skyrimkinkmeme: (dragon)
skyrimkinkmeme ([personal profile] skyrimkinkmeme) wrote2011-10-29 12:36 pm

Meme Announcements!

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

Re: F!DB/Galmar Stone-Fist (masturbation, maybe one-sided relationship)

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 05:53 pm (UTC)(link)
I second this. Someone must fill it! (er... justnotme...) :')

Re: Who wants a challenge?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 05:59 pm (UTC)(link)
This intrigues me.

Re: Slices of life with your husband, Vilkas (M/M)

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 06:24 pm (UTC)(link)
This is an adorable prompt. May attempt to fill 0__0

Re: Who wants a challenge?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 06:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Also intrigued.

Suggestions for LI that could lead to interesting/kinky scenarios:
Madanach
The Orc from the College
Tullius

Would like to see filled.

Re: F!DB/Galmar Stone-Fist (masturbation, maybe one-sided relationship)

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 06:28 pm (UTC)(link)
I see Galmar fan-boying over architecture because mirrors. Idk why.

May attempt to fill.

Re: Who wants a challenge?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 07:53 pm (UTC)(link)
What a weirdly interesting prompt! Attractiveness is pretty subjective - I get pretty attached to more obscure characters and have zero interest in all the characters that are really popular on the kink meme, some players are really into [any race here] and some really aren't...but even so, I assume most of us would agree on the unhotness of-

Octieve San
Dervenin
Namasur (that...face)
For unlikability, Nazeem seems a clear choice but Erikur tops my list. Hate that guy, grr!

Re: Who wants a challenge?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 09:18 pm (UTC)(link)
I'd imagine Erikur could be a good challenge for this prompt! Hope someone fills.

Re: Who wants a challenge?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 10:16 pm (UTC)(link)
OOoooH! O__O

Ugly sex is hot sex (apparently)

What about Balimund? He's sweet but not conventionally attractive o__o

Re: What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 13/??

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 10:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Yep, http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/1639.html?thread=563815#t563815

It was the very first Dyce story ever written, so there are a few inconsistencies with his characterisation - I had no idea he was going to be such a huge slut; he was just a random Dragonborn.

DB + LI Unexpected Nudity Leads to Smut

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)
So the Dragonborn and a follower are doing their thing, journeying around Skyrim, battling Draugr, Centurions and Necromancers and whatnot and all is right with the world because PLATONIC.

Then, because REASONS the DB and their companion end up nude - not with the intention of any sexytiems, but because their clothes/armour got destroyed along with any and all spares. Cue ruined friendship because one or both is suddenly really aware of how long it's been since they were naked with anybody, and there is making out and/or smexytiems aplenty.

Bonus for one of them admitting that the other's voice had been the only thing they'd found attractive, cue lots of narrated sex and dirty talk ;)

Then comes morning. In the cold light of day what happens? Is there regret and recrimination? Is there awkward "you were inside me now I can't look you in the eye"-ness? Or is there a fluffy, happy smutty ending?

For gender and race of DB, and identity of LI I leave all decisions to you, Anon(s). Non-con and bloodplay are my squicks.

Re: F!DB/Brynjolf/Delvin threesome

(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
I would really like seeing this filled.

Re: Slices of life with your husband, Vilkas (M/M)

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 01:14 am (UTC)(link)
OP says: I am into absolutely anything. Please don't feel overwhelmed I am very easily impressed :)

The only thing I really am looking for is to have Vilkas as in-character as possible. Stubborn, rough around the edges, but a total and absolute sweetheart to his lover. All of his doting "Do you need anything my love"s and cherishing gazes just make me melt.

Elf/Argonian smut

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
For me, smexy times with the beast races don't count as bestiality because they're intelligent, sapient beings capable of verbal communication and decision making. So with that said...

Would like to see a female Altmer/Bosmer/Dunmer Dragonborn getting it on with a male Argonian (i.e. Derkeethus, Scouts-Many-Marshes). You decide time, place, and circumstances; can be married or not married.

Kinks:
--Some lust-driven violence (bites, scratches, etc.)
--Male climaxing inside the female

Squicks:
--Anal
--Urine/feces/vomit

F!Breton DB/Ghorbash the Iron Hand

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 03:20 am (UTC)(link)
A young, cheery and somewhat reckless Breton DB ends up marrying Ghorbash, who finds himself in more of a caretaker position as he runs around after his free-spirited bride during their travels. Can follow main questline or others, but would like humor and fluff.

Re: What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 18/??

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
UGhhhh this is so lovelyyy. moreee pleaseee!

Dwemer sex toys, sex machines , etc

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
Oh come on, how is this not on this site??!

firsttimer!Anon want- NO- NEEDS the F!DB/Karliah or a follower (preferable human or altmer or dunmer) to be trapped by Mercer Frey while they chase him down in that dwemer ruin. oh, and lets say he has a few friends from outside skyrim who are experts on dwemer culture and tech. Who were going to help him out of Skyrim, I want Mercer to let them watch as the F!DB/Karliah/Follower or whoever gets violated by these dwemer sex machines/toys.
I want mercer to eventually fuck them himself. bonus points if he has his friends join in and they all come inside and over the DB then just leave them stuck there on whatever contraption they're on.

BONUS POINTS PLUS MY FIRST BORN if : the DB realizes she fucking loved it and goes back to find a little sex toy of her own that she can keep at her house.... All of her houses.

GIMMIE GIMMIE please? PLEAAAASE?!??? With a Sweetroll and icing
Make this dirty anon happy.

OP here

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 04:54 am (UTC)(link)
OOPS I was so excited I forgot to put down kinks and squicks

kinks: double penetration (hell make it triple just for kicks) , group sex, Dub con, non con, voyeurism, dirty talk,


Squicks: watersports, blood/gore, menstruation, scat, beastiality

other than that. Go wild ,my pretties...

Welcome Home 1/2 (Vilkas M/M)

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 05:24 am (UTC)(link)
((This is my first fill in over a year so I am incredibly rusty. I'll be posting much more on this prompt and I promise it'll get better!
current Tags: slash, marriage, fatherhood, fluff, comfort))

It feels like it's been so long since he'd last seen the massive gates of Solitude, his weary mare plodding up the cobblestone path while Guards hailed him in respect, welcoming their most famed thane. It wasn't too far now, he thought to himself, just got to heave these damnable ingots, bits and bobs to plundered treasures in the heavy sack over his back.

Not too much farther to go, now. Gods he was so tired, if it wasn't the bandits on the road it was the sabrecats in the hills- nowhere seemed safe in Skyrim even after an entire two years of his indebtedness to the frozen country. But here he was, hearing the tinkling of glasses from the patrons of the Winking Skeever, the sound of a hammer on heated metal the longer he stumbled to his manor, Proudspire.

The Dragonborn's knees buckled and ached for hours but with the smell of fresh bread cooking and the earthen scents of burning pine awoke what little spark was left in the tired bosmer. Smells like home... but there was nothing that could waken the spirits of the tired mer more than the distant laughter of children, his long ears pricking up to the approaching voices.

“Papa, you're home! Look!” He heard an oh so familiar voice cry out, young and squawking like an excited pup “Hey everyone, my pa's back!” He could see the boy run towards him, sprinting on gangling legs with arms open and suddenly the leather sack across his shoulders weighed nothing. No potion or spell could bring him that kind of invigorating joy.

“Alesan, my boy!” He could hear his own voice had grown ragged from his journeys, a small “oof!” from the impact of his young adopted son crashing into him for a hug, petting his coarse dark hair “Divines, how tall have you grown in just a week?” He could hear the other children calling, their game interrupted

“Not as tall as you. Yet.” The young boy did a double-take at his father and back at the crowd of children playing tag in the twilight. It just seemed to be getting darker by the minute.

“Hey, wanna play tag?”

“Alesan, I-”

“You're it!” He couldn't say no, what was a few minutes of play going to do to his aching knees? With a big sigh of defeat and a smile he leaned his travel bag against the stony walls of Proudspire, giving the pups a head start before beginning the hunt.

“You can't run from me-!” He cried before taking off after the scattering children, his fingertips always just out of reach of a little shoulder, his breath growing harsh from exhaustion as he just couldn't find the energy to grab one-or to stop laughing. Within moments the sun had set, his boy climbing atop a rock and proudly displaying his victory.

“Alesan, leave your old man alone! Can't you see he's exhausted?!” An amused, even more familiar voice could be heard from the alley, the dragonborn's downcast eyes slowly reaching up to see it's source. There at the basement door stood Vilkas, irritation clear on his face as he chastised the boy

“And come inside, dinner's waiting!” Dragonborn's black mer eyes couldn't be more enraptured to see the man at the doorway finally meet painted, steely blues to his. In the nords arm rested a far younger child, a beautiful little girl not past 4 winters asleep against his shoulder, her legs dangling astride his waist.

Re: Welcome Home 2/2 (Vilkas M/M)

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 05:38 am (UTC)(link)
The pain in his legs vanished when the elder mer came face to face with the Companion, seeing a relieved smile gracing his stubbly lips. Vilkas' free arm soon reached out, coming around the bosmer's sturdy frame “It's so good to see you again, dear.” His voice brought down to a subtle whisper, just for them to hear. Vilkas' eyes shone with genuine affection, and great relief to see his beloved return tired but all in one piece.

Dragonborn couldn't say anything at that moment, seeing all he wanted to right before him. His family and his home, what he'd been dreaming of on the harsh open road. All he could simply do was lean forward to meet Vilkas' forehead against his own, noses touching briefly before sharing a kiss they'd been holding onto for days and days.

They simply stared at each other for a few moments, remembering features and in silent agreement that they'd have plenty of time to catch up soon. Their daughter stirred in his arms, a small drool stain pooling on the Nords shoulder making the other laugh. “Let's put her to bed and get you out of that armor.”

The mer half-climbed half-hobbled up the stony steps to their children's room and Vilkas had the right mind to carry them both up, seeing the way his husband could barely make it to the top step before sweat started to form at his brow. He was so exhausted, it unnerved Vilkas to see him this way, even if he knew it was inevitable. When he lay the baby girl on her bed he could only stand back and watch with crossed arms as his husband knelt beside her. He gave the toddler a kiss on the forehead, lifting a tiny arm to place a cloth doll underneath. He kept that one close, he knew it would make her happy.

“You spoil them rotten, you do..” Vilkas sighed, a warrior father and yet forever stuck learning the ropes. “Did you bring ME anything?” He tried to play coy, feeling rough mer fingers go through his black, cropped hair.

“Of course, an aching back and sore feet for you to rub tonight.”

“Hmph.”

“Oh come now,” the bosmer laughed as they exited to the foyer “I always bring that home for you”

Vilkas grunted in retort, failing to hide the smile Dragonborn always found so handsome “You do, because you know I'm always going to wind up rubbing them.”

“And I love you for it. Now please, get me out of this damned armor!” Vilkas was far more entertained by the thought of this, leading them to their closed bedroom and heaving the shorter mer onto the bed. First the gauntlets went, the boots, belts.. Each item removed earning another pleased sigh from the mer, his brown and wild hair splayed out behind him loose from it's ponytail.

The nord kissed as he went, reuniting his lips to kiss his beaten knuckles, the golden wedding band, his hips and shoulders. The mer's ebony black eyes where hooded and a smile on his weary face as he watched his husband dote on him “What's that look for?” Vilkas' white eyes snapped up from his thoughtful work, his forehead crinkled and his lips set tightly. He was worried.

“Ah, I'm just happy to see that you're home.”

“Mmm. Alright.” Dragonborn had asked that many times before, Vilkas never admitted he was always anxious about his husbands safety. After Kodlak died those 2 years ago he never quite got over the worry of losing someone so dear. Not when the man he married was a warrior like himself.

When he was stripped nude Vilkas was pulled in by his wrist to lay astride the prone mer, cotton clothing separating him from the worse-for-wear bosmer that now wrapped an arm around him. No matter how dirty he got, his husband always smelled of Nirn and incense- Something he indulged in by burying his face into the mess of his dreaded hair.

"Lay with me? Just a little." Vilkas obliged, their hands roaming each other's bodies. Far from sexual, merely relearning and innocent "I wrote a few songs while I was gone.. they're about you."

"Hahh.." Vilkas sighs, "Leave them for later. But for now, rest, my love. And welcome home" Their lips met once again and Vilkas was happy.

(Hope everyone likes this. I'll give you porn in the next fill)

Re: Who wants a challenge?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 05:54 am (UTC)(link)
Anon, lol at Tullius baahahahaha

Heat

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 06:05 am (UTC)(link)
Ehm, I decided to fill my own prompt since it wouldn't get out of my head. Comments, please?

Summary: Lonely, tormented and in heat, Sinding is horrified when the Dragonborn pops by for her usual visit. And this time, the Beast inside him is not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Tags: Sinding, F!Breton Dragonborn, forced orgasm, size, dirty talk

Heat

It was a beautifully cool night and thank Talos for that small reprieve, Arielle thought as she brought her eyes back down to the cobbled path that led to Bloated Man’s Grotto. To other eyes, she looked exactly like she was, a woman dressed in mage robes with a hefty pack that threatened to dwarf her who was embarking on a journey, probably of a more secretive nature because she had chosen to travel at night and alone, in spite of the risks. A more observant, knowledgeable watcher would be able to tell from the crimson and black elements of her robes that she was a master-level mage, and that even though the woman who wore her hood down and her hair in a thick honey-blonde braid that trailed well below her waist often stopped to harvest the odd flower or herb here and there, her sharp brown eyes never stopped scanning her surroundings for danger. A wiser adversary would think twice about attacking Arielle Greenhart of High Rock.

“Almost there,” she muttered, tugging the strap of her travelling pack forward as it began to slide off her aching shoulder. She would have taken a horse, except the last time she had emerged from the grotto to the horrid sight of a dragon eating her unfortunate mount. What followed was a battle royale replete with exploding fireballs, Shouts that shattered the general peace and quiet, and sent every living creature scurrying for the sanctuary of any available hole in the ground, and flickering magical swords that cut through dragon scale as effectively as any sword forged by a blacksmith.

In spite of herself, her lips turned up in a smile. Every creature had run willy-nilly except for her wolf—“Sinding,” she chastised herself. “Not yours, Sinding.” She had not even know he was there until the dragon roared in pain and wrenched its body to the side, sparing her from the blow it had been about to deliver with its wing. That was when she saw the enormous dark grey and silver werewolf, its fangs and claws glinting in the sun and already streaked crimson with blood. While he darted back and forth, slashing and biting, she managed to grasp one of the dragon’s horns and hauling herself up, plunged her Bound Sword straight through its skull. The next second, she had been thrown through the air, hot blood splattering her robes and face as the dragon flung itself about in its death throes. Enormous clawed hands had plucked her from the air as though she weighed nothing, and a hard, furred body had cushioned her fall.

When Arielle had opened her eyes, she found herself transfixed by hot, unnaturally bright yellow eyes that glared down into hers. The whiskers on his snout were pure silver, she discovered. And those canines looked as though they could puncture her entire skull in a single snap. For a moment, they had just stared at each other, and she realised her hands were wound into the thick fur of his chest. Then the dragon soul descended upon her and by the time she regained her senses, she was gently raised to her feet and Sinding had then stepped back and put himself a good distance away from her.

Heat 2/?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 06:06 am (UTC)(link)
It was probably for the best, Arielle thought glumly, eyeing the rocky outline of the mountain side, recognising from a peculiar dip that she was fast nearing Sinding’s grotto. After all, she had run away from High Rock because her family had been about to auction her away to someone she deemed unsuitable. It was not that she disliked Theodyrick; in actuality, she felt neutral about him. But she had found nothing of interest in common with him, felt he was slightly boring and was mildly horrified to discover that he despised literature and the arts when she had volumes of anthologies lining the bookshelves of her study and personal quarters. It was possible that she was the first Greenhart in a hundred years to be so impossibly disagreeable, at least according to her wailing mother. When it became clear that she would not budge, her father had put her under what was legally known as house arrest. It was then that Arielle discovered she had a talent for picking locks, climbing down the vine and flowered covered trellises even while garbed in a dress, and that she was in possession of more gumption than she had ever known by stealing her family’s best horse and riding it off to the furthest place she could think of: Skyrim. It was either than or Hammerfell but Arielle preferred the cold to the heat and she doubted she would do well in a desert wilderness.

It was thus that the youngest, somewhat spoiled and extremely pampered daughter of the Greenharts of High Rock found herself caught in an Imperial ambush, mistaken as a Stormcloak supporter and carted off to Helgen where she came face to face with what she had been sure was an extinct creature and whom she learnt, while on a very cold and lonely mountaintop, she was supposed to destroy since she was the Dragonborn. It was all a bit much, to quote her grandmother and Arielle thus did the one thing she had always done since childhood: she had taken refuge in books. And that meant a trip to the fabled College of Winterhold where, after a series of fortunate and unfortunate events, she was pronounced Archmage by an order of Altmer mages who had not bothered to ask for her opinion on whether she actually wanted the position.

And what a poor Archmage she made, Arielle grimaced even as she made for the line of fir trees that grew at the foot of the mountainside. With a quick flick of her wrist, she vanished in a dark blue flash shot through with gold. Between seeking out the Greybeards, hunting down Word Wall locations, killing the dragons that insisted on protecting said Word Walls from her, running into Alduin who would invariably be resurrecting some fabled minion of his, and every once in awhile heeding the urgent missives from Delphine, she had no time to look at the new applications, check on the progress of her students or ask the instructors about how she could improve processes and the reputation of the College. Tolfdir was the acting Archmage, and she felt so bad about it that she had taken to refusing to wear the official robes, choosing to leave them in his quarters when he had refused the use of hers. The day she wore those robes was the day she started being more than Archmage in name alone. Unfortunately, that day seemed to be a very distant dot in an even more distant horizon.

Which brought her back to this ridiculous attraction to Sinding. Sure, he had thick wavy blond hair that made her fingers itch to pull and tug at it, if only to see if it was as soft as it looked. And she had not been able to stop gawking at the chiselled muscles of his stomach, even when the poor man had been pouring his heart out to her about being cursed by Hircine. She had not even realised he had slipped the ring onto her finger because she had been too busy wondering if there was an proper name given to the amazing pale, velvety blue of his eyes which were spiked with the thickest dark blond lashes she had ever seen. Later, when she diagnosed herself because she realised her hands were shaking, she was sweating and unmentionable parts of her felt damp and tight, Arielle realised what her problem was. She was in lust with a most unsuitable man.

Heat 3/?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 06:08 am (UTC)(link)
What she needed was someone wealthy, someone refined and someone with enough class so that she could go back to High Rock and flip a metaphorical finger at her unreasonable brute of a father. She also secretly hoped it would be enough to get them to forgive her because there were many times when she missed her mothers and her sisters very badly. Sinding was none of these things. He sounded refined, even scholarly when he spoke, which probably was one of the things that pushed her buttons, but apart from that, he was Nord and that was problematic because most Nords despised magic on principle. She doubted her parents would approve if their son-in-law spontaneously transformed into a werewolf when the moon shone just so on certain nights. Besides, Sinding had sworn off showing his handsome face in society again because he was crippled with the fear of murdering an innocent.

Arielle frowned sadly. With all that standing in the way, there was just no hope for her. Not that it was anything new of course; she arched a sardonic eyebrow as she felt her way carefully through the darkness of the grotto’s entrance. She could not use a magelight spell for fear of anyone spotting her. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to the grotto and its resident in exile.

She had never had much luck with the opposite sex. Even when she had tried to have sex for the first time with a scholar on his way to Alinor, it had been painful, disappointing and she had spent the few minutes it lasted on her back, counting the number of thrusts he made before his body tightened and she shoved him away when he made no move to withdraw even though he had promised to. After that, she had stowed it away in her memory as a failed experiment and privately decided that the Dibellan priestesses were a bunch of fanciful liars.

When she finally emerged into the opening, Arielle could not help but smile in pleasure. Moonlight glazed the trees and grass, painting everything with a glistening silvery hue. Gentle winds rustled the trees that whispered and butterflies flittered between the gently drooping flowers that swayed along with the breeze. “It’s an exceptionally beautiful night,” she called out by way of greeting as she stumbled the last few steps towards the campsite. There was a neat pile of wood next to it; Sinding always kept a ready supply because he knew how she enjoyed a good campfire and that she would not eat meat until it was absolutely well-done and without a speck of pink. With an inelegant huff, she dropped the pack and began to take out its contents.

“I’ve brought apples and cabbages. A few wheels of cheese, some Black-Briar mead—you really must try this if you haven’t already—and I managed to score the last of the sweet rolls and apple pies from the Bannered Mare before the Companions got their hands on them.” Her hands closed on the restored cover and spine of a heavy book. “I brought you something to read as well,” she said. “I thought it might help to pass the time.” If he enjoyed it, she would bring him half her library from Winterhold next time. And maybe, just maybe, if her investigations paid off, she would be able to confirm rumours of a possible cure for lycanthropy.

After she was done laying out her bounty, Arielle sat back on her hunches and frowned. If she did not know better, she would have thought she was speaking to herself. Usually, Sinding was there by the time she had taken three steps into the grotto. On the rare occasion when she arrived while he was asleep, her greeting would have roused him.

“Sinding? Is everything alright?” Perhaps someone had found the grotto. ‘The Silver Hand.’ The thought sent her surging to her feet and almost without thinking, a flaming blue sword appeared in her right hand and fire wreathed the fingers of her left. “Sinding!” She could not quite suppress the alarm in her voice, heard the higher, panicked cadence of the faint echo as it bounced off the walls.

Heat 4/?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 06:11 am (UTC)(link)
“Arielle.”

Her eyes snapped skywards and to her immense relief, she saw him atop the same rock he had stood upon when she had first come to this place. There were dark shadows under his eyes, almost like bruises and he looked exhausted. Tension radiated from every line of his body. He wore a simple shirt of dark green and the pants that she had brought him; when he had protested, Arielle insisted that there was no harm in doing one’s penance while being properly attired. His dark blond hair was mussed, as though he had been running his hands through it rather violently. “Are you alright? I thought—” The sword and fire vanished as she started forward, one eye on the steps when he interrupted her.

“You have to leave. Now.” It was the terrible strain in his voice, the slight break that got her attention as much as his words.

“But I just got here…” She stopped, bewildered. “I brought…”

“Just get out!” he shouted, or rather, snarled. Arielle’s eyes widened. Was he…baring his teeth at her? Then, a perceptible shudder ran through him and he trembled so hard his knees buckled. “Oh Arielle, leave now, while you can...” he cried out brokenly before vanishing from sight.

He was ill. He had to be. And he probably thought it was contagious. Well, if she was particularly gifted in any area of magic, it was the Restoration School and Sinding had another thing coming if he thought she was going to leave and let him rot of whatever it was that ailed him.

“You stay right there!” she hollered, grabbing the skirts of her robes and hiking them up as she took the steps two at a time. “Sinding, did you hear me? You need help and I am not…” A large shadow fell on her, darkening the steps and she looked up at a sight that made the words in her mouth turn to dust. “Going anywhere?”

Seeing him in werewolf form was nothing new. But she had never seen him like that. Arielle gulped audibly and realised the hands that gripped her skirts felt numb because she was squeezing them so tightly. ‘By the Aedra and Daedra.’ The wolf before her snarled, the hackles on his back raised so high that he seemed almost double in size and height. But the most frightening thing was the huge…organ that protruded from the thick brush of fur that had otherwise always kept it hidden. That, and her extremely industrious efforts at always keeping her eyes on his face whenever he was in werewolf form. “Sinding?”

“I told you to leave,” he growled, his voice so thick it was almost guttural. It sounded so unlike him that for a moment, she thought it might be another werewolf impersonating him. Then, that huge body flinched, fell back several steps from her and when his eyes opened, they were the same soft blue that she knew so very well. “Run, Arielle!” The words were barely out of his mouth when he convulsed again and when those massive jaws opened, the furious roar that issued deafened her and utterly smothered her scream of terror.

Arielle fled.

She gasped, stumbling on that last bottom step, knees shaking but she forced herself to keep moving. She was almost past the campsite when the wolf pounced and she screamed when she felt those enormous claws wrap around her upper arms and then she was knocked to the ground, face down in the soft fur of the sabre cat roll she had purchased for him. For a moment she thought the wolf was going to smother her to death and every muscle in her body exploded into action. She twisted furiously to the side, wriggling and kicking, fire and lightning sparking from her fingertips as she tried to free her arms to fire off a shot. All the while, Sinding’s voice haunted her.

...Now I may look like a man, but I still feel the animal inside of me, as strong as ever…

Her arms were wrenched upwards and pinned firmly to the bedroll above her head. Oh gods, was that really her crying out in terror?

“Sinding, please! Stop it!”

“…Have to hunt…” Hot breath smothered her ear and she felt a large wet tongue fill it, trace the delicate crevices even as she cried out, trying to turn away. “I can’t help it… want to devour…”

Re: Who wants a challenge?

(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
I like the Erikur suggestion, but I'm thinking either the captain who says she doesn't care if you're on the list in Helgen (the LI story would be pregame) or Rolff Stone-Fist.

No one likes Rolff.