Prompt 115
“Seriously old man?” the rumbling voice nearly caused Tim to jump, his eyes darting away from where Ras was sitting, the Al Ghul almost seeming to perk. It was kind of hard to miss the man… teen… being? It was kind of hard to miss the owner of the voice what with how their hair looked like it was on fire.
They motioned around at well, everything, crimson eyes looking exasperated. “Really?” They were definitely motioning towards him, interrupting Ras when he opened his mouth to talk. “No, I don’t want to hear it, I swear- Did he kidnap you?” That was definitely aimed at him.
“N-no?” Tim was feeling slightly unbalanced and may be on hour sixty without sleep at this point, if the hour long nap was counted. “I need help finding my not-dad who's lost in time.”
The being let out a strangled noise that Tim could nearly swear was almost another one, but couldn’t vocalize his slurred thoughts as the dude muttered something, motioning around as though he was tempted to strangle something or someone.
Ras cleared his throat, looking almost awkward which was how Tim knew he had to be dreaming or drugged. Probably drugged. “Jordan, how good to see you, it’s been so long-”
“Can it Pops,” the being-named-Jordan scoffed, finger pointing towards the Demon’s Head. “Moms still pissed and isn’t coming back any time soon with you still pulling this shit.”
Tim felt his brain stall, process for a moment, then process some more over what he just heard before his mouth ran before it could catch up. “Ras is married???”
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i think it'd be funny if someone transmigrated as xin mo. the goddamn evil sword. instead of taking it seriously, they just really fucked around with bingge. and, somehow, ended up having the opposite effect of what it's supposedly rumored to do.
picture this: bingge, on the quest for revenge and power, comes across the almighty xin mo. this demonic sword killed everyone that dared to even try wielding it. and, the few who were lucky enough to have it by their side, eventually succumbed to the swords' will.
it is said that the sword is unlike any other, that it etches into your head and eats away your brain, until eventually it consumes you whole. it whispers, speaking in lust, greed, and hatred. it slowly beckons the wielder into giving in to the worst part of themselves and feeds off of pure sin. but to him, it is no matter; luo bingge will surely tame it.
and then he gets to the sword.
demonic qi practically oozes from xin mo. the aura surrounding it makes every part of luo bingge scream, "run; get away, away from that monster." his gut prods at him, begging bingge that this is probably a really bad idea. it's a little terrifying, how even luo bingge, the determined, vengeful demon, is now getting second thoughts about wielding xin mo from just being in its presence alone.
but luo bingge is too, a monster. so he ignores the screams of plea; pushing every thought of doubt in the back of his head, and tightly grips onto the handle. the world around him seems to spin and shake, tumble and crack, from the amount of force bingge needs to use in order to pull the sword of sin out of its place.
when bingge finally has it perfectly fit into the palms of his calloused hands, he hears whispering. he knows that the sword has accepted him as its new host.
the sword's language crawls up to him, as if it were feeling around his body and mind. checking every nook and cranny for it to settle into bingge's form, truly becoming one with the embodiment of sin. the words flow through his brain like a tragically broken guqin, a melody that holds him in a frighteningly familiar trance - all while simultaneously eating away at his brain in the worst ways possible, akin to a child and their favorite snack. it seems to beckon something, but even with luo bingge's impressive hearing, he cannot make out any words from the tone-deaf musical notes xin mo sings.
and then, it is clear. the land around him settles, and everything is still. xin mo itself seems to be.. content. at least, that is what luo bingge believes.
the language of this wretched sword reflects the state around these two monsters.
luo bingge expects it to demand for bloodshed, for the erotic ecstasy of multiple women, for bingge to steal the last of the finest gems of these horrible, vast lands.
instead, he hears this:
"yoooo damn that shit was crazy. did you see what i did there? man, you know, it feels so fucking good to get out of the dirt. hey, do you know if people can like, feed their swords or something? i'm kinda craving something spicy. we never know, in this wack world! wait, don't hold me like that, buddy. it'll make things real awkward."
but luo bingge is determined to get his revenge, so he puts up with the swords' constant rambling about.. whatever the hell it's thinking.
"wait, dude, did you seriously fuck a dying girl? that's wild. yeah, like i know she was dying but it doesn't sound like you wanted it. yo, listen to me, consent is very sexy."
"HAHA hey, dude, sir, man. you wanna play some 'i spy'? we don't have anything else to do. no? too bad, we're playing it. i spy a loser who doesn't wanna play i spy. hint: he's holding me right now."
"okay i know i'm supposed to be this super evil sword and beg to be used - woah that sounded real wrong - but can you at least clean me when you're done killing shit? if you don't, i'm gonna refuse to respond to you and you'll look like a dumbass trying to wield me."
"i can't hear you lalalalalalala you're not being very it girl right now lallalalaalalalla-"
somehow, this is worse than if xin mo was actually eating away at his brain.
weirdly enough though, as luo bingge starts spending more time with this weird ass, seemingly possessed sword, it starts to become more of a.. comfort to have it by his side than pure annoyance. he finds himself responding to it more, like, actually having full on conversations with it. it puts him at ease, wielding xin mo. the hatred doesn't consume him, instead, it seems to soothe the burning rage (and, admittedly, just replace it with small irritation) that holds onto his darkened heart.
xin mo is actually quite kind and caring, for a sword that's supposed represent and be the literal embodiment of sin. sure, it is a hassle to have it cooperate with him sometimes, and it does just ramble on and on about the most random things ever, not giving a single shit if bingge was in the middle of sleeping with maidens and slaying those who get in his way. for the first time, bingge feels so comfortable around something.
it's.. odd. what was supposed to be the turning point in his life, a big step in his plan for revenge, is now something akin to an... acquaintance. not like mobei-jun, or any of the women he's come across, but an actual, dare he say, friend.
sometimes, he finds himself thinking all of this delusional. is this what people were driven mad by? perhaps they simply could not handle dealing with a talking sword. he understands that xin mo was undoubtedly unbearable to be around at the beginning of their alliance, but it has never actually beckoned for blood, power, and sex. if anything, it does the opposite.
maybe he's the delusional one. maybe this is xin mo's way of getting to him.
maybe, xin mo should be considered a thing. the thought feels terribly laughable, as if he were witnessing a person horribly explain themselves. it also makes his teeth grind together in pure agitation.
"hey, you know, you didn't deserve any of the things they did. it wasn't your fault, binghe. the fact that you're half heavenly demon doesn't make you a monster, or any of that wild stuff.. uh, i'm here for you, okay? i know you don't really like talking about all of this or opening up, but i just want you to know that you can.. talk about it. it's not like i can tell anyone else, anyways.
hey- shit i didn't mean to make you cry! wait, wait it's okay to cry! you need to let it out anyways, i promise it doesn't make you weak. there, there. i don't have any hands, so me patting you on the head with my handle will have to do. there, there.. everything will be alright, you'll be okay. i'll be here every step of the way, even if you want to get rid of me."
xin mo, the demonic sword, is more of a person - a good person - than anyone he'd ever come across.
...and then bingge and the xin mo transmigrator become besties or he falls for the damn sword. knowing him, he probably doesn't even know the difference between platonic and romantic attraction anyways. maybe bingge gets a plant body for xin mo using airplane's wack writing. idk i typed all of this down in one sitting.
(plot twist: it's not that the transmigrator xin mo had the opposite effect, it was literally just a placebo effect. luo bingge thought that, and thus it actually did help him lmao)
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PLEASE CAN WE HAVE MORE KÖNIG WITH HIS LIL DEMON
I will always write more of König and Fetch.
König jolts in his chair, knees hitting the underside of his desk as your hands slide over his thighs. He looks down at you in a panic, your eyes glowing in the relative shadow of his desk, then across the wood at the Lieutenant standing at attention. The soldier's nerves and concern radiate off of him, eyes fixed to König as he tries to put his composure back together. KorTac runs a tight ship, König runs a tight ship, he can't have his men thinking he's got... women under his desk. Or one woman in particular. A very determined one who rubs her cheek against his knee and attempts to push closer.
"Dismissed Lieutenant." König tells the man.
"But Colonel, I haven't finished my-"
"Dismissed." König says more forcefully, the man straightens past perfect and nods before artfully scrambling out of the office. König sags back against his chair, drags a hand down his covered face. You are going to be the death of him.
"Fetch," he groans, exasperation coloring his tone, "What are you doing Schöne?"
"You seem tense." You nuzzle closer against his thigh, pulling yourself further from the shadows. König rests his elbow on the arm of his desk chair, his cheek against his knuckles as he stares you down.
"I have been out of the field for," he takes a deep breath, rubs his eyes, "too long now." You hum, and fingers dragging up his thighs to his belt. "You will excuse me if I am-"
"Tense."
"Not entertaining you." König corrects. You pout, your fingers stilling. You don't need entertaining, that's just rude. You've been perfectly content sitting in König's shadow while he did all his silly busy work. You listened to all the stupid whining from the other KorTac operators, and watched your commanding officer give orders with an ever growing hunger.
To say you were obsessed with the brutal efficiency with which König operated was an understatement. If you'd thought it was only his kills which had bought him a demonic companion you were witnessing first hand how incorrect an assumption that was. You've never seen a man command such degrees of respect and fear.
"Then let me entertain myself." König hums, eyes flicking to the door. You're getting better at reading him, but you can't tell if that's anxiety or amusement in his eyes.
"Lock the door, Fetch." He says after a moment. You hardly waste the time it would take to get up, flicking your wrist in the general direction of the office door to hear the metal click of the lock turn. The rest of your focus is on opening König's belt. He slides forward, closer to the edge of the chair, legs spreading wider on either side of you. You're not one to pass up an open invitation.
You pull his cock free of his pants and whine at the sight of it. Even soft he's a beast of a man. At some point you have to find whoever matched you to him and thank them. Truly they are doing the devil's work.
You push up onto your knees and press your lips against the length of his cock, tongue darting out to taste his skin with a pleased hum. König wraps a hand around one of your horns, a firm reminder of his authority. Not that you need it. Oh no you are always well aware of his status as your superior officer and summoner. That's half the fun of being summoned in the first place, knowing you're at his command, or at his feet in this particular instance.
"I told you Schöne, I can't entertain you." He reminds you, setting the paper down to sign before picking up another. You pull off with a frown, that gets his attention. König pushes at your horn, tipping your head back to look at him with a smile in his eyes. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” He clarifies, “I meant do whatever you want.”
Your drooling is working well for you so far, slicking König's quickly hardening cock enough to stroke it. His thick length is already too much to get your fingers all the way around. You're better with your mouth anyway, always mindful of your teeth when you close your lips around the head of his cock to suck. Tongue circling while your hand twists and pumps his length. You just remember to glance at König, too focused on your work. He's reading over a report, eyes scanning the paper as you bob your head down his cock. You whine, desperate for a shred of his attention.
Your eyes go wide. Whatever you want? He nods, and pulls your horn to press your face against his cock. As previously mentioned, you’re not one to pass up an open invitation. Quick to start pumping his cock with your fingers again as you duck your head to lick his balls. Dragging your tongue along the thin sensitive skin, feeling the texture of his coarse hair. Whatever you want? Oh you are going to worship him. Whatever you want means König cumming is not the end goal. Besides, he has to work.
You’re not meant to be let off leash. He’s supposed to give you orders, not hand you the reins. You trace every line and vein of his cock with your tongue, press languid kisses along the length of him, absolutely lose yourself in the taste and feel of him. Sweat, salt, military issue soap and the bitterness of pre-cum coat your tongue and fill your nose. König keeps you well fed but you haven’t seen battle in weeks. Now the lazy waves of lust that roll through him with the roll of your tongue feel like the best meal you’ve had in years.
You squeeze your fingers around the base of his cock as you wrap your lips around the head, easing your way down with fluttering lashes. You swallow, tongue rubbing against the underside of his cock until you reach your fingers. Then your hand drops to your lap and you still with your nose against his pubic bone, enjoying the feeling of being full. The heavy cock on your tongue, the ache in your jaw, the pressure of him stretching out your throat… You purr around him, earning a very pleased hum from König above you.
His hand leaves your horn to pet your hair as you cockwarm him. Your thoughts are fuzzy, your skin warm, all of you lulled by an affectionate hand, the scent of him, and a cock down your throat. Your fingers slip between your legs, lazy and indulgent, rubbing the slick from your cunt along your slit to circle your clit. When König is done with his work he’ll bend you over his desk and fuck you for being so needy, you want to be ready.
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