skyrimkinkmeme | Meme Announcements!

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

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

She screamed again, kicking wildly until he pinned down her legs with his and she felt the massive weight of the werewolf come to rest on her spine. ‘Oh gods, he’s going to eat me alive.’ Her blood curdled in her veins and she wildly recalled every ravaged corpse she had even seen outside the Forsworn strongholds or on tables hidden deep in Draugr strongholds. After all the prophecies and adventures, this was how it would end for the Dragonborn.

Her stomach wrenched mightily and Arielle felt sure that she was going to vomit from sheer fright. So much for dying a dignified and heroic death. She should have stood her ground and faced him head on. The moment she had turned to run, the fight had been lost. ‘I wonder if I could ask if he would be so kind as to kill me with the first bite,’ she wondered semi-hysterically.

Then, she felt him shift, became painfully aware of the hard throbbing what had to be that monstrous... Great, she was going to die and she was still engaging in self-censorship. The first time she had said the word “cock”, her mother had had the misfortune of being an unintended audience and Arielle had spent the better part of the next hour scrubbing out her mouth with the vilest tasting soap to be found in the house, a penance performed while kneeling before a tub of water. After that, it was a series on lectures on manners, class and lists of words that properly bred heiresses avoided. Her etiquette instructor had been so zealously enthusiastic about it that for the first time in her fourteen years, Arielle felt like a whore. The second time she had said it, Arielle’s father had rubbed fiery spices on her lips and the pain had taken two days before it fully subsided. After that, she developed the inability to say any vulgar words. Crudities, voiced aloud, made her flinch. Her parents had done a thorough job at turning her off such vocabulary.

Cool air touched her calves, then her thighs before heavy furred legs pressed themselves against her bare skin. “What are you doing?” At least that was what she meant to ask. What came out of her mouth was a garbled squeak. The werewolf—Sinding—she wasn’t sure entirely—was pulling up the skirt of her robes roughly and… “Oh my gods!” This time, the words exploded out of her mouth when she felt the thick material slide up the globes of her buttocks. A long claw pressed against her skin as it insinuated itself between her hip and her smalls before a ruthless tug ripped the material away, leaving her bare-assed as the day she had been born. “Sinding!”

Was this some weird ritual? Or was it a feeding habit? She had heard sabre cats preferred to rip the fur off their victims before eating them. Then, she felt a rough, massive palm cup her ass before giving it a hard squeeze, the clawed tips pressing into her skin with careful pressure designed to spare her fragile skin from ripping. Arielle made a strangled sound as the hand—or was it a paw—slid over to the other cheek, long fingers splayed as the werewolf (because she refused to think of the creature who was molesting her as her friend) groped her thoroughly.

Cold fear of a different kind slithered down Arielle’s spine and belly when she felt a huge thigh pushed between her own and against all her efforts, her legs were spread wide, his calves pinning down her own, rough fur scratching her soft skin and she whimpered as the first tears slid down her eyes and dropped onto the bedroll.

The wolf must have heard her crying because it paused. The hand that had been groping her lifted and reappeared in her line of vision, gripping her chin and turning her frightened face to his. Blazing eyes caught her tear-filled ones and a clawed thumb shifted, rubbed at the moisture on her cheek before he leaned forward and she shuddered as he tasted her tears. Then, to her great shock, soft canine lips nuzzled her, that great moist nose pressing gently into her neck and cheek. “Don’t be afraid.” The whisper was like syrup poured over gravel, guttural yet warm somehow. “I will please you before I take you.”

“Take me?” Arielle echoed soundlessly. Wasn’t he going to eat her? He had said devoured—“No!” But then he had withdrawn and she knew somehow it was too late. The recollection of him…down there made her shudder. He would rip her apart if he tried to mate her. “Wait, please … stop… Oh…”

He had shifted such that while he was still pinning her down, his weight was off the small of her spine and thus when she felt that first velvety stroke on her…womanhood, Arielle could arch up slightly to get away. Unfortunately for her, the persistent digit followed and she found herself helpless to do anything but lay there as he...

“Oh Talos.” She shivered, burying her face in the bedroll and clamping her mouth shut as he found that sweet spot somewhere to the side that she touched on the rare occasion when she could not control herself. “This is wrong,” she moaned when he massaged it. “Stop!” Arielle might as well have been talking to herself, and perhaps she was because it felt so good as liquid heat began to gather between her thighs, pool around the sensitive area where the savage beast was rubbing her with such uncharacteristic gentleness. “No…”

His finger slid along easier now, slicker and to her great embarrassment, she could hear the soft, wet sounds of his flesh on hers as he stroked faster, slightly harder, lengthened the span of his touch such that he went all the way down to her entrance. She jolted the first time he pressed slightly against her opening and behind her, she heard him rumble in what seemed to be amusement. Then, he added another finger to rub her with and Arielle could not quite suppress her thick, breathy pants as her legs turned to jelly and she stopped squirming to get away. If anything, her hips were arching forward in spite of what her mind was telling them to do.

“This pleases you.” That deep, gravelly voice was back in her ear and she felt a sharp canine against the tender lobe. “I can smell you, your arousal.”

Hell, even she could smell her arousal. She needed help, in more ways than one.

“You’re so soft, so slick, ripe for fucking…”

What felt like a lightning bolt when straight down her belly and to the gathering inferno that burned sinfully at the apex of her thighs. Arielle groaned. Loudly.

He grunted, rubbed his furred cheek against hers. “You like that…”

Oh gods, she could feel it, that wicked pulsing rhythm that was starting to build and rise somewhere inside. Stubbornly, Arielle shook her head even as she began to ride his fingers.

“My classy heiress from High Rock.” Gentle lips nibbled at the sensitive curve of her neck, brushing aside the fine hair at her nape. “You’re going to come for me. Out here, in the wilds, without a bed… that’s it,” he coaxed as she thrust down on his hand, taking care to angle his claws away. “Come for me while I fuck you with my hand…against my fingers…”

“Oh gods, oh gods…” she panted, her breathing shallow and rapid. Inside, her muscles clenched hard, creating a sensation so sharp it verged on pain because there was nothing for her body to wrap itself around. She was so tight and wet and she wrenched at the hand that imprisoned hers, desperate to fill the throbbing ache between her spread legs.

She mewled and thrashed, thrust down again and again as her fingers curled uselessly into themselves, her body taut as a spring, knees pressed into the bedroll because she was going to come apart from the delicious heat burning its way through her loins, dissolving everything else until there was only him and the his treacherous fingers that were stroking her off to completion.

Just before the heat came, he pulled away. Arielle actually howled in frustration before she was flipped on her back so suddenly the air was knocked from her lungs. Then her mouth stretched open in a scream, her back arching off the ground as his thick hot tongue pressed down on her throbbing flesh, on that sweet swollen spot and he tongued-fucked her into her release, hot wet slickness sliding down her folds as he plunged his tongue inside her and set her aflame. “Oh…godsss…” she screamed, writhing as she reached down and grabbed fistfuls of his fur, trying to pull his mouth down completely on her as she clenched and throbbed and spread her legs even wider to push more of him in as she desperately lifted her hips. “Ooh…” She could hear him growling, whether from desire or pain because she was still yanking on his fur, she could not tell and was beyond caring.

Then Arielle collapsed against the bedroll, panting, eyes squeezed shut, numbed fingers sliding from the great wolf head between her legs to fall at her side, her thoughts in a whirling maelstrom of fragments. She, the Archmage of the College of Winterhold, the Thane of Whiterun and Morthal, reduced to an incoherent, insensate mass of trembling nerves that moaned uncontrollably when she felt him slide his tongue out from inside her before licking her slit hard, forcing her to ride his tongue again. Oh gods, had she just thought that? It was a bad word…

It was then that the wretched wolf decided to tear open the ties of her robes, rolling her to her side as he stripped them off her with an ominous growl. The rest of her smalls were torn from her and Arielle screamed weakly as she covered her breasts with one arm, bracing herself up on the other only for the wolf to yank her by her thighs and bring her flat on her back once more.

“Now,” he snarled, pulling her up his hugely muscled thighs, heedless of her struggles and protests. “I want to fuck you now.”

He was going to kill her with it, Arielle thought frantically as he wrapped her legs around his waist, gripping her tightly by the hips so that she could feel every hot unforgiving inch of that giant erection against the soft skin of her inner thigh. “Wait!” she shouted, positively screamed. “I want… I need…” Amazingly, that stopped him, even though it brought on more snarling and bristling of fur. “I want to kiss you,” she blurted out.

She had seen lightning bolts move slower. That huge head darted forward, she cried out as teeth scored her skin, nipping sharply and he pushed his snout against her neck. If she didn’t act now, she would be doomed. Catching his face with both hands, she tried to press her lips to his.

“That is not my way,” he reared back but she clung on, wrapping her fingers in the fur just behind his ears.

“It’s mine. And you can, if you want to.”

The sight of those long canines and writhing lips drawn back in a savage snarl almost made her lose her grip along with the dinner that she had eaten earlier that evening. “You want the man, that weakling who refused you as mate…who has refused to find a mate even while we burned in this season…”

Vaguely, Arielle registered that the wolf was essentially saying that he was in heat. It also occurred to her that she was his choice most probably by convenience. But there were more important matters to attend to, such as not being literally rutted to death.

“I want both. Please.” Tentatively, she pushed her face against his, moved her cheek up and down in as close an imitation of a nuzzle as she could get. Relaxing her fingers, she gently massaged the base of his ears, felt and heard the almost imperceptible rumble of pleasure as his eyes flicked shut before opening again. “That’s the only way it can work. I want to feel…” she swallowed, trying to keep her voice above a quivering whisper, “all of you inside me. You promised me pleasure.”

A huge hand clamped on her wrist and another fastened itself around her neck. Arielle had the strangest feeling that he might have been deciding to kill her or fuck her then. For a moment, the tension between them sizzled. Then she was tossed on her back again, blinking as he loomed over her on all fours. “Alright, Arielle,” he hissed. “Anything it is.”

Awesome, thank you! Looks fairly easy to place, but I have to admit I giggled at Dyce's reaction to "Ever been fucked in the arse?" from Vex. 'Cause... well, yeah, he has. Quite a lot. Seems even stranger if it's set after the incident with Grelka (who, funny story, I went to go find in Riften, only to remember after like twenty minutes of wandering around that she'd caught me pickpocketing her and Mjoll had killed her before I could do anything).

(I'm guessing it doesn't show up in the delicious because it's not tagged with series:Dyce?)

Erikur suggester thinks these ideas are brilliant. Of course!

I edited it a bit before I put it up on Ao3 to make it fit in a bit better with the rest of Dyce's canon. It really is a bit odd as it stands.

Probably - I did ask them to tag it when I asked for a series tag, but that particular prompt seems cursed.

OP here.
I love you.
Seriously, I love you so much for this fill, dear A!Anon.
This was so hot. This meme really needed more size kink.
That, and Bottom!Argis just made my day.

Ulfric faltered. Dyce bent his head and gritted his teeth as the dragon’s corpse blazed with light. He shuddered, filled once again with ancient spirit that made his own quail for a few moments. When he looked up again Ulfric was merely impassive, watching the process intently his arms folded.

Whatever he’d been about to do, he’d since decided against it.

It looked like they’d be obliged to walk back to Whiterun, and Ulfric handed back Dyce’s bow and arrows, before they started plodding down the slope.

“So who do you think won?” Dyce asked. “After our little contest.”

Ulfric glanced over his shoulder briefly, “Well it wasn’t the dragon.”

Dyce laughed, and didn’t press Ulfric for a real answer.

“That Shout you used on the dragon,” Ulfric said. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“Dragonrend,” Dyce said somberly. “I’ll tell you the whole story, if you like.”

And he did so, once they returned to Windhelm, and separated long enough to find clean, dry clothes. They sat in the palace kitchen, near the fire, drinking mead and eating slices of fried horker loaf.

“So they didn’t make you follow the Way of the Voice.”

“They tried to convince me it might be a good idea,” Dyce said. “But a Dragonborn isn’t bound by the rules. They didn’t want me to learn Dragonrend, however.” Dyce sighed. “They didn’t even know it, but I got my ear chewed for half an hour anyway about how I shouldn’t learn it. Paarthurnax had to persuade them.”

“Paarthurnax,” Ulfric said. “It always frustrated me that I never got to meet him. I’d actually decided he no longer existed; that the Greybeards simply didn’t want to choose a new leader. I mean, how could someone possibly live up there anyway? I never saw them taking food up.”

“He does exist, I can assure you of that.”

“Paarthurnax. Such a strange name. Almost like-” He broke off. Looked up from the fire and over at Dyce, eyebrows raised. “Is he?”

Dyce nodded.

“What’s he like?”

“Like a Greybeard, but a better conversationalist.”

“To think, all this time and nobody knew.” Ulfric mused.

“How old were you when you went up to High Hrothgar?” Dyce asked curiously.

“Eight years old,” Ulfric replied. “I didn’t spend all my time up there; I was expected to learn the arts of war so in the summers I came down to train.”

“That must have been tedious,” Dyce said. “Would have been even worse than the temple.”

“You were raised in a temple?”

“Yeah, Temple of Dibella. I was a foundling.” Dyce took a swig of mead.

Ulfric stared at him intently, “What was it like?”

“Oh, it wasn’t so bad. It was just dull. Prayers, cleaning, lessons, and the biannual Parade of the Cute Little Orphans Through the Wealthy Districts to Encourage Donations.” He grinned wickedly, “I was really good that. I used to bring back so many sweets I’d make myself sick.”

“Did you ever wonder who your parents were?”

“Oh, sometimes. ‘Parents’ were an abstract concept to me. You can’t miss what you’ve never had.”

Ulfric hung his head, “I see. Did you resent them for abandoning you?’

“Nah, they probably had their reasons. Most of the other orphans there had parents who were dead - I figured mine were as well.” Dyce looked at Ulfric, “I turned out alright. If they’re still alive, I’d be happy to see them, you know, get to know them. I wouldn’t be angry.”

Ulfric nodded. “When the war is over, I’ll set things right.”

“When the war is over.”

“I’ve felt the power of your Shout. We’re going to win.”

“You’d never doubted you were going to win, with or without me.”

Ulfric looked a little rueful, “No, the trick is to make people think you never doubt.”

Dyce exhaled, “Do you ever let yourself react without thought to the political consequences?”

“Sometimes.”

They looked at each other, and Dyce thought back over the day that had passed. “I suppose that’s true,” he said softly. “You should try it more often.”

“Why?” His voice was sharp, wary.

“Oh, Divines help me. If you don’t see the value of it, I can’t help you.”

“Did I ask for help?”

“You see my Thu’um, but you don’t see past it, Ulfric.” He couldn’t understand why Ulfric didn’t trust him; when Ulfric looked at him Dyce got the impression there was something he wanted to see, but couldn’t. “I’m tired.”

Ulfric merely nodded, and Dyce left him staring at the fire.

...fucking gorgeous.

The words burned through Ulfric’s fantasies now. He’d nearly given in, nearly forgotten everything about them both other than their physical existence, just a breath apart. But the dragon’s soul. He couldn’t forget that Dyce was potentially his greatest enemy. He couldn’t forget the power of his Thu’um.

Forced to trust him with his secret, Dyce had honoured his request for silence, but Ulfric couldn’t grab hold of him. Always he looked beyond the war, but not in the same way Ulfric did. He refused to be cowed, refused to be bound; he chose, always, chose to obey when he did, chose to disobey when he didn’t. It was increasingly clear to Ulfric that he’d chosen who was going to win this war, also.

Ulfric thought he understood power and the kind of man who wields it, but in some ways Dyce was as frustrating as the Greybeards had been. Held back, interested in other things, unconcerned by the vagaries of politics and willing to shout and bare his teeth to fight against being forced to be any other way.

And what did Dyce concern himself with? Matchmaking and food. Sarcasm and petty theft. Sex. Talos, Ulfric knew he could ask and Dyce would agree. And the knowledge drove him mad.

Fucking gorgeous.

How could you take something like that at face value? No one would speak to a potential king like that and mean only what he said, surely. What could you trust about a man like that? Where was the certainty? Ulfric didn’t even know what he was risking, what vulnerabilities he’d opened up. When he was vulnerable Skyrim and her people suffered, that’s all there was to it.

They were riding on Solitude. His troops stretched out behind him on the road, under Galmar’s watchful eye. Sometimes they were greeted with cheers and flowers and sometimes with barred doors and windows. But they had nothing to fear now; Skyrim was all but theirs, the Imperial forces pushed back to the northernmost edge.

He’d had Dyce ride with him, at the head of his army, and at first he’d been good company, if unreliable. Half the time he fell back to talk to people he recognised and tell jokes and flirt. As they tracked north, up through the Reach - no, they didn’t stop at Markarth; Ulfric averted his gaze and kept going, at this late stage he would not betray himself - Dyce grew quieter, and more withdrawn.

Eventually, they camped within sight of Solitude’s walls, the Blue Palace remote and peaceful over its stone arch, the harbour glittering blue and white. When Ulfric had last been here, he had defeated a king.

Galmar had his maps and his strategies, the troops were organised and briefed as the sun sank towards the horizon. Tomorrow they would take Solitude or die trying. The Imperials would know they were there, so they built their fires high, and the hills rang with the songs of battle.

Ulfric and his generals met in the command tent. Three Nords, one Breton. Ulfric would not have imagined Dyce would stand with them like this when he’d first sworn himself to Ulfric’s service, but Galmar had seen him grow into the role of a leader of men. When called upon to do so, he ran into battle screaming at the top of his lungs.

“We won’t need to lay siege on the palace,” Ulfric said. “It will be enough to take the fort, and see Tullius defeated.”

“What about Elsif?” Yrsarald asked.

“She is not a fool, and she will not order her people to fight to the death. She will be treated fairly.”

Dyce didn’t say a word throughout the proceedings, he merely stared at the map of the city spread in front of them. When their strategy was agreed on, they left to get some food. Ulfric remained, staring at the map by candlelight, listening to the voices of the men and women at his command outside.

He blew out the candle and was about to leave the tent when he heard Ralof speak.

“Dyce, you’ve been there and come back. Tell us about Sovngarde?”

A hush fell over the gathering, and Ulfric could hear clearly the crackle of the fire. He found himself holding his breath.

“I’m no bard,” Dyce said. “But I’ll do my best.”

Ulfric drifted forward, but stayed within the tent, not wanting to impose his presence on the gathering. He watched as Dyce was given mead and the soldiers simultaneously tried to give him space and lean in closer.

My Enthir lust continues. But he's such a pissy grump that I'd like to see another side of him, so...

...hurt his feelings! :O

I've had this weirdly specific prompt kicking around in my head for a few days. Have you ever been in a relationship involving three people where you were the odd person out? It can really suck. Say this story happens a long time ago when all three parties were younger and less cynical and more alive: as far as Gallus and Karliah know, Enthir is just their good friend who they invite into their bed. But Enthir screws up and falls in love - not jealous of one because of the other, but he falls for both of them. Maybe Enthir even knows he's setting himself up to get hurt, and he keeps seeing them because he can't help himself. But Gallus and Karliah are very much a couple, and when they focus on each other more to the exclusion of Enthir, he's left by himself and distressed about it.

Gimme all of Enthir's angsts: fear of messing up friendships, fear of letting his feelings out, fear of looking like an idiot, feeling unloved, wanting what he can't have, pangs of regret, etc.

Bonuses:
If there's a sex scene where Enthir is the Lucky Pierre, I will cry Flawless Diamonds.
If there's a drunken confession from Enthir to Gallus and Karliah that he feels more for them than he should, I will get heartstabs.
If the fill goes all the way up to Gallus' murder and I see Karliah and Enthir's reactions, my heart will jump out of my body and yell at me for being so mean to it.

Inspiration to shrivel all your emotions up into a painful little husk: http://youtu.be/Xs9P-pfqF6Y

Oh god, I just realized how close it is to Valentine's Day that I'm requesting this. Oops.

Also: no non-con/dub-con please. Just make him feel bad.

(1/2)
Oh Dyce!Anon,

We're having a ice storm here in the frozen North East of the US, which means schools are closed and I don't have to rush through my Monday morning. Instead I can spend some quiet time with Dyce. He's an excellent companion.

(And I'm sure there's more Dyce further ahead, but I wanted to keep up with each section of writing and not miss anything I wanted to comment on)

So, we have our second serious conversation with Ulfric. Dyce is learning so much about himself as a public figure, and with that is coming an increased understanding of Ulfric.

For point of reference in your gaming practice, Odahviing is actually quite good at telling Stormcloaks from Imperials. I enjoy having him help out at the Battle of Solitude. But it's a good boundary for Dyce to have. Like Dyce, I suspect Ulfric is really good at pushing people to get what he wants. And Ulfric is much less moral about it. Dyce needs all the borders he can build from him.

And you did paint a beautiful scene of morning breaking over the Rift. With the birds, and the sunlight and the dragonscales and the blood. I love that while you are painting beautiful images, you aren't shying away from that horrible truth that people are dying.

You're exploring the difference between the Dovahkiin, Slayer of Alduin, Thuri of the Dovah, and the Dragonborn, leader of men and hero of the Skyrim civil war. They're very different people.

I also love the exploration of Ulfric. What makes that man tick? It's not a short answer question. I'm constantly stunned that Bethesda tried to balance Ulfric, student of the Greybeards, Master of the Voice, Jarl, Hero of the Great War, Prisoner of the Thalmor author of the Massacre at Markarth, Slayer of King Torygg and MORE with General Tullius, who's an Imperial general who doesn't like the Thalmor too much. They don't balance at all. It's not even close.

But you get that. You get that even for all his sins, and the man has a butt-ton of sins, he's a very complicated figure that you can't paint in just one color. He's not just a hero. He's not just a villian, he's not even just a victim. And, he's one of the very short list of people who can begin to get what Dyce is all about, and all the heavy burdens Dyce is carrying.

One of the many talents you have that I'm jealous of, my Dyce!Anon, is your ability to have a single line mean so much more than the weight of it's words. And you have a couple beauties here.

I already mentioned the Dawn scene with Dyce summoning Odahviing.

Then there's Dyce narrowed his eyes to focus on the faint reflection of the room behind him in the glass, the reflection that was now almost entirely obscured by a large, Nord-shaped silhouette. which is just so damn evocative. Dyce is troubled and he's looking away, trying to get some distance, and with it some understanding on what he's doing and why, and then there's Ulfric, who is a pale, Nord-shaped reflection of himself. or at least what Dyce could become. (And I have no doubt that Dyce could become Ulfric. The roots are there)

“You know a secret of mine, Dyce. You forget that is all you know.” There are a dozen different ways you could have phrased that, but the one you chose told us volumes about Ulfric: his pride, his privacy, his opinion of Dyce, and that distance he maintains so very carefully even with those he's close too. Ulfric is still extremely damaged from what the Thalmor did to him, and that is there in that one line too.

(Character limits!)

(2/2)

You close on loneliness, which is, I think, one of the biggest themes in the game. No one can carry the Dragonborns burden except the Dragonborn. Yeah, you have followers, friends, lovers, and even spouses, but you still go to Sovngarde alone. Last night I replayed the the Skuldafn dungon, and man, that moment of crossing the huge empty courtyard being it all home: The Dragonborn is alone.

That loneliness is something Dyce hates. He rials against it, even while he understands it and uses it. But I believe, it's part of why he has so many lovers (beside enjoying fucking) is to break that distance between himself and everyone else. That whole scene in the Cornerclub was all about that, I believe.

Ulfric has gone a different way- forced by both his upbringing, he's expereinces and his secrets, he needs that distance and Dyce has yet to find a way to create a compelling reason to breech it. I'm not sure that Dyce will. This might turn into something closer to Mercer than Vilkas. Only time will tell.

In closing, I will say, this is amazing. Again and again I speak to people aobut K.meme, and try to explain that I love it because while there's plenty of dross, the gold you find here is so very precious. You, Dyce!Anon, are purest gold.

Didn't know I wanted this till now A!A, glad you filled it for I'm enjoying this too!

Oh yeah, nothing like a little Dragon slaying to get the blood up. :D

(I'm loving having this little Dyce feast. So good!)

So, we start with the close of the serious conversation from the last section. And with it comes some important insights. Yes, of course Ulfric is trying to figure out Dyce just the way Dyce is trying to figure him out. And Ulfric's good at it. For all the things that are wrong with Ulfric, the fact remains, there was many many more things right with him. He simply wouldn't have survived if he wasn't truly exceptional.

You have a really beautiful description here: Dyce looked at Ulfric. His face was underlit by the flames, which threw into relief the lines and scars on his face, and lit the hollows beneath his high cheekbones. Ulfric earned every one of those scars, and he's not going to hide them. Not that he could, but the ownership is key.

And just when Dyce is ready to write Ulfric off, he shows yet another part of himself, (and 'Shows" really is the word here) and tells him to nurse his wounds. Yes, Ulfric needs Dyce at his peek to be of use to him, but he didn't need to show such kindness. I swear, he's got more sides to him than a Diamond has facets.

Loved the line about Ulfric sneaking up on Dyce. Again, more than the weight of its words.

What does it mean that I went to a kinky place too when Ulfric said he wanted to 'test their thu'ums?' I think they might as well pull out the measuring tape while they're at it. Check length, girth, etc.

It was not lost on me that Ulfric's method of Thu'um dueling is Dyce's usual method of fight. Duck and cover, with sneaky, precise hits. For once, the tiny Breton is the huge Hulk in the fight, and the massive Nord is the tiny bantamweight. And that's just fucking fantastic. Because it's not just you switching their roles up, it's you showing that THEY can switch their roles up.

And then, just to show it wasn't a fluke, you bring in a Dragon, and they go back to their usual roles- Dyce is attacking from behind while Ulfric's leading a frontal charge. You're a fucking madman. Seriously, you write like a motherfucker.

Two things I kind of want to see (but might not get, and that's okay) is one, Ulfric watching Dyce absorb a Dovahsil, because, really, that's what seperates the men from the boys. And I realized (and I think you're going here) Dyce just used a shout Ulfric wouldn't know. He would never have even heard of it. The Greybeards didn't have Dragonrend, and so they couldn't teach it to him. What does Ulfric make of that?

I love that Ulfric is the one person Dyce can play with shouts with- and while this was testing, it was also playing. Something niether of them get to do enough of and both need badly.

Considering how well these two fight together, I can't wait to see how well they fuck together. I doubt I'll have to wait long.:D

So, my Dyce!anon. I knew this was going to be excellent, but it's coming together even better than I had dreamed. And you're not even close to being done, are you? I LOVE a man with stamina! Oh baby! Give me more!

I swear by Dibella's pretty pink nipples I'm not reading ahead. I'm just getting good at picking up your cues.

But yeah, there it is- Dyce absorbing the Dovahsil and Dragonrend. Two parts of Dyce that Ulfric can never understand, or have. In some ways they are kindred souls, but in many more ways, they're not.

One thing that Ulfric doesn't understand, but it coming around to recognize, is Dyce's generosity. Dyce is very generous. He does want to help most of the people he comes across. He is willing to share pleasure-sexual and otherwise, with almost anyone. Which is why he said what he did about Helping Ulfric.

And what Dyce doesn't understand, but is coming to recognize, is that Ulfric isn't so polotically careful because he wants to be. It's because the need for it was literally beaten into him. Ulfric's life is not his own, just like Dyce. And if Ulfric screws up, makes a bad judgement call, or is simply lazy at the wrong time, People will suffer and die. Dyce is having trouble dealing with the fact that men are joining the army to fight on 'his side', he doesn't yet see that Ulfric is carrying that burden a hundred times over. And just like Dyce can't stop being Dragonborn, Ulfric can't stop being Jarl, and soon, King.

They're getting more and more alike. But I don't know if that means they're getting closer. And brilliant you, Dyce!anon, is carefully playing with the difference between the two.

You're setting us up so beautifully for the next section- the fields outside of Solitude, the battle come morning, and Dyce now talking of Sovngarde. A place some of those men will be seeing the very next day- and everyone knows it. I love the image of Ulfric listening, hiden, from his tent to Dyce's voice, because it's such a good metaphor for their whole story. Dyce with a crowd-Ulfric alone. Dyce being seen-Ulfric hidden. I also love how Ulfric knows his presence would change the nature of the gathering, so he holds back, because that's a whole lot of Ulfric's life: sacrificing himself for the greater good, and its usually completely unseen.Beautiful, beautiful imagery.

So, Ulfric's torn, Dyce is troubled. They're both hot, and they're both bothered. Let's see where this can take us. (She said innocently) Brilliant, Dyce!Anon, simply brilliant.

My Enthir lust continues. But he's such a pissy grump that I'd like to see another side of him, so...

...hurt his feelings! :O

I've had this weirdly specific prompt kicking around in my head for a few days. Have you ever been in a relationship involving three people where you were the odd person out? It can really suck. Say this story happens a long time ago when all three parties were younger and less cynical and more alive: as far as Gallus and Karliah know, Enthir is just their good friend who they invite into their bed. But Enthir screws up and falls in love - not jealous of one because of the other, but he falls for both of them. Maybe Enthir even knows he's setting himself up to get hurt, and he keeps seeing them because he can't help himself. But Gallus and Karliah are very much a couple, and when they focus on each other more to the exclusion of Enthir, he's left by himself and distressed about it.

Gimme all of Enthir's angsts: fear of messing up friendships, fear of letting his feelings out, fear of looking like an idiot, feeling unloved, wanting what he can't have, pangs of regret, etc.

Bonuses:
If there's a sex scene where Enthir is the Lucky Pierre, I will cry Flawless Diamonds.
If there's a drunken confession from Enthir to Gallus and Karliah that he feels more for them than he should, I will get heartstabs.
If the fill goes all the way up to Gallus' murder and I see Karliah and Enthir's reactions, my heart will jump out of my body and yell at me for being so mean to it.

Oh god, I just realized how close it is to Valentine's Day that I'm requesting this. I'm terrible.

Also: no non-con/dub-con please. Just make him feel bad.

The DB and Marcurio are in an established best-friends-with-benefits arrangement.

And part of their agreement is that they are allowed to enjoy bedding others...especially together. Neither the DB or Marcurio are fussy about their partners' gender or race.

Make it serious, make it cracky I don't mind...as long as it's hot as all hell ;)

DB's race is totally open (though I would love to see a Redguard...but that's definitely not necessary)

WOW! I didn't think I'd like this, but whoa! Its hot!

Please, please continue!

Beautiful, a!a!!!~<3

Had no idea I needed this so much. More! More please, I beg of you!

Passer-by just had to stop and say I loved this :)

This is seriously the most engaging Skyrim fic I've ever read.

Note from EndraA!A: Hello everyone! It would seem that I'm back with another installment of the Endra/Ghorbash chronicles! :) As you might have noticed, the series tag has been officially set up and now all of the previous and future stories can be found under the tag series:endra...handy, right? This fill is only small (probably 3 parts if that) but I hope it'll be very enjoyable to read and, fear not, it paves the way for more stories with these two. It seems I just can't leave them alone! Anyway, enough of my ramblings...enjoy it :)

tags: es:skyrim, series:endra, char:F!PC, char:ghorbash_the_iron_hand, relationship:het, race:Orsimer, race:Nord, kink:fluff, kink:size

Summary: Ghorbash and Endra enjoy a well deserved rest at The Bee and Barb. (4th in the series)

A Languid Afternoon

Ghorbash found the room to be very satisfactory.

After days travelling on the road and sleeping rough, arriving in Riften had been welcome indeed. Ghorbash had enjoyed having the morning free to browse the market (while eavesdropping on conversations in an attempt to find out any useful information) and some of the stores before checking himself into The Bee and Barb.

Now it was little past midday and the bed in his room was soft and inviting; Ghorbash felt himself sink further into it the longer he led there. But as comfortable as it was, he couldn't sleep. He was too conscious of how the other side of the bed was empty.

He tried lying on both of his sides and his back. He rearranged the pillows and moved the blankets. He sighed and gave up, lying on his back and let himself drift.

The sound of footsteps travelling up the stairs and along the corridor towards his rooms made his mind sharpen again and he sat up, resting his bare back against the pillows. The door opened silently and Endra slipped inside, her footsteps light. She gave him an honest but weary smile before moving to the dresser against the wall and placing down a bundle of new armour. By the look of it, it was leather.

He watched her kicked off her boots with a groan of relief and asked,

"Did they let you in?" Ghorbash didn't question that she would have made her way through the Ratway. He had full confidence in her.

"They did." She confirmed with another bright smile. "And I have new armour to boot. Good stuff too." She had stripped herself of her current armour and was about to clamber into bed in her tunic and breeches when he stopped her and handed her a delicately folded nightdress.

"One of the traders was selling a few small pieces like this. I..." He trailed off, feeling awkward. He had never done anything like this before and he was beginning to feel foolish.

But her face had already lit up with joy as she took it from him and unravelled it. It flowed down to the floor in a soft white sheet of fabric and little lace straps adorned the top. "You bought it for me!" She exclaimed with joy, immediately pulling off her tunic and breeches as tossing them aside. He flushed when she removed her smallclothes, not accustom to seeing her bare body in a non-sexual moment but she didn't seem to notice. She slipped into the nightdress with a pleasurable whimper.

"Oh, it's so soft." She said more to herself than him and twirled several times, marvelling at how it moved around her. He couldn't hold back a smile as she laughed and threw herself down onto the bed next to him, covering herself with the blankets quickly.

"Thank you." She said and kissed him gently.

Yea! Love the start A!A!

HNNNNNNG!

By the Nine, this is incredible! I haven't played Sinding's quest yet, but I think I'm going to go now and do just that, so I can reread this and enjoy it all the more.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 20 of 270

Meme Announcements!

Heat 5/?

Heat 6/?

Heat 7/?

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

Re: Who wants a challenge?

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

Re: M!DB/M!LI - A Sight To See ch 2c/2c

What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 19/??

What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 20/??

Gallus/Enthir/Karliah, threesome, angst

Re: What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 15/??

Re: What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 15/??

Re: Heat 7/?

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

Re: What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 20/??

Gallus/Enthir/Karliah, threesome, angst

F!DB/Marcurio + anyone they can get their hands on

Re: Heat 7/?

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

Re: Heat 7/?

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

Re: What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 20/??

F!DB/Ghorbash: "A Languid Afternoon" 1/?

Re: F!DB/Ghorbash: "A Languid Afternoon" 1/?

Re: Heat 7/?