#for someone so contained and composed HIS MOTIONS ARE ERRATIC

[totheidiot]

love misa. she never does that weird dramatic flick of the wrist insane motion that light and mikami does when they're writing on the death note. she is so normal about it, what i love to see.

[smutty-skyrim]

Keeping Quiet || Brynjolf X Reader

WARNING: NSFW

Pairing: Brynjolf x Fem!Reader

Contains: Public Sex, Mild Dirty Talk

Your heart slams against your ribs as you tear through the empty Riften streets. The cobblestone road before you is lit by the full moons looming overhead. A sack of gold jingles at your hip with each step.

Your lungs burn and your legs ache. Pinpricks of sweat dot your forehead, chilling your skin in the cool night air.

You glance over your shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of your partner, Brynjolf. With any luck he hasn't been snagged by the authorities yet. Of course, the smooth talker could surely work his way out without a hitch. Still, too much risk for your taste. Even if that is a thief's way.

You spot the man close behind, copper hair covered by his dark hood. No guards are in sight.

A smile tugs at your lips. You might actually get away with this.

You bound over a rusted metal gate. It rattles behind you as Brynjolf makes the hurtle. Just a little further and you'll be at the back entrance to the Thieves Guild and away from prying eyes.

The dewdrop covered grass of the cemetery muffles the sound of your boots. You rush past the worn, crooked headstones and into the small mausoleum. You only notice Brynjolf's arrival behind you by the shadow looming across the floor.

You press the weathered button on the sarcophagus. With the harsh sound of stone against stone, the floor opens and gives way to a familiar staircase.

A firm hand on your lower back guides you down the steps.

"Gotta love those close calls, eh, lass?" Brynjolf's hushed voice wears a chuckle. Through the shadow of his hood you see a twinkle in his emerald eyes.

"You're saying that like I had some part in this." You reply with a whisper.

"Oh? Where else do you suggest we put that blame?"

"On the guy who slapped my ass while I was trying to pick a lock." You stifle a laugh.

"Ah, but you're the one who made that precious little sound."

"You mean the yelp that got us busted?" You smirk and pull the weathered chain hanging from the wall. With a groan the ceiling above you begins to slide shut.

"That would be the one." He gives a devilish smile - the last thing you see before the entrance is closed and the alcove is submerged in darkness. "We both know you're not the best at keeping quiet."

Your face flushes. You blindly reach out in the black to smack his arm. The back of your hand slaps off leather. "I'm quiet!"

"Aye, which is why we almost always get busted when we try to have fun in-"

"The training room is just echoey!" You reply, obstinate. "That's on the room. I'm perfectly inconspicuous."

Brynjolf leans in close. His nose brushes your temple and his breath is hot on your ear. "You sound mighty confident in yourself, lass. Care to put that to the test?"

Your breath catches in your throat. "What are you suggesting?"

"A challenge of sorts." He purrs as his hand catches yours. He places a kiss by your ear and another beneath it. "What do you say?"

"What are the stakes?"

"Simple: if you lose, we get caught." His other hand finds your face. A thumb brushes your lips. Using his fingertips as a guide, his mouth finds its way to yours. His lips gently press against yours, lingering for only a moment.

"And if I win?" You ask through uneven breaths.

"Isn't this a victory enough?" He catches your lower lip between his. His hand slips from your cheek to your waist where he pulls you flush against his body. He guides you backwards, step by step, until your back is pressed to the cold stone wall. His chest is warm against you, igniting the heat in your stomach.

He trails his lips back to your ear where he nibbles on the lobe. You choke back a giggle as feather light kisses tickle their way down your neck.

You reach your free hand out. Your fingertips find his thigh and slowly trace upwards, dipping in toward his groin as they travel.

He deftly snatches your wrist and pins both of your hands to the wall above your head. Your arms are stretched, and you find yourself feeling vulnerable in his grasp.

"Not so fast there, love. I'm the one who issued the challenge. Which means I'm the one calling the shots." He says.

You whine under your breath. You arch your back and press against him. His length is pressed hard against your stomach through his leather pants.

He shifts his hands, taking both of yours in one of his and holding them tight against the wall. His free hand begins to wander. Fingers comb through your hair and trail gently down your neck. They run along your collarbone before slipping to your breasts.

He takes one in his hand through your cuirass. He sighs, squeezing  and palming at an exploratory pace. He finds the movements that earn delighted gasps and keeps with them. Your face is flushed as he rubs your pert nipple through the leather. The sensation - though muted - sets a fire alight between your legs. The buffer of the fabric only makes you long for more.

His hand travels down along your stomach. He traces the waistband of your pants, chuckling as you squirm beneath his touch. Inquisitive fingers slip beneath and head to your clit.

He rubs small, gentle circles. The motions are slow and methodical. He listens for when your breath catches, judging his pace carefully.

He places a kiss on your lips. You part them, allowing his tongue to graze yours. You move with each other, each gesture building the heat.

You buck against his hand.

He picks up speed, pressing firmer against your sensitive clit.

A moan bubbles out, stifled by the kiss.

He pulls back. "Careful, lass. Don't want to get caught in any compromising positions."

You pout - something lost to the dark surrounding you.

He applies more pressure to your clit. The movements grow faster. His fingers become slick with your fluids. You writhe against his hand, desperate for more friction.

The tension between your hips builds. With hitching breath you spread your legs further.

Closer you climb. Pleasured sighs escape your lips.

"You make the sweetest sounds." Brynjolf whispers as he leans against you, hard cock pressed to your hip. "I wonder if they'll hear you cum for me."

You shake your head and stifle a giggle. They won't hear a thing. If someone comes up the exit they'll be met with dark and silence. You'll be composed as ever. You'll keep your ecstasy fluttering between your ribs, hidden from the others. Brynjolf won't get the better of you.

He pauses, pulling his fingers back and letting the still air around your swollen clit taunt you.

"Please," you whimper, "please, I'm so close."

"Ah, but I'm just getting started." He replies, honeyed voice low.

He releases your wrists and grabs hold of your pants. He yanks them down and they drop to your ankles.

"Bryn, what if someone-"

You're cut off by his lips crashing against yours. You hear his hands fumbling with the fastenings of his pants.

He grabs your legs and hoists them around his hips. His head rests at your entrance.

He breaks the kiss and returns the attention to your ear, kissing behind it and nibbling the cartilage. You each for him tangling one hand in his hair and bracing the other on his broad chest.

Slowly he pushes into you. It's done with ease. You're wet from the foreplay and your skin prickles with anticipation. His fingertips dig into your thighs.

He thrusts at an agonizing pace, taking his time and never quite reaching the hilt. He keeps his hips away from yours, keeping the noise to a minimum. Instead of the slapping of skin you hear the wet sounds of your cunt, and his deep, uneven breaths.

With each roll of hips hips, pleasure seeps through you. Your clit aches, desperate for more stimulation. It's jostled slightly as he thrusts, but it's not enough. His skin is so close, yet so far as he fucks you.

He steadily gains speed.

You try and listen past the slick sounds and to the noise of the cistern rising up from the hole in the floor nearby. You can't hear much, just faint murmuring. You hope nobody is coming, but you can't be sure. That fact alone sends a rush of warmth through your body.

"What would they think if they caught us?" Brynjolf's voice is hushed and ragged. "With how fast word travels in the guild...." His grip tightens. "The looks we'd get in the Flagon..."

He thrusts and his cock brushes a sensitive spot. It makes your toes curl. His name threatens to spill from your lips. You bite your cheeks to silence it.

His hips snap against yours. You squeak out a whine. Your face burns.

He repeats the motion. You push back against him. The small alcove is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Your ear is caught by an indistinct voice nearby. You only catch a couple of words: "... out for a bit..."

Niruin.

Your heart stops.

Brynjolf doesn't.

The thought of getting caught with him between your legs sends a spasm through your pussy. He groans. His pace verges on erratic.

Niruin can be heard from below, closer: "Try making a request before I'm heading out the door next time, would you, Rune?"

You're running out of time. He'll be at the ladder any moment, and you'll be rushing to hide your shame. You'll be fumbling to pull your pants up and brush your hair into place, but nothing will hide your frazzled face in the moonlight.

Brynjolf's hips crash into yours.

The noise. The risk. The sensation.

You bury your face in his chest as the knot releases. Waves of pleasure wash over you. You cum around his length, fluids seeping down his shaft. His motions never slow as your legs squeeze tight around him.

"Bryn-"

A hand clamps over your mouth. His name devolves into a moan - a sound that sends him over the edge. He groans, thrusting deeper, shameless in the sound your hips name. He fills you, sticky semen pumping into you.

He lingers with his hips pressed flush to yours. There are hot puffs of air against your neck as he pants.

"Well done, lass." He says. He removes his hand from your mouth and lowers your feet to the floor. You regain your balance on wobbly legs. You are suddenly acutely aware of how your limbs are trembling.

He pulls up your pants. You feel his cum leak into your panties as he fastens the button.

You only notice Niruin's approach when the wood planks covering the hole in the floor are removed. A dim light floods the area.

The elf pokes his head up and greets you.

"Oh! (Y/N). Brynjolf. See you two made it back alright." His eyes linger on your face, then shift to your partner's.

"Careful out there tonight. Seems we might have riled up the guards a bit." Brynjolf replies with forced nonchalance.

Niruin gives a chuckle - one far too knowing for your taste - and pulls the chain on the wall. "Riled up, is it?"

You narrow your eyes, staring daggers at Brynjolf. The man replies with a smirk and a halfhearted shrug.

"I'm sure I'll be just fine." Niruin says, heading up the stairs as the pathway opens before him. "You two, have fun..."

[nitewrighter]

The Symphony of the Universe, The Blueprint of Life

Felt like writing some first interactions between Sigma and Talon. Mostly lots of Sigma and Moira talking because I like how they bounce off each other.

----

The interior of the room had been rendered his own personal solar system, or even galaxy, of a sorts. Papers and books drifted around him in wide ellipses, not hitting the walls. He was the sun, or the black hole at its center, his bare feet not touching the tiles as he frowned at the whiteboard which hovered off the floor closest to him—presumably the object of the greatest mass in the room. They had let him change from the orange jumpsuit of his previous holding facility to a slightly more dignified set of teal scrubs with a gray long-sleeved undershirt.

“So. We brought a bomb back to base,” said Sombra, folding her arms as they looked through the one-way glass.

“Not a bomb,” said Akande.

“Yeah yeah, bombs explode, he implodes—let’s be pedantic about it,” said Sombra, “The point is, he’s one skipped xanax or one too-strong coffee away from turning the base into rubble.”

“So he’ll fit right in,” said Reaper.

“I love you, Gabe, but I’ve never seen you crush a guy like a beer can with your mind,” said Sombra, “The guy needs help. Like help-help or this could end up blowing up in our faces.... or imploding in our faces.”

“Nonsense. He has to have some control if he can keep it contained to the room,” said Moira, leaning close to the glass, “I don’t believe the human brain yet has the architecture to shoulder what he’s been burdened with. But if anyone could grow to understand it, to control it… it’s him.”

“He merely needs an environment to foster that growth,” Akande agreed, “And we will provide it.”

“Wow, we’re so charitable,” said Sombra, flatly.

“Talon stands for the advancement of humankind, Sombra,” said Akande, “Our friend here has been gifted with something great, and how did his government treat him for it? Imprisonment, isolation, sedation… is this how we treat the next steps in human evolution?”

“So, who’s going to be the first to un-isolate him?” said Sombra, putting her hands on her hips.

Moira briskly stepped over to the door into the room.

“I was only being half serious,” said Sombra.

“You’re right. He needs someone to talk to. To help him acclimate,” said Moira, sipping her coffee.

“Not to rag on your bedside manner but---” Sombra started but Moira put her hand on the panel next to the door. It slid open and she walked in. 

Sombra looked between Doomfist and Reaper. “So we’re just letting her do this?”

“Yes,” said Doomfist, putting a weighty hand on Sombra’s shoulder in a ‘Settle down’ motion.

“She knows what she’s doing,” said Reaper, “...most of the time.”

Sombra gave a deep inhale through her nostrils.

“Doctor De Kui--” Moira started and then flinched as her feet drifted off of the ground. Her feet flailed beneath her briefly but she saw she was caught up in the same ring of revolution as several books and a few loose sheets of paper. The furthermost ring of the room from him. She suddenly gripped her coffee cup with alarm, expecting the liquid to float out from it.

“Your coffee should be gyroscopically contained to your cup,” said Sigma, observing his own mug as it drifted by. He took it and sipped it. Decaf, of course, but there was still an equalizing element about it.

“Thank you,” said Moira, glancing down at the liquid spinning in her cup as she neared her first complete revolution of the room, “Well--I certainly don’t like floating against my will, but thank you for not spilling my coffee.”

“My apologies for any inconvenience,” said Sigma, not even looking up from his whiteboard, “I think better like this. I would have to rearrange everything to keep you on the ground, you understand.”

“Typical man in STEM—everything has to revolve around you,” said Moira, tilting her head.

Siebren glanced up from his whiteboard to her, watching as she floated by. She was smirking.

“I recognize you.” There was a flicker in his eyes, fear, maybe. “Moira O’Deorain.”

“...you read my paper,” said Moira.

“Everyone read your paper,” said Sigma, “Unfortunate... what followed after.”

“Unfortunate? You believe my findings?” Moira arched an eyebrow. 

“I’m living proof that you can follow an experiment model to a ‘T’ and not get the expected results,” said Sigma, “Is it fair to label someone a pariah simply because you can’t replicate their experiment results?” He looked at his own hands, “Do you think anyone would try to--no--” he shook his head, “No. They wouldn’t. They shouldn’t.”

“Siebren,” Moira spoke his name and he seemed to compose himself again.

 He glanced over at her. “That’s not why I recognized you, however. You and the others--you were at the facility.”

“I wanted to see your condition for myself,” said Moira, “A very interesting case, yours... The Dutch government claimed you died on the space station, and yet... there you were. There had been reports of certain phenomena in the area so... we investigated. And we liberated.”

“’We,’” Sigma repeated the word and then gave a glance to the glass. He couldn’t see through it of course, but he frowned. “They’re watching us now, aren’t they? Your associates?”

“For our safety, yes,” said Moira.

“Safety--” Something seemed to flicker in Sigma’s expression again, “How long has it been since I was last sedated?”

“With the dosages of your old facility?” Moira glanced off in thought a moment, “I’d say... 22 hours.”

“Twenty-two!” Sigma repeated with some horror, “No--no--It’s not--you shouldn’t--”

Just stay calm,” said Moira.

“But at the facility--to keep everyone safe they had to-- they had to---” Sigma pressed his fingertips to his forehead, “I can’t control it--”

Moira looked down to see the liquid in her coffee cup floating upward in a liquidy cloud. The objects in the room previously caught in a leisurely planetary revolution around Sigma began shuddering. He was losing control.

---

“Should we do something?” Sombra was close to the glass, watching the objects shudder around Sigma as he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead, “She’s in there! She could be--!”

“She can handle herself,” said Reaper.

---

“Siebren,” Moira spoke his name but he seemed to hardly hear her, inhaling sharply and erratically, “Siebren,” she said again, more harshly this time. She released her coffee cup and faded, turning to smoke and shooting through the other rings of objects floating around the room until she reformed and took ahold of Sigma’s shoulder, “Siebren!” she barked.

He startled at her touch and the objects shuddering around the room froze.

“You’ve been in control,” said Moira, “But your control isn’t going to improve if we keep knocking you out. The people at your old facility were wrong, Siebren. They were afraid. They didn’t understand what they were dealing with. They kept you from your work.”

It was as if those last six words flipped a switch in Sigma. He blinked. “My work...” he said quietly and then looked back at his whiteboard, “Yes--my work--they wouldn’t let me...” he trailed off, “They didn’t understand,” he said softly, before looking up at her, “Do you understand?”

“We want to understand,” said Moira, “But we believe the first person who’s going to understand this, if anyone, is you.”

Sigma’s eyes seemed to light up and the objects floating around the room suddenly dropped to the ground with various thumps, flutters, and clatters. Moira herself stumbled as her feet met the floor, then she flinched at the sound of both hers and Sigma’s mugs shattering on the tiles.

“Oh...” Sigma looked around the room, now a complete mess without everything revolving around him in neat ellipses, “My apologies--”

“We’ll clean up in here in a bit,” said Moira, “Maybe you should get some fresh air while we do that.”

“Beg pardon?” said Sigma.

“Outside,” said Moira.

“Outs-out--No--no that’s not... I shouldn’t...” Sigma glanced down.

“When was the last time you saw the sky?” asked Moira.

Sigma’s eyes flicked up to her. “I... I remember seeing the earth from the space station...” he scratched at his temple.

“I’d say you’re overdue, then,” said Moira smiling.

---

“This is fine,” Sombra was pacing back and forth on the Talon headquarters airfield, “This is fine. This is good. Great, in fact. I am super glad we’ve got Captain Gravity out here surrounded by dropships he can just chuck at us with a thought.” 

“You’re working yourself up,” said Reaper, “Just give them space.”

“Look. Look. Here’s the thing, okay? I can plan around virtually everyone’s abilities. You and O’Deorain’s weird vampire nanobot cloud thing? Sure! Hacked into those schematics years ago. This guy’s augmentations?” Sombra gestured at Doomfist, “What am I, five? I know them like the back of my hand! That guy?” she gestured over at Sigma, floating and staring upward at the sky a few dozen yards away, “I don’t know what that guy’s limitations are. Or even if there are limits. That is what’s freaking me out.”

“This is probably healthy for you, then,” said Akande with a smile, “You know there’s only so much you can control.”

“Oh ha-ha I feel so healthy,” said Sombra, folding her arms tight across herself.

“I think we’re making a good impression,” said Akande, gesturing as Sigma chuckled at something Moira said a ways away from them.

“Because Moira making the good impression isn’t worrying at all,” said Sombra, still keeping her arms folded.

---

“They’re talking about me, aren’t they?” said Sigma, still staring up at the sky.

“Well, in their defense, you’re very interesting,” said Moira.

“There’s more to it than this, isn’ there?” said Sigma, “There’s more to it than understanding my condition. There’s more to it than helping me control it.”

“Oh naturally,” said Moira, “The world we lived in would have all your friends and family believe you were dead, Siebren. It would have you drugged and strapped down to a table. That’s not a very good world, is it?”

“....No, no it isn’t,” said Sigma.

“We become scientists to change the world,” said Moira, following his line of sight up to a cloud drifting by, “Talon just... helps us do that.”

“Talon?” Sigma looked at her.

“Your new friends,” said Moira, “I think you’ll do quite well here.”

“Well...” Sigma opened his palm and allowed two hyperspheres to form, “There is much work to be done.”