skyrimkinkmeme | Meme Announcements!

Oh please do! Rest assured, OP will probably fangirl gleefully over anything you write.

DO WANT

Do you mean in the province of Morrowind in the Skyrim era, or a prompt for the actual game Morrowind? Because this page is for Skyrim prompts (see title), we have a separate one for the pre-Skyrim games and I'm pretty sure there are some Morrowind prompts over there. (Also the mods may delete this and move it, I don't know.)

:D My kinky smut writing causes cavities?! That's so awesome!....I mean for me not for you ;)

Glad you liked it my fanfiction soulmate OP!

Although I should have added a postscript just so I could hit the BONUS part of the prompt, it went like; and Brynjolf was such a smooth talker with a high enough Speech skill that he eventually managed to persuade the Dragonborn to not throw away all the stuff in her saddlebags....and they lived happily ever after...well, until Alduin...and Miraak...

XD <3 A!A

Awww! Thank you lovely Anon! The kind reviews from you all are what inspired me to carry on <<<3

I have come to love my crazy!DB so I'm sure she'll grace more than a few more fills- she's far more interesting and unpredictable to write than my Mary-Sue-esque!DB... ;)

Don't get too excited yet, but just to clarify: some sugary sweet interaction and possible cream filling set in Morrowind 3rd or 4th era?

Nandita leaned against the wall, trying to regain her composure. Her return to Nightcaller Temple had been slightly delayed by a trio of bears that looked suspiciously like the ones she had fought the first time she came to the tower. Now that they were dead (again?) and stripped of their pelts (again?), she could finally breathe, return her sword to its sheath, and push open the heavy door to the old building.

She was concerned to find her friend almost exactly where she had left him last. He was standing motionless in front of the shrine to Mara that he had brought in, his arms lifted and his eyes closed in contemplation. Almost afraid to interrupt him, she took a seat and waited, watching him.

This was exactly what she had been worried about. When Erandur had announced that he was staying in the Temple, she had argued with him all the way up the stairs. They'd love to have you back in Dawnstar, Erandur. Or even in Riften; there's a Temple of Mara there! You could be a priest for them! Please, anywhere but here! You can't stay here, she had begged. She had left almost in tears, thinking of him alone in that cold, empty tower. The corpses of the invaders and of his former friends were still scattered through the temple, and his only comfort would be the shrine. Nobody deserved it less.

But Erandur had laid his hands on her shoulders and silenced her with a look. I have to stay here, he had told her calmly. Maybe not forever, but long enough to think, and meditate...and atone for what I've done. Don't worry about me, Nandita. I'll survive. And if you should ever need me at your side, it'll be easy to find me.

Precisely, Nandita thought, watching as he lowered his hands and rubbed his temples. She was glad that he had promised her that, at least. And at last, she could take him up on it.

Erandur turned away from the shrine now, only to jump at the sight of his friend.

“Nandita! How long have you been there?” he asked, readjusting his hood. The Redguard grinned up at him, rising to her feet.

“Long enough. I didn't want to disturb you,” she replied apologetically. Now the Dunmer relaxed, allowing himself a smile.

“Understandable. What is it that you wanted, then?” he asked, rooting through a barrel that apparently held an ample supply of vegetables. Nandita took a seat again, pondering just how to word her request.

“Well...I've been traveling quite a bit lately,” she began. “All over Skyrim, I'd say. There are some pretty amazing things out there these days.”

“So I've heard,” Erandur replied cautiously, moving to sit beside her.

“But it gets lonely,” Nandita continued, silently urging him to take the hint. “When I left last time, you told me that you would come with me if I needed you.” Erandur chuckled now, laying a hand on the girl's shoulder.

“And you need me now.”

“I do.” She smiled hopefully at him,trying to read his face for a reaction. He nodded, stood again, and returned to the barrel.

“Just give me a moment to get everything in order for when I return,” he told her. Nandita beamed, hopping to her feet and heading for the door. The sooner they got out of this dreary tower, the better.

And she had a lot of work to do.

Brynjolf was awake again when Karliah entered his own quarters. His eyes betrayed his exhaustion, and he slumped against the pillows, chewing slowly on a chunk of bread. When the archer entered, however, he forced a smile.

“Ah...good to see you there, lass,” he said. Karliah took a seat on the edge of his bed, her lips tight with concern.

“How are you feeling, Brynjolf?” she asked. The Nord chuckled weakly, only to grimace.

“Not thirsty, I can tell you that much,” he joked. Noticing the reproachful glare from his friend, he glanced away. “I'm alright, lass. Mercer's dead, you and Rodina are alive, and the Guild might be able to get back on its feet now. If the price was almost drowning...I can live with that.” Karliah sighed, running a hand through her dark hair.

“I hope you didn't say that to Rodina,” she said bluntly. “She nearly worried herself sick over you, Brynjolf.”

“So I've heard. Every time I woke up, she was either crying or pale in the face. I imagine getting out wasn't easy for her, either.” Now Karliah looked up sharply, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Getting out...? They didn't tell you, then?” she asked, stunned. The redhead raised an eyebrow at her.

“Was there more?”

“Rodina got out of the water with me.” Karliah bit her lip and shook her head, fighting back an unexplainable surge of anger. “The moment she realized you weren't with us, she threw herself back in.” The look in Brynjolf's eyes changed, but he said nothing, leaving Karliah to clench her fists. “I can't believe nobody told you. Why wouldn't Rodina, at least?”

“Rodina's never been one for bragging,” the Nord replied weakly. The Dunmer glared at him.

“It's not bragging!”

“To her, it might as well be.” Brynjolf leaned back now, staring up at the ceiling. “You're being honest with me, lass?”

“I wouldn't lie to you. Especially not about this,” Karliah replied irritably. “You owe her your life, Brynjolf. Please remember that, when you speak with her next.” He nodded wordlessly, looking as though he was fighting the urge to sleep again.

“What are you going to do now, then?” he asked. Karliah looked down at her hands. She wasn't quite sure herself, now that Mercer was gone.

“The Skeleton Key needs to be returned to the Twilight Sepulcher. I spoke to Rodina about that on the way back. She's to do it.” She paused, looking back at him now. “As for me...I think I'm going to go back to Nightingale Hall, when this is all done. It's where I belong.”

“Are you sure?” Brynjolf asked, gesturing around him. “You were always a damn good thief, Karliah. You could come back. With Mercer gone, you'd have nothing to fear, and--”

“I can't do that,” Karliah interrupted quickly. “This place, these people...they are an enormous part of me, but...” She trailed off, a million things that she could say running through her head. “I'm sorry, Brynjolf. You know I can't come back.”

“I understand, lass,” Brynjolf replied, reaching for her hand. “I just wanted you to know that the option's there.”

“What about you, then? What are you going to do?” Karliah asked, more than happy to change the subject. Brynjolf shrugged, pulling his hand back and laying down once more.

“Same as always, I suppose. Rodina's going to be Guildmaster, so I'll just work for her instead of for Mercer. Easy enough.” Karliah looked down at him, allowing herself a smile.

“Is that it, then?” she asked, almost teasingly. “I wasn't so dead-set on killing Mercer that I didn't see anything else at Irkngthand.” When Brynjolf only raised an eyebrow at her, she rose to her feet. “You like her, don't you?”

“I 'like' anyone who helps get the Thieves' Guild back in order,” the redhead replied simply. Karliah nodded, noting how tired he truly looked.

“Sleep well,” she replied just as bluntly, leaving him be for the night. It could wait, she reminded herself. At least until they were both well-rested.

Hi OP, sorry this took a while to get started, first my internet died then LJ suffered an attack of the stupids... ANYWAY, this fic is set in my Galmar/F!Breton!DB 'verse that started with As Bad As Any Elf (http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3603.html?thread=4133395#t4133395 Part 3, P19). For all that it's her 'verse, Rozenn's just a bit-part. This is Ulfric and Galmar's story.

Tags: char:F!DB, race: breton, char:galmar stone-fist, char: ulfric stormcloak, genre: angst, genre: hurt/comfort

*-*-*

Calder was surprised to see a courier when he answered the knock on Hjerim's door - usually they waited until his Thane left to catch her in the streets to give her their missives. That the message was for Galmar, husband to the Thane, was even more curious. Only a handful of people knew that Galmar spent his nights in the Thane's Windhelm residence.

He handed the note to Galmar and retired to his quarters for the night - hurrying as he saw the scowl darkening Galmar's features.

"Galmar? What is it?" Rozenn asked quietly.

"Ulfric's an idiot," Galmar replied, crushing the letter in his fist.

"Yes, so you keep telling me. Why especially now? Or is it privileged information?" Rozenn asked, slipping an arm around her husband's waist before he could get out of bed.

Galmar placed his hand over hers, and was silent for a long minute. "Ulfric doesn't care for his well-being anymore. Not since - No. That is all I can tell you."

Rozenn took his vagueness and irritability in her stride. "What do you need me to do?"

"Stay here. Or go off adventuring. Without me. Ulfric broke his leg, so it will be at least a month before I can leave him again. Maybe two. Damned fool."

"And he won't have the Shield-Maidens heal him? Will he take a potion? I know I have some down in the Alchemy lab..." Rozenn trailed off when Galmar shook his head.

"Just - just let me go to him, love. That's is the best you can do."

"Well, what if he didn't know he was taking a healing potion? Mix a little Minor Healing into his mea-"

The vicious look on Galmar's face silenced her mid-word.

"No," was all he said, but the venom in that little syllable gave her pause.

Rozenn nodded. "I'll fix up a pack of essentials for you, then, while you get your armour on. You can take the palomino Frost, if you like. He's very quick, and I've neglected him lately."

Galmar nodded, accepting her unspoken peace offering for what it was. She didn't know, couldn't know what her words had meant to him. He lifted his Breton wife from the bed, gave her a searing kiss, and grunted, "that'll have to do us for a while."

*-*-*

Next Part: Ulfric! And maybe Ralof!

Protective!Galmar is kind of adorable (now there's a word I never thought I'd use in reference to Galmar). Excited to see more!

Heee! It is hard to imagine him that way, but I figure a man who remained as Ulfric's Housecarl all his life has to be protective (and reluctantly adorable)

Thanks!

Yesssss

I just need a guy going down on a girl and making her come too many times. Someone with a verrrrry talented tongue. Any races and NPCs (if Anons don't want to include the DB then just go wild with NPCs.

All other kinks welcomed, OP is only squicked but non-con and dub-con

OH THANK GOD I THOUGHT THIS DIED.

I'm about to wrap up two fills and extremely tentatively think I might give this a go... Possibly. I love the idea OuO

Hell, I could do with an exercise with smut. Does OP have anyone they are leaning towards for the pairing? (Come on, OP, don't lie; there's got to be someone :3)

It wasn't a still sort of life, not when the world seemed as poised to fall as it was, not when it seemed the whole of Skyrim expected him to hold the land together all on his own. But in between the journeys and errands there were homecomings, bright spots of color in a world of gray. Collapsing into Breezehome's creaky slat bed before dragging himself back out again had been a poor sort of relief, in comparison. Now there was ease, a true ease, and the new experience of lying rested in the early-morning dark and listening to his people wake up around him. The children's voices drifted up from below, high and thin, along with the very domestic scrape of chair legs on a floor…

He woke from dozing, startled to have fallen asleep again, to find Lucia trying and failing to set a tray at his bedside without making a peep. "I didn't mean to wake you—"

"You didn't," he assured her, and sat blinking at the strong light of late morning.

She handed over a cup of milk, still warm, and then a plate with a misshapen lump of sticky-looking dough. "I made you a sweetroll!"

He hesitated, looking at the thing. It resembled no sweetroll he'd ever seen, nor any other cake or pastry. "Did you."

"Yes!" she said, her whole face lit up with pride and expectation, and there seemed to be no decent thing to do but eat and try to smile. When she scampered off, he offered the remainder to the mudcrab lurking under the bed.

The mudcrab didn't want it.

Most mornings didn't lend themselves to lying about. There was no shortage of tasks to do, even without setting foot off his own land. It took all four of them to finish digging out the cellar, and a dank and nasty job that was, especially when they got an infestation of skeevers right after for their trouble. Clearing land for a new wing was no easy task, either, but with four sets of hands to work, it went faster than he expected.

There was frost on the ground the morning they dug clay for the walls. He hadn't expected it to be a clean job by any means, but once the morning chill faded and they hit on a pocket of wet clay that oozed more than clung, it got filthier almost at once. Blaise pitched a handful of the slop at Lucia, who stood aghast as the muck dripped down the front of her dress and plopped back to the ground.

The sharp chide on his tongue faded the second Lucia shrieked indignation and flung a handful of clay back at Blaise's face, and it was all over from there. They slipped and scrambled and fell in the clay, laughing and shouting with such equal fervor he couldn't be sure if it was play or war or both. When he tried to catch Lucia from falling as she stumbled, she only pulled him face-first into the muck. He froze, up to his elbows in slime, hardly able to believe it—staggered by a little girl, when legions of draugr couldn't manage the job—and when he looked up at the sound of shocked laughter Lydia was both the only one upright and the last one clean, so it seemed only right to seize her by the ankle and pull her into the mess, too.

But as he was laughing at the look on her face the dark swoop of a shadow sliced past them, the rattle in the world that meant dragon shook around them, and the moment's foolishness died all at once. He reached for his axe but it wasn't there, and his stomach dropped at the realization. It was inside, by his armor, a hundred paces away. Four sets of hands, he thought dimly, and none of them held a weapon. "Inside!" he snapped, and the children scrambled to obey.

The slippery clay had been entertaining moments before but now it seemed a malign thing, working against them from spite. Lucia scrambled free, then Lydia, but as the dragon wheeled above them and Shouted to set the trees over their head crackling like new torches, Blaise slipped and fell, and couldn't make it to his feet before the air went hot and licks of flame came down from above. "Pa!"

Torn between lunging in the direction of his axe and in the direction of his boy, he only hesitated a moment. A Shout in the dragon's direction iced the trees over so they hissed like snakes above, and he seized Blaise and ran him toward the house so quickly the boy's feet hardly touched the ground.

Lydia was waiting in the doorway with his axe, and there was nothing to do but fight. He'd run into more difficult battles but not unarmored, not with the dragon setting fire to the roof he'd built with his own two hands. Chickens clucked alarm as he backed away from a gout of flame and he almost tripped over them into the pen, his arms flying out wide to catch himself.

Once he forced the dragon to land, the fight went faster. When it was done and the dragon fell—on top of the woodpile, he thought tiredly as the dragon's soul fused into his own, the world skewing hot with colors he had no names for, what a chore that will be to haul off. It seemed a strange thought, more bitter than he knew how to take. The half of him that belonged to the war and the half of him that belonged at home made for an ugly whole, forced together like this. He could be strong enough for one side, or for the other. Both sides together, now. That was different.

It has to end, he thought as he took in the sight of his shaken children. The burden of responsibility weighed like a mountain on his shoulders. It has to end.

Thank you! I'm so glad you like it.

Thank you seems an insufficient thing to say in the face of such a wonderful comment. I'm so pleased you like it, and I'm totally blushing.

Not OP, but eagerly awaiting this fic

Oh man, this is a great start. I can't wait to see where it goes. I'm so happy someone filled my prompt! Thank you A!A!

Hnnngh checking the tags and seeing this got updated was like...opening my mailbox and finding an adorable kitten or something.

So if you talk to Cynric about his origins, he tells you that he used to be a jailbreaker, but stopped because he got caught and spent three years in a High Rock jail, and now he swears he'll never do time again.

Of course, having spent way too much time on this kink meme, my mind instantly went onto the smutty route. And so, dear authornons, I want to see what why Cynric is so adamant on avoiding prison. Namely, because the prison guards in High Rock had their way with him.

As the title says, either dub-con or non-con, please. Bonus for spanking, rough sex, multiple guards in him at once, and mild humiliation. No scat or permanent maiming, please.

Joining the chorus of aw yes. This is so good, A!Anon! I'll be over here with popcorn, waiting for more.

I really [i]really[/i] like this.

Please nonnies? :3:

Meme Announcements!

Re: The rest of the story

Re: F!Human/M!Dunmer - Morrowind needs some love!

Re: F!Human/M!Dunmer - Morrowind needs some love!

Re: The Die is Cast 23/23

Re: The Die is Cast 23/23

Re: F!Human/M!Dunmer - Morrowind needs some love!

F!DB/Erandur: "Scenery" 1/?

F!DB/Brynjolf: "Across the Water" 3/?

The Old-Fashioned Way 1/?

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 1/?

Re: The Old-Fashioned Way 1/?

Re: F!DB/Erandur: "Scenery" 1/?

F!DB/M!LI cunnilingus please!

Re: He grows on you. Like mold.

Re: F!DB/M!LI cunnilingus please!

Re: A Peace Unexpected 3/?

Re: A Peace Unexpected 4/?

Re: A Peace Unexpected 2/?

Re: A Peace Unexpected 2/?

did nonny die?

OP

Re: "Divide and Conquer" Ulfric Stormcloak/M!DB, 2c/??

High Rock Guards/Cynric Endell, Dub-con/Non-con + Gangbang

Re: F!DB/Erandur: "Scenery" 1/?

Re: CRACK B SRS BIDNESS!