. It was so long and thick you needed both hands to wrap fully around it, and he gushed like a fucking gieser when you got him under your metaphorical boot.

With every rock of his bony hips, his length was forced up against the curve of your stomach and he whined at the glistening strands of slick that connected his tip to you.

“Come on, Toshi,” you clicked your tongue disappointedly at him, letting a hand fall to the puckered skin at his waist, squeezing harshly. “I know you can do better than that.”

He was beyond words now, you could tell by the way his jaw was loose and his teeth clacked with every thrust, but he did gasp out a long, high pitched moan that made up for it. The speed of his humping increased, becoming erratic as he hunched on the bed, hands beside yours. He loomed over you but anyone could tell just by the composed, serene smile playing at your lips—and the absolutely wrecked noises spilling from Toshi—just which one of you was really in control.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You knew he liked it when you spewed filth to him right before he boiled over and you were more than willing to oblige.

“You’re gonna cum like a fucking teenager humping his pillow, isn’t that right?” you snarled the words up at him and he really did cry then, big fat tears dripping down onto your shirt. “All Might, the number one hero is gonna cum all over my lap like the slut he is.”

He nods frantically. You know his balls were tensing up as he sobbed and spluttered—completely ruined. Just the way he needed to be.

“Then cum.”

You finally wrapped your fist just around his aching tip and he exploded into your palm. Rope after rope of sticky, white release coated your arm and dripped onto the bed. He kept grinding his hips, working himself through the climax, cock still pulsing and leaking in your grip. You didn’t mind the mess.

He always tipped a bit extra if he left stains anyway.

Such a gentleman.

When the last wave of his orgasm had petered out, Toshi collapsed to the side with his face buried in your pillow and his long legs still strewn across your lap. He didn’t usually ask for much in the realm of aftercare, preferring that you cleaned him and let him rest for a bit before he suited up and rushed off into the night.

You gave him a minute before you got up to wet a warm cloth in the sink. He looked so destroyed, you couldn’t help but admire your handiwork. As you palm his ass once more, fingers spreading him so his pink hole was on display, you slipped your phone silently from your pocket, and snapped a few shots of the nasty red hand marks and smears of cum as he groaned deeply at the touch.

His voice was lower as he grunted and you could tell he’s coming out of the subspace you’d thrust him into hours before. Quickly you slid the device smoothly away before lifting his legs from you and settling them gently on the bed to work on tidying up your mess.

You didn’t feel particularly good about keeping this kind of collateral, but as much power as you hold in the four walls of your bedroom, you were frustratingly weak once you left them. These men you worked with, while generally professional, were also top heroes. Top heroes who really didn’t want their embarrassing private lives getting out. Top heroes who thrived off reputation and who would willingly throw you under the bus in a second to protect that.

You liked Yagi Toshinori.

But you didn’t know him.

Smacking someone’s ass or stroking their cock every few weeks didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things.

So you kept your personal insurance that would be there should one of your clientele decide to forsake you in favor of their public image. And you would never use it unless you absolutely had too.

After all, this was about trust and power and the exchange of those two things. Or at least it was supposed to be. Trust was quite a subjective thing.

The general citizenry trusted All Might to protect them against the growing evil in Japan’s underground. But behind the scenes, you knew his failing health had caused him to seek you out as the intense guilt of his lie came crashing down on him.

Toshi trusted you to relieve his pain and indulge in his degrading fantasies, and you hadn’t failed him yet.

But your trust was not easily bought, and none of your customers ever paid much mind to whether your perceived belief in them was genuine.

After so many glimpses into the messes of pro-heroes personal lives, you knew you’d have to be your own protector. Hence, the photos remained in a locked folder hidden away as you sat yourself down next to the dozing hero and wiped away as much evidence of your meeting as you could.

“How are you feeling?” you asked quietly, lathing the warm cloth between his legs and softening length.

“Good, all things considered,” he responded, voice returned to it’s normal, deep baritone.

“I sincerely hope you won’t have to do much sitting tomorrow,” you quipped and it earned you a chuckle.

“I’ll manage.”

You rolled him gently and finished clearing the rest of his spend from the flat expanse of his stomach. Toshi mumbled his thanks and you gave his thigh a friendly squeeze before retreating from the room to shower and change yourself.

He’d be gone by the time you got out, notification of payment on your phone and a sizable tip left on your dresser as a parting gift.

And as long as Yagi Toshinori was just as good a boy on the outside as he was here, then the world would never need to know what their Symbol of Peace got up behind your closed doors.

***

“All Might! Mister All Might, sir!”

The grating voice of that shithead reporter echoed through the speakers of your headphones over and over again. Your hand shook as the train stuttered to a halt and a wave of passengers burst out onto the platform.

“All Might, are the rumors true!?”

Your stomach sank as the reporter shouted your name above the ruckus of microphones and camera flashes and roaring bodies. Their voice was like chalk on your tongue, dry and cracked and clamoring to know whether the Symbol of Peace was involved with the recently revealed ‘seedy’ and ‘scandalous’ sex ring between yourself and multiple top ranking heroes.

You’d been out having a relaxing lunch with friends in the city when everyone’s phones blew up. It wasn’t that you hid the general details of your job, but by the looks on their faces were enough to make your face burn. The judgement was clear—what you did was abhorrent, disgusting and by extension, so were you. Reporters had caught you on camera with a certain second ranking pro and very quickly deduced exactly who you were and what services you offered.

The tabloids took it and ran, dragging your reputation behind them.

Call after call and text, dms on your social media pages, all from news outlets requesting interviews or quotes or hero fans calling you a ‘shameless whore’ for going after pros—hell death threats had even begun to fill your inboxes.

Hero fans really were ride or die, you supposed, although the ‘die’ in that scenario seemed to refer more to you than themselves. They would never believe their precious big boy crush had ever associated with the likes of you, had ever willingly kneeled for you—had ever enjoyed it.

They couldn’t understand the things you did, all they saw was some false emasculation.

And if it came out that Toshinori had any contact with you, his career would be ruined.

You had hoped from the little you’d learned about him in your sessions, that he’d simply deny knowing you existed at all. That he’d have mercy on you, treat you like the thousand helpless civilians he pulled from burning buildings or whatever the hell heroes did these days.

But you’d been right before to say that you didn’t know Toshi.

And now you certainly didn’t like him either.

“Are you one of the pros involved?” the reporter hounded again as All Might’s massive form panned into frame.

“As your Symbol of Peace, I certainly do not partake in such degenerate behavior,” his words rang out, deep and resonating. “I would never associate with someone who’s actions border on criminal.”

The dark, soulless pits he called eyes stared mockingly from your tiny screen as his signature laugh reverberated through your ears along with the train’s clacking breaks. You ripped the headphones from your ears and closed out of the app, ducking your head and pushing towards the door. Everyone’s eyes were drilling into you, worming deep under your skin and making you squirm like so many of those heroes had done on your silk sheets.

Rationally, you were aware not many people would have seen the story yet. Tabloid trash took a day or two to disseminate into the general social media outlets and for people to take notice. Your friends only knew because your name stuck out to them, but you were hardly recognizable in your typical citizen attire. Even still.

Your life, your work, all of it was on display.

And he’d called you a degenerate.

The infallible All Might had taken your name and tossed it in the guttered, likened you to a villain and single handedly destroyed everything you’d built in the process.

Years of effort and crawling your way up the ranks of society all for nothing.

All so some washed up hero could keep his fantasy of success going for just a little longer. Toshi trusted you with his secrets, his weakness, his body, and you’d defended that at every turn. The only thing he had to do was pay a small fee for your time and discretion.

But no amount of money could fix your toppled character. Nothing could reverse your place as a disgusting slut in the eyes of literal millions of people.

Bold of Yagi Toshinori to underestimate you so thoroughly, to think that you’d sit back in the rubble as he rescued cats and little kids and lived his delusion of perfection.

This was about trust and power.

When those lines were crossed, that’s when things got messy.

And you’d make sure to leave so big a mess, Toshi would never dream of coming back from it.

***

Your apartment building was thankfully free of any press when you arrived home. It had been a few days since All Might instigated your public slander, but the mass media hadn’t managed to track you down after you went into a short period of hiding.

You needed time to let all your other clients involved in the scandal play their cards.

There would be no use in condemning one just to have them warn the rest of their equally impending doom. That way you could be assured they’d all come crashing down with you. Especially the blonde poster boy of hero society himself.

His would be the sweetest fall.

It had been long enough now that you could start compiling. You locked the door behind you, shrugging off your coat and settling on the couch. The plush cushions sank as you fell back, pulling out your phone and scrolling through your contacts. Toshi was there, two red and blue hearts on either side of his name. You pulled up his text thread.

You’d thought about going public of course.

Of course you had.

Your entire career had been trashed, you’d been shamed by the number one hero himself and your personal life was blasted over social media.

But you were human, so you were weak.

And you had liked Toshi.

Well, you hated him now—a deeply dark, burning resentment—but before that, he’d been so sweet to you in a way that most were not. Respectful and nice and you were unused to it. So, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to eradicate his credibility in the same outright manner.

No, you had decided you’d give him a chance.

Because you were better than him.

A chance to atone, come clean, apologize the way you’re sure he would if his public image wasn’t so goddamn important to him. So you didn’t reach out to any of the media outlets that had been hounding your socials for the past week, and didn't offer them the inside scoop quite yet. Instead, you stared at the handsome contact photo of your hero client and slowly typed him up a message he couldn’t ignore.

It was short and sweet, polite but firm. You acknowledged he most certainly did not want to speak with you—in fact, you weren’t very inclined to speak with him ever again either—but you happened to be in possession of some fairly compromising photographic evidence of your time together. And if that evidence were ever to, say, end up in the pocket of the exact scandal rag that sent voice clips of All Might all but denouncing you as a whore to the nation, well. Things would certainly not end well for him.

But, you were nothing if not professional.

He knew that.

You never wanted to use these, but he had forced your hand. Of course you were more than willing to work out a deal with him.

He was your favorite client after all.

In any case, he knew how to reach you, and he had a generous 48 hours to give you an answer to your proposition.

Oh and you were kind enough to provide a little snapshot of just exactly the type of evidence you meant.

Your thumb hovered over the little blue arrow to send. The phone clacked against your nails as it shook in your grip, slick from sweat and frayed nerves. You couldn’t quite tell if you were anxious or angry or some awful combination of the two, but your heart was in your throat as you shut your eyes and pressed send.

There was no going back, and if this all came tumbling to the ground, you promised yourself that you would shatter gracefully.

Letting the screen go dim, you stared in silence at the small check mark confirming the message had been delivered and your fate sealed. You pulled yourself to your feet and made your way to the bedroom.

He’d get back to you soon, or maybe he wouldn’t. You couldn’t know for sure whether or not Toshi would simply ignore your texts and be blindsided when the deadline passed and you destroyed him all over again in a far less enjoyable manner than you used to. But whatever the case, it was out of your hands for now.

With aching feet and tired eyes, you stripped slowly and stumbled towards the bathroom. Turning the water to just below scalding, you did your best to scrub away any pesky remaining guilt that clung to you in a thin, suffocating film.

You told yourself that there was no other choice. That you would have found another way if there was one. That this was how business often went. You had seen it before when you first entered in the field of sex work and you’d see it again. So you scrubbed yourself raw and let all your doubts trickle down the drain.

Tonight, you would sleep restlessly, but it was a fair enough burden to carry for your honor.

You were foolish to believe the cost of revenge wouldn’t bear a heftier price.

***

You woke slowly, trapped momentarily in the strange limbo between sleep and consciousness that fooled you into thinking the strange tightness at your wrists was nothing more than a leftover side effect of a dream.

The reality was so much worse.

It wasn’t until you felt the blunt, radiating sting of knuckles backhanded against your cheek that the haze of sleep fell away, and you could truly appreciate the scene before you.

Which was to say, you could take the opportunity to scream before Yagi Toshinori’s fingers were shoved down your throat to muffle the noise. He was large, shirt seams full to bursting, and sporting an expression you’d never seen before. His eyes, while always dark, were like holes now and they filled you with an unfamiliar sense of dread.

He’d called you a villain before, and now he was looking at you like one too.

“Oh no,” Toshi hissed. His voice was impossibly deep, reverberating against your ribs painfully, “I don’t want to hear anything out of you.”

One quick bout of struggling made it very apparent he didn’t want you moving either as your wrists had been bound behind your back and your ankles were similarly immobilized. The fingers in your mouth pressed hard on your tongue, his thumb pushing below your chin to make you choke and splutter.

“You really let all that power get to your head, didn’t you?” Toshi’s voice was buzzing in your ears and mingling with the pain in your jaw. He put one massive knee on the mattress and hooked his fingers behind your teeth, forcing you to sit up from the bed.

You could feel your face burn as he looked down at you, drool slipping passed your lips and coating his fingers. The straining bulge in his pants looked even bigger than you remembered now that he was no longer the slip of a man you’d come to know as Yagi Toshinori.

No this was All Might, the Symbol of Peace.

And you got the feeling that whatever was about to happen, it was not going to be peaceful for you.

He had you tied and trussed like a piece of meat, and he would treat you like one. You’d seen this before, you’d tied these knots—he’d been where you were now, but he’d asked for it. The loss of control was never something you’d delighted in on a good day, and now the rising pressure in your chest and the sensation of walls closing had panic coursing through you.

“Did you really think that I’d come back here willing to grovel at your feet?” he jeered, the trademark smile on his face more snarl than grin.

He shook your jaw violently in his grasp, listening to the joints pop as they tried to stretch around his thick fingers. Your name left his mouth in a mock coo, just as you had done to him so many nights before. “Remember, you might get to call me a bitch but it’s only because I let you.”

Your hands trembled violently against the bonds which tore the delicate skin and rubbed it raw. Toshi’s free hand traveled along his thigh to rub himself through his pants, his knuckles brushing your nose as he bucked into his palm.

“But now you’ve stepped out of line,” he mused and clicked his tongue as though you were a student who’d done poorly on his latest exam. “And I’m going to make sure that whore mouth of yours never utters my fucking name again.”

Eyes wide with horror, you watched as Toshi’s fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of his slacks until his cock had sprung free, monstrous in length and girth, dripping onto your forehead.

You’d seen it before, but it seemed bigger now. So big that you’d never been able to take it, and Toshi had been staunchly against you ever trying lest he quite literally split you in two. But any kindness he’d shown you before was clearly off the table. His fingers pumped in and out of your throat as if preparing you somehow to take the stretch. It wouldn’t help. You knew that. He knew that.

Toshinori smiled as he removed his fingers in favor of digging the spit slicked digits into the joints of your jaw, ensuring you wouldn’t bite down on him as he pressed the spongy tip to your lips. The panic that had set in—making your blood rush and your limbs shake—was constricting your chest and the pressure of Toshi’s dick pushing past your teeth made your breathing even more erratic.

You whimpered loudly, trying to wrench your head away as the strong salt and musk flavor of his pre cum spread across your tongue, but that only made him thrust forward harder. His length quickly hit resistance back of your throat as you gagged and tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

The ache in your jaw was already unbearable and your bottom lip was being rubbed raw by warm spit and the friction of Toshi roughly fighting to sink his dick fully into your mouth.

“Mm, that’s it,” he groaned as you inadvertently licked over his tip, trying to force him away. “You look so much better like this.”

He ran a falsely sweet hand across your cheek, collecting the stream of tears and using the moisture to slick the rest of his length. Your chest heaved in a mixture of gags and increasingly violent sobbing. You were stretched painfully wide as he rolled his hips again, pushing the thickest bit of his cock into your mouth and forcing your teeth to dig painfully into your upper lip. With the next thrust, he was able to sink another excruciating inch deep into your throat. Blood rushed from where you bit yourself and caused crimson streaks to form as Toshi fucked slowly into your mouth.

Your mind was slipping.

You’d had so little time to process the encounter, so instead your brain had secluded most of your consciousness into a precious little box, away from the intense burning in your throat as Toshi finally sank all of his innumerable inches completely into you. Your throat bulged and protested, tightening in an attempt to force him out.

It only made him moan loudly and dig his fingers into your hair.

“See?” he huffed, pulling out at an agonizing pace only to ram his length in roughly to the hilt. “I’d never lie to my public, you really are just as much of a slut as they say you are.”

You shrieked around his cock, though it was muffled so badly by the lack of air and the wet slap of his constant thrusting that no one but you could hear the screaming in your own head. The pain was unbearable, this awful friction burning sensation that had your stomach churning and your chest wracked with stifled cries. Your bound legs kicked and your fingers grasped useless at the sheets as Toshi fucked your mouth reckless abandon.

Time blurred along with your vision, whether from the lack of oxygen or the tears you weren’t sure.

And most horrifyingly of all, was the pleasure that grew as your mind drowned the pain in darkness. You felt as though you were floating, disgusted but euphoric and the slide of him against your lips became delicious. Heat rose in you and built between your legs accompanied by a distant and unfamiliar ache to please, to be touched, to taste him, to obey.

You wondered if this was how he felt when you forced his mouth on you. If he slid into this strange space where your mind was a separate entity and the only thing that mattered was the pain and the pleasure and the release.

Because somehow, in the midst of your struggle and revulsion, he’d made this strange, incorporeal part of you enjoy this.

All the fight had drained out of you, letting your jaw hang slack and your tongue flick up to catch his tip on every backstroke. Your eyes flitted up to look at him through the haze of tears and sweat, hoping strangely that he’d be pleased with you. And the groan you earned yourself was delectable.

You gave in, then. Let yourself be swept away by the rushing of blood in your ears and the rhythm of Toshi tearing you apart.

At some point, you could distantly feel his thrusts becoming more erratic, turning into a rough grinding in your mouth.

You couldn’t even taste it when he came, his cock was too obscenely deep in your neck, but the warmth of it burned your bleeding throat and filled your belly with a hot finality.

You weren’t even afforded the dignity of spitting his seed onto the floor where it belonged, ignoring the searing voice in your head that revealed in being rewarded with his essence.

When Toshi finally pulled out and tucked himself away, your head fell limply to your chest. A series of violent coughs erupted from you as a thick, viscous mixture of blood and spit and cum dripped from your tongue.

Those impossibly large hands gripped your chin once again, forcing you to look up into those piercing black eyes.

“Now, you’re never going to speak about me again,” he wasn’t asking but you glared up at him as his hand fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his phone.

The device was comically small in those hands of his as he aimed it at your ruined face and snapped a picture—the flash blinding you while he reached around and roughly undid the knotted rope keeping you in place.

“Because if you do, I’ll make sure those reporters know everything I said about you was nothing but the truth.”

The loudest part of you wanted to scream, to punch and bite and tell him it wasn’t. That you were a professional, with self-respect and dignity and you were good and your job, but—

But when you opened your sore and aching jaw to shout, nothing came out.

No sound, no yell, no words.

Just this awful rasp that made your throat feel like pins were sticking into the abused flesh.

“Well, looks like I might not need this after all,” Toshi dangled the phone in front of your face before pocketing it once again. “Looks like you won’t be saying much of anything for a good long while.”

And then Yagi Toshinori left.

He turned on his heel and walked out as you toppled off the bed behind him, trying so hard to scream despite the pain and the ripping in your chest—whether they were curses or cries for him to stay, you weren’t sure.

But there was nothing either way.

So you sat and screamed in silent agony at his retreating form until the sound of a door slamming rang out through your home.

It seemed that in all your years of playing this game, you’d finally been toppled off your tightrope.

Because you were good at your job, so you knew. It was all about the exchange of power, and yours had just been thoroughly stripped away.

#all might x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #toshinori x reader #tw dubcon #tw noncon #tw blackmail #dark all might #dark yagi toshinori #mha smut #all might smut #mha x reader #mha fanfic #bee.writes

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pyrefell · 3 years

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Headcanons for some of the boys? Namely horrorfell, underswap and underfell?

you let me off my child leash and i honestly wasn’t even really sure where to even start here, so you get some pretty general headcanons. i have a lot to say about underfell and horrorfell,,,

UNDERSWAP:

IN ALL HONESTY, Underswap is currently one of my least developed AU interpretations. I'm still just really indecisive. BUT! I do have some stuff that I'm fairly set on.

Papyrus:

Never really grew out of the shyness he had as a babybones, he’s always had a much more outgoing brother to hide behind.

He's the one that designed the puzzles in Snowdin! Puzzles are still one of his special interests in this AU. (Sans gets really excited to tell anyone that asks that his Very Cool little brother designed them.)

He's fairly low to mid (but consistent) energy. He tries (and usually succeeds) to act all chill but he gets really excited about some things and can reach True Papyrus levels of loud.

He and Undyne are still friends in this AU! He doesn't go to see her super often because. Hotland. But when they are together, it's pretty chaotic. They like to design things a la Mickey's Dick Smasher.

Man, he's sure been feeling a lot of deja vu lately. Huh, wonder what that's all about. :)

Sans:

He’s still the Judge! And he's still the one that has to deal with the ever shifting and resetting timeline. It's...really starting to take a toll on him, but what's the point in telling anyone? They won't remember and besides, who's going to believe him anyways?

He was always fairly outgoing and bubbly but he took on an even more bubbly persona kind of unconsciously to overcompensate for and hide how Tired he is now.

Sans is just about the opposite of his brother energywise. He's full of energy for short bursts and then he sleeps for hours. He's started sleeping more since everything with the timeline started. It's not the best sleep but he’s just...so tired nowadays.

Still completely willing to eat condiments for a joke (or a """joke"""). He eats mayonnaise by the handful. Does it mostly to embarrass (and disgust) Papyrus.

Genuinely enraged by people who think he's young. Sure, he may be only a few inches over 5', but he's a Wide Boy. And not a naïve child, he's the older brother, thank you very much. Haven't you heard his voice? What kid has a voice that deep?

UNDERFELL:

One general headcanon I have is that they both have DT in their systems. Gaster gave them injections when they were still very young babybones in the sterile lab and they’d started mysteriously falling down. He’s not really a bad guy there, he wanted to save them. Of course, it’s probably got it’s side effects, right? After all the Bromalgamate and Comic Papyrus exist. :)

Their relationship is...strained. They definitely still love each other and would fight to the death for the other but they don't really talk. They both blame each other for how the other turned out, how they act.

Papyrus:

He’s blind in his scarred socket! He first got the wound when he was still pretty little and because he and Sans were still living out on the streets, he wasn’t able to get any real kind of medical care. It’s still pretty fragile but there’s really not a whole lot that can be done anymore.

He can cook! Like, really well, actually. Grillby taught him when he was younger. He’s particularly good at cooking with whatever’s already in the house.

I think he still wants to believe everyone can change and be good if they try. Though, whether he actually believes that anymore is kind of debatable. And I think that he doesn’t really enjoy all the fighting. He doesn’t take any real pride or joy in what he's become. He really wanted (and still wants) to actually protect monsters.

There's a square of fabric on his scarf that's from a well-loved blanket he'd had as a babybones. It still brings him some semblance of comfort when he needs it.

He's well aware of timelines. Well okay, 'well aware' isn't exactly the right way to put it. He can't put a name to what's happening, why he can remember things that haven't happened yet or have happened at all. He at one point attempted to keep a journal about it all but it was gone the next reset. He'd like to talk to Sans about it, but given how their relationship is...

Sans:

He’s got 3 golden teeth, he got hit pretty good almost directly on those teeth around the same time Papyrus got his scar. They were really loose after that but didn’t actually come out until later.

Most still see him as free EXP. He doesn't get attacked as much anymore but the times he has, he's been able to suffice on just dodging until Papyrus shows up. He could just as easily fight back, but he's decided there could be some benefit to hiding what he can do for just a bit longer. Besides, he'd rather not place any more targets on their backs.

He knows how to sew! He learned completely out of necessity when they were both young. They only had so many pieces of clothes, after all. He's the one who sewed the little square of Papyrus's blanket into his scarf.

King of eavesdropping. Despite his stature (and who his brother is for that matter), he's surprisingly good at going unnoticed. He tends to play like he's completely shitfaced and passed out at Grillby's, just in case someone lets something slip.

They both blame themselves for how the other turned out but Sans has it bad. He's supposed to be the older brother, right? He was supposed to keep Papyrus safe and stars, did he do a shit job at it, even if there were some things he just couldn't do anything about.

HORRORFELL:

OKAY SO, my Horrorfell doesn't start the same way the normal Horrortale AU starts. The short version is that Frisk doesn't fall until YEARS after they normally would have and they fall with Aliza. The Famine devastated the Underground. Frisk's left to try and figure out why they didn't fall when they should have and why they can't remember anything that happened during those years between. They have to balance keeping themselves and Aliza alive and trying to get through to at least Sans, who, while his memory is terrible he knows he's supposed to be pissed at them. They left the Underground to rot. I think that's all y'all really need lmao. I'm definitely going to write about Horrorfell, in fact I've already started something about it

ANYWAYS! On to the headcanons for the Boys. These two are so ride or die now it’s almost unreal. They’ve had a lot of time to air out their grievances and have the years worth of fights with each other. They work together so much better now and it comes in handy for both protecting each other and hunting. They're the most efficient and successful hunters in the Underground.

Papyrus:

He’s effectively completely blind at this point. He needs coke bottle lenses to see. He ends up completely depending on his hearing and sense of smell when he's hunting. Despite his failing eyesight, he remains the best chef in Snowdin after Grillby's disappearance. He's always sure to use as much as he possibly can.

His new stature has made it incredibly difficult to get into most buildings. He often ends up walking on all fours and his magic's started to adjust his body for that. He doesn’t recognize himself so much anymore.

While Sans was comatose, Papyrus spent his time trying to ration out food, attempting to keep the peace for the denizens of Snowdin and caring for Sans. He'd continued to cut his own rations not only for the rest of Snowdin but for Sans too when he hopefully wakes up.

He'd managed his way out to the rest of the Underground with his own brand of 'shortcut' earlier on despite the lockdown in Snowdin. Some say they'd seen him but no one's really sure if that's true and if it is, how did he get out? Can he do it again and maybe talk some sense into the Empress? They used to be friends, right?

His memory is also not very good. He and Sans keep a big whiteboard in the kitchen with pertinent information and there's a calendar in every room with all the past dates marked off, just in case someone forgets.

Sans:

The reason why the hole in his skull is so big and leads into his nasal cavity is because of preexisting cracks. Undyne really didn't mean to hit him! Really, she didn't...

The selfish part of him almost wishes the DT in him hadn't kept him around, but he can't bring himself to really want that. He can't leave Papyrus alone, especially not now.

His relationship with Frisk is...tense to say the least. When he first saw them, he didn't fully process who they were but he felt nothing but rage. He doesn't really believe what Frisk's saying when they claim they can't remember anything. Their relationship could absolutely mend, there's just so many roadblocks at the start.

Seeing as he can't reliably use his shortcuts anymore, he's not as efficient a hunter as he could be. But that doesn't mean he isn't extremely deadly. The brothers are revered for the effectiveness, after all.

He's developed some pretty nasty coping habits, most of which involve some kind of self harm either intentional or not. Papyrus tries his best to limit it, but he's not the best either.

#underswap #underfell #horrorfell #sans #papyrus #undertale headcanons #anonymous #long post #HATED reformatting this post lol #sorry for this absence. this post took WAY longer than i thought it would #i didnt proofread this post bc i didnt want to so if theres any errors. lol sorry

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blackstonesandtrapnest · 4 years

Note

Hello! I'm pretty sure I didn't send this in already (If I did I'm so sorry just ignore this one ^^') But I really really loved your Yugi relationship headcanons! Could we maybe get some of those for Yami/Atem too? SFW and NSFW if you're okay with that, if not that's fine! Thank you in advance, you're awesome! (also side note, I've never heard of the anime Nana before your blog but now I'm kinda interested in it haha)

No this is my first time getting the request ^_^ I was waiting for someone to request this honestly XD You should definitely watch Nana when you get a chance! I swear it’s amazing!

Also I’ll be doing these headcanons as if Atem got his own body to make it easier to do!

~~SFW~~

Unlike Yugi who’s more shy and lacks confidence, Atem is definitely more charming and confident in himself. Approaching a beautiful woman or man (he’s bisexual obviously) is no skin off his nose. Yes he’s helped Yugi get dates before. Such a good friend am I right?

Atem has a reputation for being a player and yes it’s true to some extent. He likes to play the field and just like Yugi, he gets bored easily. You gotta be a special person to keep his attention for long. Atem is a free-spirit and settling down isn’t exactly easy for him because of how hard it is to keep him interested. Atem especially values intelligence and if you’re a duelist, that’s even better. Traveling is also a requirement for being with Atem. He wants to get out and see the world and being with his S/O while doing so is a dream come true for him!

Atem is definitely more open to one-night stands and flings than Yugi is. But he isn’t one of those asshole players who uses people for sex and then ghosts them later. Atem is very upfront and honest about his intentions and wants for any potential suitors to do the same. He doesn’t get why people deceive and lure others to get sex or money from them. Why do that when you can just be honest?

Atem will definitely treat you like the King or Queen you are! Unlike Yugi who’s more frugal and down-to-earth, he’s much more lavish with his dates and gifts. Fancy restaurants, awesome clothes, the works! Atem may not be as rich as Kaiba but he’ll definitely spoil you the best he can! If you do the same in return, Atem will be so touched that he might actually cry. Awwww!

If you actually manage to keep Atem’s interest, congratulations. You’ve already found your way into his heart and you’re gonna stay there. He’s gonna chase you like a jack rabbit chases a carrot and he’s not gonna let you go. If he ever does, you must’ve done something unforgivable and he’s not taking you back. Please don’t take Atem for granted or it’ll be the biggest mistake of your life.

Atem has had his heart broken many times in his 5000+ years of existing and he’s been through pretty much any dating disaster you can imagine so don’t be too nervous and shy when you’re around him. His amount of heartbreaks have caused him to become more reserved and cautious so be patient if you want a long-term relationship with him. He’ll open up to you but you have to gain his trust first.

Pride is gonna be the biggest hurdle in your relationship honestly. Atem puts Vegeta to shame in terms of how prideful he is and ohhh boy are you in for one hell of a fight whenever you two get into an argument. Atem does NOT like to lose and admitting that he’s wrong is like a Kuriboh trying to defeat a Blue-Eyes White Dragon. He’ll argue with you all damn day and he will push your buttons like no man can. If you’re the headstrong type who doesn’t take any bullshit and won’t back down, that’s perfect for Atem because he needs someone like that to bring him down to Earth sometimes. He has thick skin so don’t worry about hurting his feelings. Atem actually gets turned on when you get mad and he likes it when you put him in his place. He’s never really dealt with that kind of person before so it intrigues him. He’s used to people just bowing down to him and honestly he’s tired of it. Sometimes Atem will start arguments for the hell of it. It’s great foreplay according to him.

Atem likes PDA but is subtle about it. Small things like holding hands or wrapping arms around each other’s waist is more of his style. He likes security and when you’re around him, having some kind of physical contact gives him that feeling. A hug here or a kiss there may happen too depending on the situation and how Atem feels.

If you’ve dated any of his friends (especially Yugi), Atem isn’t dating you point blank period. He doesn’t believe in dating his friends’ exes and he and Yugi actually wound up dating the same girl once! The outcome wasn’t pretty either. The player doesn’t like being played. Not. One. Bit.

Unfortunately Atem has had all the major issues that comes with being a player. Fatal attractions, paternity scandals, bitter exes, getting a taste of his own medicine, you name it, it’s happened to him at some point and he’s got stories for days. His past will eventually come back to haunt him and if you can’t handle it, he won’t stop you from leaving and he’ll definitely understand. Loving Atem isn’t easy and it’ll definitely test you in every way possible but he’s definitely worth fighting for and he will spend the next 5000+ years proving it to you if he has to. He’s not gonna lose you without a fight and his love for you is eternal no matter what happens between you two. You’ll always have a special place in Atem’s heart.

~~NSFW~~

Atem has lots of experience which is a given considering how old he is. He knows how to please his partners and he can adapt to his partner’s needs at the drop of a hat. Want slow and steady? You got it. Want rough and hard? Atem’s your guy. Want a threesome? Atem will happily oblige!

He doesn’t care if you’re short, tall, big, or small. Atem’s been with all kinds of people of various sizes so he’s not exactly picky. Does he have a specific type or preferences? Of course he does. But he doesn’t go out of his way to find what he wants physically in a partner as opposed to mentally. Atem knows better than anyone that looks don’t completely matter and that it’s what’s on the inside that truly matters.

Atem is a switch but mostly prefers to be the Dom. He definitely loves to roleplay and he always makes sure to have a safe word in place so no harm is done. Can you guess what his favorite kind of roleplay is? Remember he is a 5000 year old Pharaoh ;)

When Atem is dominating you, sexy doesn’t even begin to describe it! His voice is deep, his words are filthy, and his dick is hard. You’re gonna feel his hands all over your body and he’s definitely gonna make you beg. You’ll be a complete mess when he’s done with you and you can forget about going to work or school the next morning.

Atem’s aftercare is on point! He’ll praise you like no other, take a luxurious hot bath with you, make some delicious food for you (yes he can cook and quite well might I add), and top it all off with a glass of very fine wine. If you have any bruises or scratches, Atem is gonna make sure they’re taken care of so you’re not too sore.

Atem’s pride also extends to the bedroom. If he’s not your first lover, he’s gonna make damn sure that he’s one of the best you’ve ever had if not THE best. If he’s your first, then that’s even better. You’ll want no other man once he’s done with you trust me. You’ll need at least 5 guys to do what he does in bed!

He wants to know everything about you sexually. Your fantasies, your kinks, your dislikes, bad experiences, you name it. Atem likes to know what he’s getting himself into and what he’s up against. He wants to have an open dialogue about sex so if you’re shy or prudish, you’ll have a very rude awakening with Atem.

If you thought Yugi’s secret stash was something to shocked by, just wait until you see Atem’s. Hell he has a secret ROOM instead! Sex dungeon anyone? But he won’t reveal it to you until he’s opened up to you a bit and has settled in with you sexually. Atem doesn’t want to scare you away by revealing everything at once! He’s made that mistake a few times before.

Whenever Atem is the sub, he’s a bratty sub to the fullest! If you wanna dominate him, you’re gonna earn it damn it! He’ll egg you on, challenge you, defy you, the whole nine yards. I hope you have a lot of patience because you’re gonna need it with Atem if you’re the dominant type! But the right to dominate him is well worth fighting for! He’ll obey your every command and will be putty in your hands. You’ll feel on top of the world!

It should go without saying but Atem lives to please and he wants to make you happy both in and out of the bedroom! Not only because of his pride but because of how much he loves you. You see, Atem is simply one hell of a lover and he’ll make sure you don’t forget it either!

#Yu-Gi-Oh #yugioh headcanons #yugioh imagines #yami yugi #atem #bringing sexy back #anime headcanons #anime imagines

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connorinabeanie · 4 years

Text

While digging through my incomplete fics I found an utterly ridiculous snippet of a story all about Connor and North being menaces, so I thought I’d post it here. No promises on there every being any more of this, but who knows.

Markus had told them not to do it.

But, to be fair, Markus always told them not to do it. No matter how well thought out the plan was, no matter what they could gain from it, no matter if they were both already dressed and geared up, Markus always said the same thing.

“You two can’t kill your way through our problems.”

And, as always, they’d told him that wasn’t true. Still, most of the time, they ended up listening to their leader and retreating to sulk and practice shooting or sparring or maybe sometimes go pet a dog. A particular very large, very fluffy dog, whose owner had stopped even bothering to sigh dramatically whenever the two of them arrived unannounced.

But, this time, they’d decided to go through with the plan anyway.

That was why North and Connor found themselves lying flat on a rooftop, pressed against the snow and cold metal sheeting, waiting for the gunfire to die down. It was taking awhile. Connor was pretty sure someone had an automatic rifle, the skilless dick.

“Step two could’ve gone better.” North’s voice rang in his head, and since she was approximately eight inches from him she probably could’ve gotten away with whispering, but he was pretty sure she just liked seeing him twitch and blink rapidly when receiving a message. He really needed to see if he could do something about altering that reaction.

“It could’ve gone worse.” He countered, and it was true, even though Connor wasn’t really an optimist; when you could construct potential plans and calculate their probabilities of success, anything but realism seemed unwarranted. However, step two had been one of his parts of the plan, and he was not about to call it a failure.

North didn’t bother to respond, just rolling her eyes, because they were both distracted with something more noteworthy: the gunfire had died down, which meant their pursuers were either out of bullets, convinced Connor and North weren’t actually hiding on the roof, or they had dropped dead. Connor was pretty sure it was one of the former two and not the latter, but an android could dream.

He could also dream that his partner would take even a few seconds to wait and see if the coast was clear before moving, but alas, it was not the case. North was both more decisive and more impulsive than Connor was, things he hadn’t been entirely sure were possible, and so even he had trouble keeping up with her when she decided to do something.

And, currently, that something was to scramble up, launch herself forward, and drop over the edge of the roof. The sound of a wet thunk indicated she’d broken her landing with a human, and if they were lucky maybe she’d broken the human too. That’d be a bonus.

Connor wasted no time in vaulting from the roof’s edge himself, dropping the two stories to land and roll, pretending the motion was a lot more graceful than it actually was. It was really only enough to get the job done, putting him right in the face of one of the guards, too close for the rifle to be any use and Connor subdued him easily. Two down, something like seventeen to go.

He understood why Markus hadn’t wanted them to raid the warehouse; it was dangerous, and Connor knew for a fact that the police were getting ready for their own raid the next day. But even though there was no confirmation that the red ice producers were holding any androids for use in making their drug, Connor couldn’t get the idea out of his head that there might be androids suffering while they did nothing. North had noticed how agitated he was, and after he’d explained the situation they’d both decided to do something. Markus, however, was unwilling to risk their lives on a maybe, when they didn’t know for sure--or even have good reason to suspect--that there was anyone who needed help.

And so they’d just ignored him.

He was going to be mad when they got back, but that was just how life went sometimes. Connor was mad at people a lot, and he got over it. Sort of.

Anyway, they’d deal with the issue of Markus being angry and/or disappointed in them later. With the guards out front dispatched, they could continue on into the warehouse; the only--or well, the most current problem--being that there were definitely more guards before. Where did they go?

“Maybe they went to get more ammo.” North suggested, having the same thought he did, stepping on the arm of the guard she’d tackled as she walked over to Connor. She pretended it was completely cavalier, but he saw the faint grin that crossed her face when she did it.

“Maybe. If so, we should go now.” Before they finished reloading and came at them again. Connor and North could handle a few heavily armed humans, especially if those humans were drug dealers and not military or FBI, but they didn’t need to take any more risk than they already were. It was already a lot, and eventually it would catch up to them.

Eventually, as it turned out, was actually about four and a half minutes later. After several non-fatal gunshot wounds, two explosions, and a lot of broken human bones, they were successful but absolutely not looking forward to explaining this to Markus.

An upside was that they did indeed end up saving an android; an AX400 had been still alive in a storage closet, and had been incredibly shocked to see a pair of androids open the door. She had in fact latched onto North, crying on her shoulder in appreciation, and this time the smile North tried to hide was for a very different reason.

They made it back to New Jericho with only minor further incidents and blood loss, and were really quite proud of themselves as they escorted the AX400--her name was Lila, as she’d told them on the taxi ride back--to the repairs center in the lobby of the repurposed apartment building. That pride lasted until Josh gave them both a horrified look and informed Connor that he could see through the hole in his shoulder.

And that was how Connor ended up sitting on an exam table and attempting to behave himself while Josh fussed over him, North getting a similar treatment from Simon--who had been called in by Josh--on the next table. Markus hadn’t shown up yet, but it was only a matter of time. Connor set up a timer in his HUD to see how long it would be.

It took, coincidentally, about four and a half minutes. Connor was starting to think 270 seconds was a cursed number.

“I thought I asked you both not to do anything.” Markus said, voice soft, as he looked from Connor to North and back again.

“You did.” Connor informed him helpfully, holding still so Josh could pry a bullet out of his side. “But we assessed that the situation required immediate action.”

Markus gave him a look, then glanced at North again. She just shrugged. He sighed.

“Well, I’m glad you’re both alive. What happened?”

And so they relayed their epic tale of heroism and murder, Connor slightly more factually than North, but her version definitely had a lot more flair. The steadily increasing furrow of Markus’ brow softened a little upon hearing about Lila, and so Connor thought they might be in the clear.

He was, unfortunately, incorrect.

“I’m really glad you’re both okay, and that you were able to save someone. But I’m still very disappointed that you snuck off; if you’re not going to listen to me, at least let me know so I can do something if you don’t come back.” Markus said, still in the soft and gentle tone he was so good at, looking so sad that Connor wondered if it would be too obvious if he got off the table and crawled under it to hide.

North seemed similarly chagrined, but in typical North fashion that shame manifested as a will to fight. “We couldn’t take the chance that someone would stop us. You didn’t leave us any other choice.”

Oh no. Under the table was looking more and more appealing.

“North, I wouldn’t have-”

“Yes you would’ve!” She insisted, even though Connor was pretty sure Markus wouldn’t have actually stopped them, and more than that he was pretty sure North knew it. Connor shared a look with Josh, and got the impression that Josh was also considering disappearing, but fortunately he was far too tall for Connor to be concerned that he would take the hiding spot Connor had already mentally called dibs on.

Markus, being Markus, didn’t bother to argue further; instead he just gave North an incredibly sad look before turning his attention toward Connor. “Are you angry with me too?”

“Not currently.” Connor said, and it was truthful, because currently he wasn’t angry at anyone. He was just a really weird combination of mortified, accomplished, and guilty. He definitely preferred feeling angry.

Markus seemed to accept that answer, sighing quietly, and he gave North another look--her arms were crossed and she was scowling past Simon at a wall--before apparently deciding not to say anything more. Instead he just swept out of the room, coat billowing dramatically behind him, and Connor would’ve found that annoying if he didn’t know for a fact that it wasn’t on purpose. That was just how things went for Markus.

#detroit become human #detroit become human fanfic #my posts #dbh connor #dbh north #connorth #sort of #more like a horrible bff team but you can interpret however #I'm down for either

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bungostraydoggos · 5 years

Text

Farewell to Arms: Chapter One

This is my short story of an imaginative extension of Bungou Stray Dogs. Meaning, I added an original character that I think may feel canonic when in actuality, it’s not. I wrote this for my pure amusement but of course, I shared this short story on here in hopes of other people enjoying this as well. I may do more of these collective short stories of Bungou Stray Dogs revolving various characters and original characters if it turns out well. Anyways, enough of my rambling. Here is chapter one starring Francis, Louisa, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and my original character Ernest Hemingway. The setting takes place when Nathaniel infiltrates the New Guild’s base and attempts to kill Francis under Fyodor’s order.

Panic--- that was the word befitting of Louisa’s mind right now. Her injured arm bled like spilt milk as her hand tries to stop any more blood loss by desperately holding pressure against the deep slash. How could this have happened? Although her special ability provided numerous and various battle strategies, this surprise attack from Nathaniel Hawthorne wasn’t included. He was supposed to be gone missing after his deathly incident against his fight with the Port Mafia’s Diablo. He shouldn’t be here but moreover, what happened to him? Everything seemed wrong starting from the moment Louisa was caught defenseless. Nathaniel’s actions felt nothing but the intent to kill, and that wasn’t the familiar impression that she first thought of him before the fall of Moby Dick. Something is wrong and if anything, Louisa immediately suspects that there is someone controlling the old priest’s mind. If it’s anyone who is capable of mind controlling or corrupting a man’s humanity and good will, it would be Fyodor, no doubt. But how and when? Too many questions bullet through Louisa’s mind. She has no time but to hurry over to Fitzgerald’s side. Even though she knows Fitzgerald is more than capable of protecting himself, she has a bad premonition that Nathaniel has terrible up in his sleeves. She needs to hurry, but each step to the staircase was awfully painful. Louisa catches her breath but slips forward. To her surprise, a pair of assuring arms caught hold of her injured body. “Ernest...” In the midst of all the direness, Ernest Hemingway gently places Louisa beside the stairwell while quickly bandaging her bleeding wound. Thanks to his brief experience as an ambulance man, his skill in first aid helped Louisa relax just a little bit albeit in extreme pain. She takes a deep breath before speaking. “Fitzgerald... upstairs... Nathaniel... have to save him.” The amount of blood loss caused Louisa’s throat significantly dry, and to speak normally felt like needles poking inside her esophagus, but Hemingway understood. He grasped the situation already and created a one-shot plan to somehow defeat Nathaniel Hawthorne. He gives Louisa reassurance. “I know.” As Hemingway stood up and head to the upper office where Fitzgerald and Nathaniel are supposedly brawling, he whispered an important information to Louisa--- leaving her in a blank, torrent state of emotions.

The moment Nathaniel reached into Francis’ office, it was already too late for the New Guild Boss to be at an advantage. Admittedly, he was caught off guard to see Nathaniel of all people to try and kill his former employer. What was even more appalling was the fact that Nathaniel was once a priest man. “Since when did a priest like you end up as an assassin tainted in blood?” The cloaked man stares at Fitzgerald with expressionless eyes, doing nothing but taking his stance to launch his next preemptive attack. Although Francis can easily defeat Nathaniel, it was a little difficult to fight without trying to shed any of his own blood since his enemy can control Francis’ at his will too. Not only that, Fitzgerald held himself back from using too much money as power boost. After his failure with the Moby Dick incident, he can’t afford to lose all his fortune again. Francis took a defensive stance but failed when Nathaniel’s outstanding speed gave him a blunt kick to the stomach. He crashes into the white walls from the recoil. “Gotta say, old sport. You’ve got quite a kick there.” Despite all of the unfortunate despair steaming around, Fitzgerald smiles on top of it all. For a man filled with pride and dignity, there was no way he will die. At the very least, not yet--- not yet until he gets his daughter back for Zelda. The thought of his wife gave him a surge of strength while regrettably using one-fourth of the stock money. Francis returns a series of punches and stomping kicks to Nathaniel at a speed twice as fast than the ability assassin. At one point, it looked like Fitzgerald held victory but for some odd reasons, no matter how much damage Nathaniel receives, his tattered body just keeps moving and fighting as if he were a mindless puppet. “This doesn’t look too good...” Francis was right. Although it seemed like he had the upper advantage this time, Nathaniel wouldn’t give up. It was as if there was something that was driving him to achieve it even if it means to be at death’s door. The frightening motivation of the bloody priest gave Francis a moment to gulp the lump in his throat. As it is, he cannot prolong this fight any longer since he used more than enough money of the company’s stock. There must be a plan to help him shake Nathaniel off his tail but nothing came to the great Fitzgerald. As Nathaniel launched another deadly attack, Francis Fitzgerald suddenly thought that this was it for him. His arms relax, and he smirks at his incoming enemy without a drop of shame. The Great Francis Fitzgerald was going to die.

“For Whom the Bell Tolls”

At that moment, a glow of yellow and orange hue encircled the room between Francis and Nathaniel. Because of the sudden turn of events, Nathaniel quickly retreated back at a distance away from Francis and luckily for him, Fitzgerald escaped his dead end. Although he has never seen anything like this before, this warm and irksome feeling was all too familiar and within seconds, Francis knew that this is probably from him. “About damn time, Ernest.” The tall gentleman gives his old acquaintance a spiteful remark as he comes in between Francis and Nathaniel, “yet I see you couldn’t handle this yourself.” His sharp tongue was critical as ever yet it was a part of Ernest in which Francis somewhat appreciated. The yellowish and orange light was still glowing but now, it’s encircled solely around Nathaniel. The ability assassin tries to shake of the light enveloping him but to no avail. Ernest points his dual guns and shoot rapid artillery rounds into Nathaniel’s body. Each bullet was precisely and purposefully stuck inside Nathaniel like parasites and for Hemingway, this is all going well according to his plan. The ex-priest falls to his knees with countless bullet wounds stuck to him like a cactus. The yellow glowing light burns brighter by the minute and there’s not much time left. “Go escape. You can’t die yet.” Unbeknownst to Francis, he doesn’t know the exact powers of his old friend’s ability despite all the years of knowing him and in fact, this was actually his first time seeing Hemingway’s special ability right before his eyes but for some reason, Francis Fitzgerald couldn’t shake off the bad feeling scratching at the back of his guts. “And what about you?” Now for Ernest Hemingway, this was his first time seeing someone haughty and arrogant like Fitzgerald gazing at him with serious eyes that showed genuine concern for a simple ‘acquaintance’ like him. Even though they are supposedly good friends, it was strange that they never accepted each other like that. The glowing hue of sunset-like colors surrounding Nathaniel grew brighter by the second like a flaming star and Ernest had no time left now. With a strong blow, Hemingway kicked Francis down to the staircase nearby, leaving the New Guild leader falling back into the never-ending stairwell. The abrupt moment took Francis’ aback and the last thing he saw was Ernest giving him a reluctant, rare smile. “Farewell, old friend.” It was unsure what exactly happened at that moment, but a giant explosion erupted like a meteor shower. The bright yellow and orange glare was blinding and the piles of rubbish and gust of hot wind threw Francis down to the lower levels of the tower company. Just at the right time albeit being late, Atsushi and Kunikida came to save the New Guild and in one smooth catch, Atsushi caught Francis, softening his landing from the explosion as Kunikida covers Louisa from any remaining shrapnels and metallic rubbish gusting their way. All of the events felt like an instant rush and because of these turn of events, everything was too fast and difficult to process. Once the bombarding blast died down and everything fell quiet, Francis shoves Atsushi away and runs upstairs to the main office on the top floor where Ernest and Nathaniel are supposed to be. When Fitzgerald arrived, there was completely nothing but destroyed walls and floors, shattered windows, and pile of dark blood that is from Nathaniel lying cold and immobile. Francis scans the room one more time trying to find Hemingway but fails. The great Fitzgerald panics as his messy blonde locks cover his view. Despite being injured himself, he searches for his comrade amongst the pile of rubbles mounted here and there. Literally half of the company tower was blown away and as Francis desperately searches his missing friend, Atsushi, Kunikida and Louisa enters the devastating scene. “He’s here. He’s alive. I know he is, we just gotta find him under these damn pile of rocks.” The way he tries to encourage himself while coating proactive words of hopelessness left Atsushi great sadness. As for Louisa, her heart clenched with an indescribable pain as her tears overflowed like a water fountain. She touches her bandaged arm where Ernest tended--- it was as if his warm touch never left. Poor Louisa tries to recollect her wavering strength and speaks out to her boss. “Ernest is... Ernest is no longer here anymore... So please...” It was unbearable. There were no words that helped ease the grim feeling and for that, Louisa felt terribly guilty. But Francis didn’t listen. Even though he did, and he knows, he continued to dig out the rocks with his bleeding fingers. The sight was pitiful for Kunikida. He would’ve never imagined a high-classed and selfish man like Francis Ftizgerald could look like this. Even a prideful man can shake like a poor man when it comes to death. The sounds of rocks rolling and clacking as Fitzgerald digs, Atsushi began to help. Like Louisa, Atsushi was feeling unbearable too and if anything, he felt sorry for him. Kunikida holds Francis as Atsushi searches for Ernest. “Enough. You’re way too injured to be moving like this. We’ll help search---” “---I’m fine.” Francis slaps Kunikida’s hand away. “No, you’re not.” The two men were about to argue and stir a pointless fight until Atsushi gasps at his discovery. The body was black and charred yet his flesh was still in fresh color that glowed faintly like the yellow and orange hue of Ernest’s special ability. Francis’ expression twists into remorse as he takes in the moment of his dead pal before him. Louisa looks away from the sad scene and begins to talk, slowly unraveling the truth of what happened. “Just before, Ernest told me that his ability allowed him to envelop his enemy and practically turn them into a living bomb--- and only his touch can be the trigger,” she takes a deep breath before continuing, “in other words, For Whom the Bell Tolls was a sacrificial ability. It was no wonder he never used it nor mentioned to us before.” Francis’ body stiffened at the last comment. A sacrificial ability? Bullshit. That didn’t give Ernest any right to do it anyways if it was going to kill him in exchange. Francis curses under his breath, how could Ernest sacrifice for someone like himself? Francis curses under his breath once again, “bullshit.” “ ‘I’ll protect Fitzgerald,’ those were the last words he spoke to me as he went up to save you.” At this point, he wasn’t sure if any tears were coming out but that didn’t really matter. Francis kneels closer to the deceased Ernest and smiles weakly. It took him a good minute before saying anything. “He was my good friend yet he said those words first before I could even manage to say them.” The scene replayed back fresh in his mind. That was the first time Hemingway called him a friend, and he always knew that despite their clashing personalities, conflicting beliefs, and contrasting ideals, the two hated each other yet they were each other’s closest friend. How laughable, how tragically laughable--- Francis thought. After a moment of complete silence, Francis stands up and fixes his sullied tie. He wears his usual happy, confident expression and smirks like the richest man in the world he is as if nothing that happened here fazed him at all. But clearly, to Louisa, she knew he was putting up a facade. “Well now, I leave the dead priest over to your care detectives. Louisa and I will clean up our mess here since it is our headquarter base. Oh and of course, I give you my thanks for your help even though my people ultimately saved the day, haha.” Francis laughs heartily to himself as he shoos the detectives away along with Nathaniel’s corpse. After Atsushi and Kunikida reluctantly left, the suffocating silence returned and Francis picks up the burned Hemingway into his arms. “Fitzgerald...” “Louisa, I must apologize to you for all of this. I’m glad you weren’t too hurt. It’s all thanks to Ernest, isn’t it?” Louisa looks downcast, “yes.” “Don’t look so glum. We barely made it by the skin of our teeth, and we must thank our dear friend, Ernest, for saving the day like some hero.” The two fell silent again as the open breeze filled in through the torn tower, blowing its condolences like a farewell to arms.

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squaredancing-weston · 7 years

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para || Brobastian: Another Shot, 12/25/2016

Tagging: @sebadasssmythe and @squaredancing-weston

Time: Sunday evening, 25 December 2016

Setting: JAX Tavern, Forrest, OH

Summary: When Brody invites Sebastian to be his ringer at the Christmas Pub Trivia game with a first prize of a free tab for the night, of course he says yes. And of course they make a mockery of the competition. What’s left but to drink to themselves?

Part 3 (End)

Note: Kind of jumbled because we started out just headcanon-ing and then got more detailed...

"The real ones or the stripper version?" Brody retorted with a laugh. "Because that was //not// the type of dance I spent over a decade studying." Not that he hadn't put on more than one show in his experience, //especially// during his time at Tisch. The older man chuckled, "I've heard of worse ideas, although it'd be a drive to find anything worth paying for," he replied, although did Bas really think he was so straight-edge that he needed to make up excuses for strippers? "I'm not saying I need to justify going to a strip club; just that we've made up a lot of themes to make the visits more interesting. Creativity is the spice of life after all-- otherwise you're just wasting your money on something you can get for free at home."

Brody inhaled deeply in satisfaction at the thought. "Well, when you've got a hot guy deep-throating //and// swallowing, it can be a heady thing. We both know that it's slim pickings out here finding someone who does one, much less both." Goddam, he was hard. The whole experience was a fucking fantasy. And a nightmare, because now he just wanted more. Brody tried to shift subtly and get a hold of himself and focus on the game. The game always helped him keep his composure, although it was rough thinking about the cold shower waiting for him at home. "Well, at least you're aware of them. I mean, it'd get very awkward very fast if you kept going into these places thinking you had a handle on it every time." Bas nudged his shoulder, and Brody flashed a grin-- they had definitely done better than the older man was playing off, crap furniture or not. "Hey, you know, if I only got one thing out of that hook up, I can definitely say it was a great bedding recommendation, right?" he half-teased. He definitely had received way more than just a soft place to pass out. Fucking Sebastian Smythe pretty much clarified any story he'd ever told about people practically stalking him over another shot-- Brody apparently was even one of them, he was a little ashamed to admit. He swallowed thickly as a shot of adrenaline raced down his spine to his eager cock. "Oh yeah?" he tried to play off with a joke. "You really think I'll be that hard up for company that I'll need your hookups in it?" Brody nodded in understanding at Bas' rational. "Yeah, well, I guess some of us just aren't up to that sort of adventure," he remarked. For him personally, even if he could have had sex at his dad's office, it would have felt weird-- way too much stud stuff around. Kind of kinky in a bad way. Bas would have had a field day with the bestiality jokes involved in that image.

"Yeah, well, surprisingly, I wasn't //that/ crazy in high school, so circuit hook-ups were kept at a minimum. But I'll keep an eye out next time I'm wandering around in gear for someone with the potential to be worth the trouble." Brody rolled his eyes, even though in his mind, he could already see all the trouble he and the younger man could get into in the tack room... Brody shook his head and laughed as Bas threw back his shot. For all the trouble he made, he'd never managed to get arrested for it-- thrown out of school, however... "How many of you were there?" he probed with interest. "Or was this like one of those high society club things?" Brody snapped his fingers in faux disappointment at the reveal, although he was definitely glad. Not that it was his business, obviously.

Brody leaned forward eagerly-- he was winning so far, although Bas had the chance to catch up. Which he did-- in the most ridiculous way possible. "Wait-- how did you get arrested having sex in a club of less than three people?" he retorted incredulously. No way was this one true-- and if he caught Bas in a lie, that meant Bas had to drink, so he determined not to cave to the statement so easily. Sebastian's insinuation, however, had Brody's eyes bug out incredulously. "I'm sorry-- are you asking me if I purposely had sex for other people's kinky voyeurism? I mean, public sex, sure. Lots of people around-- it's happened. But I'm not usually waving around a big sign saying 'Watch Me' when I got at it." He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Asshole."

As stupid as it was, Brody's pride was a little hurt by Bas' charge-- although he supposed for how open he was about his sex life, he shouldn't be surprised Bas would think he was capable of something like that. But in reality, Brody tended to keep his personal life personal until the facts and circumstances were completely irrelevant to his life. But still, he was wounded, and so he chose to deal out a low blow in return. "Never Have I Ever...had an orgasm outside of North America," he said smugly, eying Sebastian's next drink pointedly. It was a lame shot, to be sure, but wanted to win, and maybe knock Bas down a peg in the meantime.

"I think we already established - I want the /real/ version. But, hey, if you want to give me a strip show while you're at it, don't let me stop you." Now /that/ was a scenario that he really wasn't going to get out of his head any time soon. Goddamn, why did he even bring it up? Well, Brody did. But he really needed to stop entertaining the thought right now. He shrugged, chuckling. "True. You know how much I enjoy a bit of creativity. Really makes everything more fun, right?" "Yeah, it can be," he agreed. Fuck knows /he's/ envied people in the past who have been able to experience his own techniques. He can count on one hand how many he'd been able to find in return - and that included women, too. Not that he'd minded at all doing it for Brody. Actually, one of his favourite things about sex was seeing the other person fall apart and knowing that he'd been the one to cause it - and Brody's own reactions had been particularly delicious. "Awkward, and dangerous. I'm promiscuous, not an idiot," he commented. Thinking that he was indestructible or trusting people too easily definitely wasn't going to get him anywhere in life. He was slightly distracted by Brody's grin, but he managed to catch his words just in time. "/Just/ a great bedding recommendation, Brodes? I like to think you got a hell of a lot more out of it than that." But he took the comment for what it was and snorted. "Dick." He huffed, shaking his head. "I was hardly planning on bringing my own hook-ups, Weston, but if that's the way you want to play it." He wasn't even sure if he was joking anymore. "Or maybe some of us were too busy pursuing adventures away from their home." Because fuck bringing any hook ups to meet his parents. Shit, he'd never even brought /Andrew/ to meet his parents. Something he was extra grateful for now, of course.

"Damn. Well, I'm sure that person will appreciate it." He knew /he/ would. Which, really - since it had been his suggestion and all - it /should/ be him. Apparently repeatedly sleeping with Brody was something he was willing to do now - especially if this game went the way he'd planned. Fuck it - best not to think about it too much, right? The sex was good, and Brody wasn't clingy. He huffed in amusement, putting the shotglass back on the surface of the bar. "Nightclub, Brodes. Loud music, drowns out the sounds. It was pretty crowded." All the more reason why they'd thought they'd be unnoticed.

Sebastian paused, thinking back to his wording, and then shook his head. Damn, how much had he had to drink already? "No, no. That wasn't quite what I meant," he clarified. "I'm asking if you've had sex as a performance piece. You know - in front of people. On purpose." He snorted at the question, nodding in confirmation. He grinned at Brody's response. "Hey, you never know." But he felt a thrill of victory run through him when Brody didn't take a shot regardless. Surely losing shouldn't be making him /this/ happy.

He raised his eyebrows when Brody asked the next question. "Really, Brodes? You're asking the guy who used to live in Paris if he's had an orgasm outside of North America?" Rolling his eyes, he took the shot, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped it down. Apparently Brody wasn't even /trying/ anymore. But then again, that did mean that he got what he wanted - so who was he to complain? He twisted the shotglass in his hands, before placing it next to the other two empty ones. Two to go, and Brody still had four left. Things were shaping up nicely, as far as he was concerned. Again, though, he didn't want to look like he was /trying/ to lose. "Never have I ever used a someone else's sex toy - either on them, or on myself." He got by on this one on a technicality, really. He had used them with Andrew, but they had been Sebastian's - and seeing as everyone else he'd slept with apart from Brody and Marley had been strangers, he never had the opportunity to do so. Which was fortunate, in this case, since he was running out of shit that he hadn't done.

"I think you'd have to buy me a fair amount of alcohol to inspire me to try to make a stage show out of stripping off real chaps," Brody remarked. "I mean, I guess if I was up there //with// someone, you know providing a little assistance, it'd be more attractive and worth the effort, but still-- a lot of alcohol, for sure." Although if //Sebastian// was the one offering, Brody probably wouldn't even want to be that drunk for the show. "But if we're playing this game anyways, I would also like some hot blondes in body glitter backing me up," he added with a laugh. "Exactly: you got to keep the game interesting. Otherwise you may as well be playing Candyland."

"I mean, it obviously doesn't hurt if they're moderately attractive, even if they lack any discernible ass," he added for good measure. As much as the damn thing had grown on him, Brody still got a kick out of mocking Sebastian's backside. Which was funny, considering how often now he just thought about putting his hands (and other parts) on or in it. Brody shrugged, "Fair enough, although in some respects I'd argue that point." Brody laughed, waggling his eyebrows teasingly. "Hey, that was a damn nice mattress," he contested. "But yeah, I guess there were some other upsides to the night." Fucking god, Brody really had some imagery of Bas back at his place, on a new mattress-- somewhere with decent furniture, with a good headboard, with a lot of condoms hidden in every nook and cranny... Just flirting, he reminded himself. He's just messing around. "Well, I'm not usually the voyeur type," he replied with a smirk, "but I mean, if you and NPH and David all need a place to crash, you are more than welcome to swing by. I will never kick you out." Brody wasn't sure, but it felt like he was hitting close to a nerve. Or maybe he was just projecting based off of what he knew about Bas' family issues. Which, while not much, was enough to know Bas probably was done talking about his folks. "Well, at least that means your stories are more interesting," he offered with an easy smile.

"Yeah, I'll have to make sure they do," Brody nodded, licking his lips as he thought about Bas peeling off his chaps-- because right now, that's who he wanted peeling shit off of him. "You know, if I find someone worth the hassle." Brody still shifted his gaze to the floor in amusement, shaking his head, "And they arrested you for that? Man, the rich really do live differently." He couldn't imagine being at a club that would have //arrested// him for the shit he pulled there, but those kind of places charged twenty bucks for cover and cheap booze and music, so he doubted Bas would end up there.

Brody watched Sebastian take offense to his next question-- it was pathetic, really, who was he kidding. But what could he say? Sometimes he was just petty like that. And anyways, watching Sebastian suck the shot down was intoxicating on its own, because that was his third empty glass resting on the table. God fuck, he could almost feel him, and he just wanted this game over with so he could drag him somewhere, anywhere, and fuck some part of him senseless. Then Vanessa could have him, Brody promised himself. Brody listened to Bas' claim, and laughed loudly, not even hesitating as he threw back the shot. He should have known that one was coming-- he'd heard Bas talk about it earlier, after all. "Nothing too...crazy," he clarified. "Well, there //was// a riding crop and a ballgag this one time, but I don't judge. But besides that, you know, just the norm: cock rings, a Rabbit... once I met someone with a real sex swing, so that was fun. Just that sort of thing." Was he giving the other man ideas? God he hoped so, because for all the discomfort Bas was giving him, he really wanted to repay it in kind.

Unfortunately now, Brody was catching up to the younger man, so he had to get his head out of the gutter and back in the game. Or, well, the gutter of the game. "Never Have I Ever...been filmed in any sort of way having any sort of sex." That one was definitely cutting it close: the older man had been drunk enough in college to have an incident with a partner, but it hadn't been sex so much as suggestive acts on camera. And considering how badly it had backfired on him, he was in no hurry to ever repeat the misstep. But he was curious as to whether Sebastian had any sort of recorded evidence of his prowess or proclivities. Hell, Brody'd probably pay to see it, to be honest.

"Mm, well, if you need assistance, then allow me to offer myself. Do I get to strip the chaps off of you?" He smirked. "Don't worry - alcohol /will/ be provided. All too happy to put money towards a worthy cause." The more they joked about it, the more Sebastian wanted it to actually happen for real. He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Fine - you can have your hot blondes. All the more eye candy for me, too." So long as he was the one that was the sole focus of attention, he didn't really care. With a snort, he shook his head. "Sure. That's one way to look at it. Only with less sugary snacks to look at. Although..." he hummed. "Chocolate is kind of fun to play around with in the bedroom. But that would require the aforementioned creativity."

With a scoff, Sebastian gave Brody a skeptical look. "/Moderately/ attractive? You're so full of shit and you know it. And I'll say it again - you've developed some sort of obsession with my ass. I like to think you're pretty well aquainted with it by now." The older teacher certainly brought it into conversation often enough. He wrinkled his nose. "You could argue, but you'd be wrong. I won us a bar tab," he said, gesturing to the bar as though to help Brody understand. Okay, so Brody had probably put just as much into it has he had, but that didn't need to be said. "Oh, I know it was a good mattress. Memory foam is the only way to sleep." He grinned. "Sure. /Some/ upsides. Like I rocked your world." And vice versa. Fuck, that was some good sex. Not that he'd doubted Brody for a second, but even with the expectations, he hadn't exactly expected it to be as hot as it was. It wasn't often that he craved more from a person. "I'm pretty sure NPH and David Burtka would be happy to whisk me away to somewhere exotic, but we're always happy to do you a solid. Maybe I'll even let you join in," he teased, adding a wink at the end. Thankful that Brody had dropped the subject of his parents, he let out a breath. "Yeah - wouldn't want to be boring. Not that you haven't managed to create some interesting stories of your own," he commented. "Most of which end up with you getting some sort of injury. I'm almost disappointed that sex with me didn't leave a mark on you. Well, one that /didn't/ fade." He'd made sure to make plenty of temporary marks, of course.

Sebastian glanced at his three shots lined up on the table, training his face not to look too excited about the fact that he was so damn close to getting what he wanted. Still, Brody downed his own shot, and he grinned. Still two to three in Brody's favour, and he was sure the older man would manage to stay ahead of the game. He would make sure of it. As Brody began to paint the scenario in his head, though, Sebastian felt his throat tighten, pupils dilating at the list. "Right," he managed, voice tight. He shuffled a little, his pants beginning to feel uncomfortable. Which meant that he had to get them off - and fast. Thankfully, Brody's next question was... well, a little less insulting, but just as easy, and he didn't need to think about it before taking his fourth shot. "Really? Never been filmed? I find that one hard to believe." Though he probably should've expressed his doubt before he took the shot, but it didn't really matter, anyway. Why he was questioning it, he had no idea. He /wanted/ this, he reminded himself. As for Sebastian - well, he wasn't a moron. Well. That was to be debated, really, considering that the person who he had let film him had turned out to be an untrustworthy asshole. He wondered if Andrew had kept the videos. Fuck, he hoped not. "Once or twice, in college," he said, but he didn't really feel like elaborating, so he chose to switch the focus instead. "I'd make a damn good porn star." He tapped on the bar, going through possible questions in his head. If Brody really wanted him, he'd likely make the next question an easy one, right? So he supposed it didn't really matter what he came up with. “Never have I ever… had sex in a tent.” Kind of a lame question, but he was definitely running out of shit he hadn’t done already. Thankfully, Sebastian had dodged a bullet with that one, seeing as he refused to go camping in the first place.

“Well, I mean-- if //you’re// offering…” Brody tipped his shoulder nonchalantly, but basically any combination of the man in front of him and the word //strip// was leaving him anything but blase. “I mean, might as well cast it to get the most bang for my buck, right? Maybe we’ll get you a bridle and bit to really sell the look.” He laughed, even though the image wasn’t much his style. He preferred Bas to have full capacity of his mouth, honestly-- throat, voice, tongue. He wouldn’t want to block any of it. Brody let out an exaggerated relieved sigh, “Well, thank god for that-- can’t imagine how I’d get through such an ordeal without it. Oh, come on: don’t tell me you wouldn’t want to be surrounded by hot blondes if you were going to be displayed on stage?” Who didn’t love a good blonde at a strip club? It was a little stereotypical, but Brody just seemed to appreciate the color more in the environment. The older man smirked, biting his lip in thought as he bobbed his head side to side, “You know, I’ve got to say I never really got into food play myself. Too sticky-- give me some ice or wax or oil over whipped cream any day.” It probably sounded a little contradictory-- after all, Brody and Bas first started this whole bar scene based off of body shots-- but in reality, Brody just didn’t really have the same sweet tooth as his friends seemed to. The idea of covering someone in dessert and licking it off actually made him cough a little from sugar-overload. “But tomato, tomahto in terms of creativity, right?”

Brody bit his lip to suppress the grin that was threatening to overtake his face. Hassling Bas about something as completely bullshit as his looks was just fun. “Eh, I’ve seen better,” he defended half-heartedly, not quite holding back a laugh. “Hey, it’s not my fault you keep flaunting it like there’s actually something worthwhile about the damned thing. It’s like staring at a ruined souffle or something.” This time he didn’t even bother hiding his own amusement, though he deliberately ignored the second part of Bas’ statement, or the truth of the first. He still stood behind Bas’ ass not being much to look at at first, but the tone and the feel was just something that could make his cock itch just thinking about. “I’m sorry-- //who// won us a bar tab? I could have pulled a random person off the street and you would have known maybe three more answers than they did.” Well, not really-- but there had only been a handful of poli sci questions, and less legal ones, so Bas’ use during the night was mostly about his efficiency in answering quickly. Which, yeah, he had been good at it. Although, just then Bas’ hand attracted a new set of shots (that bartender was definitely noticing the younger man), and Brody happily downed one.

“Ha, not just sleep,” he added with a grin. “Seriously, even if the sex had been a complete let-down, I might have overlooked it for that mattress. Although it was awful getting out of bed in the morning.” Not just for the bed though: Brody fucking loved morning sex usually, loved to spoon, loved just lying in bed and not feeling alone. But Bas wasn’t the type, he knew-- he was the guy that snuck out while someone was in the shower, or before they woke up. Brody hated the idea of that being him. Not that he would be; Brody tended to wake up early regardless of how much he drank the night before, or whatever day it was, so it was hard to get the jump on him. But he didn’t want that awkward dismissal either, so he’d simply forced himself out of bed before sunrise, leaning over Bas with a kiss he couldn’t //not// press to the younger man’s temple, whispering that he had an early day and to “go back to sleep” before hunting down his scattered clothes and tiptoeing out the door. It had obviously been the right call, since things were still fine with them now. Bas knew he wasn’t expecting anything; that he got him. And now they were drinking at a bar, completely platonic.

“Yeah, I guess you and the mattress were //pretty// close in terms of impressiveness. Like 60-40 close.” He just loved fucking around with the pompous peacock: Bas always seemed to get his blood up; it was fun trying to do the same, even if Brody had no real skill for it. “I don’t know-- maybe they stopped by Ohio for some of the old town feel during sex. Thanks, but I still draw a line with couples, even if they’re at the same time,” he reminded Bas. Brody grinned, proud and yet slightly sheepish, as Bas brought up his penchant for injuries in his stories. “Well, I feel like good sex is almost always worth the risk,” he remarked. He shrugged, “Eh, you can’t win them all, Bas. Sometimes you just have to accept that you’ll have to depend on my memory without the physical mark.” Not that Brody thought he’d ever forget that night, because god freaking damn.Brody slammed the empty glass back onto the counter, grinning as he looked at the remaining shots. He was going to win-- he really wanted to win. And did Bas’ voice just tighten up a little? Because Brody was totally willing to pull out (buy?) some toys if that got the guy going. Of course Bas was taking the shot, although Brody cleared his throat uncomfortably when the younger man challenged his own stance. “Uh, //sex// or sex activities? No. I did a...different recording thing. And, well-- let’s just say disciplinary action was involved. Lesson learned.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly, but smirked as he considered Bas’ words. “God, please tell me you still have those,” he groaned, a jolt of adrenaline shot down his spine to his dick with the idea of a private viewing, especially at the tease of having Bas’ heat surrounding him. Which holy shit fuck, he was so close to getting. Brody laughed at Bas’ statement. “Okay, I know you think I was this total cowboy growing up, but I didn’t spend //all// my time recreating scenes from Brokeback Mountain,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “I don’t even really like camping,” he added with a scoff.

Brody really wanted this one. Fuck he wanted to win this one. He eyed the last shot glass on Bas’ side. “You know, I almost feel bad for doing this,” he told him. “I mean, for Ness, really, because I’m going to be really taking a chunk out of her run time here. You-- well, fuck you. I mean, literally //and// figuratively…” he snorted, before settling back down. He was trying to think of something interesting-- something worth finding out about Bas, but would still hopefully likely earn him a win. “Never Have I Ever...told a guy I loved him during sex.” Definitely a risky move, but Brody was genuinely curious if Bas had ever gotten that emotional with someone. He was mad he couldn’t open it up to include girls as well to better his odds (since that wouldn’t be true on his part), but he was running out of crazy shit to think up, and this certainly seemed out of the box for the man before him. “I mean, not that it really counts //then//, but still…?” he added, trying to soften the potential overstepping of unspoken boundaries. They were friendly, but Bas //was// a walking cliche, and this could easily be a sore spot for him. In retrospect Brody wished he’d just chosen something more vanilla, like being caught by someone’s parents or something.

Sebastian snorted at the imagery, grinning at Brody. "Now you're just making it sound ridiculous. All I wanted to do was strip you." His tongue ran over his lips at the thought. He couldn't decide what he wanted more, in all honesty. Brody in full cowboy gear, or Brody half naked with chaps. Or Brody fully naked - although the latter, he /had/ had the pleasure of seeing already. Not that he'd complain about seeing it again. "What exactly is it about me that makes you think that I'd have any issue whatsoever with being on display onstage? Having people admiring me is incentive enough. The hot blondes would just be the sugar on the top. We all know who the main attraction would be." Okay, so he might have had a little bit of an exhibition kink going on. Just a little. He scoffed. "Could've fooled me, considering the fact that you basically jumped at the chance to drink shots off of me, but sure. Whatever. For the record, though, you're missing out. It's not too sticky if you're thorough." Licking every inch of wherever said food had been was all part of the fun. "Right. There are plenty of ways to get creative," he agreed, lips twitching into a slightly suggestive smirk.

"Not quite sure you have, Brodes, but keep telling yourself that," he replied, lips tugging into a somewhat smug grin. "That's the analogy you're going with? A ruined souffle? It's more like a valuable sculpture - just not as fragile. For the record - you talk about it more than I do at this point." Not that Sebastian had a problem with that in the slightest. In fact, he was always happy to indulge the older man. "Sure, whatever you want to tell yourself. Besides, even if that statement was anywhere /close/ to true, a random person off the street just wouldn't have been as pretty to look at." He cocked his head as a new round of shots appeared on the table, but shot the bartender a wink in thanks, raising one up in toast and downing it fast without thought. "True. I'll amend my statement. Memory foam is the only way to do anything bed-related on." Brody's grin was infectious, and one of his own spread on Sebastian's face. "Yeah, so you see why I'm not exactly a morning person. What kind of mattress is it that you own that gets you out of bed at ass o'clock in the morning anyway?" It was a shame, really. Sebastian wasn't one for hanging around his one night stands the next day, but he wouldn't have /minded/ Brody's company. Not in a weird clingy way, obviously - but he wouldn't have said no to a morning throwdown if the older man had initiated it.

"You protest too much about my appeal, Brodes. You're only confirming more and more how obsessed you are with me," Sebastian quipped. Really, though - he had no insecurities about his own ability to impress in bed, and Brody's reactions to everything he did that night had pretty much spoken for themselves. "Sure. Because Nowhere, Ohio is exactly the place I know /I'd/ want to stop during my sex tour. Hey, it's not like a three way is cheating." Not that Sebastian had exactly been great at avoiding that type of situation, either, but at least sleeping with other peoples' boyfriends or girlfriends or whatever here wasn't going to ruin his career - if you could even call teaching at a public high school a 'career'. "Good thing I'm pretty memorable then, huh?" Sebastian nodded with a hum as Brody explained his stance on sex on camera. "Right. Enough said." Sebastian conceeded with a nod, holding his hands up. He was almost tempted to ask Brody to expand on that, except that it seemed like a subject that the older man wouldn't be much up for talking about. Disciplinary action was hardly a light topic of conversation, and it wasn't like it was any of his business anyway. His stomach twisted a little at Brody's question, but he just gave the other a tight smile, hoping that Brody doesn't notice that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Afraid not, Brodes. Sorry to disappoint. Although, you /have/ experienced the real thing, so consider yourself lucky, I guess." He snapped his fingers in an exaggerated show of disappontment. "Damn. I had you pegged for the camping trip type. Although, I have to say, my ass is a little grateful about the Brokeback thing, considering the lack of lube and prep that was portrayed in that movie." He shuddered. "Seriously. Is that what straight people think we do?"

So close - and Sebastian could feel the anticipatian coil in his gut, but he managed an eyeroll at Brody's words. "Slow down, there, Cowboy. Still one more shot to go." Although he kind of regretted the whole game entirely when Brody went ahead with his selected question, shoulders stiffening a little. Part of him wants to just deny it, and let Brody win with a different question, but his hesitation was probably speaking volumes already, so he wrapped his fingers around the glass, swallowing it down in one gulp and slamming it down on the bar with a little more force than he'd meant to. /Shit/. "We all say shit we don't mean during sex, right?" It was a glimpse into his life that he really wasn't a fan of sharing. He tried for a more casual smirk, leaning in a little closer and murmuring in Brody's ear, "But I guess you win, Handsome. So should we get out of here? I believe you mentioned something about a sex swing."

Brody grinned at Sebastian's response. "What can I say? I decide to do something, I go all out." He laughed, "Oh, I don't think it's the stage part-- I just can't imagine you wanting to share the spotlight. But so long as you don't have a problem with the blondes, I think we're good." The older man scoffed-- he knew he was going to get called on that. "Booze is an exception," he clarified. "I will never say no to a body shot off a hot guy-- or girl, obviously," he added for good measure. "Well, I guess maybe I could be convinced to reconsider if someone was that gung ho about it." He definitely wouldn't mind Bas' tongue all over him, that was for sure, although he still was a little hesitant about the concept itself. Damn those lips-- Sebastian Smythe was going to be the death of him. "Hey, preaching to the choir, Bas."

"I've got a few years on you, Bas-- I'm pretty sure I've seen something more impressive than that bean pole of backside," he asserted. Which was true-- Brody definitely had found quite a few asses that he'd appreciated-- a lot-- in his time. Definitely an ass man. But damn if this one wasn't almost impossible to get out of his head. He shrugged, "It fits-- sunken, dipped, underwhelming. Are we talking about one of your type of sculptures that are crappy and useless? Because yeah-- I can get behind that." He laughed teasingly. Brody shook his head, "Considering how often you're out and about, I highly doubt that." Bas called the thing his best feature-- surely he'd talk it up to all of the other targets he'd hit up at a bar. Brody couldn't be talking about it //that// much, right? "So I won you a free tab in exchange for you looking pretty?" Brody scoffed. "I could have found that with anyone out here tonight, and looked twice as good for doing it on my own." He couldn't help but roll his eyes as Bas flirted with the bartender-- god the guy was ridiculous. But hey-- at least it kept the drinks coming.

"I will definitely drink to that," Brody agreed, raising up his shot and throwing it back. "Hm, good point-- I wonder if I should resist then, since I actually do have stuff to take care of in the morning." Similar to how he should stay the hell away from Sebastian, because he seemed unable to get him out of his head under normal circumstances currently. "Hey, it's a good mattress-- it's the years of practice that get me out of bed on time. Some of us have lives, after all." Yes-- lives. Away from Bas. Away from sex with Bas. Away from thinking about sex with Bas and lots of masturbating in the shower.

"I feel like any level of disagreement would be protesting too much for you, Bas," he retorted with a grin. "One day someone's going to actually get under your skin and turn the tables on you, and your brain's going to short-circuit." The thought made him laugh-- he couldn't imagine what kind of person could affect Bas to that level, but there had to be one somewhere, right? "Oh yeah-- it's that whole Mayberry appeal, but in Lima," he laughed. "A three way isn't, but it's weird if two of them are basically together," Brody insisted. He knew that couples did that sort of thing all the time (well those who did three ways), but the idea just didn't sit well with him on a personal level. He'd feel like he was intruding on something. "Well, at least something better comes along," he agreed with a smirk, although that still probably would stroke the moron's ego beyond the telling of it, because Brody couldn't imagine a night like that happening anytime soon.

Bas didn't ask for details about the scandal, and Brody let it go. He'd told the story before-- it wasn't //that// big of a deal, since he downplayed most of the details-- but he was kind of glad not to get into it currently. Especially if Bas wasn't going to play up his own experience. He smirked, "Yeah, I suppose. I certainly wouldn't hate to watch one day though," he added with a laugh. "Especially if Neil and David are involved." Brody rolled his eyes, "I'm not saying I don't have sex outside, or on the ground, or in the woods..." Okay-- he wasn't doing a very good job selling why he wasn't much of a camper, now that he thought about it. "Yeah, now that I think about it, I should like camping more-- I have no excuse." He laughed about Bas' analysis. "Well, I'm not sure they were that great at it either, right? I mean, weren't they fake straight in that movie? With no instruction-- it's not like you could go online and find tips. Plus I think they were both kind of bad at sex all around. Although man-- riding a horse after a night like that. I'm surprised they didn't have serious injuries." He crinkled his nose at the thought. Rough sex before a ride was hard enough-- doing it without prep...Bas was right. That would be awful.

Brody couldn't stop grinning, even at Bas' warning. He was going to get this-- he had this. The other man didn't answer right away, and Brody's face fell a little, worried he'd said the wrong thing. Bas took the drink, but the counter practically vibrated with the force the little shot glass hit with. His response was something Brody could work with though-- try to smooth over whatever he'd managed to snag. "Yeah, definitely," he nodded. "I'm pretty sure I told //every// girl I slept with in high school I loved her, so yeah-- not really the most honest time to admit anything, right?" he was trying to soften the blow, because he felt like he might have hit a nerve, even if Bas wasn't really giving anything away. But his efforts were completely forgotten when Bas' voice hummed in his ear. A canary-eating grin broke out on his face, which shifted immediately to one of surprised confusion when Bas suggested leaving. "Wait-- you want to...you want to //go//?" he sputtered, turning to meet at him and desperately trying to control his suddenly very enthusiastic hard-on. "What about--?" His eyes shifted over to where Vanessa was still standing, sipping her drink and glancing over at them casually-- or at least pretending to be casual. Because hell yeah, Brody wanted to get out of here, but that hadn't been the deal, had it? Otherwise he probably would have made the game go a lot faster, because Bas' naked body pressed up against his chair was a fucking image he wanted to see like, //now//.

"So I've noticed," he replies, shaking his head with a puff of laughter. "True. But like I said - we all know that I'll be the main feature. Well, me and the guy in chaps, but I'm willing to share if it means I get that kind of show out of it." He snorted, raising an eyebrow at Brody. "For the record - the body shots were /your/ idea. Not that it wasn't a spectacular idea. I'm kind of disappointed I didn't come up with it myself, actually." He grinned. "Well just say the words, Brodes. I'm fully willing to try to change your stance. I can be pretty convincing."

"Well, yeah. You're an old man. I'm sure you've seen plenty of interesting and sexy things in your life. Still doesn't change the fact that you can't stop thinking about my ass." Okay, probably exaggerating a bit - but considering the amount of times Brody had talked about it, he knew that his ass had definitely been something worth thinking about. Hilariously, Brody /did/ have a point. He really didn't have /much/ of an ass - but he damn well knew how to work it. "Useless? Now I know you're talking out of /your/ ass. You got plenty of use out of it," he grinned. "And, yeah - you did so by /getting behind it/, as you say. He scoffed. "No - /I/ won us a free bar tab by using my intelligence. It just so happened that I looked pretty while doing it." He just smirked in reply to Brody's eye roll. Hey, the bartender was cute. Didn't stop Brody from drinking the shots that he'd attracted with the bartender's interest, so who was he to complain?

"Mm, suit yourself. Don't blame me for the fact that the quality of sleep that I get is higher than yours." And, okay, it was a damn expensive mattress, so he'd have been disappointed if it had been anything less than stellar. "Right. Are you trying to imply that I don't have a life? Because I thought I'd established that I don't spend that much time lounging around my own place." The furniture he did have /was/ more for asthetic than anything, really.

"Not fucking likely, Brodes," Sebastian shot back, rolling his eyes. "Told you - not my style." There was no chance in hell he was going to let himself drop his guard again. He knew what it felt like to have his heart trampled over, and /no fucking thank you/. "Hey, don't kinkshame. If NPH and Burtka are into three ways, who are you to judge them?" He tutted, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Shame on you, Weston." He chuckled. "It doesn't get better than me. I'm afraid I've ruined you for any future experiences."

"Well, if Neil and David were involved, I'd have had that shit backed up on several devices." /That's/ a sex tape that he'd be all too happy to film. Not that his experience had put him off of the idea in general - and he'd certainly sent his share of kinky photos, but thankfully nothing that's resulted in a mess. Well, not the bad kind of mess, anyway. He laughed. "See? You should be into it purely for the sex. Although I have to admit - while I'm happy to have sex wherever I can, I'm with you on the camping thing. Sleeping on a cold, hard ground vs. sleeping in my warm, comfortable, bug free bed? No question." He wrinkled his nose. Camping sounded like hell on earth, in all honesty. Not that he'd ever been taken as a kid. He nodded his head in concedement. "Well, I guess you have a point. But, yeah. I mean, I'm assuming they carried on that way every time they had sex. There's no way that could've been healthy. Not that I remember it all that well. Heath Ledger is hot and all, but Donnie Darko doesn't really do it for me."

His ears were still pounding with the brief attack of fury that he'd had over the thought - because apparently the memory of Andrew had been brought up one too many times for him over the course of the night. Not that he wasn't entirely over the asshole, but he was still furious at himself for even letting himself /be/ that vulnerable in the first place. "Exactly. Yeah." He nodded, trying not to appear as if his mind was somewhere else entirely. Brody's surprise made him cock his head, and then his eyes shifted over to Vanessa's at the other's prompt - because, right. Yeah. "Well," he said, turning his attention back to Brody. "How else am I supposed to show my appreciation? Hardly a prize if it's just a quick romp in a bathroom stall, is it?" Not that the last time they'd spent together in a bathroom wasn't great, but still. If he was going to give in to his rule again, he figured he might as well get as much out of it as he could. "I'm starting to think you've been lying to me about this sex hammock."

Brody’s smile only broke wider with Sebastian’s compliment, even as the other man laughed. Because with Bas, being full throttle could never be a bad thing, Brody was pretty sure. “Well, I mean, the two brunettes in a sea of blondes would stand out, I guess. I take it you’ll be thrusting in the g-string to make sure they know where to deliver the tips?” he joked. “You know-- since I’ll be weighted down with the heavy gear.” Yeah right-- if Brody could dance in a ballroom dress, he could dance in chaps, but the picture sounded much better from his angle. He bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “True, but like I said: booze is my exception. Especially on hardbodies-- it’s an Achilles’ Heel, really.” His eyes flickered over Sebastian’s regrettably concealed torso, still appreciably, and he can’t help it-- he licks his lips. How could he not, with a memory like that one? He scoffed, “I’ll consider it-- or at least attempt to keep an open mind.” Yeah, he’s a little torn on that idea-- although he supposed it wouldn’t be //so// bad if //he// was the one covered. At least he wouldn’t get sick from the sugar. But really-- isn’t there //any// other way to get Bas’ mouth all over him? Because the idea itself was making his pants tighter than he’d prefer in a public area.

“Old, but my mind hasn’t gone just yet, and you know, I’m pretty sure I’ve already established that your ass //didn’t// actually make the list of things I found most impressive about your physique, just worth pointing out,” Brody argued. Although for his own sanity, he still refused to name off the other very attractive features that he would actually put about Sebastian’s ass if asked. The guy already thought himself the perfect Adonis-- Brody wasn’t going to feed into that anymore than he already had. Brody inhaled and bit his lip, humming in amusement. “I did manage to find a way to enjoy myself, didn’t I? Have you ever been that kid that got stuck at recess with the ball that was half flat, Bas? You just make do. I think that actually says more about my sexual prowess than about your ass.” He barked out a laugh. “And another bad pun. Is there a limit to these, or…? Also, I’m pretty sure you were grateful for me being behind your ass, just for the sake of saying.” Brody shook his head incredulously. “Um, I’m pretty sure //I// won us that tab-- you just seem to be keeping the bartender’s attention so we can use it.” He shrugged, “Which I suppose has its own benefits.”

“I’m not sure that’s the case, Bas-- how much //sleep// do you actually get at night?” Brody countered with a grin. He was pretty sure, after all, that they’d spent a lot more time doing other things besides catching z’s while he’d been there the other night. Although, to be fair, Brody probably spent a lot more time actually sleeping in his bed, so didn’t he deserve something as nice as what Sebastian had? “No, you spend your time lounging around on other people’s mattresses. Talk about a waste,” Brody ribbed. Man, if he had something like that, he’d do nothing //but// bring people back to his place.

Brody grinned at Sebastian’s quick retort. “You know, if this was a holiday movie, this would be the moment that some sort of Christmas angel would float down and zap you into a life you’d never imagined wanting, but turned into everything you needed.” His tone took on a mocking lilt as he described the formulaic scenario. “Probably with a girl that’s always been in front of you but you’d never realized up until now. Because of course it’s a girl, right?” He laughed again, enjoying his game as he threw back another shot. If people didn’t shut him up, Brody could make up weird scenarios all night-- it was a skill that his mouth never turned off. “Now, now-- I’d never kinkshame NPH. He could do just about anything legal and I’d be okay for it. I just wouldn’t be okay to play along.” Brody’s lips quirked in amusement. “Well, then, I may as well tell the hook-ups that I had since then that I apparently wasn’t as into it as I thought. Maybe get some sort of disclaimer when I head out to the bars…” He gave a dry laugh.

“And sharing, right?” Brody pressed with a smirk. “I mean, you’re not going to sign some lame contract keeping your friends in the dark about this sort of thing that should really be gifted to the world?” Brody bit his lip as he grinned in agreement with Bas. “Yeah, I mean, all the parts sound pretty good, but I don’t know, you get to the part about sleeping in a bag in a tent on the ground and I just lose interest. Also the whole food situation is kind of a turn off, not gonna lie.” The idea of having Bas in front of a bonfire was pretty appealing though-- hell, he could think of having Bas in a lot of places that would be worthwhile. “Yeah, if the guy didn’t die the way he did, I would have guessed they’d both go from an infection or something incredibly damaging, because riding like that, on top of, you know, //riding// like that? You’re just going to rip yourself all up. No wonder people think sex between two guys is wrong-- they can’t seem to find a good example in film. Maybe you should start championing that cause, Bas. I’m sure people would much rather see you than Jake, and you know-- Heath’s, you know, dead.” Was that insensitive? Oh well; he was drunk-- he could have one free for the night.

Brody’s blood began racing, and definitely not in the direction that encouraged rational thought. He raked his teeth across his lip, his mouth suddenly parched. “Uh, yeah-- right.” He reached over for one of the shots leftover from the game and threw it back-- why the hell he was nervous was beyond him, but nonetheless he was a little thrown, he had to admit. “No, fuck-- yeah. Let’s get out of here. It’ll at least give you the chance to see what real fucking furniture is like. Hammock and all.” He pulled out a bill to tip the bartender, and grinned. “You sure about this? Because I may actually //really// feel bad for Vanessa, since you’ll be too damn sore to come back till after New Year’s if I take you out of here now.” He arched an eyebrow up in challenge, because if he was going to have Sebastian Smythe again-- just once more, for sure, but again nonetheless-- he was going to have him in so many rounds that one of them wasn’t going to be able to see straight by the end of the night.

"Like we don't stand out anyway," Sebastian replied with a smirk. "I mean, come on," he gestured between them, letting his point speak for itself. "Mm, not sure if my g-string would be able to hold /that/ much money. You'll have pockets on you somewhere, right?" Did chaps have pockets? Whatever he'd be wearing under them would, he was sure. More to the point - why was he considering this hypothetical scenario as though it were a real thing? "Hey, I was hardly complaining, Brodes." He caught sight of Brody's eyes raking over him, and his lips twitched smugly. Clearly Brody was as fond of the memory as he was. He could still remember the way Brody's tongue trailed over his torso - /fuck/, it was... an experience. "Good. I'll be waiting," he teased. "Open offer." Fuck, part of him wanted to throw his shirt off right fucking now and drape himself over the bar for Brody to work his magic. Probably not a good idea. They weren't in Scandals, after all. Not that kind of bar.

"Actions speak louder than words, Brodes," he reminded the older man. "I mean, when you start talking about it in every other conversation, even if it's to deny the existence of it, one has to wonder." His shoulders shook with another laugh. "I think you did more than /make do/." His grin spread a little wider, not even remotely ashamed of the terrible pun. "Fuck you - I'm hilarious." He shook his head, laying his palm on Brody's shoulder, tone turning a little on the patronising side. "Okay Brodes. You know what? I know it's hard for you to accept when I'm better than you at something. As usual, we'll just agree that it was a draw." Fuck, even when they were on the same side, Sebastian couldn't help but turn it into a competition.

"Depends where I'm sleeping," he conceeded with a shrug - because, yeah. Some weeks he'd be out more days than he'd be in. "Still, it's good to come home at ass o'clock to a comfortable bed after a night of shitty half-sleep on a motel bed." He hated early mornings at the best of times - dragging himself out with his head throbbing was never fun, especially considering that he was constantly trying not to wake his conquest for that night.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Sure. We both know I've always craved the whole wife and kids thing all along, right? I mean, how could I not? Marital misery, screaming brats - not getting sex from her and not being allowed to get it anywhere else? Totally my kind of deal." He shuddered at the thought. No, he wasn't going to be like his parents. Miserable with each other, resentful of their son - only ever putting on a mask of marital bliss and being the picture perfect perfect at parties. No thanks. In an attempt to mask the bitter turn his thoughts had taken, he gulped down another shot, following Brody's example. "Fine, fine - your loss. More NPH for me." He nodded in agreement. "Yep. It's almost unfair to make them believe otherwise. Don't worry - if your standards are high enough, there's a chance I've been there already. They'll understand."

"Well, yeah. It'd be a crime not to. Don't worry, I'll make sure to send you a copy. Fuck, you could even have an advanced private screening. I've always wanted to see myself on the big screen," he replied with a chuckle. Surely someone at the local cinema could be easily bribed, right? "I mean, it's possible to have the whole experience without having to actually sleep on the ground, right? Drive out, have sex in the woods, drive back. Easy." He laughed. "An educational sex video? Fuck, I'll make everyone want to do it. Sex with women will lose all its appeal. The population will dry out." He snorted, immediately wincing after the fact. "I shouldn't have laughed at that. Poor Heath. He was hot."

He let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Brody /finally/ stopped questioning him and just agreed, already. "I do have real furniture," he argued, but he was hardly thinking about that right now - his cock uncomfortably trapped in the tight restriction of his jeans. His mind was too busy racing, that he almost missed the chance to pull out a tip of his own - but like hell was he going to look like /that/ kind of asshole. Making quick work of pulling out his wallet to match Brody's tip in kind, he smirked, eyes flickering over to Vanessa. "I guess I'm just gonna have to come back another time, hm?" He raised his eyebrows. "Strong words, Cowboy. You better be ready to back them up." Not that he had any fucking doubt. Brody had the ability to make him see stars. He knew this all too well. Still, if the challenge made him want to go at it a little harder, then he was more than happy to issue it out.

#ttl #Sebastian Smythe #para #Another Shot #p. Sebastian #holidays #Christmas #Brobastian

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