His arm wasn't the only thing the Galra changed. They also gave him certain... needs. Shiro learns to make it work for him.

So.... what exactly did Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang get up to while Wei Ying was getting Lan Zhan drunk? In at least one reality, the answer is: Wow. Just. Really, quite a lot. or JC and NH have drunken virginal sex and discover that they are exactly each other's type. In that order. or NH discovers that JC has an unusual physiology and proceeds to lock that shit down.

This has to count as some sort of sexual harassment, right? It’s got to be his idea of a joke, to subject Jiang Cheng to this “massage parlor”…! Massage parlor Jiang Cheng’s left buttcheek, this place is clearly sketchy as hell! If his masseuse doesn’t ask him if he wants a “happy ending” tonight, Jiang Cheng will gladly eat his shoe. -- Jiang Cheng has a Happy Ending

“No,” Padmé says, breathless but full of iron. “Hands on the floor.”

Sid’s gotten pretty used to total strangers asking him what he’s trying to prove, or telling him he wasn’t raised right, and they always expect it to bother him. He doesn’t tell them he hears much, much worse on the ice. When shit gets even worse than usual—when a ref calls him a brat when he’s arguing a call, when another team’s goon tries to put him on his knees five times a game—he sits on the bench and presses down on his chest protector, feeling the shape of the captain’s ring on its chain around his neck, until he doesn’t feel like throwing up anymore. Sid’s never had a dom, not even for a night, but he has his team, and that’s enough. That’s more than enough.

Jason raises his eyebrows. "So we like… spar? And you'll what, let me fuck you if I win?" "Sure. If you win." Tim smiles and a thrill goes up Jason's spine. He shucks off his jacket and shoes before making his way to the mat. "It's a deal, then. Hope you won't regret it, Replacement." Tim's teeth look strangely sharp under the Cave lighting when he says, "I'll try my best."

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?" "It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back.