skyrimkinkmeme | Meme Announcements!

:D Thanks!

My work here is done :D

A warrior, preferably a male, is warned not to fight any Giants for about three weeks. However, he ignores this advice only to stumble across a male Giant. Turns out it's giant mating season and he soon finds himself enjoying the giant's attentions.
also, I don't much mind what race, so long as it isn't an orc, argonian, or khajiit. These three races are awesome, just not what I'm wanting right now.

LOL. This comment made my day.

Im a little peeved about how this place doesnt have much Khajiit on man/mer. So this is what Im looking for-

Would be very appreciative of this being a Male khajiit on female khajiit, but you can go wild as long as this stays a M/F thing with a khajiit as either gender. Any scenario is good as long as it stays away from the whole scat/yellow shower thing. I Would also prefer orcs and argonians stay away from this, but its not required.

Here is an inspiration scenario- The dragonborn (preferably any race except orc or argonian)comes home after some huge quest to a very horny spouse who wants to give him/her some "stress relief"

(OP here!) Things could get very interesting. The trance idea came to me because as we all know, when you are hunting for word walls in the crypts you can usually hear them a good distance before you actually see the wall. I always wondered if your companions can hear it too.

I can't even. You anons and your glorious prompts need to stop tempting. So until I fill, I'll second. Someone please make this a thing!

I second this so hard.

Aww, yis! This is going to be great.

So, Festus may have killed his wife over the temperature of his bath water. I want to see this happen, Anons! And since it's Festus, it has to be insane and awesome. You can play this for comedy or drama - however you like. You can do whatever you like. I just want your take on Festus' marital...issue.

Basically, Farengar's sexual frustrations get out of hand (I'm thinking a sort of sequel to "Dovahsexual", doesn't have to be by the same anon, but DovahsexualAnon, you were amazing) and the Dragonsreach crew (namely Proventus, Irileth and Hrongar, I don't mind Balgruuf getting in on this but anon really wants to see some shenanigans regarding the former three) decide once and for all that he needs to get laid. So who do they conspire to set him up with? The Thane, of course, who he's been eyeing for the longest time. How do they do it? Does it work out? Do they manage to keep it under the table well enough so that our snarky Nord mage doesn't suspect?

Regarding the Dragonborn, any and all genders/races are acceptable, and shenanigans are a must. As for squicks and preferred kinks, go crazy, please, but not too crazy. No blood/bathroom stuff, please and thank you. :)

This anon's heartwarming proposal of dead spiders and package delivery to Sylgja was rudely interrupted by a dragon landing in the middle of Shor's Stone breathing fire all over the DB.

While everyone survived, there's definitely potential for hilarity in this scenario.

Anon can choose DB and spouse. I'd just like an "oh shit, what have I gotten myself into-moment" right after the proposal.

Bonus if it's as cracktastic as possible. i.e. Hired Thugs, Dragons, Daedric Princes, etc.

That was pretty damn good A!Anon.

Ooooh. We do need more Dom!Cicero around here...

Thank you! :D

Potential A!A here, I'd love to have a go at this. I'd often wondered if any of the companions/followers could hear the music/chanting...

Has OP any preferences for DB gender or race or which NPC to try?
I'm kind of debating rolling a Nord or Breton girl and Marcurio, but if you'd like something else, just say so :D

I love you, Anon

I'd like to see a female dragonborn being dominated by a male antagonist. I only ask that it is dark, intense, and very erotic. Would love to a fairly serious, strong willed dragonborn unravel completely at the hands of the male character.

(For a "male antagonist" I would suggest someone like Ancano or Mercer Frey -- however so long as the male character in question has a reasonably hostile relationship with the dragonborn, that would work perfectly fine.)

Kinks
- Anal
- Teasing/intense build up/come on command
- Titfucking

Squicks
- Death
- Scat

Bonus if both characters secretly harbor a strong attraction for the other -- possibly even affection -- but are too busy hating each other to acknowledge it. Would love to see random acts of tenderness in between brutality.

(OP!) That sounds like a fine combination. I don't really have a preference so have at it A!A :D

(especially because I can sort of see Marcurio having a vague idea of what word walls might be about from legend. So when the DB asks if he can hear anything he makes up some grandiose explanation that "of course he can because he's a master wizard" and then the DB calls him out on it.)

But, i'm sure you have your own ideas so i'll just stop now. XD

So it kind of irks me that even though you can adopt kids with Hearthfire, Aventus isn't one of them. Especially because it's obvious to me that he's pretty freaking set on becoming an assassin. Except he's not going to get in just by sitting around in his house.

So, I want a character (doesn't necessarily have to be the Dragonborn). To recognize his enthusiasm so to speak and take Aventus under his/her wing as a protege. Ideally i'd really like if A!A wrote about the Listener taking Aventus to observe a kill. Or the Listener observing him take his first kill.

Bonus points if the Listener is also head of the Thieves Guild (and they are aware of his/her status as Listener).

Double bonus if he/she leaves Aventus with the thieves from time to time and he picks up some skills from them.

Triple Bonus points if the Listener is a werewolf or vampire and offers to turn Aventus when he gets older.

You may have my babies if the Listener is also a follower of Namira and celebrates a kill by eating his/her targets body and offers a piece to Aventus as a sign of a bond.

I may eventually do a self fill of this. But i'd really like to see other peoples interpretations of it as well.

honestly... who HASN't married Farkas?
hell I made a second character just to marry his twin, too.
<3 UNF.
but consider this to be on my list of things to do.
It must be filled (just like te DB) , must.

Would Lord Harkon from the Dawnguard DLC count towards this?

In which a maybe-a-little-bit-mischievous Dragonborn points out, through whatever circumstances, that Sven and Faendal should just fuck and get it over with.

And then it actually happens (or sorta happens, if you like).

A shiver skipped down her spine, of cold but perhaps also of fear. She heard his snort of disgust as he tugged her further into the warmth of the room, depositing her near a table set with cheese and mead and the flickering of candles.

A thick rug was now under her feet, instead of the cold, hard stone. She did not call it kindness, as this new position put her as far as possible from the door, with the table in between her and possible escape.

She curled her bare toes into the plush, warm fabric, and tried not to look at the massive four-poster bed that dominated the center of the back wall, across from her position. Instead she scouted under the veil of her lashes for anything that could be used as a weapon. To her chagrin, he had not left even a meager cheese knife on the table.

“Such a shame, that Skyrim chose you. You cannot even handle her mild weather.”

His taunt interrupted her search, and as if to mock her further, he shook himself out of his well-worn fur-trimmed coat. She watched as he gently folded the weathered garment, his movements slow and methodical, before setting it down on a carved chair in the corner. His fingers traced over the fur collar, a soft stroking. The gentleness in his touch was surprising, drawing her attention to the massive size of his calloused, scar-flecked hands.

She imagined he could come close to circling her own delicate neck with just one of them. She tried not to imagine how those large, warm, battle-roughened hands would feel skimming so lightly over quivering, sensitive flesh, and another kind of shiver knotted in her belly.

He bent over to remove his boots and set them on the floor next to the chair.

She knew he was angry, could see it in the tense set of his shoulders. But unlike her own tremulous control, he seemed to keep his temper under tight rein. This did nothing to calm her fractured nerves. She desperately needed to regain her focus. This kind of enemy was the most dangerous, the most difficult to read, to know when the strike would happen, or from where.

“You are not even of this land, but Skyrim chose you. I have thought to listen to her as my guiding voice, but this… you are her betrayer, Ysmir.”

He looked up at her then – at a seeming loss, his voice no longer mocking. Part of her wanted to argue that his version of Skyrim was not the only true vision. But another part of her couldn’t blame him for his dismay.

She would not have been her choice either.

She longed to tell him such a thing. To shout it to the rafters, to spit back his precious Skyrim in his arrogant face. But she could not answer, and for this she was relieved.

Because a small part of her was afraid, deep down, that she would beg.

Plead with him to simply let her go.

Was that not a choice he had offered her?

It was over. She had lost. She had failed her people, her family.

Her brothers.

Her home.

Oh, how she longed for it. But she knew going back would not be any sort of salve for her soul. Without her family, she was as much a lone wanderer there as she was here.

But at least it wasn’t here.

She cast a longing glance towards the door and a snort of sound escaped him.

“You are welcome to try.”

He stood there, legs braced in a wide stance of power, arms crossed over his massive chest. There was challenge in his eyes.

When she did not budge, the look of mockery again twisted the rugged planes of his face into a cruel mask. “Little dragon, are you so easily conquered? Perhaps the lessons of your people have taught you to bow too quickly.”

She clenched her jaw around the uncomfortable fabric, damp and abrasive between her teeth.

Patience is a powerful ally, child. Do not think her lazy, nor idle. Arrogance is an honest thing, but diminishes wisdom. Humility, however false, can gain you that which passion destroys.

The words of her father again provided comfort. Let him think he had won. Sacrifice her pride to his demands. Wait for his guard to slip.

She squared her shoulders, her only sign of rebellion. She was prepared for whatever punishment he had planned.

Or so she thought.

Nothing could have prepared her for just how diabolical the Stormcloak rebel truly was.

He took off his shirt.

It was casually done, only a soft shrug of dismissal to warn her, and then he pulled the fabric over his head without so much as a by your leave.

He managed to look even larger than when he had been covered by the bulk of his garments. His shoulders were impossibly wide, his chest broad, his belly tightly coiled with corded muscle. Scars of past battles were present almost everywhere she looked. Some old and white, some new, still raw and red, some partially hidden by the dusting of tawny hair that coiled on his chest and trailed in a narrow line down his belly. Her eyes, seemingly no longer under her own control, followed the line until it disappeared into the waistband of his pants, slung impossibly low on his surprisingly narrow hips.

When he made to remove those as well, she almost did bolt for the door. But she held her ground and stared resolutely at the floor as the pants and everything underneath joined the neatly folded pile.

His voice was a velvety caress. “You’ve now given me two marks, little dragon. If you had so wished to claim me as your own, you might have tried a simple asking. We Nords are not so barbaric in our courtship as the Empire is wont to paint us.”

She glanced up carefully to find him poking gingerly around a bloom of crimson on his inner thigh, where two welted crescents stood as stark reminders of her lost temper. The bruised skin was high on his thickly muscled leg, much closer to his groin than she had realized.

It looked like a lover’s mark.

She stiffened, feeling a flush of heat flare in her face and down her neck. Her eyes moved swiftly to his face, where she found a soft smile playing around his mouth, gentling the harsh planes of his rugged face, giving him a winsome sort of handsomeness that left her shaking her head for daring to think such a thing.

His deep voice warmed her again. “Perhaps I will return the favor.”

The image came swift and fierce to her mind before she could stop it. His wide, cruel mouth, teasing so close to her most intimate, most vulnerable place, his breath hot against her skin, the scrape of his teeth taunting her to a kind of begging that did not lead to bitter shame, but the sweet ache of release.

But only shame followed in the wake of such thoughts. Surely there was something wrong with her, and she cursed her betraying blood. It had always been too quickly heated by baser passions. She was like her twin in that fact, despite her repeated attempts to learn the icy control that had so governed her elder brother and father.

He was the enemy, she reminded herself. And her brothers were dead because of his war.

The enemy turned from her to the wardrobe, pulling out and putting on a richly woven robe, in crimson and gold, styled in the Imperial tradition. It sat too snugly on the breadth of his shoulders. After a moment of fishing around, he drew out a second robe.

She looked at it with longing, allowing herself a brief moment of hope, quickly dashed. He only pulled from the robe’s moorings the twice-stitched fabric that served as belt, and tossed the rest of the garment over his shoulder.

It fell in a disgraced heap to the floor, under the chair. The crumpled, rich fabric provided sharp contrast to the simple well-worn garments that he had folded neatly, and with such loving care.

It was as if an omen.

She knew which method of handling he would reserve for her.

She braced herself as he approached. He slipped the belt of fabric between his teeth and grinned wolfishly down at her in a mockery of her forced muteness.

She was not certain what to expect next, but it was not for him to wrap his massive arms around her, folding her almost gently into his chest. The feel of him consumed her, burned her like a brand, his scent filling her nose with each shallow breath. She felt a flare of panic, was about to struggle against him, until she realized he was working loose the knotted, abrasive rope that bound her hands behind her.

She waited, muscles tensely coiled. He took his sweet time, as careful and precise as he had been with his garments. She knew he was enjoying this. Her humiliation. The feel of her body. She longed to use the strength of her legs against his smug arrogance, but she knew it was not the time.

Not yet.

Meme Announcements!

Re: MiniFill: Lesson Learned

Re: MiniFill: Lesson Learned

In the Heat of the Moment

Re: Badass Dragonborn!

Needs more khajiit

Re: DB and companions reaction to Word Walls.

Re: F!DB/Farkas

Re: F!Dragonborn/Aela

Re: Never Our Tenderness (F!/DB Imperial/Ulfric Stormcloak) – 2b/?

Festus Krex/Mrs. Krex Tepid!

DB/Farengar -- Operation: Get The Mage Laid

Proposing + Dragons

Re: MiniFill: Lesson Learned

Re: Dominant Cicero/submissive M! Listener

Re: MiniFill: Lesson Learned

Re: DB and companions reaction to Word Walls.

Re: Badass Dragonborn!

F!Dragonborn/M!Antagonist - Complete Domination

Re: DB and companions reaction to Word Walls.

Head of Dark Brotherhood adopts Aventus?

Re: F!DB/Farkas

Re: Who wants a challenge?

Sven/Faendal + M!DB

Re: Never Our Tenderness (F!/DB Imperial/Ulfric Stormcloak) – 3a/?

Never Our Tenderness (F!/DB Imperial/Ulfric Stormcloak) – 3b/?