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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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I'm camping out here for the next update, flat out. Please continue, they're a stitch!

Omg this fill is so perfect! I love how your characterize the dragons, and eee the little dragon is so overconfident and cute.

The sun was at the peak of its climb into the sky by the time Fort Graymoor came into view in the distance. The day was sunny and dry, though the chill breeze did its best to steal the sun’s heat. The sounds of the city had long since faded into the distance, replaced by birdsong and the russling grass. The horse’s hoofbeats kept time with FI’s footsteps as she led it further away from its home.

Fi grinned. On days like this she could almost forget the dangers of the wilderness in Skyrim, and enjoy its beauty. It helped that Whiterun was one of the more temperate holds, a far cry from the Pale or Winterhold. She shuddered at the thought of the long, freezing weeks she had spent crossing Skyrim after the ship she had bought passage on had wrecked off the coast of the Pale.

Though she had been born and raised in Highrock, she never had had much a tolerance for cold. Her father had always said it was the Redguard blood in her, calling out for the warm sands of a home she had never seen. Aside from the cold, cities had always been where she found herself at home.

She sighed, reaching up to pat the horse’s main. Whiterun was far different from Riften, but… There was something about it that inspired trust; a sense of community. A fair jarl and a prosperous hold relatively untouched by the rigors of war- it made for a happier city, certainly. Riften, in all its unwashed glory, had been her home, but only in the Flagon had she ever felt safe. When she walked the streets of Whiterun, she didn’t find herself listening to every footfall, every little nise for possible attack.

It was… odd. But not bad.

Her thoughts were brought back to the present by the stone monstrosity looming ahead of her. Once, Fort Greymoor had been an Imperial outpost, but it had been abandoned in the Great War. Ever since then it had been habitually occupied by the manner of lowlives who congregated in the crevices of Skyrim- necromancers, vampires, and acolytes of daedra or other cults. Mostly they had been small groups that kept to themselves, Balgruuf explained. As long as they didn’t start preying off the roads of the hold and kept their arcane workings to themselves, they were ignored. But bandits were a different story.

Fi’s grip on the horse’s lead rope tightened as the approached. She cast her eyes downward, forcing her features to reflect weariness and boredom, while her other senses strained to catch any signs of the bandits.

She didn’t present the richest target, but it would be unlikely for a young Redguard girl to carry jewels or richer merchandise.

At the last the telltale clink of armor met her ears. She didn’t look up, and began to hum softly to herself as she walked.

The next thing she knew four men had leapt from the tall grass, circling her and her horse.

“What’s a little girl doing out all on her own?” the bandit in front of her said. He was a tall Nord man, with two axes at his belt and one good eye. His armor was a ragged patchwork of studded leather and steel.

“That looks like a fine horse you’ve got there,” the young Khajiit on her left said, taking a step closer to he, with his fingers on the hilt of his curved sword.

A glance to her right told her other two bandits were a pair of green-scaled Argonians. They hissed at her menacingly, brandishing swords.

“I- I don’t want any trouble, sirs,” she said, letting a quiver creep its way into her voice. “I- I’m not carrying anything worth stealing.” Her eyes went to her baskets, and the eyes of all the bandits followed hers.

The young Khajiit lowered his sword to step towards the horse, and Fi made her move. She drew the iron dagger at her belt and lunged at him, swinging the blade clumsily at his back. The strike merely scraped the leather of his armor, but the force of their collision knocked both of them to the ground, her on top of him. The dagger was knocked from her hand.

It only took a moment for the Khajiit bandit to flip her over and put his own blade to her neck. Fi went limp, giving up her frantic scramble for her dagger.

“Look at what we’ve got here!” a raspy voice hissed.

“What is it?” the Khajiit asked, not stupid enough to take his eyes off Fi for the second time.

“I think our young friend is a bit more than she pretends to be,” the Nord bandit crowed. Craning her neck, Fi could see the bandits had cut down the baskets of apples and tomatoes from the old plowhorse, letting the produce scatter on the roads. They were now pawing through the linen-wrapped bundles that had been hidden underneath.

The afternoon sun caught the gleam of gold as the Nord lifted a tangle of necklaces and bracelets to the light. One of the Argonians exclaimed as he unwrapped a silver circlet, and the next admired a handful of large soul gems.

The Nord laughed. “Teach us not to take a woman at face value, eh?” he motioned to the Khajiit, who stood and hauled Fi to her feet, keeping an arm around her neck. She struggled half-heartedly, all for show.

“I think we’ve caught ourselves a thief,” the smaller of the two Argonians rasped.

The Khajiit laughed and prodded her shoulder with his free paw. “Of course. Did you think a mere farmgirl could have gotten a jump on Dar’med?”

The Nord laughed. “A stray dog could get a jump on you,” he said, sheathing his sword and steeping closer to Fi. “It’s certainly no proof of skill.” He examined the jewelry he held and then peered at Fi. “This haul, however…” His expression tightened. “Are you Thieves’ Guild, girl?” he barked.

The Khajiit’s paws immediately loosened on her. The Thieves’ Guild was not what it had been in the height of its glory, according to Delvin, but it was something to inspire fear once again. Even these bandits knew of it.

“Wh-What?” Fi stuttered. “I- I mean… I…”

The Nord’s wariness fell away in an instant. “Good,” he said. Dar’med’s claws tightened on her shoulders again. “No one but the guild misses a thief…” he laughed, tucking the jewelry into a pouch at his belt.

Her instincts screamed he was on the verge of ordering her killed. “Wait!” she cried, reaching out a hand.

“What?” the Nord said.

“I… it’s true, I’m… I’m no… no Guild thief,” she said, letting her voice strengthen. “But I’m not useless! I stole that loot from right under the Jarl’s nose, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat! I’d slit his throat!”

The Nord smiled thinly. “That’s well and good for you, miss, but we’re no Thieves’ Guild. We take what we want by force, not trickery. We’ve no use for sneakthieves.”

Dar’med’s attention was on the exchange, and his grip on her had relaxed again. Fi smashed her elbow against his stomach, and then ducked out of his grip, snatching up her dagger from where it had fallen. In an instant the three bandits still on their feet had surrounded her, but they didn’t move to attack.

The Nord laughed. “A fine show, but you’re still outnumbered.” Behind him, Dar’med groaned. “Stand up,” the Nord snapped, and the Khajiit climbed reluctantly to his feet and took his place by the Nord.

The dagger dropped from Fi’s fingers, and she lifted her empty hands, palms-out. “I merely wanted to demonstrate my skills,” she said. “If you’re the bandits that nearly killed the Jarl’s brother- well, then, I bear you nothing but goodwill.” She smiled tremulously. “The aftermath of your exploits gave me all distraction I needed to rob Dragonsreach blind. You’re welcome to a substantial share of my loot.”

“A substantial share,” the taller Argonian jeered. “Coming from an unarmed, outnumbered little sack of flesh, that’s quite a generous offer.”

“Kill her,” rasped the second Argonian.

The Nord’s smile widened. “Sorry, girl, but you’d just be hassle.” He took a step closer to her, lifting his sword to her neck.
Two clever by half, she thought as the cool metal was pressed against her throat. Gods, they always said I was too clever by half. A stupid plan ruined by a lazy Nord.

“Wait,” a voice said, just as the bandit’s sword pressed against the left side of her throat.

A paw reached out to stay the Nord’s sword, and Fi and the bandit turned to see Dar’med easing himself between her and the blade. “Don’t be a fool, Bjalfi. Eyja will have our pelts if we kill this one”

Bjalfi’s lips twisted in disgust, and he shoved Dar’med away. “Have you gone soft all of a sudden? Eager take in strays?” he laughed. “Is this how cats court? Did you mistake her attacks for advances?” He lifted Fi’s skirt with the tip of his blade. “If your taste runs scrawny and Redguard, have at her. I’ll cut her throat first, so she won’t overpower you. She’ll be warm long enough for one good fuck.”

Dar’med’s face twisted in revulsion. “Dar’med can count past five, unlike you,” he snarled. “And Dar’med knows that our forces are nearly halved by those guards.” He gestured at Fi. “Dar’med also knows Eyja would slit your throat if she got word you’d killed a willing recruit.”

“We aren’t running a damn Guild,” one of the Argonians growled, but the other one, the smaller of the two, stepped forward to stand beside Dar’med.

“Dar’med’s right,” he said. “Our numbers are half what they were. Another set of hands means less work for us.”

Bjalfi stared at Fi for a moment, then shook his head and slid his sword back into its sheathe. “Very well,” he growled, turned and stalking back towards the fort. “Grab the horse, Stares-at-the-Sun.”
The smaller Argonian caught the old plowhorse’s leadrope.

Throughout the ordeal the beast had stood and watched placidly, and now he followed his new masters without a whicker. Fi was made to walk along behind, the point of Dar’med’s sword pressed up against her back.

This is so wrong, but I enjoy it so much. The lack or romanticist for the Thalmors is great. I mean, I love the Thalmors, but I know they're assholes, and watching them being written like that is awesome.
And by any chance, are you the same writer of that fic where the dragonborn spys Ancano and Mirabelle doing it at the college?

Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm glad you're enjoying it! (Sorry for long long delay before saying thanks, I'm still having Not Fun Times with the comment UI)

Not OP, but I enjoyed this very much. I'm practically cackling at how amazing on a troll Lorcalin is. He is just such a perfect cad, I can't even deal with it. And the smut, oh lord the smut was so, so good.

But that spoiler alert actually made me sad, no sweetrolls?! How could they be so cruel to poor, sweet Eloine? I hope she got plenty of other nice rewards at the welcome ceremony (which I do hope you are planning to write some time).

Ahh me too DX Don't think things through well enough...
Eee I'm super glad you're enjoying it! It's a lot of fun to write : D I always thought it was cute how protection of Balgruuf Irileth is, she's so intense compared to the other housecarls.
The Harbinger is a Harbinger of mine... he'll feature a bit more in this fic ;)

A story about the ordinary, unremarkable goings-on in a small Skyrim village - namely, Helgen, the day before Alduin destroyed it.

"That's the house there, at the top of the hill." Lendri's elation was short lived. "Oh no, Teldryn, what if they hate you?"

"A little late to start worrying about that, don't you think?"

"I don't know? It'll make things awkward though, since you don't deserve to be hated."

They had arrived at the village after another month on the ship and a couple of weeks of walking through the jungle. Their progress had been considerably slowed as they grew closer by Lendri making detours to see if places he remembered were still the same, and considerably colored by the absurd tales that went with each one. Lendri's tribe lived in a sprawling, overgrown stone ruin that had perhaps been a temple complex at some point. Naia and Sondis made their home on a ridge on the western side of the village. Now Lendri and Teldryn were nearing the house.

"What if they've decided I'm no longer worthy to be their son?"

"Don't be ridiculous. If they were going to do that the letter would've said 'P.S.: Don't come back.' Take my word for it."

Lendri and Teldryn rounded the corner of the house. Two elves were sitting on the stone stairs out front.

"Hey." Lendri smiled, hesitantly.

"Lendri?"

"You're back!"

Teldryn stood to one side while all the greetings and hugging went on, feeling slightly out of place even as he rather enjoyed watching their happiness. Naia had a round face, kind but slightly anxious. Her cheeks were etched with light green tattoos and her light brown hair had been bound in a loose braid. It was clear Lendri had taken after his father, who had an angular face and cunning eyes. His face was lined in the way of one who smiled often. Eventually they noticed the Dunmer. Sondis gave him a skeptical look, then grinned up at him mockingly (But that's Lendri's grin, Teldryn thought, foolish and a little unnerved) and said,

"So who's this pretty little thing?"

Lendri looked mortified.

"Pleased to meet you," Teldryn said, trying not to smile at Lendri's expression.

Naia smiled."Well, at least you're polite. Come on you two. I think there's something leftover from dinner if you're hungry."

They all sat out back at stone bench, covered with moss so that it seemed to have grown from the ground. Over some kind of cold roast meat (Teldryn hoped in the back of his mind that it wasn't some enemy of Lendri's family) they told of the trip and of life in Skyrim and Solstheim.

"So, Skyrim. You've written, sure, but it's not the same as hearing it told," Sondis prompted.

"Where do I begin? Well, it's got mountains, they go really high up and the view is beautiful, you can see the whole world, almost, or most of Skyrim anyway. And it's cold, but, you know that. The snow is amazing! It's like feathers made of ice. But--you don't know ice, do you? It's like glass that melts into water when it gets warm. And did I ever write to you about mammoths?"

"You did. Did you ever manage to get one?"

"I did find one, a calf wandering around. But they wouldn't let me take it into Whiterun, that's one of the Nord towns, built on a mountain. So I paid to have her put up in the stable. For a while she seemed happy but she escaped the stable one night while I was gone. There was just this big hole in the wall and they said she left because a mammoth herd was passing in the distance, calling out. She's probably better off."

"Probably. A animal that age belongs with it's mother," Naia decided.

"And after that whole Alduin business--"

"What was Alduin, anyway?" Sondis asked.

"Oh--just a very dangerous dragon that was rallying the others."

That's an understatement, Teldryn thought.

"Anyway, after that I spent a year in Winterhold, studying various aspects of telekinesis. I can move things with my mind now! I was no good at everything else."

"We got just two letters from you all that year," Naia said.

"Well--sorry. I guess mail didn't really make it out of Winterhold that easily."

"And one of them was three or four lines," Sondis recounted, amused. "'Mother, Father, I am still alive, and I will stay that way unless mid season exams kill me, they are not difficult but there are too many. Sorry this is brief but the courier is almost out the door and I am writing this on borrowed time, with borrowed paper. Love and I hope you are both well.' And then a long scrawl."

"Oh, the scrawl was because the courier got tired of waiting while I was signing my name and pulled the letter out from under my hand."

"I told you it was something like that," Sondis commented to his wife. "You were entertaining the notion that he was losing his mind."

"I only entertained it for a moment," Naia clarified, then changed the subject. "What about the Nords. What are they like?"

"Well, tall. Broad. Pale skin, pale hair, pale eyes. Kind of interesting to look at. Loud. They like to fight but they think kicking, scratching, biting, hairpulling and elbowing are dishonorable. They're really concerned with honor. A lot of things can make you dishonorable, like sneaking up on people, stealing..."

"How do they have any kind of fight, then?," Sondis wanted to know. "They what, howl at eachother?"

Lendri considered this. "Well, that and punch eachother. They're also really into boasting and drinking. But now I'm making them sound like oafs." Lendri laughed. "They're not, not all of them anyway. They have their traditions, music and songs, and they build massive temples for their dead, who wake up, because they get bored, mostly, of lying around."

"That's not true," Teldryn interjected. "It's necromancers and old magics. The dead don't get bored."

"How would you know? You've not got any experience at it, unless you're a zombie and you've not been entirely honest with me. I think I would've noticed by now though. The worms or the ever diminishing appendages, or the lack of personality or something. But, it would explain a lot of things though too," Lendri continued wickedly. "Like the stench, and the dullness of mind."

Teldryn knit his brows at the mental image.

"Now you're overthinking that, I can tell."

"No, I'm picturing what it would be like."

Lendri elbowed him, smirking, and Teldryn caught his expression and smiled in spite of himself. "Overthinking, like I said."

Naia cut in. "You two seem to get along well enough, after a fashion. But, I didn't expect him to be so much older."

There was an uncomfortable silence. "He's not that much older," Lendri said. "I'm not some naif being led around by my nose if that's what you're thinking."

"No, it's not. I'm wondering what your intentions are, Teldryn."

"Intentions? There was never an exact plot or a course of action. I'm not manipulating him or lying about my feelings."

Naia and Sondis looked somewhat skeptical.

"He didn't just up and seduce me. I hired him." Lendri added.

Lendri's mother put a hand over her mouth in shock. Sondis shook his head. "Really, a prostitute? You're not that ugly."

"I hired him as guide, not to--not for the use of his body!" Lendri put his head down on the table in embarrassment. Teldryn patted his shoulder.

Lendri's parents laughed.

(Thanks anons :] I do love writing Lendri and Teldryn. The only thing is I have to stop writing these long long stories about them. It takes time away from writing my own ideas. I'm not planning on disappearing, just maybe shortening the stories up a bit.)

(Stumbled across the Hall of the Vigilant for the first time the other day, in my newest playthrough, and was enchanted by the quiet aura of the place. Sad Keeper Carcette doesn't have a role in any questlines)

tags: char:F!DB race:redguard char:keeper_carcette kink:hurt/comfort

Fi hated the cold.

Her Redguard lineage had gifted her speed and skill with a blade, but left her always craving the warmth of a land she had never visited. Even the winters in the more temperate Highrock had nearly been the death of her, once there was no longer a warm home to return to in a blizzard.

She should never have left Highrock. Gods, she’d been a coward, running at the first hint of trouble. Damn the warrants for her arrest, and damn the false friends who had given away her name. Damn her own stupidity, for fleeing to the docks with some half-formed idea of buying passage to Hammerfell.

The old hulk she had booked passage on had wrecked right off the coast of Skyrim, the northernmost country in Tamriel and the last place she ever wanted to visit. Fi had managed to drag herself from the wreck and swim to shore, though her memories of exactly how were fuzzy. She had stumbled into a city called Dawnstar, and managed to scrounge up enough coin for a night in the inn and a little bit of food. A kindly priest of Mara at the inn had taken pity on her; he’d given her a map of Skyrim, and told her all he knew of its holds.

Fi had latched on to Riften, the capital of the hold called the Rift. Some half-remembered story of her mother’s had featured the city, and from what the priest told her it was exactly the sort of place she wanted to go; somewhere where a person like her could make a less than honest living.

That morning she set out had dawned clear and bright, the blizzard from the previous evening subsiding into sleek banks of snow. She had set out with a bit of bread, a hatchet she had borrowed from the inn yard, and her map. Though she couldn’t read, she’d memorized the pattern of Riften scrawled onto the map, and the coat of arms laid out next to her.

Not a mile down the road, the wolves had attacked.

She had left them behind her, their heads cleaved in messily with the hatchet she still clung to, but they had left deep wounds on her arms and torso. She’d done her best to bandage them with strips of her spare dress, but splotches of red had bloomed through the flimsy fabric in seconds.

The day had only worsened. By the time the snow started to fall, Fi’s wounds had begun to ache with a new intensity, burning and itching beneath their wrappings. That night she had huddled around the pathetic twigs she had managed to gather for a fire, and only just managed to light it. The fire that resulted produced more smoke then heat, but at least it was warmth. She had eaten the last of her bread.

The next morning, though the fire was naught but a cold memory, Fi still felt warm. A check beneath her makeshift bandages found the skin around her wounds inflamed and discolored, and a strange heat was burning through her. She forced herself to stand anyway, to smother the last smoky remains of the fire in snow and hobble onward.

Now the blizzard swirled around her, enveloping her in its merciless assault. She had left the road in some misguided hope of a quicker crossing to Riften, and could find no other guidance in the storm.

The cold had crept under her thin cotton dress and cloak, warring with the burning heat of her skin. The map held out before her blurred, its ink seeming to run down the pages to her hands as the snow danced across her vision. Her hands were trembling- from fever or cold, she was beyond telling- but she kept a tight grip on the hatchet and the map.

To her left, something growled. When she glanced over the shape speeding towards her seemed impossibly large, distorted by the snow and her wobbly vision no doubt. It lunged at her, teeth gleaming, and something seemed… wrong.

Its jaws snapped on air, right where her head would have been if she hadn’t started running. The snowstorm enfolded her senses, drowning out all other sound in a ceaseless roar, but a glance behind her told her the thing was still coming. She’d thought it a wolf, but it was impossibly tall.

Claws met her back, easily tearing through the flimsy fabric of her dress and meeting the flesh beneath. She was thrown forward, smashing into a snowbank. The shock of pain was enough to overwhelm the cold numbness that was beginning to seep through her, and she scrambled forward, feeling the hot breath of the creature behind her as it snapped and missed again.

The clawmarks down her back where lines of red-hot agony, driving her crawl through the snowbanks. Tears were streaming down her face. I don’t want to die I don’t want to be eaten oh divines please please I’d rather be hung back in Highrock I should have stayed in Highrock.

Her arms gave out beneath her and she collapsed forward. Her head was turned at the right angle to see the dark form in her vision growing bigger, walking like as a man or mer would, but far too big and canine to be any sort of Khajiit. Its eyes glowed were fixed on her, dull yellow glowing through the blizzard.

She was about to close her eyes to her fate when the snow behind the massive wolf seemed to coalesce, forming a figure clothed in robes as white as the blizzard. The figure lunged forward, slamming something spiked and metal against the wolf’s muzzle.

The next minutes were a blur of black and white as the figure and the wolf danced across the snow, blurring in Fi’s vision until she could hold onto consciousness no longer.

* * *

Warmth flooded Fi, flowing over her skin and smoothing over the jagged gashes torn into it. The warmth slipped through her cracked lips, smoothing its way down to her the center of her chest where it began to spread out ward and burn.

The pleasant numbness the cold had brought her was replaced with a searing, painful burning that pulsed from her chest out into her limbs. A scream tore its way through her as she convulsed, trying to escape from the fire, and her eyes snapped open.

A woman loomed above her, the figure from the blizzard. Its gleaming white robes and silver armor were marred by droplets of crimson. The face peering down at her was twisted into an expression of concentration, eyes burning with an intensity hat froze her screams in her throat.

The woman’s steel-gloved hands were pressed against Fi’s chest, holding her there as golden magic flowed from her fingers and over Fi’s body. Each twitch of the woman’s fingers sent a fresh wave of pain through her.

Fi thrashed under her hold, trying to escape those hands and the pain they inflicted. For a moment the woman’s magic was broken, but she quickly pressed one of her hands back down against Fi’s chest, while the other went to run a hand through Fi’s tangled hair.

“Stay calm,” the woman’s voice was cool, but held some measure of gentleness that calmed Fi a little. The woman pressed her hand against Fi’s forehead, soothing the burning there with her cool touch. “It will only hurt for a few more moments more.”

The agony stretched those moments on to seem like years, but at last the searing pain faded to an echo and subsided. In its place, a more gentle warmth spread through Fi, soothing her towards once more towards sleep.

The last thing she heard was the woman’s voice, reciting some prayer or invocation. The only word Fi caught was Stendarr.

Op here!

“Your kind lacks the intelligence to even match us Thalmor. Now unless you wish to keep interrupting my blowjob, go throw yourself off a cliff.”

BEST-REPLY-EVER
This OP is very satisfied! (how did you know that I just LOVE the Thalmor?)

Please, marry me A!A, this was absolutely delicious. I love how Lorcalin is brain-washing that poor little Eloine, how he lies to her and the fact that everyone is aware of that except her. It is so... Thalmor-ish xD

Thank you very much, lovely A!A! This OP hopes to see more kinky Thalmor work from you :3

it would be nice a chapter in which one of the two declared their love ... for now are only Cuddly sexy! Or a chapter where they talk about feelings .. maybe it turns out that Brynjolf had it out for her by Snow Veil Sanctum! However, anything written by you is fantastic!

Delvin soon returned, a tray laden with food and a carafe of something balanced on one arm and a basket in the other. Setting the tray on the bedside table, he turned his attention to Vex. “Now, my beautiful Nord beauty,” he began, only to be halted by Vex’s chuckle and soft shake of her blonde head.

“Delvin, I’m from Cyrodiil, not Skyrim. I’m an Imperial, not a Nord,” she corrected, sitting up in the bed, careful to keep the blankets tucked over her breasts. Not that he hadn’t seen them or explored them…very thoroughly, at that…but Vex was more comfortable with walls put up. Even if they were imaginary.

Delvin scratched at his chin as he contemplated her statement. “Imperial, huh?” At Vex’s nod, he shrugged. “I can work with that,” he grinned wryly, turning his attention back to the goodies he’d brought with him. “So, my beautiful Imperial flower,” he crooned, pouring a cup of Black-Briar mead into a goblet and handing it to the blonde woman. “Have a taste.”

Vex rolled her eyes but took a sip of the mead. It was a good vintage—Delvin must have paid Maven a fair bit of gold for it. And getting the Breton to part from his coin was nigh on impossible. “This is nice,” she admitted. “So, you feed me. You pleasure me. What do you get out of this, Del?” She set the cup on the bedside table and leaned back against the pillows stacked behind her, her pale gaze focused solely on the Breton thief. “Cause there’s no way you go to all this trouble without an end game.”

Delvin chuckled, taking a moment to sip from his own cup of mead. Vex was right, it was a damned fine vintage. Then again, if it had been shite, Maven would have been paying for it in ways the lady could never imagine. There were advantages to having as many contacts as Delvin did. “You always were smart,” he smiled. “End game is that for twenty-four hours, I get to lavish you with the attention and pampering you deserve. And at the end of twenty-four hours, you’re free to go.”

Vex frowned. “Really?” she asked incredulously. “Your plan is to spend the next twenty-four…”

Delvin shook his head. “Twenty-one hours now, love. But who’s counting.”

Vex sighed. “Twenty-one hours making me feel good and that’s it?”

Delvin took another sip of his mead and put his cup beside Vex’s. “Oh, Vex, I’m going to make you feel so good that you’ll never think to ask that question again.” He lifted the basket that had been on the floor to the bed and opened it. The scent of sweet rolls wafted out and Delvin watched Vex’s expression go to one of pure desire. The woman did love her sweet rolls. “Now, I have a treat for you. And since they’re still warm, I don’t want to wait too long for you to have them.”

Vex nodded, reaching for the basket only to have Delvin swat her hand away. “Del, give me a sweet roll,” she growled.

Delvin chuckled. “Lay back, Vex.”

Grumbling, Vex did as she was told, pale eyes watching the sweet roll. “Del,” she warned impatiently.

Delvin shook his head. “Patience,” he ordered, dipping his finger into the icing on the sweet roll. He tugged the blanket down, baring Vex to the waist. “I have some icing of my own to do,” he crooned, running his icing-coated finger over her pink nipples, the peaks tightening as Vex gasped. Swirling around and around, stroking the areole with the pads of his fingers, he watched Vex, her eyes dilating as he continued to ice her nipples. Finally, he had them just the way he wanted them. Leaning over, he blew on first one then the other. “Now, to make sure that the flavor is correct,” he murmured.

Vex arched underneath him as he took her nipple between his lips, his tongue stroking the icing-covered bud with long, through strokes. Periodically his teeth would gently tug on the nipple, earning a throaty moan from the Imperial and sending a shot of pure pleasure straight to Vex’s clit. Then that damnably dexterous tongue would suckle and soothe her flesh, all while increasing the pleasure. “Del,” she moaned.

Well Damn.
This story? Amazing, thank you!
You are my favorite person right now.
~Much love from OP

Delvin leaned back, satisfied he had gotten all the icing off the first breast. With a grin, he tore off a chunk of the sweet roll, pressing it to Vex’s lips. Obediently her mouth opened, her pink tongue darting out to stroke his icing-stained fingers. She stroked his pointer and thumb, licking any stray icing off the digits before she tugged the sweet from his grip. The look of pure pleasure that sat in Delvin’s eyes thrilled the blonde Imperial and she offered a smug smile as she chewed.

Delvin shook himself after a moment and offered a saucy grin. Oh, she was willing to play, he thought. Perfect. Dipping his fingers back into the icing, he turned his attention to her neglected breast. The peak quivered beneath his touch as he painted the nipple with the white cream icing, his fingers careful to stroke and tug the tender flesh. Finally satisfied that this breast had also been thoroughly decorated with the icing, he lowered his head again. Once again he stroked and suckled and curled around her tender nipple, the peak taut and aching with pleasure by the time he lifted his head again to meet Vex’s gaze. And again he found Vex panting, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes slightly glazed.

“Ya know, Vex, I don’t think I’ll ever think of sweet rolls the same way,” he admitted, tearing off another chunk of the sweet roll and offering it to Vex. He smiled at the throaty moan that escaped her lips as she took the morsel from his fingers, their fingers stroking each other in the handoff, before she popped the bite into her mouth.

Vex nodded slightly. “I see what you mean,” she admitted softly, swallowing the sweet. There was no way that she was ever going to be able to eat her favorite snack without remembering Delvin like this.

Delvin dipped his fingers back into the icing and met Vex’s gaze. “With your permission,” he began, trailing the pads of his fingers down her ribcage to her belly, circling around the divet of her belly button before dipping in. The trail of icing glittered like sugary snow and his tongue traced the path carefully, leaving Vex arching in his wake. On his fingers ventured, down over the swell of her mound to the quivering lips between her thighs. He stroked the flesh, the icing melting against the heat of her flesh and painting streaks of white against her already pale flesh.

Vex arched off the bed at the first lick between her thighs, her hands moving to Delvin’s head, holding him in place. One of his clever hands cupped her ass, kneading the cheek even as it kept her planted against his mouth, while the other began to trace icing over the sensitized nub of her clitoris. His mouth followed his fingers, lips and tongue massaging her labia before curling over her clitoris, suckling the tender bud as his fingers slid inside her. Over and over he pumped within her, curling his fingers inside her wet warmth so that he could brush against the ridged flesh within her with each stroke.

Vex’s hands fell away from Delvin’s head as he pushed her onward, a whimper falling from her lips at the rising tide of sensation that he was wringing from her. Sliding her hands to her breasts, she cupped her flesh, her thumbs strumming her nipples in time to Delvin’s thrusts and licks. All too soon she arched a final time, keening out a cry of pleasure as she came around his fingers, Delvin suckling her juices from her sweet channel as she continued to clench around him. Finally she lay quivering and spent, eyes fixed on the shorn Breton between her thighs.

Delvin sat up, wiping at his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, and fixed a devilish smirk on his lips. Picking up the sweet roll, he tore off a chunk and took a bite. “Now that, my sweet Vex, is how one should eat a sweet roll.”

*flushes* Thank you so much for the comment. And.. Y-Yes, I did write that...

Ok, so while I was exploring, I ran into a fort called Fellglow Keep with necromancers, ice mages, conjurers, bloody corpses, torture racks... and dead caged vampires, several ancient vampires among them. I truly wondered what happened to them. And so the kink begins here.

I'd love to see those mad mages torturing these poor starving and shivering vampires (let's snatch their fangs, carve a fire rune on their skin ect.) Why? Dunno, it's up to you anon to tell me the reason of such horror.

Obviously, the main kink is gore/horror here. I want those vampires to cry and beg for their unlives.

Kinks: sadism, torture, blood play, magic, fear, vampire, gore, horror

Bonus if non-con ; feeding scenes between an ancient vampire and his poor fellow.
Sweet Meridia, I'm going to Oblivion for this.

Your father Molag Bal will be proud of you for filling this, anons!

omgomgomg Fi no what are you getting into like fffffffffff
I'm stressing out for her because although I don't doubt she could take them all laughing, going into a den with Bandits like that. Ack, I hope she isn't hurt by all this!

Svana Fair-Shield/Ungrien and Valindor - Nord/Bosmers

Okay, so far we players know that Svana is possibly put off sex.
We know from Haelga's overly enthusiastic practices of the Dibellian arts - the poor girl must have overhead her aunt and lover(s) while she is cleaning -, and the lecherous customers who grope her and say horrendous things to her.

Ungrien and Valindor, the two Wood Elves who live in the Bunk House and respect Svana, can sense and pity the poor young Nord's misjudgement on sex.

The Bosmers plan to rectify this by telling Svana how her judgement and knowledge is lacking and not entirely true. Forget that Prince Charming of hers rotting away in luxury in the Riften Jail (yes, I'm referring to Sibbi Black-Briar).

They give her the offer of getting-to-know the actual enjoyment of sex; like how to explore and awaken her desires and, above all, how good it is with another person.

They do this one step at a time, until she is ready to submit herself to having intercourse - oh, how her aunt would be proud!

Bonuses
-Svana convinces her aunt to have her own privacy in the basement as she "is a woman with basic needs." or something along those lines.

-Include some accounts of her being harassed and molested by customers or lovers of Haelga's, e.g. Indaryn, Tythis Ulen.

-She asks for advice from the Dragonborn (any gender/any race) on the Bosmers' offer.

-Tythis discovers and confronts her about her "arrangement" with the Bosmers. This can lead to him giving her oral sex and/or finger her, showing her "how a Dunmer does it." Prefer this to be Dub-con.

Kinks:
body and genital piercings (doesn't need to be both Bosmers),
fingering,
oral,
steamy kissing,
(optional) threesome,
(optional) voyeurism (Tythis you damn perv),
virgin,
Sensual massaging,
Sex talk,

Squicks
: non-con, bathroom business, blood-play, death,

Have fun~

That is great! Especially because Ancano/Mirabelle is now my favourite crack ship.

I've got this huge crush for Altmer men. And I saw there was no Arondil down there... although he seems to be a really kinky necromancer as he spent time imagining secret encounters with girls from Dawnstar and having weird experience with female corpses. So this is what I want dear anons:

An Altmer female is doind whatever the Aedras know around Yngvild and is kidnapped by this fucked-up necromancer. Arondil is having sexy times with her, but then comes a M!Thalmor agent whose mission is to take this "lost child of Alinor" to the Embassy, so that his magic skills and discovers will be used by the Thalmor (with his fellow Naris the Wicked huhuhu). But the said agent hasn't planed to find a screaming for help Altmer maid...

So what does he do? Does he kill the necromancer, save the poor maid and take her to the Embassy on his white stallion and then court her like the noblemer he is? Does he watch the nasty necromancer raping her like the pervy mer he is? Or does he knock out his fellow mer and take him to the Embassy, leaving the poor girl naked on a sarcophagus like the Thalmor agent he is?

Kinks are: non-con, voyeurism, blood play, virgin, magic, Thalmor propaganda (this kink just has to exist, and anything else you anon want.

I'd really, really love the F!PC to be an Altmer, because as a loyal Thalmor agent in Skyrim, I guess he will help his sister-in-kin ~~to mate with her later~~ as any Thalmor agent would do with an Alinor child. But I guess I won't sacrifice you to Meridia if she is human/beast/other mer.

I don't care about who the Thalmor agent is. Estormo, Ancarion, Ondie... Any Thalmor agent you anon want.

Please anons. I need this in my life. And Arondil needs your love.

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