#prompt games

[mickittotheman]

Maybe #6 ...on a falling tear.

But maybe smut 😅

Ahem. Um. Yes.

Putting this under a read more cut for obvious reasons 😶

6. ...on a falling tear (but definitely smut)

It’s Ian’s day off, the house is empty, the vibrating anal beads they splurged on finally arrived in the mail, and they're having a great time.

It’s obvious, from the way Ian is grinning wide, eyes sparkling, laughter huffing from his lungs, that he’s enjoying this. 

Mickey’s enjoying it too, of course. It’s just that he expresses joy a bit differently than most people. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck you, fuck you, Ian, gonna fucking kill you, fuck.”

Ian laughs again, and his warm breath puffing against Mickey’s spit soaked nipple gets an interesting response, so he follows it up by pursing his lips and blowing out a long, cool stream of air.

“Fuck. Ian,” Mickey whines, voice keening and plaintive once more. 

It’s one of the many, many things Ian loves about his husband: the way his mood flips on a dime even during sex, especially during sex, how he’ll go from growling threats to pathetic pleading to blabbering praises and back again.

“So good, it’s so good, Ian, please, love you, you're so good.”

“Yeah? You like this, baby?” Ian pulls back to get a better view of Mickey’s face. It's quite the sight to behold: skin flushed and brows furrowed and mouth swollen and slick, plush lower lip bitten hard by one sharp little canine tooth. 

Mickey tips his head back against the pillow. Shakes it frantically. “No, I don’t fucking like this, I hate this, fuck, I hate you.”

“Oh? You don’t like this?” Ian hums. Rubs one big hand soothingly up and down Mickey’s heaving chest. “Hm. Maybe we oughta try a different setting, then.”

“Wait–”

Mickey’s eyes fly open just in time to see Ian grin as he presses the button on the remote.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, Ian, Ian, please–”

“Please what? Put it higher?”

Ian presses another button without waiting for an answer. Watches in awe as Mickey’s back arches, as his muscles tense, limbs straining against the restraints, as his cock jerks untouched against his stomach, come dribbling down to join the other spatters in varying states of drying.

Ian clicks the remote again. Drops the strength to the lowest setting, switches the pulse pattern to something steady and predictable.

Mickey sobs, just once, and Ian’s grin widens. 

When Mickey cries during sex, that means Ian is doing his job really, really well. 

It’d freaked him out the first time. Made him panic. Made him think he’d hurt Mickey in a way he hadn’t intended to.

But that was years ago.

Nowadays, making Mickey cry is one of Ian’s favorite activities.

“So good, baby,” he gushes, leaning in to kiss Mickey’s forehead. “You’re doing so good. You were fucking made for this, Mickey. Made to be tied up and pleasured and used all day long.”

Ian can physically feel Mickey’s skin heat up against his lips. Can feel him shudder and shake. Can feel him nod, just a tiny, jerky little motion. 

Ian pulls back again, wanting to drink in the sight of him, wanting to see it forever and ever and ever. “Fuck, baby. I should take a fucking picture. Actually, I should just keep you like this 24/7.”

Mickey’s breath stutters, his eyes fluttering open to peer up at Ian blearily, the tiniest little noise clawing from his throat. 

Ian smiles softly at him. Brings a hand up to cup his face and swipe at his tears with his thumb. “You want that, baby? Yeah. Maybe you’re right about not needing a job. Maybe I should just keep you tied up like this all day instead, ready for me to use whenever I want. Would be a great stress relief, after a long day of work. ‘Course, some days I’d be too tired to fuck you, but that’s okay. I can just leave you like this, right?”

Mickey whines in protest. Shakes his head. 

“Shh, it’s okay, Mick. I’m just teasing,” he soothes, ducking down again to kiss the fresh tear rolling down Mickey’s cheek. “I’d never be able to leave you completely untouched. I’d have to do something. Something like this, maybe.”

He clicks the remote again, ramping the vibrations back up to level five, switching the pattern to an unyielding bzzzzzzzzzz.

“Fuck!”

Ian laughs. Palms at his own dick, just to take a bit of the pressure off. “We’re almost done, babe. Promise.”

“Yeah?” Mickey pants, melting a bit in relief even as his wrists flex against the leather cuffs fruitlessly.

“Ian! Fuck, fuck you, please please please, I need you, I love you, Ian–”

“Yeah,” Ian assures him. “Just gonna make you come one more time with these in.” He pauses. Cocks his head. “Well, and then of course I’ll have to pull these out of you, one by one, and fuck knows how many times you’ll come during that. Plus, I’m obviously going to have to fuck you at least once. Maybe twice. I’m feeling pretty worked up, y’know?”

This time, Mickey comes with a high pitched whine and a steady stream of tears.

Oh yeah. They are definitely having fun.

send me a number~

[seasaltandcopper]

Humiliation Prompts

These are all presented as sfw by default (but can be interpreted otherwise if that’s your preference)

Humiliate them by:

♠ Making them beg

♠ Forcing them to strip

♠ Spitting in their mouth

♠ Making them kneel

♠ Dressing them in a degrading outfit

♠ Mocking them for involuntary reactions

♠ Forcing them to lick something off the floor

♠ Hurting them in front of a mirror so they’re forced to watch

♠ Keeping their hands bound to make basic tasks difficult or impossible. Bonus: punish them for failing or making a mess

♠ Feeding them spoiled or disgusting food

♠ Hosing them down with cold water

♠ Calling them a mocking nickname or title

♠ Forcing them to crawl on their hands and knees

♠ Leaving them with obvious, hard to hide scars

♠ Branding them as a sign of ownership

♠ Forcing them to divulge past traumas or secrets

♠ Altering or ruining a part of their appearance they take pride in

♠ Rendering them mute or forbidding them to speak

♠ Making them lick clean someone’s boots/shoes

♠ Assigning them menial labor/chores

♠ Showing them off as a trophy at a party. Bonus: the party is for their enemies OR former allies/coworkers

♠ Offering them up as the entertainment to party guests to do with as they please

♠ Making derogatory comments about them to others (with them in the room/in earshot) Bonus: force them to agree with these assessments

♠ Gifting them as a slave/servant to someone they formerly outranked

♠ Leaving them at the mercy of strangers in a public display (stocks, pillory, cage, chained to something, etc)

♠ Grinding their face into the ground/mud/a mess they made. Bonus: With a foot on the back of their neck or side of their head

♠ Recording them being punished/tortured/etc. Bonus: send these to friends and family OR release them publicly online

♠ Fitting them with a collar

♠ Muzzling them

♠ Making them perform tricks or skills on command

[chrollohearttags]

prompt #6

toxic armin! nd reader are arguing nd when reader talks her shit armin gets turned on nd pulls his dick out nd tells her to “suck on it” making her forget all the shit he did(once again)

and I was JUST thinking about him omg 😫😫 y’all have no idea how much I love toxic!armin. He does sum to meee.

cw: oral, spit play, fingers in the mouth, reader threatening armin bc it’s all he deserves

frustrated. the one word that came to mind when trying to express your emotions right now. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t articulate your words properly, let alone get your point across without becoming completely irate. That’s what happened when you dealt with the likes of armin artlert. A known playboy with a reputation that preceded him. But with all the information you heard from the streets about him dogging all his women, being a cheater and a dumbass, you decided to give him a chance. Under the premise that his ass was gone the second he acted the fool. Unfortunately, things weren’t so simple with him! You could never truly be free of him..whether physically from the fact that no man fucked you quite like he did. Or mentally because he’d blow your phone up and play mind games until you let him back in for a thousandth chance.

“Please…please give me one good reason why I shouldn’t bust you in your shit, Armin. Please give me one.”

“I already told you, angel. I don’t even know that girl…she probably has me confused with somebody else..”

another Saturday night wasted down the drain..where you could put partying with your girls, finding a man worth of a damn, it was being spent pacing the floor of your two bedroom apartment you shared together. Arguing and fussing about a potential side piece as he sat on the edge of the bed. Sprawled out shirtless with nothing but black sweats on. Shaggy blonde hair going everywhere and tattoos on his chest and forearm still vibrant from the lotion he applied after he showered. Despite how fine your man was, you were solely focused on ripping him apart. Pissed off that he had yet again embarrassed you. “So that bitch asked you to suck your dick and she got you confused with somebody else? Nah nigga, the only thing you and her both got..is me fucked up.”

ramping and raving like a mad woman as you poked his forehead with your long acrylics. Folded arms and puffed out jaws like a petulant child and all he could do was stare in adoration for how cute you were. He didn’t want to admit it but the sight of you putting him in his place really got Armin stirred up. Hearing you cuss him for everything he was worth..clapping your hands..he loved seeing you in this aggressive state. Even if it wasn’t healthy. “Playing in my motherfuckin’ face…I’m not one of these other bitches, Armin.” He heard you, loud and crystal clear but he couldn’t be vexed to care. He never did. He never gave a damn about his actions affected you or anyone else. But he’d pretend, so as long as he could get his own gratification..

“I know, baby..they’re nothing like you. That’s why I told you, I don’t even know her ass. You know how many of them are jealous of you? Seriously, who wouldn’t be? Look at you..”

his half assed attempt of mulling over the situation was bombing, until he resorted to desperate measures that is..leaning back, he’d open his legs a bit more and suck his teeth, flashing you a shit eating smirk. One that would undeniably get him his way! Extending an arm out, he’d grasp for your hand and pull you towards him, intertwining those fingers together and placing kisses on the knuckles.

“..shit, I mean…if I’m being honest, you got me thinking about you right now, baby. They can’t do any of the things you can. Can’t love me the way you can, not as beautiful as you are…and damn sure can’t fuck on me the way you do.”

you knew he was only trying to soften you up. Stop you from being angry and as always, that smooth charm and slick demeanor done its job. As he had your eyes adverted to his face, tugging you down gently to your knees for a kiss, his other hand was working to free his erection from its confines. Stiff and seeping with precum, he wanted nothing more than shove it between those pretty, gloss stained lips. But first, he’d shove two fingers between them, letting you suck them and coo to you as he always done. Swiping a finger across your cheek, he knew you were exactly where he wanted you. “Go ahead, baby..suck on it.”

prompting as he guided your head down into his lap. In a matter of seconds, he had those fingers wrapped around his shaft and that tip stuck in your mouth, sloppily sucking on it as you always did. Drumming up strings of saliva in the process and making you drool all over him.

“There you go…good girl. Only you can make me feel like this. Do what these bitches can’t.”

[erisenyo]

“Oh fuck oh FUCK” + Zukka please!

For this prompt game! (And also this one!) (And this one too lol)

Zuko isn’t sure what posses him to actually say yes when the last hotel calls back to regretfully confirm that there will be no vacancies tonight and the cute mechanic lets up the truly over-the-top flirting to half-shyly offer Zuko a place to stay that night—

“Well, not my house,” Sokka—not Hakoda, going by the wince when Zuko had called him that, even though that’s what’s embroidered over his pocket—says, tugging on his wolf tail, “It’s my dad’s house. But he’s away!” Sokka says, excited and quickly tacking on when he seems to hear himself, “He’s helping out my Gran Gran! So I’m house-sitting! And keeping this place going—”

He waves a hand around the auto shop, making Zuko intensely curious about what Sokka does if not this all the time. He looks good in those overalls...

Not that Zuko has the chance to ask.

“—and so don’t worry, there’s plenty of space. I’m not suggesting you stay in my room—or, well, actually it is my room, but from when I was a kid, not you know, my room. I don’t live there anymore—”

Zuko wonders where he does live, if it’s close to the band’s recording studio, or any of their homes, and Ty Lee is always renting apartments all over the place maybe Zuko could—

“—but it’s still a totally good room still, like quiet but not creepily so, you know? And you can stay there. Or not! Absolutely no pressure, like obviously if you want to keep calling hotels or I mean I guess we could make up the couch in the office, though I wouldn’t recommend it," Sokka adds, frowning at the couch in question. "You end up with this really weird crick in your—”

“Yes,” Zuko interrupts, "Yes, a place to say would be great," he says, putting Sokka out of his misery. Even though he’s been enjoying the rambling train of Sokka’s thoughts all day, and he really shouldn’t impose, and Zuko might feel comfortable after so many hours of Sokka trying to figure out Zuko’s car but he doesn’t actually know the guy, and—

Sokka breaks into a grin, wide and pleased and clearly delighted and Zuko’s stomach flips the way it’s been doing all day and right. Right. That. That’s why Zuko said yes, even though he knows it’s stupid, even though it would be easier to just ask for the guy’s number even if as a rule Zuko doesn’t give out his own. Even though Mai would take one look at Sokka and give Zuko one of those knowing looks of hers and he hates being so predictable but shit, this guy is such his type.

Which means he’s not disappointed when Sokka says, “Awesome, dude! We can grab burritos on the way back!”

Dude.

And burritos.

But Zuko’s not disappointed, he’s not. He’s…relieved. To have a place to stay tonight that’s not a dubious-looking couch, or the back of his own barely-fits-two-people car. And to not be recognized—not that he ever is—because the last thing he needs on top of his car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, meaning he’s absolutely going to miss his flight—shit, Uncle is going to be so disappointed…—is to be dealing with fans.

Pestering him for info about the rest of the Dangerous Ladies, or trying to sniff out rumors about the relationships they’re all convinced are happening within the band, or hating him for breaking Mai’s heart as if it wasn’t mutual and years ago anyway. and they’re still in the band so clearly it’s fine, Mai didn’t even write that song, and—

And it’s fine. Zuko doesn’t even know what he was worried about in the first place. For someone with a massive facial scar, he's proven shockingly unrecognizable without a flaming guitar in his hands. Which is fine. Exactly how he likes it.

So what if he almost never gets his own posters of magazine covers? So what if he's tucked off to the side or in the back of all the official merch and the band has a running collection of all the albums and magazine covers and t-shirts that inexplicably end up with a price sticker over his and only his face?

It’s better than getting mobbed every time he leaves the house like Azula and getting pelted with rumors like Ty Lee and having his every expression scrutinized like Mai. It's better than having every outfit analyzed and every tilt of his head breathlessly redescribed and every photo and appearance and sighting on the street turned into screenshots and phone backgrounds and gif sets and spank bank material, better than everyone he meets tripping to fall into his bed and—

Really. It’s better.

“Here it is, the humble abode!” Sokka gives Zuko an uncertain flash of a smile as holds open the door, like he thinks someone who drives a Porsche so tricked out Sokka had had to psych himself up to actually touch it is going to judge a well-loved ranch house, which…well. Maybe isn’t such a bad assumption.

Zuko hastily makes sure his expression is set into something attentive and interested, his June is talking face, as Azula calls it.

“You’ve got your kitchen here,” Sokka says, flicking on a light to show the worn, comfortable-looking space. “Glasses are over the sink, snacks are in the fridge and in the tall cabinet if you need anything. There’s some leftovers in the freezer you can reheat, too, if you want. Oven, microwave, all the good stuff, you just, you know. Hit the buttons, and—”

And Sokka is clearly back to nervous rambling, because Zuko doesn’t think he’s going to need to eat for the rest of the week after finishing that burrito. A fucking burrito. Ugh, if there’s ever a less sexy food, and then to eat so much of it nervously pacing Sokka that Zuko actually contemplated whether he could subtly unbutton his jeans in the car…

“…and the bedrooms are this way, and the bathroom—it’s shared, sorry,” Sokka adds, glancing back to give Zuko an apologetic look. Zuko hastily jerks his eyes up off Sokka’s ass. “Probably not what you’re used to, I know. But it’s just you and me, so it won’t be too bad!”

“It’s perfect,” Zuko says, trying for a smile and blinking when Sokka just coughs, a blush staining his cheeks as he quickly gets back to his tour.

“Extra blankets and stuff are here,” Sokka says, rapping on a closed door. “Towels, pillows, the works. There should be some extra shampoo and soap and stuff in there too, if you need it.”

“Sounds like you have everything covered,” Zuko says, hearing the awkward edge of his words but still trying to reach for some of the joking, playful easiness of earlier today. “Quite the full-service auto shop you’re running.”

“Uh…yeah.” Sokka freezes a little, eyes wide, which…great. Zuko isn’t surprised he missed the mark, but still. He thought he’s at least better these days than when Azula firmly told him he was no longer allowed to speak in interviews until he could be sure he wasn’t going to end up in another bloopers reel.

“Anyway!” Sokka finally says, shaking himself, his voice coming out suddenly squeaky, which— “Here’s your room, have a good night, make yourself comfy I’ll seeyoutomorrow!”

Zuko blinks again, nonplussed. Did Sokka just...run away? In his own home?

"That's that then," Zuko sighs ruefully—the flirting had been so outrageous that Zuko couldn’t quite believe it was actually real, so—giving the closed door Sokka had disappeared behind one last look before slipping into his room.

Which is very much a teenager’s room, holy—Zuko nearly laughs as he realizes why Sokka was so quick to make that clear. And a well-lived in one, at that, LEGOs on the shelves and cheap trophies for science fairs lined up across the dresser, half-faded posters and clipped-out pictures tacked over the walls and old art supplies still scattered over the desk.

It's cluttered and eclectic and...cute. Cute in the same way Sokka is cute, and he’d probably hate being called that which just makes Zuko want to do it even more, Zuko’s lips curled again into the little smile he feels like he's been wearing all day as he sprawls back on the neatly-made twin bed and immediately makes eye contact with himself.

On the ceiling.

Shirtless.

Life-sized.

Zuko’s mind immediately supplies the details—that Rolling Stones cover shoot for their third album, right before Zuko had turned twenty, when he was still somehow managing to keep up his martial arts training because who needed sleep, definitely not him. He and Ty Lee had been goofing off while Mai and Azula got their makeup finished, flexing their muscles and trying to out-flexible each other and the photographer had loved it and had them run with it, who could pose the most creatively with the most outrageously flexed muscles and —

Zuko slowly closes his mouth and rapidly reconsiders that whole ‘not recognized’ thing...

--

Sokka is giving his teeth the most thorough, most frustrated brush of his life—ugh, burritos. Why did he suggest burritos—when he nearly chokes on his toothpaste as he suddenly realizes that he just put Zuko Hua in his— “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

Oh…fuck.

Katara is never going to let him live this down.

He is so, so fucked.

[prishdish]

smut prompt 62 with scara- "I bet all our neighbours can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are."

-cw: sex, hint of cnc, rough sex, edging, degradation, praise, hint of dacryphilia and masochism. -word count: 0.3k. -a/n: gawd i love writing for scara smm, hope yall enjoy dis.

main masterlist

-prompt game: you can send in any requests for the prompt game here

the bedroom was filled with the sound of your whimpers.

“scara, please i cant take it anymore” you whined, tears starting to cloud your vision.

your boyfriend had been at it for hours now, edging you beyond relief. as for now, he had you on your stomach as he rammed into you.

he only cooed at your words “didn't think about this while you were teasing me hm?” he continued thrusting into you.

trailing his fingers over your stomach, he felt his bulge inside you "such a perfect little whore for me". He trailed his fingers until they reached your head and pulled you back by your hair, making you look at him.

a sharp moan escaped your lips as you look at him. you could only squirm and babble nonsense as he rammed into you relentlessly.

his hand left your hair and gripped your neck “i bet all our neighbours can hear you, i bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.” he uttered between thrusts. “gonna cum for me doll?”

you nodded while biting down on your lower lip in an attempt to contain your lewd noises while his other hand made its way to your clit and circled it.

this was enough to snap the knot in your stomach. your legs shook as you let out a loud moan. your boyfriend let go of your throat, allowing your head to fall on the pillow but he kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he helped you ride out your high. “that's it darling, so tight for me.. so perfect” 

[three-drink-amy]

Ooooooh, a FirstPrince ice cream shop AU, vacation/summer vibes?

xoxo MJ/kiwiana-writes

Oooh this is so fun! Thanks for the ask!

1) Alex works in an ice cream shop by the beach and he usually hates it until there’s a new customer who comes in and is the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen.

2) Alex starts trying to take breaks around the time Henry stops in. (Henry keeps coming back to see Alex)

3) They never share details about their personal lives but find lots of mutual interests.

4) Alex gives Henry shit for his boring ice cream tastes.

5) After two weeks of seeing Henry almost every day, Alex assumes Henry is going to leave soon and gets really sad. When Henry finally pulls this out of him, he laughs at him and says, “Alex, I’m a lifeguard on this beach.” Naturally, Henry keeps coming back.

Send me an AU prompt and I’ll tell you 5 things that would be in it!

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

@mlgssy asked for the prompts "Those rumors about us are getting annoying. How many times do we have to tell them we aren’t together?" and "Come back to bed." for Fred/Kelly (and you all know how much it pains me to write some Fred/Kelly) from a few different prompt lists that I didn't actually recognize, but they looked like a lot of fun.

So anyway! Here goes.

---

Olivia-G291 bounced nervously on the balls of her feet out in the hallway. She had been tasked with what was probably the most dangerous mission of her life, and it took a few moments to amp herself up and get enough courage to actually go through with it.

After several moments of hemming and hawing, the young woman finally decided that enough was enough. It was time to bite the bullet - hopefully only figuratively - and get things done. With only a slight tremor, she lifted her hand and knocked gently on the door to the quarters she had been squatting outside for nearly twenty minutes now.

It took exactly forty-eight seconds for the door to slide open a few inches. "It's 0230," came the gruff voice of Kelly-087 from in the dark recesses of her personal quarters. "What do you need?"

O swallowed nervously. "Ash and Mark had a question for the LT," she said, quieter than she had meant to. Her palms were sweaty and her throat was suddenly very dry.

Kelly poked her head out of the door to raise one eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Her hair dangled loose, for once not in her signature ponytail, and the blue-dyed ends shone in the fluorescent hallway lights. "If you're looking for Fred, why are you at my door?" she demanded.

O swallowed again. "Well, he wasn't answering at his quarters, and he wasn't in the gym or the cafeteria, so we figured - well, Ash figured, really - that he might be..." she was jabbering now. For someone who had such a skill for silence, she couldn't seem to shut up at this point. "Well, I told Ash that he should come knock, since it was his question, but he told me that I'm the only one that Fred wouldn't kill tomorrow morning if I happened to interrupt you two. You see, he seems to think that I'm Fred's favorite, which is ridiculous because-"

"Enough," Kelly said firmly. O found herself very grateful for the excuse to actually close her mouth. "First," Kelly said, raising a finger to count her points, "Fred isn't here. Second, of course you're his favorite, don't be ridiculous. And third, those rumors are starting to get annoying. How many times do we have to tell you that there is nothing going on between he and I? Honestly, it's-"

Kelly fell silent when the distinct sound of a tired groan echoed out from the room behind her.

O, momentarily forgetting her abject fear of the older Spartan in favor of her ravenous curiosity, leaned forward slightly to try to get a peek into the room. "Was that...?"

"It was nothing," Kelly answered sharply. The look in her electric blue eyes dared O to challenge her.

O did not take that dare.

"Kelly come back to bed, it's cold," Nothing rumbled, its voice sounding shockingly similar to what O imagined one Lieutenant Junior Grade Frederic-104's voice might sound like if he were woken up in the middle of the night, his voice rough and his mind slightly disoriented from sleep.

Kelly's head drooped and she sighed dejectedly, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "I don't know why I bother," she muttered under her breath.

The younger Spartan took a step back, her hands raised. "Well, I think I'll just... go tell the others that he wasn't here," she said quickly, already turning and jogging back the way she had come.

Kelly didn't answer; she just retreated into her quarters and slid the door shut behind her.

[bekkachaos]

For the writing prompt - #5 for Malex please ☺️☺️

5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Deep Sky didn't get many new recruits, but when they did, they were obviously brilliant in one way or another.

The newest team member, a twenty-something classical physicist named Ash, had been labelled somewhat of a prodigy and after a rocky initiation, fit right in.

Not only was he somewhat of a human calculator but he had a quick witted nature about him that everyone seemed to love.

He and Alex got along very well. They bounced ideas off one another and were usually on a very similar wavelength when it came to their thoughts, so when the two of them came together on a project they usually got a lot further than others had in half the time.

Alex sat on the couch at home, the dregs of a glass of wine sat on the coffee table as Michael walked over with a glass of whiskey and the last of the bottle to top up Alex's glass. He had been regaling a story from earlier in the day about some piece of technology they had been tinkering on together, his mouth drawn up in a smile as he explained the way he watched Ash work and how Eduardo had started to joke that they were sounding like an old married couple.

"Honestly, I was never that smart at his age," Alex said as Michael put down the empty bottle and slotted in beside him so that he could put his arm around his shoulders. "I think it should probably be illegal. He just gets this crazed look on his face when he's onto something, although today that led to him nearly electrocuting himself."

He chuckled as he looked back at Michael who just nodded, smiling with just his lips and eyebrows before he took a drink from his own glass.

"Sounds like fun," he said dryly, making Alex narrow his eyes at him curiously.

"Okay, what's with the mood?" he said, making Michael shrug in that infuriating way he did when he was about to make Alex guess what was going on in his brain.

"No mood," he said.

"There's a mood, or, you know, thoughts happening in there," he smirked, making Michael roll his eyes.

"No thoughts," he shrugged again, and Alex chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I mean I've just been sitting here listening to you talk about spending all day with some guy, but no, no real thoughts."

"I've been talking about the project, Guerin," Alex shook his head. "Ash is helping me with that so he's probably going to come up. What have you got against him? You didn't mind him when you came in to drop me some food last week."

"Never said I had anything against him," he said, smirking back at Alex and nudging his shoulder with his chest. "Have you? Had anything against him?"

He was teasing, in tone, but Alex knew Michael well, enough to know the way he was tensing his body up, deflecting with jokes and an arrogant curl of his mouth. It was the same posturing he did when he became defensive, protective, and one other thing.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Michael squirmed a little, scoffing with a roll of his eyes.

"Of that scrawny kid?" he said, snorting derisively and making Alex bite his lip to stop from laughing.

"You're the same build as he is."

"You noticed that huh?"

"Michael," he said with an exasperated sigh, putting his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "If you find him attractive well that's on you, don't bring me into it."

"So you don't then?" Michael asked, that antagonistic smirk still glued to his mouth.

"Honestly? I haven't noticed," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I don't notice those things anymore. If you asked then yeah, objectively I could say he's an attractive guy. But I'm not attracted to him."

Michael let out a sigh through his nose, his lips faltering a moment as he gave away the facade, putting his glass down on the table and letting his hand rest on Alex's knee.

"So you don't need to be jealous, of him, or anyone else," he said, reaching out to press his palm to Michael's chest, sliding it up and over the crook between his shoulder and neck.

And then the smirk was back, a shrug of his shoulders as he slid his hand further up Alex's thigh, over his hip and slipping his fingers under the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't worry, I'm not," he said, leaning in until he could place a soft kiss under Alex's jaw, his head tilting up willingly to give him the space to crowd him closer. "I mean, can that guy do this?"

He mumbled the words into his skin, chasing them down with his tongue, then his lips, his hand rising higher under Alex's shirt until he was slowly pulling back so that Alex could raise his arms and be stripped out of it.

Michael's arrogant smirk was replaced by parted lips and hungry eyes, making Alex roll his eyes as he let Michael shift him so that he had one leg on the couch and the other on the floor, a perfect fit between them for Michael to settle.

"Nah, he just gets the science and that little wrinkle you get when you think too hard," he grinned, making Alex chuckle and drop his head back a moment.

"You're an idiot," Alex said as Michael leant in over him.

"You're in love with an idiot," he smiled, leaving a soft kiss against Alex's lips. "What does that say about you?"

send me a pairing and a prompt from this list 💕

[readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure]

Headcanon Alphabet Game

So, I have been really slack with my fanfic writing so I though it might be time for a prompt game of sorts. This is not a fanfiction game, I'm afraid, so no short ficlets; it's for headcanons only. But on the plus side, that means I'll be able to do more of them.

Below the cut is an alphabetized list of subjects as well a list of characters. All you have to do is send me a letter and a character name, and I'll tell you my headcanon for that combination. If you have specific questions or scenarios in mind about your chosen subject (e.g "What would this character do if this happened?"), feel free to add them, but you don't have to if you don't want to.

One character and one letter per ask, please. But there's nothing to stop you sending multiple asks😉(EDIT: Please use the ask box)

A - Anniversary B - Bondage C - Children D - Dates E - Emotions F - First time G - Gifts H - Hugs I - Insecurities J - Jealousy K - Kisses L - Love confessions M - Mornings in bed N - Nicknames O - Oral sex P - PDA (Public displays of affection) Q - Quickie R - Revenge S - Sexual fantasies T - Turn on/turn offs U - Unrequited love (or assumed unrequited love) V - Vanity W - Wedding X - X-Ray (what's under the clothes) Y - Yearning Z - Zzzz (sleeping habits)

Characters:

Billy Russo (The Punisher)

The Darkling (Shadow and Bone)

Logan Delos (Westworld)

Caspian (Chronicles of Narnia)

Benjamin Greene (Gold Digger)

Dhawan!Master (Doctor Who)

[mickittotheman]

Perhaps 3 (forehead kisses) for gallavich?

Most people make their most stupidass decisions when they’re drunk. Not Mickey. Mickey makes his when he’s sober, when there’s not alcohol clouding his mind and slowing his thoughts and drowning out the fucking urges he gets at the most randomass times.

Like right now.

Mickey isn’t drunk, but Ian sure as fuck is. He’d been doing some stupid fucking drinking game with Mandy. Mickey’s been listening to them giggling and shrieking like the schoolgirls they are for hours now, the music blasting from his speakers not enough to drown them out, not when he’s deliberately sitting with his back pressed up against the door of his room so he can hear them better.

He’s just keeping an ear out to make sure Ian doesn’t say anything stupid. Doesn't let anything slip about him. About them.

Ian doesn’t. Mickey isn’t sure why that pisses him off just a little bit.

He waits until a good half hour after the giggling has faded out. Creeps his way into the dimly lit hall. Pokes his head into Mandy’s doorway.

They’re both fast asleep. Mandy’s hogging all the blankets, because she’s a selfish bitch who always hogs the fucking blankets, awake or not. 

Mickey rolls his eyes. Swipes at his nose.

He snags a random quilt from the living room and heads back, careful not to step on the squeaky floorboard near the foot of Mandy’s bed. He gets her sorted first, because he’s a good fucking brother like that, no matter how vehemently his siblings and he himself would disagree if asked. 

He unclasps her necklaces so she won’t get strangled to death in her sleep. He pushes her hair out of her face so it won’t tickle her nose in that way she’s always hated. He kisses her forehead, soft, just like he has since she was nothing but a tiny little pink burrito of bundled up blankets that would scream and scream and scream her little lungs out every waking moment.

She hasn’t changed all that much since she was a baby, really. 

He deals with Ian next. Rolls him into the recovery position, because he doesn't sleep on his side like a normal fucking person, he sleeps sprawled out on his back like a fucking starfish. Ian doesn't so much as twitch as Mickey shoves and pokes and prods at him. 

He drapes the quilt over him, gets it tucked in nice and tight at the edges. Stands there for a long time after, just looking. He never gets to look, because the stupid fucker is always staring right back, and Mickey always has to either look away or risk giving away too much.

He doesn't have to look away now.

He flits his gaze over the map of spattered freckles, over ridiculously bright orange hair, over plush pink lips parted in sleep.

He tugs his own bottom lip between his teeth. Gnaws.

What the fuck ever.

He swoops in. Presses his lips to Ian's forehead. Soft, then harder. He closes his eyes. Breathes.

Ian snuffles sleepily.

Mickey jerks away like he’s been electrocuted. He’s back in his own room in a split second, door shut firmly behind him. 

He leans against it once more. Pants. Tries to catch his breath.

He rubs his fingers at his lips. Tries to scrub the phantom feeling away.

In the morning, he kicks up a fuss about the quilt being missing from the living room, blaming Mandy for stealing it when she already has half the blankets in the fucking house hoarded away. He and Ian fuck, quick and messy, while she’s busy making scrambled eggs and eggos to soak up their hangovers. He bites Ian for the first time, digs his teeth into Ian’s pec hard enough to leave little indents in the shape of his teeth.

After, he whisks the blanket and a stolen eggo back to his own room. He wraps himself up in it, in the faint remnants of Ian’s smell, and he scowls.

[therollingstonys]

Number 9 or 24 for WinterIron if you want to 🥰

9. shoulder kisses and 24. just really needed a hug sort of hug

Strong arms wind around Tony's waist and he's not surprised he didn't hear the doors to the shop open with how loud his music is and how intently he's been working on the updates to Steve's suit. Lips press to his shoulder through his shirt and he smiles softly.

"Hey honey," he murmurs, squinting at the hologram display of the suit's schematics, lips turning down when he sees how poorly the simulation of the new material is holding up. "How was the mission?" he asks distractedly as he fusses with the settings, hoping that this next simulation will work better.

When there's no response to his question it sinks in that Bucky hasn't replied, that his arms are tight around Tony's waist and that his breathing is unsteady in Tony's hearing. He turns his attention away from the hologram and lays a hand over Bucky's where it's clinging to him, concern filling him rapidly now.

"Bucky, can I turn around?" he asks softly, and when he feels a nod where Bucky's head is pressed into the nape of his neck he shifts in the grip Bucky still has on him until he's facing his husband. This way he can see blood smeared on Bucky's uniform, face, and neck, but there's no sign it's his and that just makes Tony's stomach sink.

"Hey, what do you need?" he asks, sliding a hand around Bucky's waist, "what do you need from me?" he murmurs, heart breaking when Bucky reels him in and clings to the fabric of his shirt, body trembling against Tony.

"Just this," Bucky whispers hoarsely and Tony nods, holding onto him as tightly as he can. "Just really need a hug," he says, voice cracking and Tony cups the back of his head, unshed tears burning in his eyes.

"I can do that," Tony whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I got you."

[chrollohearttags]

3, 5, 7, 8, 12, & 14

they all don’t have to be in the same story but that was the most i could narrow down 😭

oh no, these are perfect! Thank you bae 🤭 just gave me a good idea with this!

cw: hotel sex, dirty talk, choking

“And you told me you weren’t gonna come see me…what happened?”

“Well, turns out..what they said was true. You really are one of the best voices of our generation..your shows are actually pretty entertaining.”

words and glances exchanged between two secret lovers in the middle of the hotel room. Bodies only inches away from one another and lust rising from your auras like steam from a hot shower..this was the scene that reoccurred and played out so many times in the not so distant past. Messing around with and becoming the sneaky link to a world famous musician wasn’t something you’d ever foreseen yourself doing. You knew the industry types all too well and how they collected girls of your variety like the awards they accrued from their labors. Even still, the attraction between (y/n) and EJ The Don was one that could only be described as fiery, passionate and whirlwind. The two of you had quite a long conversation the other night and he could tell by the end that you were playing to hard to get; not wanting to give him too much as other girls had done prior. When asked if you’d come see him perform while he was on tour, you’d respond dryly with a: “we’ll see.” Of course, he knew you were merely giving him the cold shoulder just so he could have a bit of a motivation to make it impossible for you to leave later on. Faint traces of his cologne and weed smoke hit your nostrils as he leaned forward and brushed over your arms.

“I’m glad you think so…and I’m very..very glad you showed up. I mean, I saw you dancing around. Looking all good and shit.”

the compliment making your heart flutter; feeling him run a finger underneath your chin and licking his lips. Currently, he had you up against the wall, kneecap nudging open those thick thighs that were exposed by the revealing fishnet dress you were sporting. Tall heels supporting that curvy body and all he could think about was how you lucky he was to have you on his roster. Hell, he’d clear up all his prior engagements if he got to fuck on you all the time. Batting those pretty little lashes, you’d gaze up at him and move closer.

“Yeah? You think I look good?”

questioning with only a hair’s breadth in between you two. That pearly white smirk on his face, chain hanging from his around his neck and two silver bands on his tattooed fingers as he cupped them around your chin. He couldn’t get enough..he craved you so badly, he could practically taste it. But luckily, he wouldn’t have to wait too long to do so. You were all alone, in private and free to express all the filthy thoughts plaguing your minds. Cupping your beautiful face between his fingers, Eren would tease his lips against yours before initiating a series of steamy kisses. Smacking your tongues and twirling them together.

“Of course..but I think you’d look so much better with my hands around your neck..” “You might be on to something.” lightly asphyxiating your breathing as he fed you those sloppy pecks. Ones that had you melting in his grasp and made it even easier to get you out of your clothes. “EJ..” “I know, baby. I know you want me to fuck you..you’ve been so patient with me.” One by one, he’d strip you of those tiny little articles of clothing until both of you were rendered nude. Ravaging one another like wild animals until he hoisted you mid air, prompting you to put your arms around his neck. Holding you in those toned, tattooed arms. And once you did, he’d begin to bounce you up and down on that thick cock. Slamming up into you with full force..dripping wet only a few strokes in. Your nails clawing into his back and those balls slapping against your entrance. Creaming all down his cock and making a mess everywhere. Something you had been waiting on for a while.

“Ooh shit!…”

“God..you feel so fucking good. This pussy’s ‘s so good.” Grunting into your ear like a man deprived. That dick swelling inside of you and stretching that entrance open. You’d find yourself burying your face into the crook of his neck and moaning out for more. “No, don’t look away..keep your eyes on me. Let me see how much you love this dick.”

[erisenyo]

"could you please come and get me?" I'm BEGGING🙏🙏🙏

For this prompt game! (And also this one!) (Andthis one too lol)

(Can be read as a follow-up to this)

“…and, like, everyone goes through phases!”

Hakoda hastily unfolds from his very undignified stretch at the muffled sound of Sokka’s voice, wincing at the protest of his sore back. Bato keeps saying he’s eventually going to value his posterior chain enough to stop taking red eyes no matter how cheap they are, and one day Hakoda is actually going to listen instead of making jokes about posteriors.

“—and sisters, you know? They never let go of anything no matter how old you all get, and they always take things too far—”

Hakoda glances again around the dim lit, tidy shop as if maybe the angle of the sunlight will have changed, vaguely pleased and surprised that Sokka is here so early as the faint jangle of the admittedly-huge keyring filters through the door.

It’s hours past when they usually open, of course, but judging by the timing of Sokka’s late-night-scarfing-down-dinner phone calls, he’s been working plenty past when they usually close.

“—not in a creepy way or anything, obviously. Just a joke. A bad one!”

Not that Hakoda was really worried. And he was right to now really worry! There’s nothing blown up, no scorch marks or tools missing because Sokka really needed a good shearing weapon for his robot-killing robot, no half-deconstructed engines and piling-up repairs because Sokka is sure he’s figured out a way to get more efficiency out of the whole system.

“—and that one is totally new, anyway. I had no idea it was even there! And so, um. High definition.”

Those this Audi sitting in the middle out of the shop, which is very out of place for Wolf Cove to begin with, let alone in Hakoda’s shop…

“And I mean, you know how sisters are!”

Hakoda does have some questions about that.

That Jesk kid better not be involved, or whatever his name was...

“Or—right?” Sokka’s voice is suddenly clear as he finally finds the right key to unlock the office door. “You—maybe? I mean—you—or—”

“Yeah,” a husky, raspy voice cuts in, faintly amused, and Hakoda pauses in surprise as he realizes Sokka isn’t on the phone. “I have a sister.”

Hakoda glances curiously through the office window as Sokka flicks the lights on, bright light illuminating the office and the break room and the car bays one by one, revealing his son—dressed for work, not starving, not injured, good—and the lean, black-on-black clad boy behind him, and Hakoda feels his eyebrow jump up in surprise.

Ah. He recognizes a pretentiously pre-worn designer leather jacket when he sees one. That would be where the car came from, then.

“And,” Sokka hurries on, darting nervously around the office as he wakes up the computer and sets down his coffee and Hakoda’s other eyebrow slides up to join the first. He can recognize Sokka’s cover-his-ass voice anywhere. “It’s not like I would recognize you out of context anyway without, you know. Or with, or—and so, like, it's not like I was being weird or anything, or like, trying to lock you in the basement or something, or—fuck.” Sokka scrubs his hands over his face before pasting on a bright, game smile and marching toward the car bays. “Yeah, I’m just going to stop talki—Dad!”  

“Sokka,” Hakoda greets him, giving the other boy—not a boy, Sokka hates being called a boy, he reminds himself—a curious look. “And…?”

“Oh,” the boy blinks, freezing a little. “Uh—”

“I didn’t realize you were coming back,” Sokka hops in, hurrying over. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to grab a few things from the house, see you and Katara a bit,” Hakoda assures him, reaching out to give Sokka’s shoulder a squeeze and offering a smile to the other boy as he trails Sokka after a moment across the shop floor. “Who’s this?”

“How’s Gran Gran?” Sokka asks as the boy hesitates, mouth half-open.

“She’s doing well, things are coming along,” Hakoda says, cocking his head to get a better look at the boy. He’s definitely familiar—not surprising, with those nearly-gold eyes and scar and the kind of cheekbones that Sokka loves to trip over—but Hakoda can’t quite place… “Are you one of Sokka’s college friends?” Shit, Hakoda should know those. He at least knows it isn’t…what was his name, Tamu? It’s definitely not him…

“Ah, no,” the boy says, shifting on his feet and flicking a quick look to Sokka. “Wh—"

“How long are you back for!” Sokka says over top of him, eyes wide with interest and that’s definitely his cover-his-ass voice again…

“Just a few days,” Hakoda says absently. Is it one of Sokka’s high school band buddies? They used to always be hanging around the basement and crowding into the kitchen. “I haven’t seen around town,” he says slowly, the sense that he knows this kid niggling at the edge of his thoughts.

“…No,” the kid agrees after a beat, equally slow.

“Yeah,” Sokka says quickly, voice coming out high. “He’s not from around here!”  

“This is your car?” Hakoda asks, because the kid might not look much like a trombone players but he does look like a speed demon.

“Uh, yeah,” the kid says, glancing at the sleek red lines where Sokka’s set the Audi out with pride of place dead center in the middle of the shop. “Sorry?”

“Sorry?” Hakoda blinks, momentarily distracted from the nagging familiarity of the kid.

“I broke down,” the kid shrugs, apologetic, and Hakoda can only give him a bemused look.

“It’s what we’re here for,” he says. And they’re certainly going to charge him for it, with a car like that—and Hakoda will be making sure he’s charged. He recognizes that look on Sokka’s face…

“Right!” Sokka says, overly bright. “Car repair!”

“A full-service operation,” the kid murmurs, cutting Sokka a sideways look.

“We strive to be,” Hakoda says proudly, giving Sokka his own curious look as his son chokes a little, blushing. Oh yeah. Hakoda is definitely making sure this kid gets charged.

“Car repairs!” Sokka says loudly, clearly powering through…whatever is going on. “We’ve had a lot of those! Want to—” he glances quickly around. “—the books! Want to see them? Or the—I can get you up to speed?” he suggests half-desperately. “On everything?”

Hakoda makes a vaguely affirming noise, listening with half an ear and mostly watching the kid who is in turn watching Sokka, looking faintly bemused by and more than a little curious about Sokka’s immediate, exhaustive, relieved, highly detailed account of the past month.

Maybe he’s a new teacher in one of Sokka’s art classes? He thought they were all old men by Sokka’s description, but this one seems like an artsy type. Though why he’d be here and not back in Republic City…

The kid gives Sokka another sidelong look through his lashes that really isn’t all that subtle to anyone other than Sokka, and ah, that could be a reason.

And he can tell Sokka likes his friend back from the fidgety, half-nervous, half-hyper way he’s shifting his weight and playing with his bracelets and rings and he better be fucking taking those off before work, Hakoda’s not trying to have anyone lose a damn body part inside an engine. At least the earrings are out…

Hakoda thinks, though, that he really would have heard of the kid if he’s following Sokka cross-country to keep him company. But then, maybe that’s why he has the persistent, nagging sense that he’s met or at least seen this kid befo—

“Oh!” Hakoda suddenly exclaims, snapping his fingers as realization hits. “I know you!”

“You—!” Sokka trips a little as the kid startles, giving Hakoda a half-surprised, half-cagey look. “You should really hear about theorderthatPakkutriedto—”

“You’re the boy from the poster over Sokka’s bed!” Hakoda says, triumphant and Sokka cuts off with a high, strangled noise, the kid opening his mouth and nothing coming out.

“The one where’s he’s all shirtless and oiled up?” Hakoda prompts when Sokka doesn’t say anything, pleased to have placed it. “Remember, you got that fancy photo editing program for it? So you could cut him out of the full shot and enlarge the size? And Bato took you to that special print shop in Whale Harbor to get it done out on the special poster paper?”

The kid slowly transfers his stare from Hakoda to Sokka, who is looking more and more like a deer trying to freeze to avoid the notice of an oncoming car.

“You know, for your eighteenth birthday?” Hakoda reminds him, concern fluttering in his chest when Sokka doesn’t immediately latch onto the topic like he always does. “Because you couldn’t find any magazines big enough to see from that far away?” He definitely isn't misremembering, he knows he isn't...right?

The kid slowly closes his mouth, eyebrow inching up higher and higher.

“And you’d filled up all your wall space, so you needed to move to other surfaces? And Katara said you weren’t allowed to put anything up in the shower?” No, he's definitely right. Hakoda had been quietly and intensely relieved by the shower edict enough to be sure.

“I,” Sokka finally says, mouth working, “I, uh.”

“Didn’t you recognize him?” Hakoda frowns, reaching out to feel Sokka’s forehead.

“Yeah, Sokka,” the kid—shit, Hakoda still doesn’t know his name though—says, pointed, “Didn’t you recognize me?”

“I…need to go now,” Sokka announces, suddenly fumbling in his pockets.

“What?” Hakoda blinks, confusion threading alongside his pleasure at finally placing the face.

“What?” the kid half-laughs, startled.

But Sokka just whips out his phone, already marching away, his face crimson and voice echoing off the high ceilings, “Katara? Yeah, I’m—yeah, I’m still in town. Yes, I know that you're on nights, I—yes, I—look, could you please come and get me?” A pause. “No, I—actually, yes. I need to go die now, please. Not here.”

Hakoda stares after Sokka as he finally shuts the office door behind him, bemused, scratching the back of his head and shifting his attention to the kid who looks like he doesn’t know whether to worry or laugh again.

“Well, I’m Hakoda,” he eventually offers, extending his hand and biting the bullet that it’s okay to not know this one’s name, they probably haven't actually met before, “I’m his father.”

“Zuko,” the kid says after a beat, accepting his handshake—strong grip, callouses, no eye contact but that’s okay considering he’s looking after Sokka. “I’m, uh. The guy from the ceiling?”

Hakoda huffs, half-amused and giving him another quick look—and then his hand a slightly harder squeeze. “Grown up a bit, have you?” A lot less oil, too. And a lot more clothes.

Same cheekbones, though.

“Uh—so has he? Since then?” Zuko hazards, glancing toward the office where Sokka is…screaming into a pillow, by the looks of it.

“One could say that," Hakoda says after a beat, thinking of Sokka’s last trip to Whale Harbor and the poster tube he’d come back with happily cradled in his arms. “But maybe not as much as you’d think.”

[prishdish]

Hey so i’m not sure if your still doing the game you said you were doing but just hear me out #9 on Xiao😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 The "I don't care how good it feels…" one! Absolutely going feral on it! Xiao just being mean in general had me going crazy

˖˚˳⊹"I don't care how good it feels, you'd better not cum until I tell you to." ˖˚˳⊹

-word count: 0.3k -warnings: nsfw, grinding, slight edging, not proofread

main masterlist

it was almost unbearable for xiao to ignore the way you skillfully rocked your hips against his clothed crotch, making him go insane.

his hands held your hips while his nails dug into you, decorating your figure with crescent marks. he bit his lips as he grinned, enjoying the view of you grinding on him, suddenly moaning out as you pressed down harder.

his hands moved from your hips to your neck, pulling you towards him for a kiss as you continued rocking your hips, moaning into his mouth and grasping at his hair.

his lips continued onto your jaw and neck, leaving butterfly kisses until he found a spot to mark up. 

you whined as he nipped at your skin with his teeth and sucked on the spot “let everyone know that youre mine” he marked up your neck as you were getting closer to climax and so was he. 

you bucked your hips involuntarily, letting xiao know that you were close “xiao.. i-im close”

"I don't care how good it feels, you'd better not cum until I tell you to."

you whined softly against his lips, grinding harder and feeling his cock twitch. he was close too but you wouldn't dare cum until he let you. 

you pulled back from his lips as you hid your face into his neck and begged for him to let you release while he just groaned as his head fell back and his hands took place on your ass.

“go on, cum for me love” 

you can send in any requests for the prompt game here

[promptblr]

Emoji ask game- send an emoji and I will try to answer with a picture from my camera roll that matches the emoji you send 🖼🩵

[7-wonders]

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” with anakin please? also i love the way you write him, you’re so good!

I should try to write something other than Sith!Anakin, but alas, I cannot. If you've seen Clone Wars, this is modeled off of the episode where Obi-Wan and Anakin get captured alongside Count Dooku and the three of them have to work together to make it out.

#10: “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

In hindsight, trying to make a deal with Hondo Ohnaka and his gang of pirates without any sort of backup was not your best idea. They had tricked you, ambushing your ship when you landed at the coordinates you were given after paying for information as to the whereabouts of a small group of Jedi that you were hoping to recruit into the Rebel Alliance. Considering you still haven't had any formal training and you were heavily outnumbered, the pirates easily stripped you of your newly-constructed lightsaber and knocked you out.

You've been knocked out far too much for your liking since having joined the Rebels, but it's all for a good cause. At least, that's what you tell yourself when you finally come to on the cold concrete floor of a prison cell. You're disoriented, and you wince when you rub at the painful lump on the top of your head from where Hondo had hit you. Great, you're cuffed! Just what you need.

Even with your confused state of mind, it doesn't take long for you to sense that there's someone in this cell with you. You just hope it's not a pirate that's going to finish you off before you even have a chance to fight back.

"Well, well, well, look who it is!"

That voice. You've only met in person once before this (though he's been in your dreams far more than you'd care to admit), but you'd be able to pick that voice out of a crowded room immediately. He's obviously taking great pleasure in your current predicament, and you scowl before stumbling to your feet and glaring into the golden eyes in the other corner of the cell.

"Y'know, Rebel, if you wanted to see me again, you didn't have to go to such extreme lengths to do so."

"Anakin," you greet with as much malice as possible, knowing that, even if he wanted to kill you (which he doesn't), he couldn't. "You've stooped to working with pirates now?"

"As if I would ever even consider such a thing." He finally comes out of the shadows, and you see that he's cuffed over his simple Sith robes exactly as you are.

You can't help but laugh at this turn of events, even though it makes your head hurt to do so. "Oh, this is great. The mighty Sith Lord Darth Vader, captured by a few pirates?"

"I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. After all, we're both in the same unfortunate situation."

That does end your merriment, and you lean against the wall. "Do you know what the pirates are planning on doing?"

"It would appear that they are contacting the Hutts to try and secure a ransom for both of us. After all, two Force-users, one a Sith Lord and the other a high-ranking Rebel, will catch quite a fortune."

"Kriff," you lament.

"'Kriff' is right."

Looking out through the cell bars, you can see that there's only one guard outside. The pirates have probably assumed that you're powerless without a lightsaber. They would be wrong. "Well, I guess we need to get out of here before they can sell us off, then."

Anakin tilts his head with a smile. "Are you suggesting that we work together?"

"We really don't have a choice, do we?"

He comes to stand next to you in front of the bars, both of you silently formulating a plan. You decide to try a mind trick to get the guard to release you from the cell, but before you can so much as lift a hand, Anakin has his own in the air to Force choke the guard. You gasp, looking on in horror (and, you must admit, admiration) as Anakin brings the pirate closer to the cell door.

"If you want to live," he hisses, "you'll unlock the cell now."

The pirate nods frantically, and Anakin releases him from his hold so that he can use his keycard to open up the cell door. When he does and the door swings open, Anakin raises him up in the air with the Force again before crushing his windpipe. He tosses the body to the side as if it's mere trash, rummaging through the dead man's pockets before finding another key to unlock the cuffs.

He undoes his first before grabbing your hand with a surprisingly gentle grip and unlocking your own cuffs. You want to say something, to question why he killed that man or what he plans on doing next, but you can merely stare at him as the atrocity he just committed is fresh on your mind.

"Oh, don't act so scared of me," Anakin scoffs. As if to prove that you have nothing to be scared over, he smiles softly at you. "After all, I've seen the way that you look at me when you think I don't notice."

Your jaw drops, and you try to sputter out an answer now that you've been solidly knocked out of your fear. "I've done no such thing! We've met twice before, and one of those times you were trying to capture me while I was running for my life!"

Anakin smirks. "And what about all of the dreams? There have been plenty of longing looks from both of us in those."

Your stomach drops as you realize that the sanctity of your dreams has been invaded. Somehow, you've been sharing dreams with a Sith Lord. And somehow, you hadn't noticed that you were.

Anakin's already halfway down the hall before he turns around. Though he's just dropped a bomb on you, he doesn't seem to realize or care that it's left you stunned. "Well? Are we going to escape from some pirates or not, Rebel?"