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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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From: (Anonymous)

The Dunmer had seemed hesitant, but left the inn with him regardless. From what he could see of her face, she seemed uncomfortable and possibly disoriented. Brynjolf slowly began to regret recruiting her. Nonetheless he picked up the 'Falmerblood Elixer', his accented bellow drawing the crowd in Riften's market place to him. She stood at a side entrance, close to the Orphanage and did not move toward Madesi's stall so quickly. She paused and waited causing Brynjolf's apprehension to steadily increase. He continued with his spiel though, as calm and charming as ever.

Then the Dunmer disappeared from his view entirely.

He quietly eyed the guard who was now waiting for the end of his little ‘spiel’. This had all been previously arranged; he would slip the ring into Brand-Shei’s pocket and signal the guard to arrest him…the Dunmer was simply a scapegoat in case things went wrong, it wouldn’t get back to him, the corrupt guard, the guild….or Maven. It would get back to Brynjolf if the ring was never in Brand-Shei’s pocket... He bit his lip, too late to stop now.

Something catches his eye, a warped, invisible shape moving between Grelka’s and Madesi’s stalls. Brand-Shei shifts in his seat on a crate, the shape looming near him. Even though Brynjolf has a…limited knowledge of the abilities and constrictions of magic…he begins to realize that the mage did not abandon him, but his paranoid mind is still reeling. He finishes, the crowd disperses, and things begin to roll. Madesi realizes that someone has broken into his stall and goes to a guard, the guard goes to Brand-Shei…

There is a pull at his sleeve. Brynjolf turns to see the hooded Mer, a small smirk playing on her lips as Brand-Shei is pulled away toward the keep.

“Seems like I picked the right person for the job…” He muses, pulling out of her grasp. “How did you do that, lass?”

“A good mage never reveals her secrets.” She leans against his stall, only half her pale face visible to him.

“I can respect that…” He reaches into his pocket, fishing out a purse, fat with coins, and hands it to her. “Your payment, just as I promised.” She lets out a small hmph and takes the purse from him. He gestured for her to follow him, she doesn’t seem to see it and stands there as he takes a few steps away. A few seconds pass and the mer begins to look for him, suddenly surprised, Brynjolf clears his throat awkwardly…

Once she realized her mistake, the mer followed Brynjolf down into the shaded lower tier of the city. His footsteps echoed against the wood, but hers were silent. He liked that.

The Nord leans against a stone wall. “The way things have been going around here, it’s a relief that our plan went off without a hitch?”

“Our plan?” She chuckles, face still hidden, much to Brynjolf’s displeasure.

“Give yourself some credit, lass, it wouldn’t have gone so smoothly without you.”

“You’re a charmer, aren’t you? You probably say that to every woman you recruit.”

“Guilty.” He watches her turn away, her lips twisted into an amused smile. The thief points to the coin purse in her gray hand. “There’s more where that came from,” Brynjolf shrugs casually. “If you’re up to it.”

She frowns. “You just met me.”

“You show potential, your skills – once groomed – would be an asset to my people.”

She lifts her head up, glowing-orange eyes burning into his. “I wouldn’t be a problem…?”

Brynjolf opens his mouth and then swiftly closes it. The pair stare at each other for what feels like years. The Nord clears his throat. “That’s…that’s…”

“Vampirism is a deal-breaker isn’t it?”

He pauses, looking at her intently. “As long as you don’t make a meal of anyone in the Guild…or our marks, I’m ready to give you another test.”

The Vampire nods, pushing back her hood completely. She had rough features – wide jaw, a bump in her nose, a half-shaven head with symmetrically cut black hair…she was certainly no House Telvanni bride-to-be. She had a primal beauty to her, though it may be hard to see that until you get over the fear those orange eyes burned into your soul.

Brynjolf crosses his arms over his chest. “The group I represent has its home in the Ratway a little ways from here,” He points behind him. “A little tavern called the Ragged Flagon…get there and we’ll talk.”

From: (Anonymous)

Couldn't fit them in, hopefully it's all right if I just post them like this?

tags: char: f!pc, char: Brynjolf, race: Dunmer, relationship: het, kink: vampire

More to be added as the story goes on, if that's okay? ;a; [worst A!A ever]