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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Take this however you like, I'd be interested in reading anything involving this concept.
- Maybe our DB is one of the original four founders?
- Maybe the DB invents Quiditch
- Maybe the DB meets the four founders

In any case, please let your inspiration go with this one :DD

I can't tell you how many times my followers have ruined my sneak attacks and triggered booby traps on me. Seconded!

As a roasting Irishwoman I third this with the power of a thousand flaming suns

Gah! I meant cute, not cut obviously!

Thirded with the possibility of a fill!

However as I am a creepy writer in a basement somewhere, I have no idea what the stag nights or the shovel talk is, if anon would kindly explain~

A stag night is a night of drinking and debauchery meant to be the groom's last hurrah before he enters domestic slavery ;) I'm told by my fiance (who just threw one but can't actually remember any of it) that they normally end with the groom getting tied to a lamppost... naked.

I'm assuming the Shovel talk is just a 'hurt him and I'll kill you and bury you in the garden in little-teeny-tiny pieces' talk given by the best man/family/friends but feel free to correct me OP!

The lack of Daedric Princes makes me sad. Anyway, in Sanguine's Quest F!DB ends up traveling to his part of Oblivion all for his staff. That doesn't sit right for her. She wants more than the Rose for what she considers her worst wasted moment in her life. Que F!DB's proposal of compensation:

Sexual Favors for the rest of her eternal Dragonborn life. Whenever she WANTS. Even if its in the middle of a battle...in Blackreach...where the lighting sets the mood.

Just finished an assassination mission and F!DB feels the urge...call on Sanguine!

F!DB is in an inn and drinks a couple, wants to cuddle? CALL SANGUINE!

Eventually dominantF!DB gets the tables turned on her after calling him one too many times and Sanguine decides to make her his.

Maybe stealing her off to Misty Grove and showing his Daedra how to properly dominate a female...because no matter how fun Sanguine can be he is still a Daedric Prince and Princes must be respected!

Kinks: biting...mostly in the neck area (Sanguine must have pretty sharp teeth to leave that mark there >.>)

playing with Sanguine's horns (maybe they're erogenous spots or something)

a little bloodplay

Squicks: no bathroom stuff

Preference: Nord F!DB (Nord women are strong) or Breton F!DB (so short...short people are cute)

Have fun :)

Well OP, I'm an atrociously slow writer, but here's the first little bit. What I'm finding the most difficult is getting the narrative voice to sound appropriately young/inexperienced, so I hope it's to your liking. I definitely intend to have smuttings eventually, but yeah, I'm super slow, so I'm happy for other anons to fill as well~
------

Title would go here if I had a title yet
Preliminary tags: char:Mercer_Frey, race:Breton, char:F!DB, race:Imperial, kink:age, kink:dom

It had been just over two weeks since I joined the Riften Thieves Guild.

Growing up at the orphanage, I always wanted to join the Guild as soon as I was old enough to leave. I would sneak out at night just to watch the thieves gliding through the shadows, unbeknownst to the guards that pursued them… I’d pretend I was one of them, moving deftly through the streets only to disappear into the darkness moments before being spotted. Of course, some of them got caught, but I knew that wouldn’t happen to me.

Constance was a kind, caring headmistress, but she always dismissed it when I told her I wanted to be a thief. She would say that a just, courteous life was a happy one, and that the gods smiled on prayer and piety, not larceny and debauchery. I never understood why I couldn’t have both.

I headed straight into the Ratway on my coming of age day. After several scuffles and scapes, as well as the remnants of a bear trap stinging through my foot, I stumbled into the Ragged Flagon. Most of the faces paid me no mind as I slumped onto a chair, and reflecting in their worn, apathetic expressions and fading Guild leathers, I saw them.

My new family.

The members were very accommodating in helping me settle in. Not just Brynjolf, with his warm hands and easy smile, but I think everyone else was impressed with how I managed to make it to the Flagon alive. The Cistern became my new home and apart from the one member out of the province on a job, I quickly took to my family, especially the Guild trainers, who were like parents or older siblings to me. So when Vex returned from Goldenglow unsuccessful, I felt that I owed it to my family to try and finish the job. I wasn’t anywhere near as good as Vex, but it’d be different for me. I would be successful.

--

Smoke from three torched beehives teetered upwards in the horizon as I strode back inside Riften’s gates. My tread was soft against the lush grass and crisp foliage underfoot, still kissed with light moisture from the previous evening’s rain. I was looking forward to receiving the praise which Brynjolf no doubt had prepared as I entered the mausoleum to descend into the Cistern.

While Brynjolf debriefed me, I noticed someone at the far end of the room who hadn’t been there previously. Standing at the desk at the mouth of the safe room, which up until now had been unoccupied, was a man, bent over in concentration as he surveyed his paperwork. He was too far away to note much of his appearance, other than his definite brow pulled into deep scowl.

“Has he been here before?” I whispered to Brynjolf, gesturing discreetly at the figure.

“Oh! I’d forgotten you hadn’t actually met yet.” Brynjolf walked towards the desk, urging me to follow with his hand.

As the man came into view, I noticed the deep-set lines drawing parallel across his forehead which ceased at the arch of his brow, only to appear again as furrows at the corners of his weary, slightly sunken eyes. The dim lighting of the room aggravated the dark circles underneath his gaze, which shifted almost disdainfully towards us on our approach.

“Mercer, this is the new member who joined while you were away,” my mentor gestured towards me, full of enthusiasm and warmth.

The man stood unaffected, his cold gaze lingering on me from underneath his brows before straightening upright. He was physically shorter than Brynjolf, yet his presence exuded more power and authority than any other’s. Goosebumps rose at the back of my neck while under his scrutiny, as if the air itself stood to attention in his presence. My throat felt dry and constricted as I gathered the breath to speak.

“Lass, meet Mercer Frey, our Guildmaster.”

Guildmaster.

The shovel talk is a semi traditional talk where the father of the bride will warm the suitor about what will happen if they break the girls heart ands involves varrying levels of subtle and unsubtle threats. It's not always the father somtimes it's a brother/sister figure or a close friend delivering the warning. It's called the shovel talk because of the saying "I have a shovel and 30acres of land, I doubt anyone would miss you".

No that's basicaly it.

The stag night doesn't always end in being tied to a lampost but I'm assured that drunken nakedness is traditional.

Six months.

Guildmaster Frey arrives at the Cistern every morning at around seven. He takes coffee, which is brewed strongly over the fire for ten minutes, without any milk or sugar. He completes clerical work across ledgers and other administrative material until noon, at which point Brynjolf arrives to remind him of lunch. Lunch is whatever stew is bubbling for the Guild. His afternoon varies: weekly progress meetings with Brynjolf, Vex, and Delvin; fortnightly meetings with Maven Black-Briar; protection fee negotiations with shopkeepers and merchants as required. He visits the Inn for remedial massage three to four times a week in the early evening, followed by dinner, either at the Cistern or the Inn on a massage day. Nap in the Cistern before personal heists over the early hours of the morning. Returns home to Riftweald to sleep until half-six. Indulges in bacon and eggs on toast and pancakes every second weekend.

He prefers meat, especially venison, bacon, and chicken breasts. Takes Black-Briar mead with most of his meals, and before bed. Vegetables mainly only when served as part of his meal, though always picks out sizeable pieces of onion and relegates them to the side of his plate. Table manner relaxes significantly when at home, as opposed to in the Cistern. He is quick to wipe food remnants from the corner of his mouth when eating with others, but less so when eating alone. Dislikes spoons larger than the comfortable circumference of his mouth. Does not eat overly intense sweets such as sweetrolls and taffy. Tolerates puddings and fruit pies, but only on occasion. Drinks his liquids in long, drawn sips as his eyes scan intently around his surroundings. He rests for ten to fifteen minutes after large meals, allowing the slight bump in his stomach to recede. Prone to skipping meals when deeply entrenched in work.

Largely ambidextrous, though has a very slight preference for his right hand. Short, cramped, utilitarian handwriting, primarily in capital letters and no joining loops. His palms are rough with sword calluses, the base of both middle fingers slightly lighter in colour due to the band attaching his leather wrist guards. The Guildmaster armour is especially made to fit his form, fitting snug over his lean, muscled limbs. He wears finer clothes when meeting with Maven, as well as on his trips for a massage. His grey eyes take on a reflective tinge when appraising loot. A faint scar from eyebrow to lip runs along the right side of his face. Not a single hair is out of place as he wakes from his evening nap. His lips are prone to dryness, and he licks them frequently while hard at work. Grinds his jaw tensely closed when deep in thought. Always holds his right side slightly further in front than his left when standing idle, hands fisted and ready. His gait seems heavy, but his footsteps never make a sound. All of his movements hold a smooth, graceful quality, as if dancing through air.

He never does paperwork while it sits in anyone else’s field of vision. Incredibly protective of the primary Guild ledger which sits on his desk. Always uses back routes behind the residential gardens to get home, one hand resting at his hip, ready to draw his sword at any moment. Guards don’t notice him. He never enters his home from the front. Not sure how he gets in. He is amenable when it comes to Maven Black-Briar, his masseuses, and the other Guild heads. His eyes narrow with acute disdain for everyone else. He is most at ease when at home, and immediately after his massage. His jaw slackens and his eyes appear darker as he relaxes. It’s the only time the steady rise and fall of his chest is visible as he breathes.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

Passer anon has been excited about this fill since it was prompted. Don't leave us hanging A!A! =D

Given the high levels of racism in various parts of Skyrim (Ahem, Windhelm residents, I'm talking to you.. Hircine's balls on a stick, some people are jerks) I was wondering if playing a Khajiit would make people less willing to help/talk to me and so on in quests. In fact I was a little disappointed that it didn't affect the gameplay much, because hey, it would be kind of nice for a game to show some people what it's like to have others treat you badly based solely on your race.

(Although this one time, I did a quest for a random perfectly nice-seeming Nord woman. I finish the quest, she thanks me, then I bump into her like a day later and she says contemptuously "What do you want, cat?" Asshole.)

Anyways, I have been thinking about racism in Tamriel and I want fic about it. I have a thing for Khajiit, but if you wanted to write about Dunmer or Argonians that would be interesting too. Any kind of situation really. Here are some I thought of, maybe I'll write one myself... hmm...

Thane!DB wanders around with their housecarl. Merchants and so on address the housecarl and not the DB.

Guards won't let the Khajiit!Player into a city, treating them the same as the traveling Khajiiti traders.

Khajiit!DB joins the Stormcloaks, the other fighters don't trust them because they are assumed to be a thief. Insert the classic "I am cured of being a racist jerk because you saved my life" storyline if you want XD

Does the DB keep getting arrested for frivolous offenses where others would just get a fine of 1 gold?

Is Khajiit!DB sick of everyone thinking you're a stealth character/thief when you're actually an enchanter, healer, alchemist, blacksmith, heavy-armor melee fighter, whatever?

Do people yell race-based insults at you? Skooma-eater.. swamp-scum.. grayskin..

How does the DB react? Totally up to you.

Although it would be fun to see a racist dumbass learning this life skill the hard way: Never challenge a Khajiit to a fistfight.

I love Khajiit, and I love this prompt. Seconded!

This is really, really good, and so believable. Awesome fill.

It was established in the game, Morrowind, that Neloth was fond of kidnapping young women and ransoming them back to their families. When Neloth catches wind of the (female) Dragonborn arriving on Solstheim he's largely disinterested, but when she becomes entranced by touching the Earth Stone after their first meeting, he takes the opportunity to indulge in his hobby once again, assuming someone somewhere will surely pay a ransom for someone deemed so important by the unwashed masses.

Surprise! Though the Dragonborn may be the heroic slayer of the World-eater, she also has an ego and lack of manners outmatched only by Neloth himself, and there isn't a living soul in all of Tamriel willing to pay a single septim for her release. When he realizes he's stuck with her, he also realizes that he's grown fond of her. What's a snarky, pompous, Telvanni wizard-lord to do?

Preferred races: dunmer, wood elf, or breton

Approved kinks: dubcon, spanking, bondage, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, tickle torture, double penetration

Squicks: blood, animals, urine, feces, excessive bodily fluids of any kind really

I am so so grateful for your fill, and I am more than willing to wait for however long it takes for you to update :)
However, this is a great start, and just what I had in mind! Thank you so much for making me happy.

Lovely prompt, and I second it hard, but doesn't that belong in the DLC thread?

Shoot, you're right. I will go post it in the proper thread. Can a mod please delete this afterward? Thank you.

I'll do this! Give me a week or so though. I'm thinking a male Bosmer dragonborn and either Ralof or Vorstag.

If sleeping near your lover gives you the Lover's Comfort effect, how awesome would it be to hear and feel your lover purring contentedly while you fall asleep in their arms? This game is turning me into a furry, I swear. Khajiit fluff please? ^.^

I'm likin' this so far!

Awesomesauce! :D :D :D

*sets up camp*

I approve of literally everything in this prompt.

Bestiality prompt.

Female Dragonborn or just some random woman (Nord, Breton or Imperial) lets Barbas fuck her. Because he's not a normal dog, it's possible for him to get her pregnant. He doesn't let her know this until he's firmly knotted and stuck inside her, pumping her full of magical dog sperm. Wether she gets very unhappy or very turned on by the knowledge that he could be getting her pregnant is up to you. Wether she actually does get pregnant or not is also up to you.

Squicks: death, bathroom stuff

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