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

Squee! A long oneshot is totally okay nonnie! Anything you can give me :)

Yet another potential a!a here!

All right, so this anon has a (lengthy) oneshot very close to completion and gathering dust on her desktop (it has a lot of your requests already implemented woo!), but was just wondering if Miraak is an acceptable substitute? If not, I'm perfectly happy (and very willing) to begin anew with some Ancano lovin'!

Hmmm, just what were you thinking here? A "Meet the Parents" sort of thing or something else?

I may have to fill this.

Oh my god, OP, you read this anon's mind! I just so happen to be actively writing a ficlet dealing with something very very similar. It's riddled with angst, though, and has several scenes with a bit of body horror (not in the least gratuitous, mind you-- I'm quite squeamish myself). The "LI" (you can't see but I'm doing air quotes) is also Miraak. Is this okay OP? If not, I am perfectly happy and very willing to begin anew with your initial requests! Just let me know! :D

This prompt made me think of George in the Jungle :p

looking forward to reading!

Oh my god, that sounds wonderful! Two fics? AHH I'm so spoiled!!

I was actually in the Miraak tag last night, wondering why the hell there isn't more stuff with him! I'm curious to see his relationship with DB!

I'll just be over in a corner, flailing over the fact that I get two wonderful A!A's!

P.S. I love angst! Most of my own stories are angsty. <3

Yeah, uh, I'll be in my bunk, A!A.

That was great!

OP here. *Hugs A!A*

This is such fun! Thank you, it was just what I needed after a crappy week at work. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

OP, I know you asked for fluffiness. Believe me that I will deliver that times 10, but first we need to get the serious stuff out of the picture. ENJOY.

1

“No.” Cassie rolled her eyes at Brynjolf and crossed her arms under her bosom. The redhead was being a pain in the ass right now, and she felt like kicking him in the balls.

“I thought I was the boss around here.” Her snappy remark got a wide-eyed look from him, and she sang victory.

“You’re abusing your power as the Guild Master.” His smirk did nothing to her, he should know this by now. No matter how intimidating he thinks he looks, to her he was just another big, silly Nord with a big and silly heart.

“If I not recall correctly, you and Karliah said that I was the best out of everyone to keep the Guild up and coming. Therefore, I think taking care of these children would benefit us in the long run.”

“Now we’re also going to take care of them? You said to train them not a couple of minutes ago.” His green eyes looked her up and down and Cassie uncrossed her arms after a minute. She wanted him to trust her on this. Those children needed someone, anyone. She was willing to be that someone.

Understandment crossed his face and she blushed. Of course he knew this and it made her feel exposed. She has made it clear to everyone around her that her private life is nothing to discuss. For some reason, Brynjolf seemed trustworthy enough for her to let him in on a deep and scarred part of her past.

“Some of the members are still questioning whether you can lead the Guild or not, even thought they agreed to the decision. I don’t want you to make a bad decision and cost us coin that belongs to the others too.”

“I swear we won't touch the Guild’s resources. You can leave the expenses to me.” Her smile made him smile and shake his head. She was getting giddy thinking about taking care of the children. Even though she was still young, Cassie has always loved taking care of others. Making food, dressing wounds, tucking in bed, you name it.

Her mother hen trait is probably one of the reasons she’s thought of differently around here. As a thief, she doesn’t think she’s as great as Brynjolf says she is, and her age doesn’t help her situation with the other members. She was only twenty two. If it were not for her fast achievements over the past six months which included beheading Mercer, they would probably still laugh on her face.

No one likes to have a nosy, overprotective person around, at least not in the Thieves Guild.

“I’ll think about it.” Keeping the smile on his face, Brynjolf walked away towards the desk covered in papers and continued working on whatever he was doing. Cassie knew Brynjolf wasn’t going to deny her, but she wanted him to agree now, not later.

“Brynjolf, come on. You know you’re going to say yes. You think I’m going to think this over and change my mind, but we both know we really want this.”

Looking up, Brynjolf laughed out loud before shaking his head.

“And now you say we both want this. Cassie, these are children, not pets.” The asshole thought he could patronize her just because he was older and bigger.

“Damnit! What would it take for you to say yes?” She was starting to get impatient. There was a plan of training she needed to come up with, schedules for the kids and also find a place where they could live.

“Look, I have an idea. Since you seem so adamant in taking care of these children to train them for our benefit, why don’t you just take care of the orphanage. That would make it much easier on you, no one would suspect a thing and I’ll even agree to help you.”

“Wait, so you’re saying yes? I can take care and train these children?” Her smile couldn’t possibly be any bigger. The surprise on her face was evident as much as the feelings that were about to erupt from within her.

“How can I possibly say no.” The statement brought tears to her eyes. She knew this was a big deal to her, and she knew there were feelings involved. To feel the tears run down her cheeks was a shock as she gave five big steps and threw herself to Brynjolf for a hug.

“We need to tell this to everyone here.” He said to her ear as both hugged, not letting go of each other.

“Oh, we all know you two have the hots for each other.”

Cassie pushed back as fast as she could before turning around to see Delvin smirking at both of them.

“Delvin.” The redhead said menacing, raising a hand to stop him from continuing on that conversation. Cassie knew there were always a lot of rumors in the guild, and she definitely didn’t want one made up about her now.

“Jeez, I was just kidding. You two were cozying up to each other, what else would you want me to think.”

“How about nothing, this is none of your business after all.” Brynjolf smiled and turned back to the desk, moving some papers aside and pulling a quilt out.

“Um, I’ll think of a good way to tell them.” She winked at Brynjolf and as she walked towards the stairs that lead to the secret entrance, she heard Devlin asking the redhead what she meant. Hopefully, he won't make up rumors about what he heard in the cistern, but for now she had other important things in her head. She needed to go claim an orphanage.

~

TAGS: brynjolf, imperial, fluff, thieves guild, orphanage, children

I'm so excited.

She's so cute and idealistic! It would be hilarious if the children were right little brats at first :')

I like how aware Cassie is of her age. Good set-up.

exciiiitteeedd :')

and how can no one have watched Oliver Twist! Youtube Pick A Pocket or Two! So cute!

...

excited. :')

Possibly a triple!fill! on the cards OP!

This is my little mini-fill for you. Remembered it when I saw the first fill. This A!A loves Oliver Twist, book AND musical.

Oh! And First!A!A looking forward to your fill :3 I meant to comment that I enjoyed it, but I'll just say it here.

Title: Mother Cat

Tags: race:khajit, char:Brynjolf, crack, fluff, humour, mini-fill. Er, Brynjolf/Khajit!Thief if you squint...?

**

“To Ahket, kittens!” Ahket's raspy sandpaper voice filled the little Orphanage and caught everyone's attention. It was not that she was particularly charismatic, though the devious little Khajit would claim otherwise. Brynjolf would warrant that none of the hollow-eyed orphans had ever seen a cat of Elsewyr before and their pinched faces were full of curiosity and suspicion; wondering who on Nirn this mischievous little furball was.

Ahket's teeth gleamed in the light of the lamps and her black tail swished behind her, kicking up little puffs of dust. The orphans had been mostly left to themselves for the past two months since a bit of nasty business where one of their Guild's 'cousins' had paid Grelod the Kind a visit. Seemed the assassin had a bit of trouble reigning in his bloodlust, for the old hag's assistant, Constance, had been found dead too.

The priest, Maramal, had been petitioning at the keep for control of the orphanage, but Ahket held sway with Maven Black-Briar and had put in her own peculiar request for the orphanage. Mercer had ordered Brynjolf to supervise. So here he was, watching Ahket just as curiously the orphans were.

“Who are you?” One of the boys asked, with a little frown.

“Your new mother,” Ahket simpered back, with a twitch of her long white whiskers. Maternal was not a word that Brynjolf would use to describe the thieving little cat, and it seemed the children thought that too for five sets of eyebrows all rose in unison.

“Your teacher,” she continued. “Your friend, and your leader.”

“Anyone's better than ol' Grelod,” someone muttered. Ahket bared her fangs in another predatory grin.

“And today my little kittens, Ahket begins with your first lesson. So straighten your backs!”

Brynjolf was surprised to see how quickly the children listened, as Ahket arranged them like tiny little soldiers at the foot of their beds. The cat began to pace up and down between their rows. The fur that peeked out from her Guild uniform gleamed black like oil.

“In this life,” she purred. “Cold, unfeeling, selfish life...” those gold eyes flickered to Brynjolf for just a moment, until Ahket turned her back. “One thing counts.”

She trailed off and cast an expectant look at the children, as if waiting for an answer. Brynjolf wanted to pipe up and tell the damned Khajit that it might help to learn their names, if she was trying to gain their trust.

“Love,” one of them mumbled, eventually.

“No,” Ahket grinned.

“Family,” said another.

“A close second,” she replied, and again her amber eyes flickered to Brynjolf for the barest of moments, and made his heart squeeze. Strange. Such a subtle comment warmed him. Not that he would ever admit it, especially not to the face of the silly woman.

“Food,” a little girl offered. Ahket shook her head, and Brynjolf caught the sudden and brief glimpse of sorrow in her expression. Gods, the orphans were a pathetic lot. The answer was obviously--

“In the bank,” Ahket prompted. “Large amounts.”

--oneself.

No, yeah. Or money.

He watched dumbly as the little pinched faces of the orphans suddenly lit up with realisation. The septim dropped, and tiny, greedy smirks manifested themselves on every child's face. Brynjolf couldn't help the widening of his eyes as his own thoughts clanked into place with all the force of a weighty purse.

“Do as I say and you'll be--”

An army of little orphans. Innocent faces and wandering hands.

“Rich beyond compare! Who needs parents, when you have gold! Emeralds!”

“Diamonds?”

“Yes, kitten! All the diamonds you can lay your grubby little hands on!”

It was so genius. He felt teary-eyed with pride as Ahket stalked along the floorboards like a general before his men and listed the splendors a thief could lay their hands upon. This was the reason he'd approached her all those months ago.

Evil. Genius.

“My one condition is complete loyalty,” the cat continued. Eager, greedy children. Her speech continued, as Brynjolf continued to picture the little children's uses. Distracting guards and bleeding heart charity-types, crawling into tight-spaces, too young for the headsman's axes... A thief ran the orphanage. Master-thieves to teach them....

“Why should we break our backs ? Chopping wood? Sweeping floors? Say it with me kittens!”

Two rows of ragged children stood with their hands clasped against their hearts. Ahket's voice was rough and rumbly with theirs.

“We've got to pick a pocket or two!”

Title: In the Company of Wolves

Tags: char:OC race:Nord char:F!DB race:Breton, kink:size, kink:rough, kink:dominance?

Summary: The Dragonborn is rescued by a stranger in the woods, and is surprised to find he knows nothing of the world beyond the trees.

Hope OP likes my take on the prompt. IDK. I messed with canon a bit, and the setting is sort-of around Meeko’s shack where all the pine trees are. Only imagine the forest bigger, and thicker, and wilder ;p Skyrim is so much bigger in my imagination~

**

Only the stupid travelled through Hjaalmarch’s forest at night.

The clever built a camp with a huge roaring fire, or stuck to the main road that eventually took one to Solitude. Even then it was said that people went missing on the road, lured away by spriggans was an old wives' tale. Food for the forest. At night the dewy wood was tinselled with bewildering moonlight, and the little-trodden paths were dark and choked with thorns that hid sharp rocks and roots, waiting to tear at unsuspecting ankles. The air is full of ripping, rending howls tonight; wolfsong.

Suddenly a dark shape appears and stumbles through the trees. This far deep in the heart of the woods the air is thick with the smell of pine, dead leaves and damp fur. Sour, animal smells. The traveler is lucky to have avoided the spriggans, who guard the forest's boundaries, not it's depths. The wolfsong begins again. Not so lucky, perhaps.

Here no matter the time of day, it is always dusk beneath the boughs. The dark shape resolves itself into a short, narrow-hipped woman, her chest rising and falling with every rapid breath. Long thin gashes bleed freely from her cheeks, scratched by thorns and branches that make her think of taloned fingers. The deeper one stumbles into the wood, the harder it becomes to stick to the trail for all the thorny bushes and brambles that spring up like new shoots.

In one hand the woman grips a short steel sword, and in the other a little ball of flame flickers dimly. She has her sword, her flame, and her voice. But she is wary of using the second, surrounded by so much wood. The fire might cook the predators that stalked her, but there was the chance she would cook with them. She is wary of using her voice. Her throat feels tight and the pungent forest air simply reminds her that she is in the Wolf's element. Her voice, if she tried to use it, would probably manifest itself as the merest whisper.

It is moments like these, that Gabrielle wishes that she’d bothered to learn a decent healing spell, or how to conjure light. A Clairvoyance spell would have helped, sketchy as the practice was. There isn't time to stop and rummage through her bag for the right healing potion, or even grab a quick little pick-me-up bottle for the extra stamina. Wolves at her back. Their haunting little song, call and response.

Mind the wolves, had been a passing hunter’s advice. Mind the bloody wolves.

The hunter was making the journey south from Solitude to Markarth. He told her about the heart of the forest. Trees that grew bigger than giants like tall, brooding sentinels. He said that packs of wolves liked to pick on lone travellers. The same as wolves outside of them, he expected.

But fiercer.

A bit braver, and made desperate in winter by the slim pickings.

Not a place for a woman, the hunter’s companion had sneered. Dark and dangerous, and mind she didn't get scared! Gabrielle had tartly replied that dark and dangerous was just how she liked things and could not find it in her to be scared.

She’d climbed the seven thousand steps and watched the sun set over the Throat of the World; stalked the salty coast from Solitude to Winterhold, and dived deep into the pits of countless tombs and Dwemer ruins.

Big words from a little woman, the hunter commented not unkindly. Then, he added, Good luck. Mind the wolves.

Mind the wolves. Mind the bloody wolves!

He should have warned her to mind the thorns, the roots and rocks that hide beneath the undergrowth. You might say the roots and wolves were in cohorts, for many a traveller has met their end at a wolf's mouth after tripping on one.

Gabrielle trips now.

Her boots skid as she finds herself tumbling down a steep slope. Her pack slips from her shoulders. Oh, now the wolves are so close that she hears pants and snarls! She feels hot breath on her hand and reels away.

Her head collides with a tree-root. A blossom of pain in her skull.

Can't die, she thinks. Dragonborn.

Blackness.

***

Bloody word-count. Sorry to leave it so dramatically. Just a prologue really. Quite obviously of course, Gabrielle is going to be fine. I'll post the next bit soon, but OP you must understand: Game of Thrones tonight!

A!non here: These comments are amazingly good for my mood. (Horrible day today, argh!) Love you! <3

There will be more when I finish this next bit. It seems to like being told in a reverse-chronological fashion.

See, now I feel guilty on behalf of all the Dragonborns I have ever written or played, all of whom are guilty of exactly this sort of thing. XD

In short, I laughed my arse off. Poor Sven.

This. Is. Fabulous.

Being in love and alone proves too much for Vilkas, inspiring him to send a letter to the Bosmer that won his heart. And when they meet, it could decide the fates of their very lives and days to come.
sequel to 'Purity'

Specs:
relationship: slash. Characters: Vilkas, M!DB. Kinks: wordplay, hurt and comfort, masturbation, fluff, romance, angst, anal, oral, marking. race: bosmer

~~~~

First Morndas of Sun's Dawn- Morthal
First Loredas of Sun's Dawn- Falkreath
Second Fredas of Sun's Dawn- Riften
Third Morndas of Sun's Dawn- Solitude

It went on and on like that. He couldn't remember the day he realized that the adventures seemed to coalesce and he never felt like he came home. Not that he had a home, but in that feeling his poems where full of sadness. That feeling one only knows once they realize home is but a distant memory. People here needed him now, he couldn't rest. If the Dragonborn wasn't there, innocent people would die. It wore the poet down thin to where he felt no need to carry his flute because no music played. Sometimes he'd listen to the silence and tears would come to his eyes.

This wasn't the life he wanted.

He was an elf all alone, bags slung over his back as he trudged through the tundra by Eastmarch. His horse had been killed. Bandits had a way of sneaking up on him when he least expected it... he felt too tired to weep over her corpse or just the pure frustration of it all. Maybe this Skyrim cold was freezing him over, but loss was routine and killing men to survive took a heavy toll on his heart.

But there was a few things that kept him smiling. Those trips to Whiterun felt painfully long and the days to mere hours he had to spend there where blessed. The ones that took him in first at Jorrvaskr never failed to cheer his heart- even the bratty Dunmer Athis and Njada had grown on him. But it really wasn't about them, he couldn't lie. The reason why was truly because of Vilkas. The once-wolf was bitter and aloof, even now to most, but Gods, the Bosmer saw clear through that. When they reunited over drinks he was an open book, fully submissive to his violent self and clean when he's in the artist's company. He smiles, laughs, and is so damn beautiful in that Nordic way that he keeps a very big piece of the mer with him even after they bid goodnight.

What they had was sublimely chaste. It wasn't about the sex when it came to Vilkas simply because there was none. And that simple fact made the Bosmer obsessed with him on those nights they could talk. Just simply share time with another soul, teach it and learn from it. He wanted Vilkas more than anything in the world and he was certain that the Nord felt the same way.

But those nights where behind him. Weeks behind now becoming months, he forgot the smell of his musk and the feel of his lips when they kissed goodnight.

It was getting dark as he approached Windhelm, that prison of a city. He wasn't welcome there even if Ulfric Stormcloak praised him so highly. That didn't matter because he still looked like an elf and it scared Nords, but he tried to look forward to something anyway as the guards came into sight.

But there was something else, the rush of feet from behind him- He swung around, stumbling back not from wind but from the sight of a naked young man sprinting towards him.

“Wait, your the Harbinger of the Companions! I have a message I need to deliver to you. An “Anonymous” paid quite a bit of gold to get this into your hands..oh! And there's this..”

Along with the note was a small capped bottle, and through the handblown glass was something so minute he couldn't see. The Bosmer's heart felt an immediate dread fearing it was another mysterious death threat, a calling card to some madman cult, or another of the Dark Brotherhood types.. his heart grew weary but ignoring burdens came with a far heavier price than the joy of ignorance.

“You must have traveled through that storm, I don't know how you Nords do it..” The Bosmer tried to ignore the fact the courier boy was as close to nude as humanly possible. Save for the hat.

“Oh yes, and I can't divulge the sender of this letter. Sorry! Looks like that's it..Got to go.” The young boy watched the strange mer tear at the envelope and unveil a simple white scroll. He saw the boy turn to take off- “Wait! Just a moment..here” the elf dug through his copious pockets, snow catching on his eyelashes. The elf emptied two handfuls of gold coin into his purse “Go buy yourself a nice, warm coat, my friend.”

At least it made him smile to make someone else smile today, despite the bitter weather, despite it being dark at all times under a snowy sky.

The light was dim at the frosty Windhelm gates, but it would suffice. The Elf leaned back and turned his eyes to the bottle, carefully cracking it open. “Y'ffre..” He cursed, seeing what he least expected. A tiny black feather, nothing more. It shimmered like oil against the light, as dark as coal. It reminded him of...

He turns to the page.

“It was from your words and nothing but the sweetest form of misery that this letter comes to you.
Words of confession are wracking against my mind as these days go on,
and through ink and not tears I shed in your name has brought me relief
That you may soon read this and know my intentions.

No words or prose this warrior could write would truly compare to what you've done to my heart, daydreaming one. One with eyes like night, one with ears delicate yet sharp as a knife's edge.
Your presence on me is so clear now, unclouded by curse or damnable dream.
Without you, something inside me grows cold."

Vilkas. Memory rushes back into his chilled mind, talk of muses and hopeful flirts. Suddenly the ice and the blasting wind seemed ignorable. Breath is sucked quick from his chest, words carved by quill looked beautiful and careful- something written by a broken man. His heart felt like it was on fire at the realization that Vilkas had finally called out to him. He needed to know more.

“The distance fate sets between us these days has made me grow anxious, unable to clear my mind of you.
What wonders have you discovered? What suffering has come to you that I could not ease?
I pray for the day you return and you stay, or I follow at your side that I might know peace

It seems the late hours are growing longer, where once this man knew only wicked, empty slumber
Now has become endless hours of yearning, an undefined aching without you beside me
My soul wonders how lovely you're growing day by day, though I know it seems impossible to think of you imperfect long before we first met eyes.

But my pining for you has not been purely chaste, I must admit...

Pleasure engulfs my senses at the mere thought of touching you once more, succumbing to...”

Oh. Something hot blossomed up in the mer's throat, and maybe somewhere else, as he skimmed the next line over. If he was going to read this, it had better be somewhere nice and warm..and after a glass of wine. By the gods he wasn't going to let the vicious storms of Skyrim ruin this for him- a loveletter from Vilkas? That needed all the attention he could give it. Quickly, he shoved the note into a breast pocket and took for the towering stone jail that was Windhelm.

How he wanted to keep reading, to know what has been lurking in the tortured Nords heart for all this time apart, knowing that it wasn't the mer alone who bore the burden of heartache. The city was miserably bitter as he made his way into Candlehearth Hall, spilling coin on the table to just get himself a jug and a warm seat by the fire. A Lute was being strum arrhythmically in the distance by a feeble elf maid, there was clanking of pewter on wood and these where the sounds of a busy pub- Damn, alone all the time yet solitude is all he was seeking now.

The elf gulped furiously at his drink, fingers unwrapping the note and reading it from the start. This time, he'd go the whole way.

“Pleasure engulfs my senses at the mere thought of touching you once more, succumbing to your love again and again until the night comes when you lay beneath me and I may come into you. I yearn to make you quake and shiver like pines in the wind the way you have done to me. Only the gods know how much I yearn for that day.”

The elf must have looked a fool right now, his legs crossing and his body wriggling about in his seat as he grew more and more flustered. Heat pooled somewhere about his chest and legs, teeth and tongue worrying his own lip as he read on, thoughts roiling to life of Vilkas keeping to his word, of their bodies together again. He imagined Vilkas wanting to take him, and gods that's what he really wanted right now. To be bound together tight and fucking like their lives depended on it. He caught unwanted stares as he drank and read on.

“But only if you would have me. For what is this hapless knight to the mer born in The god's blood?
Who could have any soul he wished, unbroken by loss or untainted by curse?
But this soul is yours and yours alone, have it any way you will.
I can only hope I find myself by your side
So long as there is a fire of love in my heart,
there is a flame that fuels my blade to honor and preserve you.

Please answer this warriors wanting plea, and let me know at last if I should find myself at your side, in love, or suffer to follow your shadow until the day my heart can let go.”

The Bosmer reached for the nearest scrap of paper he could and tore into it, an inked quill scratching along feverishly. He already knew his response and he'll be damned if it doesn't get back to Vilkas as soon as possible.

It's shockingly simple, and absolutely mysterious “Eldergleam Sanctuary, Middas.”. It was a stretch to think that Vilkas could make it there on time, but he knew the Nord would try his damned hardest to get there. No, He would be there. If it was one thing the once-wolf was, it was dedicated. And words like these, gods, they don't come from a man who doesn't have true passion coursing through him like hot fire.

A bedraggled teen putted about at the bar, looking for work in the dead of this winter, giving solemn eyes to the non-gray elf that approached him. “Here, boy, I've got this letter that needs to get to The Companions in Whiterun as soon as possible. I'll pay you 100 up front and another three waits for you if the letter makes it there.”

The boy was out the door before he could properly thank him- and the Bosmer heaved a huge sigh, silently praying that it reaches Vilkas in time. That was one headache off his mind knowing that he may see him soon enough.

But there where other aches he could no longer ignore, especially tonight, right now, feeling the unyielding heat in his core demanding all of his attention. His mind wandered back to the note in his pocket, and he threw coin down on the table for another flask of wine, and the farthest room from the bar. He couldn't get there fast enough, poetry and erotic words could send him cumming in his pants and it needed to happen now.

The fire was already burning and his hands where already fighting at the catches of his armor, and the knots of leather strips. He sighs in relief feeling the bare skin of his thighs against the cool air, goosebumps on his tan flesh warmed over by the fire as he sat before it, legs spread. Uncorking the wine, he let it join the heat already pooled in his stomach which quivered with want at his own touch. He goes over the words again, eyes hooded and a free hand massaging his thigh.. he could imagine the Nord's handsome voice making love to those words while he wrote them, wishing for his company and wondering what Vilkas must be feeling for him. He couldn't shake the thought of fucking Vilkas the second he meets him, of all the wonderful things he'd love to do to him, or to have done in return.. When he started stroking himself he forgot but he was hard as a rock in his free hand, bouncing his exquisitely sensitive length in his grip before the fire.

He thought of Vilkas' mouth, his fine white teeth scraping against the head of his cock, he mimicked with a rough grip, pumping himself up and down until he was holding his breath and arching in his wooden chair. The love letter drops from his hand and the elf groans hard, holding out his thigh and squeezing his sack while he twisted and turned searching for his release. Thick brown dreadlocks fell from about his shoulders and hung freely as his head threw back, mouth agape.

He thought of Vilkas laying under him, taking the young Nord until the familiar sound of his pained cries became those of want. The artist is open-mouthed and stifled silent, his thighs open wide to accept his oncoming release and ankles hooked around the legs of the chair.

It wasn't until the elf remembered just how Vilkas wailed as he came did he come too, sweat beading at his temples and his hand stilling as ropes of semen jetted out and into the fire with a sizzle, and leaking down his knuckles. He gasped a breath, his black eyes watching his stomach as it quivered and flexed until he was sated.

Now he felt sweetly tired, eyes near to closing as he watched his cum web between his fingers. The blood flushed away from his throbbing ears, sounds returning to him and suddenly it seemed just empty and silent. His Nordic voice seemed an echo now, now there was just exhaustion.

The rest of his clothes went and he curled up in his rented bed, and it was a steady equality of paranoia of a slit throat in his sleep and comfort in Vilkas' words that kept the mer awake despite his fatigue. He was tired of being alone and afraid of whether or not tomorrow would be his last day, even if sometimes he wished he would just die to end all these trials of his soul. If it meant finding comfort in a man who knows no comforts, he's willing to give him and Vilkas an honest try. Anything would be better than what life is showing him now, and letting a lover into his world might be the only thing left to try.

Mara, he hopes that letter gets to him. Hopes he can see him again.

(End of the first part, hope it was well written. Part two will have much porn. The title's based off a very, very romantic song that was inspiration for madness)

OHHH MYYYY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!

You... you A!A, are perfection. and this story? PERFECTION. OMFG you captured the feeling of this prompt so exceptionally that I actually had to pause after every other paragraph and squeal in excitement.

You have such beautiful writing and even with how early on this story is, I can already feel the atmosphere, and I love it. Gorgeous, everything about this is gorgeous!

(and omg Game of Thrones calls for the pardon of all pardons, I have to catch up on it myself!)

Sorry nonny, guess this A!A's not winning any bonus rounds with you this fill :/ Slash makes great reading, but this nonny don't write it. Maybe another memer will be more than happy to indulge~

“By the gods! It worked!”

Anyone who had happened to walk by Drevis Neloren's room at that moment would have been more than a little confused. A glance inside would reveal that despite the thrilled voice coming from the desk, there was nobody inside. Luckily, that was exactly what Drevis wanted.

He had been perfecting his invisibility spell for weeks now, trying to make himself increasingly transparent to the point of complete disappearance. The air had still rippled around him when he moved, and even the apprentices were pointing out that they could still see him. But now, his hands were nowhere to be found, and a look in the nearby mirror revealed that even when he jumped a little, his reflection did next to nothing. Excellent.

Drevis stepped out of his room, wondering exactly what to do with this new state. He had never particularly been one for pranks, certainly not where the advancement of magic was involved, but he could at least give himself leave for a brief, invisible walk, couldn't he?

It was a short walk to the Hall of Attainment. The mage wasn't entirely sure what had brought him there, other than convenience, but inside he found a relaxing silence. He paced around the main room for a few moments, looking proudly down at his lack of feet as he walked. Finally, he would have something to brag about to Mirabelle!

Before he could gloat to himself any more, the doors to the Hall opened with their characteristic creak and slammed shut just as loudly. Drevis jumped, his eyes wide, and watched curiously as two hooded figures hurried in. Apprentices, from the looks of it. The Nord who had gotten in trouble with Enthir, he remembered, and the Imperial who was fond of Alteration. A shame, really; he could have been a decent protege if he liked Illusion spells half as much. But what were they up to?

Closer inspection revealed that the Imperial was leading his companion by the hand, and that both faces were flushed with excitement under the hoods. As they disappeared into a nearby bedroom, Drevis nodded to himself, no doubt in his mind what they were up to. Still...it wouldn't hurt just to make sure, would it?

Surprisingly bold all of a sudden, the Dunmer pushed himself forward until he reached the arch. As he had expected, the Nord was on his back, his hood pushed back to his shoulders, while the Imperial was seated on his partner's hips and trying to get his robes over his head. Ah, as he thought...Drevis suddenly became acutely aware of how close he was to the bed and the energetic lovers on it, and blinked with surprise. Had curiosity and confidence in his own magic really urged him on?

Before he could answer his own question, the robes finally came off, and anything underneath was quick to follow. Drevis' eyes widened, and he stepped back until he fell into a chair. The Imperial had buried his face in his lover's neck, earning soft, breathless moans with each kiss and bite.

“G-gods, Cailean, yes...!”

Right, Cailean. That was his name, Drevis reminded himself numbly. Truth be told, it was hard to think of anything else with the uncomfortable tension in his own crotch. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel, watching two apprentices in the midst of pleasure—dirty, maybe, or shamed.

Probably not aroused.

He bit back a groan, both of embarrassment and need, when Cailean shoved his hips forward roughly and entered his lover. The Nord cried out, his entire body tense and shaking, and gripped the sheets as the pace began, slow but obviously desperate for speed. Shame or not, the Dunmer couldn't tear his eyes away, and he wouldn't dare move if it meant the possibility of being noticed. Maybe it was his tenting robes thinking for him, but there was only one option left.

His eyes never left the lovers as he slipped his hand under his loincloth.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 63 of 270

Meme Announcements!

OP here!

Re: F!Dragonborn/M!Antagonist - Complete Domination

Re: Family Drama!

Re: Dragonborn losing their humanity through power

Re: F!DB/Random man, nurturing back to health

Re: Dragonborn losing their humanity through power

Re: F!DB/Brynjolf: "Barefoot" 3/3

Re: Awkward Hugs 1/?

Mistfit Chapter 1/?

Mistfit Chapter 1b/? + TAGS

OP LOVES YOU

Mini-Fill: Mother Cat 1a

Mini-Fill: Mother Cat 1b

In the Company of Wolves F!DB/M!Nord [1a/?]

In the Company of Wolves F!DB/M!Nord [1b/?]

Re: Awkward Hugs 1/?

Re: The miniest of minifills

Re: Mini-Fill: Mother Cat 1b

Two Step (M!DB/Vilkas)

Two Step 2

Two Step 3

Two Step 4

OP is going to explode

Re: OP!Anon has a happy

M!DB/Onmund + Drevis Neloren: "Under Cover" 1/2