Hello if your still taking prompts what about SY as MBY's uncle and being unknowing sugar-daddy to LBH?
lbh is begging this old man to GET A CLUE !!
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Luo Binghe’s life has not been fair until this point. The unnecessary death of his adopted mother, the abuse he faced as a disciple of Cang Qiong, and most recently the hell of the Endless Abyss - all of it was miserable, and all of it was undeserved.
Recently, the world seemed to have recognized this unfairness, and Luo Binghe had been granted a number of victories. His dirty bloodline turned out to be extraordinarily powerful, so he was able to not only survive but conquer in the demonic realms. The women of the demonic realm, too, had been unusually welcoming, and Luo Binghe had been able to find safe resting places several times in exchange for being willing to warm a pretty woman’s bed.
And now, to Luo Binghe’s delight, a relative of Mobei-Jun seems to have volunteered himself up to be Luo Binghe’s sponsor.
Shen Yuan is kind and quick to compliment Luo Binghe for things beyond just the surface level flirtations of the women Luo Binghe has laid with; he praises Luo Binghe’s cleverness and his adaptability and his relentless determination to survive. He’s generous, too, giving Luo Binghe more than Luo Binghe ever asks for, until Luo Binghe finds himself growing greedier with every gift.
And when a pretty older man compliments you and gives you gifts, it’s clear what the expected form of payment is.
“Shen-ge,” Luo Binghe calls sweetly, letting his fingers slip under the collar of his robes as if teasing how easy it would be to shrug them off. “It’s really too cold in the northern parts of the demon realm for me… won’t you help me warm up?”
Shen Yuan, watching Luo Binghe with the same rapt attention and flushed cheeks that he always seems to regard him with, startles.
“Ah, right! I’d nearly forgotten!” Shen Yuan rummages around in his sleeve for a moment before pulling out a slender gift box. “Something I’d commissioned a bit ago was just finished, but it’s - ahem, well, it’s a bit large on me, so I figured Binghe might make use of it instead.”
Luo Binghe takes the box. It must have been enchanted with a minor space manipulation spell, because the coat that he pulls out of it is far too large to have fit in the expected space. It’s thick and made of a luxurious sort of fur that Luo Binghe can sink his fingers fully into before he finds the fur’s pelt, and is enchanted with a minor protection and heat retention spell on top of that.
It’s also a rich red color, matching the wardrobe Luo Binghe has slowly been building for himself as a demon lord, and nothing at all like the pale blues and greens that Shen Yuan wears.
Ah, his Shen-ge is really too endearing - old enough to be Luo Binghe’s father, and still hiding gifts behind flimsy excuses like this. It makes Luo Binghe feel very much like he’s in the mood to indulge Shen Yuan’s clear intentions towards him, even though he’d never tolerate such a thing from any other scheming old man.
“They’re lovely, Shen-ge,” he says honestly. “Let me thank you for them.”
And then Luo Binghe really does allow his own robes to part and fall, the shoulders of them catching at his elbows. Shen Yuan’s face goes nearly plum, and Luo Binghe has a moment of concern: if all of Shen-ge’s blood is in his face, will he still be able to get it up…?
“Of course!” Shen Yuan says, his voice pitched high and wavering as if ready to break. “I’m - glad that Binghe likes it well enough that he wants to put it on right away!”
Luo Binghe’s brow furrows. Shen Yuan, oblivious to his confusion, rushes forward and swipes the newly gifted coat out of Luo Binghe’s hands. Then, with a flourish, he wraps it around Luo Binghe’s shoulders, bundling him up and completely ignoring the way that Luo Binghe had been halfway to stripping himself down in front of him.
“Really, Binghe should have been more careful, though! We could have found a privacy screen for you to change behind, and - ah, I should have called someone to light the fires for you before you arrived! You know it doesn’t take long for you to start experiencing a chill, Binghe, even if you like the new coat you shouldn’t change into it in such a cold room -”
Luo Binghe does not, in fact, so easily experience a chill. Not indoors, at least. He has, however, used that excuse several times in an attempt to give Shen Yuan an excuse to hold him.
It hasn’t worked so far.
“- and anyway, Binghe, I should have been more aware of how fashion may not look the same in this realm as you’re used to! This is only a top coat, it’s meant to go over your robes, not replace them!”
Luo Binghe, now fully bundled up in his new coat, sighs.
“Shen-ge,” he says, “you’ve given me a coat this time, and a rare spiritual plant last time, and a bracelet with a powerful protection charm on it the time before that. Before that time, I can’t even begin to count everything you’ve gifted to me.”
“Ah,” Shen Yuan wavers, looking a bit nervous. “You don’t have to overthink it. It’s all just - old stuff, really, that I’m clearing out. I hope you don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.”
“Rather than mind it, I’d rather think of how I’m meant to pay Shen-ge back.”
Shen Yuan blinks, and then a soft smile spreads across his lips, his shoulders relaxing somewhat.
“You don’t have to worry about that, Binghe. None of these things are ever meant to be paid back.”
“I have to pay you back,” Luo Binghe insists. “If I don’t, I -”
If I don’t, then it means you’ve been nothing but genuinely kind to me, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that after so long without.
Shen Yuan’s eyes curve into crescents, his smile growing wider. He reaches a hand up to pat at Luo Binghe’s head with a gentleness that doesn’t quite match the gleaming claws at the ends of his fingers.
“Then, how about you pay me back by just making sure to live well, hm?”
Luo Binghe ducks his head down, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed. The coat that Shen Yuan gave him this time is… really, really warm.
OMG, I'm fascinated by the world of patience testing... Damn, you really got me obsessed in a single afternoon!
I was reading today and I started thinking about the fact that Maekar had taken his armor with him to Ashford. Whether it's because he's a completely paranoid madman expecting a new rebellion to erupt out of nowhere and for him to have to jump into the front lines, or because he was thinking of possibly entering the tournament lists, I don't know.
But in that case, I lean towards the second hypothesis, saying that even though he's no longer young, Maekar still participates in tournaments from time to time to stay in shape and not get rusty for battle! Which brings us to the reader's daughter-in-law, who, knowing that he would be entering the lists of a tournament held for some King's Landing festivities, decides to do him a favor, but not a ribbon like any other lady would, but one of her small clothes (panties ;) ) with black silk and red lace that she bought from a merchant from Essos just to drive him crazy, which she takes off in front of him and gives him to put in his armor. Maekar almost has a heart attack when she says that when he comes back she'll want him to put it back in her.
No because this... this has had me thinking far too much...
I read this when it came in and I wanted to give it the proper attention it deserves so I saved it to answer so I could write it out a little more.
Your brain is so beautiful anon. It is just far too sexy. And we're just gonna pretend that they wear sexy panties in Westeros because why tf not?
I definitely think Maekar just gets bored sometimes, so he participates in tourneys to have something to do. He is not old yet, and he just wants to keep himself in shape in case rebellions break out and he needs to get his fighting gear back on. So he brings his armour along with him, and decides right before the tourney begins if he truly wants to participate.
They've maybe decided to hold a tourney in honour of King Daeron's ruling anniversary, maybe when they hit the fifty year mark (idk how long he ruled but just go with it). Maekar decides to participate for old time's sake. It's a home tourney, it's just for fun, and so he decides to enter his name and goes to ready himself.
You have just heard that Maekar will participate and is readying himself for the first round, and you're in shock. You get to see him in armour? Get to see him performing immensely physical (sexy) acts? You are so happy to be a spectator.
While he is readying himself, you go to his rooms, knock at the door and enter. He sees you and instantly orders the attendants to leave. He never knows what you will come out with and does not want witnesses for any of your shenanigans.
"All ready, father?" You ask softly, strolling closer to him as the door closes behind the last of the attendants. He grunts, adjusting his gauntlets. You skip over to him, standing close enough that he is forced to look at you.
"Yes, girl, I am," he answers dismissively, but you do not let him remain so for long.
"I have come to give you my favour," you say, a little smirk on your lips, hands clasped behind your back. One of his eyebrows raises, a look of questioning pasted on his face.
"Your favour?" He asks, looking down to try and see what she holds in her hand. He had not seen any ribbon or handkerchief to tuck into his pocket or tie around his lance.
"Mhm," you hummed, the smirk on your lips far too mischievous for his liking. He hated when you got ideas. They always meant more trouble for him.
Instead of offering something, you bent at the waist and pulled your skirts up to your knees. You reached under them, up until you hit your hips, then grasped and pulled down. First you pulled one leg through the scrap of fabric, then the other before allowing your skirts to fall and straightening up. Maekar's mouth dropped open a little as he watched you smile and hold out your smallclothes between your fingers.
"I think this will be better luck than a ribbon, do you not agree?" His mouth watered and he could not speak, simply staring at the scrap of fabric and your face. You walked forward, holding up the fabric near his nose and mouth before reaching into his neckline and beginning to shove it in, pressing it down behind his breastplate. Once the fabric had disappeared completely from sight (and he could feel the bundle sitting over his heart) you stepped back just enough to be able to look up into his eyes.
"I expect you to win now. I hope that was incentive enough," your voice was teasing, and you pressed a soft kiss to his neck. You trailed them up, your lips pressing gently once or twice until you reached his ear, your mouth ghosting there. Maekar swallowed harshly, eyes fluttering shut. "And, Father," you began slowly, hands caressing the back of his neck, "I hope you will help put them back on me when you return victorious."
You pulled back and looked him right in the eye, smirking triumphantly. You pressed a firm kiss to his mouth then pulled back and skipped your way to the door. Maekar was left speechless, watching after you as you paused at the door.
"I'll be watching!" You exclaimed cheerily, then disappeared through the door.
And later, when he rode onto the grounds and looked up at the Royal Box, he saw you in the first row, eyes intent on him as you smirked knowingly. You tapped over your own heart, and he focused on the bundle that was pressed to his own chest, the scrap he needed to return. Then he turned away and rode to the start, as amped up as his horse, ready to joust and mostly, ready to win.
He thought of you, rubbing your thighs together as you sat there and watched him fight. He thought of you standing in his chambers, him in front of you, bare of the armour now. He would first bend and lift one of your feet, sliding the small clothes over your foot before setting it back down. He would do the same with the other, then slide it up until it was tight and snug over your core. Only then would he call for a bath.
You would be forced to wait, to slick yourself up even more and prepare yourself like a prize. You may have teased him so, but he would get his own back...
Tim drake but instead of loosing his spleen he lost part of his leg.
Tim thought it was obvious he was missing his right leg from the knee down. It was a whole leg that was missing after all. Sure he was wearing a prosthetic made by Ra's' best people.
One he painfully earned after that crazy fucker made him fight a bunch of his assassins one legged in order to "proof himself as the true heir of the bat he saw in him" or something. So sure, the leg might be more advanced than most, and it imitated natural steps a lot easier and even made it possible to easily run without switching to a different leg. Truly it was a perfect leg be vigilante with. But he never even bothered to give it human like appearances.
But apparently the Fam didn't notice. When he returned with Bruce everyone was too reliefed to give Tim a closer look and it just never came up afterwards.
Tim thought they just didn't want to ask about it in a weird attempt of being polite or even caring. Bruce surely did enough research on how it happened on his own. The man spend the whole travel back to Gotham with Tim after all. Tim truly believed the world's greatest detective would have noticed his missing leg.
Except he didn't. Not if he interpreted the way they looked so incredibly disturbed by is nonchalant way of handlinh the boiling hot chemicals that landed on his metal leg. He just brushed it off, the battle continued and since nothing seemed to be injured no one pressed him when he said "Must've missed me after all"
Now, how do you deal with a family that didn't notice you're missing a leg? That's right you fuck with them.
First thing he did was buy himself a few more realistic looking prosthetic leg. It had to be custom made to fit his stump so it took a whole but it was a worthwhile investment.
The first one was Jason. Call it a twisted revenge for trying to kill him but Tim just really wanted him to be messed with the most. So one day when he knew it was only Jason and him on patrol he strategically set himself down to fall. Crunching some spaghettis to ass in a sickening way only to stand up and walk away as if nothing ever happened.... With his foot toned the wrong way around. Insisting on nothing being wrong and Jason being delusional whenever the older boy tried to get him to get medical treatment. He switched it up the whole evening, whenever he was out of sight he turned the fool right and wrong. Driving the guy insane.
Jason did not sleep well that night. He was also top weirded out and unsure if what he saw was real to talk about it with anyone else.
Then, he challenged dick to a flexibility contest seeing how far they han bend their knees and feet. Even Mr bones are a social construct gymnast Richard Grayson looked horrified as Tim stood there, food bend almost in half, knee twisted to the impossible and what looked lihe a bend in the middle of his leg. Dick claimed cheating except the thing that greeted him when he demanded Tim to puch up his pant leg to expose his trick was a normal looking leg. The first Robin did lots of stretches in the following weeks. His pride was hurt after all.
Finding a way to mess with Damian was a bit more difficult. The brat still made a bunch of harsh comments again and again and he really wasn't close enough with Tim to be easily gaslit. The kid was a trained assassin and was probably used to a bunch of weird shit considering everything Ra's. So Tim decided he could go a bit more gory on Robin than the others. So one night he sat in front of Damians room, in the dark hallway and waited till one of his pets passed him. Once Alfred the Cat came along he made some louder coping noise that would Definetly make the kid look out to check on his animals. It worked just as planned, Damian peeked out his door to see Tim, crosslegged and barefoot on the floor, seemingly cutting off his toe to feed the cat. In reality it was nothing more than a cat treat and carefully picked, animal safe food coloring.
The kid scremed at him, threatened to stab him, punched him real good for harming his cat and took off with said cat to find Alfred so the older man could check on the poor kitten. Of course not beforeaking sure Tim was in an adequate amount of pain on the floor, with his 'injured' food secured to the floor with another knife. Only to return with a worried Alfred on tow to see Tim, standing two whole bare feet with a confused expression and a bag of cat treats in the hall.
Tim got a broken nose for it but it surely was worth it. Especially once he quietly whispered a 'no one will ever belief you' to the kid in passing. He might have traumatised the boy a little but Tim fought it justified for all the attempted murder he suffered.
Personality swap Janka (maybe swapping professions too?) and it's just Zanka being unashamed, constantly taunting Jabber saying stuff like you wanna fuck me so bad... and it pisses Jabber off so bad because he does but hes also restraining himself (Hes less insane & his logic is he can't be the same level of crazy like zanka is) anyways he ends reaching his breaking point and leaves Zanka unable to walk for days
not even a week later Zanka is begging for that cleaner dick again lmao
Okay guys. I rlly need y'all to stop being anon bc I need to know who comes up with these brilliant ideas. (jk stay anonymous if it makes u feel better lol)
But ive actually had a lot of ideas based off this, bc of the 2p Zanka thing going around with red hair?
Raider Zanka would be a absolute menace, and 100% would be so much more vocal about what he wants. Mid fight grinding his ass against Cleaner Jabber when he's pinned down, laughing in Jabbers face when he's shocked.
Like the scene in the anime where Jabber is leaning against the wall talking about how hard he is, Zanka bloody and leaning on Lovely, grinding and arching his back as he moans out Jabbers name..
Jabber is more shy about what he wants, ashamed really. Its not normal to feel the way he does, and def not about the enemy, but fuck with how Zanka ragebaits him its so hard to hold back. That brat just brings out his mean streak.
So when he finally snaps, he snaps hard. Grabbing Zanka by the throat and slamming him down and putting him in doggy( something Zanka had taunted him doing before) before cutting off his clothes and absolutely ravaging his ass. Slapping him hard enough to bruise his pale skin, leaving bites and hickeys to claim him, to leave a reminder that he asked for this.
And Zanka? Oh he was all bark no bite. He cant actually handle the treatment, but god does it feel so good for the cleaner to show his true potential. Hes a crying mess, at first egging on Jabber even more, being a fucking brat, but after being forced to cum 3 times in a row he turns into a blubbering mess begging for a break.
Jabber doesn't let up, just fucking him til he's satisfied before running back to HQ, pissed at himself for losing his cool. Ofc Zanka breaks in a week later, waking up Jabber by grinding on his dick and begging Jabber for more.
But yes. I do love this idea…for the ones ive been having, I hc raider/2p Zanka to be a ‘dom’ brat. He thinks he's the shit, and that everybody should worship him. And cleaner/2p Jabber is more of a soft dom. And by soft I mean he's very quiet, letting Zanka dig himseldf into a hole before punishing him properly. Usually I like Jabber to force Zanka to cum over and over again, but with this dynamic, Cleaner Jabber would refuse to let Zanka cum til he earns it with good behavior. And for the most part he fucks him so slow and sweet….which drives Zanka insane bc he wants to be fucked hard(not that he could handle it either way) but Jabber takes his time and by the time he's done his Zanka is crying, cock red and achy and just begging to cum.
Jabber forces him to say embarrassing shit that he would never say, forcing him to say how much of a good boy he is for Jabber, and begging for Jabber to let him cum, and how he’ll do anything just to cum once..
Anyways keeping my ideas short bc I wanted to focus on your ask lol, but guys im so serious, SEND ME ASKKKKSSSSSSS I am so open kink-wise, soft stuff, hard stuff, anything Idc. I love hearing halls beautiful ideas and being able to add my thoughts!!!! Your brain is so big Anon just know
Really, Bruce should have realised something was amiss when he woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in decades. When his back didn’t ache with the years of abuse, and his eyes didn’t fuzz with the barely two hours of sleep, and even Jason hissing about what an asshole he was didn’t sting quite as much as it usually did.
As it was, he didn’t actually notice anything at all until he started shaving and the head snapped off of his razor.
“What the—” He stared stupidly at the plastic handle.
“Bruce!” A strangely familiar voice shrilled, much higher than perhaps he’d ever heard it. “Bruce, where are you?”
It was only then that Bruce actually looked in the mirror and realised that wasn’t his own face staring back at him at all.
“Oh no,” came Clark’s midwestern twang out of what was most definitely not Bruce’s mouth. “Oh no, no, no.”
Woke up with Bernard angst on the brain and since I'm charitable I decided to share☺️.
Bernard's listening, which at this point is not a skill he has to actively think about to be able to use. It has yet to fail him on any front, especially not when listening to Tim and what he has yet to actually tell him.
A fond smile finds his features as he tells Bernard some tale about Steph, it's carefully laid out to avoid exactly what the two had done in the face of the fancy establishment they were at, being stormed because omission is how Tim rests easy and where Bernard clicks puzzle pieces together. It all falls into place naturally, as it should be.
Stephanie is Spoiler, or Batgirl in some stories because Tim underestimates how much time Bernard dedicated to studying the stories of various vigilantees to account for the fact that he was always in his own miserable company.
When Tim tells stories this exact way, Bernard can follow the timeline he's been building in his head for years now, one that meticulously follows lives greater and more significant than his could ever be. He's back in his teenage bedroom, up at all odd hours on forums, reading away because no one would bother to ensure he's in bed on time.
Tim then begins to talk about his best friends, Young Justice, he's trying to put civilian names and hero identities together and he's come to a point where Cassie translates to Wondergirl and Bart to Impulse. And Conner-Kon-Superboy makes this ugly, unpleasant feeling in Bernard's gut grow teeth.
Jealousy. Bernard should be jealous that Conner flies out– via plane not super powers if Tim were to ever be believed– bi-monthly to talk to Tim about nothing. Self-respecting lovers would be seething then but Bernard's...
Far too many times to count, Tim's told Bernard that he and Kon were similar in highschool. Haughty, fashionable and charismatic in an annoying way. They're different now, Tim says, grown into different personalities even though they started out almost exactly like each other.
But only one of them got the honour of being someone's best friend– being Tim's best friend.
He wasn't even worth a second wrecking from Laura Fell.
All Bernard's ever been worth, it seems, is the entrapment of four corners of his childhood bedroom.
"That was really long ago," Tim sighs, ruefully after filling Bernard in on a twisted version of his misadventures.
For now, he can only smile back when Tim examines his face for some sort of reaction. One day, Bernard hopes to hear it all and be able to smile with Tim. Hope is a fickle affair but Bernard dares to try anyway.
