#farkas x vilkas x reader

[argisthebulwark]

Do I Have Your Attention?

summary: calling your partner by their real name instead of a pet name. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used feat: Vilkas, Farkas, Brynjolf, Miraak, Erandur, Cicero, Teldryn warnings: joke abt murder in Miraak's lol. masterlist

Vilkas knows you're trying to get under his skin and hates how effective it is. Despite all his grumbling he's grown to enjoy the sweet little names only you're allowed to call him. There's nothing wrong with his name, of course - but it doesn't summon that fuzzy feeling all your terms of endearment do. "Vilkas?" You call again, clearly trying to get his attention. He grits his teeth and pointedly ignores you. Tidying his desk has suddenly become very interesting. "Sweetheart?" "Hm?" He finally grunts, feigning nonchalance despite the color in his cheeks. "Oh, now you can hear me." He ignores how smug you sound, continuing to shuffle through paperwork. "How interesting."

Farkas doesn't like that. "What? No baby? No honey? Did I do something wrong?" He drops the rag, half polished armor entirely forgotten as he turns toward you. "No, I'm not upset with you." You clarify, quelling his nerves. "Why so formal?" Farkas adores the sweet things you say to him - calling him your honey, your dearest, any reminder that he is yours. "Sorry, my love." You crack a smile when he reaches for you, grabbing your hand. "Didn't mean to worry you." "I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me." He sighs, doing a terrible job at hiding how much he enjoys all of your attention.

Brynjolf knows you're trying to bother him. He's seen that mischievous look in your eye before and weighs his options - what will be more fun? He could play into your little game and pretend to be upset by the lack of affection, or he could turn it around. The way he says your name is aloof, almost cold. He watches your eye twitch and your grin falter. It's terribly hard to stifle a laugh when you clear your throat and struggle to continue the conversation. Oh, he knows he's gotten under your skin. Brynjolf listens to your request for proper recruit assignments and agrees, biding his time before taking it one step further. When your annoyance begins to wane he begins calling you by your last name, thrilled at the color your face turns. "Bryn, what are you doing?" "Not so funny now, is it? Guild Master?"

Miraak swears that he will kill you both if you don't knock it off. He threatens to burn your entire village to the ground if you don't cease whatever prank you've decided to play on him. In front of others, he will stomach your cold detachment - calling him by his name or title in front of those damned Greybeards. He knows a thing or two about manners, after all. But in the privacy of your bedroom, he is your love. He is the one who relishes in all those silly terms of endearment only you are permitted to use. He stews over your laughter, refusing to give in even when your lips press to his skin. "You are not funny." He grumbles, though he does lean closer for more of your touch. "Perhaps this is what was prophesized - you will be the death of me after all."

Erandur worries that he's done something wrong. He thinks over your day, struggling to pinpoint what social blunder he could have made. He knows that he isn't completely up to date on modern social courtesies but you do not physically appear upset. "I'm sorry, my beloved." He offers, praying that you will educate him. "For what?" "For whatever I've done to upset you. Please tell me so that it can be made right." When you explain that it's a prank, a joke intended to gauge his reaction, Erandur smiles sheepishly and tucks away that information for later. He kisses your forehead, grateful that you are not upset with him.

Cicero is not a fan of that. His brows furrow, trying to figure you out. You only use his name when you call him your silly Cicero, your pretty Cicero... never just his name. His head tilts when he notes the pink in your cheeks and the attentive way you're watching him. "Listener." He ventures, eyes narrowing. "Are you pranking your Keeper?" "I am." "Oh!" Cicero's hands clap when he revels in your laugh. "Silly Listener, you are quite funny." "Not as funny as you, my love." He grins at the kiss you press to his cheek, absolutely giddy at your approval.

Teldryn is a bit taken aback - you've called him Tel for years. And now you're dropping his full name out of the blue? You've never been one for overly sweet terms of endearment but he likes the shortened version of his name you use. He removes his helmet and peers over, trying to figure you out. "What did I do to deserve this treatment?" "What treatment?" "The full government name." He's relieved when a laugh bursts out of you, pausing your trek to slap a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Tel. You're too funny." He wants to chastise you, but the little pet name and the way you draw near to him is fairly distracting. "It was just a little prank." "A prank?" He snorts, indulging in a short kiss to your forehead. "You have too much time on your hands."

[gloomwitchwrites]

Snowberries & Wolf Teeth

Vilkas x Farkas x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, kissing, F/M/M, brief mentions of Vilkas & Farkas’ beast forms, oral sex (female & male receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), multiple creampie, breeding, multiple positions, possessive behavior, alcohol, brief aftercare

Word Count: 3.4k

At the New Life Festival during Evening Star, the Wolf Twins make their claim on you.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

Whiterun is bathed in luminous light.

Masser and Secunda are large in the night sky. Along with the two moons is an aurora of blue and green which only adds to the lights of the festival. Makeshift lamps line the streets of Whiterun. From them hang wreaths made of pine and snowberries. It’s true winter now. There is an intense chill in the air, and many within Whiterun predict that the first snowfall of the year will arrive any day.

Tonight, the citizens of Whiterun celebrate the New Light Festival. Typically, one of the major cities across Skyrim host the festival, especially where the Empire has a firm hold. Solitude is the most popular place to hold it, and while you’ve only been to the city a few times in your life, you’ve never gone during the New Light Festival.

This year, Whiterun is celebrating on its own, and the Companions are graciously allowing the festivities to be held in their mead hall, Jorrvaskr. You’ve been inside before, mostly to make an excuse to talk to Farkas or Vilkas. They both shower you with affection, and neither seems upset that the other chases after you. Sometimes, they actively pursue you together.

Will you eventually have to choose? Or are they willing to share? Is that even an acceptable outcome for either of them?

You move with the growing crowd toward Jorrvaskr. The large double doors are wide open, and from within the mead hall comes music and the rich scent of roasting meat. Many people linger around the Gildergreen or on the steps outside Jorrvaskr. Everyone is dressed in festive attire and groups of children chase each other, weaving through the crowd, giggling as they go.

As you enter Jorrvaskr, you’re immediately hit with a wall of warmth. Below, the firepit is blazing. Over it is roasting venison, chicken, and duck. Several members of the Companions stand around it, keeping an eye on the roasting meat. The doors to the courtyard are also open and the crowd spills out toward the Skyforge.

You walk along the interior wall of the mead hall, heading for the large barrels that contain mead. When you take your first sip, your body immediately warms from the bite of the alcohol. After grabbing a drink, you head for the sweets, selecting a tart to snack on while you wait for some of the meat to come off the fire.

The tart is coated with dusting sugar and syrup. It sticks to your fingers, and you’re constantly sucking on them to try and consume every sugary morsal.

From the back doors that lead out into the courtyard, you notice couples dancing. You smile, watching them move together in unison, chewing slowly on the tart as you watch them.

“Are you wanting to dance?”

You jump at the voice in your ear. Turning sharply, you laugh aloud as you realize who it is.

“You startled me, Vilkas.”

“My apologies,” he replies, retreating slightly.

While he wears his signature wolf armor, it’s all clean and polished to an immaculate shine. Over his right shoulder hangs a cloak of black. His black hair is slicked back and styled nicely. Vilkas is dressed for the occasion. He’s always been handsome to you, but this only highlights how attractive he is.

“Would you still like a dance?” he asks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Could I have several?” you tease, delicately licking some of the sugary power off your thumb.

“As many as you wish,” he agrees, reaching out to snag your wrist. Vilkas brings your hand to his mouth, and he licks up a stray drop of syrup.

You finish the tart and mead quickly, handing off the empty mug to be cleaned. Then you slide your hand in Vilkas’, the two of you heading for the dancers. While a warrior, Vilkas does not step on your feet or mess up. He knows all the traditional dances of Skyrim, leading you through them so naturally it’s startling.

By the end of the third dance, you’re clutching your chest, a little winded but happy. His face is slightly flushed but he’s grinning widely, and you desperately wish to kiss him.

“A drink?” asks Vilkas, offering his hand.

“Please.” You slide your hand into his, and Vilkas escorts you to the doors of the mead hall.

With drinks in hand, you and Vilkas head for a quiet corner away from everyone else. You lean against the wall and Vilkas stands with his back to the room, creating a private cocoon. It’s intimate, and the closeness brings heat to your cheeks that quickly radiates outward to your limbs.

“I’ve been looking for the two of you.”

Farkas appears from behind Vilkas. He stands to Vilkas’ left, adding an extension to the cocoon. He is dressed nearly identical to Vilkas, except his hair which is loose and wild around his head. Farkas grins and you instantly melt.

Maybe it’s the mead, but you have a distinct feeling that cannot be the case. They always make every part of you tingle, usually in the most secret places, and this stepping around what you really want is starting to eat away at you. You want them, and you might as well go for it.

“It’s a little loud in here,” you reply. “Is there somewhere else we could go?” You purposefully lean into Vilkas while placing your hand on Farkas’ chest.

They both perk up. At first, they’re slightly confused, but they both realize exactly what you mean rather quickly. Vilkas’ grin is knowing and sultry, but Farkas blushes hard as he suddenly understands what you’re implying.

“This way,” nods Vilkas in the direction of the nearest set of stairs. They lead downward toward Jorrvaskr’s living quarters.

Glancing over his shoulder, Vilkas observes the room before placing his hand on your upper arm to steer you toward the stairs. Farkas follows too, creating a buffer so no one notices that you’re pressed in between them.

As Vilkas approaches the door, he places a hand against the wood, pushing it open enough for you to slip inside first. Farkas follows behind, and then Vilkas steps in behind his brother. When the door is in place, it completely shuts out the noise from the party.

It’s incredibly quiet down here. So much so that it takes a moment for you to realize that the three of you are not entirely alone. From the doorway in front of you leading into a sleeping area, you distinctly hear low moans of pleasure and the slap of skin against skin.

You step back and bump into Vilkas. His hand is on your waist, sliding over your lower back to eagerly grip your hip.

“Is that what you’re wanting? With us?” he whispers against your ear.

Yes. You’ve wanted it for weeks now.

“Is that okay?” you respond, wanting to make sure that they both agree to this.

Vilkas glances at his brother and Farkas nods in agreement. “We accept this.”

“Oh,” is all you say, as the couple just across the hall grow louder in volume.

Are you surprised by this? Not really, and yet you are. Did you fear rejection or even disinterest? Yes, but even that seems false. What reason have either of them given to make you suspect that they didn’t want you?

Vilkas’ hand on your waist is an anchor. His fingers dig into your hip as he pushes forward, guiding you away and down the hall. Farkas stands close enough that his arm brushes against yours, but he does not put his hands on you. It isn’t until the three of you turn down a short hall and enter a small bedroom that Farkas reaches out to touch.

Their hands are everywhere the moment the door to the little bedroom is shut. Vilkas is grabbing at your hips and waist, pulling you toward him while Farkas lightly tugs on your hair, arching your neck, exposing your throat for his mouth to place kisses on. Farkas begins at the hollow of your throat and works upward until he finds your lips.

The kiss is deep. Blistering. A demand.

When he breaks away, you’re breathless, wanting more of him. But Vilkas fills that void, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling you in to discover your taste. While Vilkas learns your mouth, Farkas’s hands roam over your back and sides, eventually settling on the curve of your ass. He squeezes through the fabric, and then gives it a light slap that causes your hips to jerk forward and into Vilkas.

Vilkas breaks away and laughs softly, one hand reaching up to unclasp the cloak hanging over his shoulder. He gently tosses it onto a nearby stool. Farkas follows suit, the two of them slowly undoing hooks and clasps to loosen their armor.

“Which part should we remove from you first?” asks Vilkas in a sultry purr. His gaze roams over your body, and his heated gaze leaves you feeling exposed.

“Everything should go,” answers Farkas as he reaches up to play with the adornments of threaded dried snowberries in your hair. “But these should stay. I like them.”

Vilkas nods. “I agree.” His chest plate falls away and he sets it down near the door.

The two of them are taking their time, watching you watch them. It’s a drawn-out dance. An anticipation.

When Farkas’ hands fall on your shoulders, you nearly jump in surprise. But he is entirely gentle when those fingers slip under the fabric to push it over and down your shoulders. Your dress surrenders to him, stopping briefly at your hips before completely falling to the floor at your feet. You are just as bare as they are.

The moment your nakedness is revealed, Vilkas’ nostrils flare like he’s inhaling your scent. His hands, which are at his sides, clench and unclench. All the while, Farkas’ hands are on your body, touching and caressing in soft strokes that chip away at your autonomy. They make you compliant and weak. Leaning back against him, you admire Vilkas’ muscled form.

He stalks forward, and every muscle ripples as he walks. When he’s close enough you reach out to touch him at the same moment he touches you. There is a hand around your throat, but you’re not sure which one it is.

Vilkas’ head tilts downward, his nose brushing your cheek as his lips meet yours. The sound he makes in his throat is low and feral. Hungry. Everything is tense, and the hands that touch you only tighten as if you’ll try to dart away like a frightened doe.

But you won’t run. Not from them.

Vilkas breaks the kiss and cups the sides your face in both of his hands. Those pale eyes of his are piercing, serrated and sharp like a blade. “Do you want this? Like we want this?” His gaze darts over your face, seeking confirmation.

You nod. “Yes. Please. I want—need, the both of you.”

Farkas’ hand slides over your stomach and between your legs. You gasp when his fingers run through your slickness. Using his index and middle finger, he parts your sex, and the moment he does, the two of them close their eyes, inhaling deeply.

There is something deeply primal about what they’ve just done. When they open their eyes there are small swirls of yellow there that weren’t there before. Vilkas’ lips part slightly, and you notice a sharpness to his canines.

“On the bed,” he murmurs. “Legs open.”

Farkas relinquishes his hold on you but Vilkas is right there, walking with you, sliding his hands up your legs once you fall back onto the bed and open them wide. His hovers between them only a moment before his head dips and his tongue slides over your sex.

It is a shock of sensation, one that ripples up to the crown of your head and to the tips of your toes. Vilkas feasts, alternating between licking, sucking, and kissing, seeking out what will make you come undone.

The bed dips near your head. Farkas is there, his hand sliding under your head to tangle in your hair. He is careful of the adornments, guiding you up onto your elbows. You know what he wants, and you obediently open your mouth, presenting your mouth to him.

He groans, and rubs the head of his cock on your tongue before you close around him. Vilkas swirls his tongue around your clit at the same moment you swirl your tongue around the head of Farkas’ cock. Your pussy clenches, relaxes, and then Vilkas slides a finger inside of you to the knuckle.

Vilkas pumps in time with the movement of his tongue while your head bobs up and down Farkas’ cock. Farkas’ hold on the back of your head is strong but not domineering. He isn’t controlling this. He’s allowing you to take charge.

Vilkas sucks your clit into his mouth and you moan around Farkas’ cock, the muscles in your thighs tightening, wanting to close around Vilkas’ head. He sucks again and Farkas’ cock pops from your mouth. Your hand goes out to grasp the base but it’s more to settle you than him. Vilkas has found that rhythm, and he is working you quickly toward an end.

He sucks again. Swirls his tongue. Then you’re sinking into yourself as the orgasm bubbles up and consumes you. The room you’re in grows a bit distant, and then it all comes hurtling forward as Vilkas continues to tease your clit with his tongue.

Your back aches off the bed, and someone’s hand is around your throat, guiding you to a seated position as Vilkas pushes up from between your legs, one hand still moving casually between them.

“Do you want me here?” he asks slowly, pumping his finger in and out of your pussy. “Or would you like me here?” Removing his fingers, he presses the sticky tips to your lips, dragging them across your flesh, leaving a glossy trail behind.

Your lips part and Vilkas takes that as an answer. With their hands on you, you don’t need to move. They guide you into position. Vilkas reclines in the bed, back against the headboard while you go onto your hands and knees between his legs.

Farkas settles on the bed behind you, his hands rubbing up and down your back before going to your hips, easing them up slightly for a better angle. You wrap your hand around the base of Vilkas’ cock at the same moment Farkas presses down a bit, arching your back, forcing your legs to slide open.

You pump Vilkas a few times before leaning in to kiss the tip. A pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit, and you eagerly lick it up with the tip of your tongue. Another blooms in its place, and you swirl your tongue around the flared head before licking the entire length of from base to tip.

Behind you, Farkas lines himself up, the head of his cock catching on your entrance, easing slowly inch by inch. He’s gentle, rolling his hips in light, shallow thrusts that allow your body to acclimate to him. A few more strokes and Farkas slides home to the hilt.

You’re full. Stretched. Filthy and feral.

You take the head of Vilkas’ cock into your mouth, holding him there while the salvia collects. Then, you swallow him down, your lips touching your hand as Farkas retreats before thrusting forward.

Hollowing your cheeks, you slide back up, and then repeat the process, bringing in your hand to pump him in time with your upward passes. Farkas moves one hand to your waist while the other stays on your hip, his pelvis slapping against your ass with each thrust.

Farkas thrusts. Grinds his hips forward. Hold there a moment. “Shall we make her ours?” he asks. You cannot see his face but you can see Vilkas. The corner of his mouth twitching until it pulls into a full smile.

“Haven’t we?” he replies, one eyebrow arching.

“She needs our marks.” You feel Farkas’s hand slide upward to clutch the back of your neck. He pulls you off Vilkas’ cock, bringing you flush against his chest. His other hand slides forward to cradle your stomach. “And our whelp, too.”

Vilkas’ grows burning hot. The swirling yellow intensifies. “And what does she say to this?” His head tilts to the side slightly, appraising you.

You’re still pressed against Farkas, his cock buried deep within you. “I want the both of you. In all ways.”

Farkas’ pleased groan against your throat goes straight to your pussy. You clench around him and his fingers reflexively dig into your skin.

“Give her to me, Farkas.”

The loss of Farkas’ cock is immediate. He draws away just as Vilkas sits up entirely and pulls you into his lap, turning you around to lay back against him. Vilkas’ hands slide forward to the backs of your thighs and then hook under your knees. He draws them to your chest and Farkas is already moving, returning to your body easily. Farkas places one hand against the wall above Vilkas while the other presses into your hip. You’re trapped between them, and the sensation is lovely.

You’re entirely at their mercy, and it feels good. It feels right.

Farkas uses the leverage of the wall to set a pounding rhythm that shakes the bed. You rest your head against Vilkas’ shoulder and surrender to them.

But Vilkas is not idle.

He adjusts his grip on one of your knees enough that he can reach between you and Farkas’ bodies to rub your clit. You’re already sensitive from when his tongue was on you, and a few well-placed strokes have you clenching around Farkas.

Farkas groans, hips slamming forward as he finishes. His chest heaves but he doesn’t immediately pull out. Instead, the hand on your hip disappears to grab the lower-half of your face. He draws you to him enough that he can lean down and kiss you.

“It’s my brother’s turn,” he murmurs against your mouth.

Farkas draws back, and then Vilkas is lifting you into his lap, lining himself up to sink inside. Your groan loudly, toes curling as he settles to the hilt. There is nothing left for you to do but hold on as he guides you up and down his cock.

“Touch yourself.”

Sighing, you slide your hand between your spread legs to work yourself. Each thrust and every stroke of your hand sends a little tremor through your legs. Vilkas makes a sound deep in his throat as he nuzzles your neck. He continues to rock his hips, upping the rhythm of his thrusts until your breath comes in short gasps of pleasure. Your eyes begin to close, eyelids fluttering with every tingle in your clit.

“You’re ours,” murmurs Vilkas against your flesh. “Ours.” On that final word, he growls, and holds you in place as he thrusts up into you.

His grunts and your groans fill the room. It isn’t until you come down from an orgasm that you realize that Vilkas is done, merely waiting for you to join them in reality. Every bit of you is sore and the dried bead-like snowberries in your hair clack together as Vilkas helps you out of his lap.

Farkas is right there with a damp cloth, sliding it between your legs to wipe away the stickiness. His movements are slow, and once he’s done, Vilkas is pulling you into his arms, snuggling down into the furs. Farkas slides in on your other side, their bodies intertwining with yours, creating a nest of limbs.

Their bodies are warm like a fire in a hearth. There is an arm around your waist, on your hip, cupping a breast. They settle into rest, but do not sleep. You are the one who drifts, and it is they that coax you back when their need for you grows too great.

If morning comes, you are not aware. And if night follows, you are unaware of that. You are aware of their tongues and teeth. You are aware of how they pass you between them, keeping you full and perfectly pliant to their every demand.

“We’re never letting you go, sweet one,” murmurs Vilkas before he sucks a nipple into his mouth.

Farkas’ hand slides to the front of your throat, pulling you back until you’re looking at him. “Never.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @singleteapot @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @wrathofcats @ninman82

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Skyrim - Tail Wagging

Requested: Yes [Would you consider doing a Farkas and Vilkas(separate) as werewolves that are just huge puppies for you when turned? Wagging tails and snuggles and maybe.. even using that tongue for something?]

Warnings: Werewolf oral sex, slight breeding kink in Farkas’ but reader is kept GN

Farkas

Farkas is definitely the more puppy-like of the two, but only when it comes to you. He’s always on you when he’s shifted, warm as he curls up around you, keeping you close. His tail wagging so fast that you can barely see it, just a blur. And his ears!!! They’re so sensitive, even the slightest touch or rub making him whimper, cock hardening against you, smearing precum all over your naked body. Which is just fine by him, makes you smell of him and keeps the others away.

And oh that tongue. He’s a messy eater, licking everything with that big tongue of his, just so eager to be tasting you, his drool soaking you more than your own slick, drenching your thighs and belly even. He wants to make you feel good but he just gets so lost, like he’s starved or something. He’ll never get enough of it, of your taste. But he’s such a pitiful boy too, he wants you so bad, especially when you’re in such a perfect position, on all fours for him. His cock is so hard, knot already half hard, precum dripping the aching skin, ending at the furry sheath. He’s desperate to breed you full, make your belly bulge from how much cum he’ll give you.

Vilkas

Vilkas is distinctly less puppy-like than Farkas but that doesn’t mean that there’s absolutely none of that same behavior in him. His tail is the dead give away to his other normal behavior, wagging almost as fast as Farkas’ when you rub and kiss his belly, one of your hands on his inner thigh. He thinks it’s a little funny how you try to pretend you don’t notice the head of his cock poking out of its sheath, especially when he bucks his hips excitedly at a particularly low pet, growling deep in his throat at your pretty whimper.

And hmmm, that tongue of his. He’s the exact opposite of Farkas in this regard as well. Slow and methodical, perfectly precise as he licks you up. Like he’s savoring you, like it’s the last time he’ll ever be able to do this. He’s more interested in drawing out ever noise he can from your mouth, music to his ears, really getting him going in a way nothing else can as he humps the bed so hard that you can feel it shaking.

[not-today-flah]

How you meet

Vilkas

You walked into Jorrvaskr with hope of joining the Companions. You had already met Aela and Farkas while fighting a giant outside Whiterun. Aela greeted you and told you Kodlaks whereabouts. You were a little nervous about meeting him but you brushed aside your feelings and stepped into the room. You where met by two faces, one curious and the other agitated. You suspected that the older of the two was Kodlak but you had to be sure. “Hi…are you Kodlak?” You ask shyly the younger man rolled his eyes, you shot back a disapproving look. “Of course he’s Kodlak.” The younger scoffs. “And who are you?” You ask, a tinge of sass in your voice. “Vilkas.” He states coolly. You glare at him and he glares back. “What brings a stranger to Jorrvaskr?” Kodlak butts in. “My names Y/N and I’m here to join the companions.“

Ralof

When you met Ralof on the way to Helgen, it was only brief, but you liked him. He had great spirit, and tried to make dark times a little lighter by adding some humour to the situation. There was no time exchanging names properly, there can’t be when there’s a DRAGON attacking. You went with Ralof you wouldn’t go with those damn Imperials. When you both made it out of the keep you followed Ralof to Riverwood where he introduced you to Gerdur his sister. She was very welcoming, she gave you some supplies and access to her home. You were walking to Gerdurs house with Ralof, “You know you should join the fight to free Skyrim, we need people like you.“ Ralof mentioned as you walked, “You really think I should, thanks.” You smile and he beamed back. “I’ll consider it.”

Farkas

You walk on the cobblestone path, making your way to Whitrun. Gurdur sent you to tell the Jarl that Riverwood was in danger of a dragon attack. You walk by a couple buildings, paying no mind to your surroundings until you heard a battle cry coming from one of the farmers fields. Three people were fighting a giant, you race over and draw your bow, hitting it straight in the eye. The giant falls over with a thud and the three people look over at you, ones a woman with long red hair, green war paint, and a bow. She comes up to you, “You handle yourself well, you’d make for a decent shield-sister.” She says. “What’s a shield-sister?” You ask curiously. You feel a gaze on your back and take a quick glance over your shoulder, you catch a very handsome man staring. He looks down and scratches the back of his neck with a light blush dusting his cheeks, you give him a small smile which makes him blush more. After Aela explains what a shield sister is and tells you about the companions, you say your goodbyes and hastily walk to the city. As you walk you smile at you feet at the man named Farkas.

Argis the Bulwark

You step out of the Understone Keep in Markarth as the new Thane of the Reach and as the new Thane you have a knew housecarl. You walk up the stone stairs until you reach your secluded home at the top of a hill. You walk through the doors and instantly feel the comforts of a home. Walking farther into the house you hear a man clear his throat making you jump a little. You had never had a man as a housecarl before, this was going to be interesting. You step into the living room area and are greeted by very muscular man who has a tattoo on the side of his face, his left eye was completely white and had a scar across it. Blind, battle wound probably. He gave a small smile and bowed his head, “Pleasure to meet you my Thane.” He says. “The pleasure is all mine,” I grinned, “and you can just call me (Y/N).” I say. His smile grows, “Okay, (Y/N). My name’s Argis.”

Brynjolf

You needed to buy some supplies from the market in Riften. You knew that Riften wasn't the best place to buy things but it was the closest city. When you got to the market square someone approached you from behind making you jump, you turn around and look up. "Haven't done an honest days work for all that coin you're carrying, eh lass." The red haired man in front of you said. "I'm sorry what?" You blink and dumbly look at your pockets. He chuckles a bit which snaps you out of your confused state. Your gaze turns suspicious when you look at him again. “My wealth is none of your business.” He gave another small laugh at that. He looks pretty ordinary, he’s a Nord with long red hair and a beard. He’s actually quite handsome, and he’s dressed proper so you assume he is of high status in Riften. “Actually it is my business, and, you see, I’m searching for someone to do a certain job.”

[0-animelover-0]

S/O Is The Same Gender As Them

Character(s): Aela the Huntress, Shahvee, Balimund, Farkas, Vilkas, and Scout-many-marshes.

Summary: Title is self-explanatory but basically how they act if they were dating someone of the same gender.

A/N: No pronouns are used; reader is referred to as 'woman' and/or 'man'.

Aela the Huntress

She does not care that you are the same gender as her. (She's dated both men and women you can't change my mind)

Aela defends your relationship if anyone says anything homophobic or in a way she finds offensive.

She uses her title as a way to intimidate anybody that finds your relationship 'bad'.

She portrays herself as a mature and level-headed woman but as soon as you comb her hair or show any type of affection, her eyes soften and her muscles relax.

Shahvee

This lizard woman does not give a spiders arse wether or not you are the same gender.

If she loves you than she loves you. She doesn't see anything wrong with it.

Shahvee has been around Nords her life so she knows how rude they can be. So, she is not afraid to stand up for you.

She is your beacon of light, your pride and joy. The person you love and hold dear. She soothes your worries best she can. She greets you with open arms after a tough one of your journeys.

Balimund

He may not have been in same-sex relationship before but he is definetily willing to try. (I headcannon that he thought he was straight until he met the Dragonborn)

You were his bi awakening so he was hesitent at first but after a while he became pretty affectionate with his words.

He may not be a big fan of PDA but he is not ashamed of dating you. In fact, he likes to tell people of his handsome husband.

Farkas

This hunky werewolf will treat you like he does in any relationship. He is affectionate in public and in private. Always having a hand on your hip or entwining your fingers together.

He is not ashamed of your relationship at all and even brags about having such a great partner.

He might be one of the kinder Companions of Jorrvaskr but he sure isn't gonna take hate from people who are rude towards you. His strong stature is enough to scare a man.

Vilkas

Vilkas through the years never thought he'd be in a relationship, especially being in one with another man.

When he first met you, he wondered why his heart started pounding but he brushed it off and continued his day.

He was hesitent at first but he grew to love being with you. He wouldn't trade being with you for anything. Even if he won't say it out loud.

Unlike his brother, he isn't into PDA as much but in private or inside Jorrvaskr. he always has his arms around you.

Scout-many-marshes

He loves having a partner to share life with no matter their gender. You being a man doesn't change that. He's just happy to have someone in his life.

This scaly man loves PDA and anything to showing affection. He loves just holding your hand or leaning in your touch. In private, he is very gentle and loving. He loves just tracing patterns over your skin with his thumbs.

He boasts about his spouse that is the infamous Dragonborn. He feels lucky that he gets to return to you after a long day of work.

[captain039]

The predator grounds

Vilkas x reader

Warnings: Forced heats/ruts, gore, eventual smut, claiming, violence, AOB, Skyrim things, angst, intimacy

There’s nothing but sweet silence. You figure everyone’s either sleeping still or out and Farkas forgot to wake you up with his horrid singing. Usually the bed isn’t this cold, hell Jorrvaskr seems to be warmed everywhere even in winter, now though…

There’s a breeze over your body, wind, how in the divines is there wind inside?

“Wake up” you think you dream it the sound of Kodlaks voice echoing in your mind before it shouts again.

“WAKE UP!” You jolt upwards the sounds spilling in, your surroundings making you reach for your sword. You don’t recognise this place, no place in Skyrim has sky’s this eerie and green hued, the moon so full and big you could touch it. The wind makes you shiver, the scents on the wind make your nose scrunch. You stare at the on going forest in front of you, the eerie darkness the sounds of critters and howls. You check yourself for wounds and find none, surely you didn’t die in your sleep and Hircine has claimed you. You are healthy, were maybe.

“Arise” you freeze at the deep voice and look to the horizon on your right in the clearing. There he stands the father of beasts himself.

“Hircine” you mutter frowning as a butterfly goes by you.

“Your pack is here, join them” he gestures to the forest in front of you. Your bones begin to crack, your skin falls off to let fur come through. You break off your cry with a howl and take off into the woods. There’s warmth flooding you, the need for the hunt filling you and you chase those familiar smells of your pack. When you get there though it isn’t your pack, there’s a dead woman on the ground, her clothes are torn, her neck bitten and bleeding and the scent of an alpha on her body. You hear a laugh, evil and maniacal before a booming voice echos over the land.

“THIS IS MY REALM” you look to the sky an echoing book sounding out but nothing happening.

“Whoops” another voice echos in giggles, older and high pitched. Your body changes again the pain flaring as you end on your knees shaking and panting.

“I’m sorry my child” you hear in your mind as a searing pain hits your back. It feels like a hot metal against skin and you let out a small sob.

You take a moment to gather yourself, you’re sweating a lot, your thighs feel sticky. You crawl over to the woman wincing at the claw marks on her body. The scent of a wild alpha in rut sticking to her form. You hear soft growls behind you and turn reaching for your sword that isn’t there. You see the werewolf in front of you, dark brown fur, blue eyes a scar over the left eyebrow.

“Vilkas?” You question as he begins to change back groans leaving his lips as he kneels naked on the ground. He cries out too and you rush over to him seeing the mark on his back, a mark of Hircine. You lay a hand on his back instantly regretting it at the sharp look he gives you along with the tingling feeling going up your arm. You shudder at the intense gaze of the alpha and back away a little.

“Have you seen anyone else?” You ask covering yourself with your arms and hands awkwardly as the alpha adverts his eyes. You take a small breath, body shuddering at the scent of Vilkas, alpha in rut. Gods he smells divine.

“Just that poor soul” you say as he looks to the dead woman.

“What’s happening?” He asks and you struggle with an answer.

“I don’t know, I heard Hircine, saw him, then I was forced to change and came here saying you and the rest of the pack were here” you explain trying to keep your eyes off the naked alpha before you.

“Where’s my brother?” He mutters looking out to the never ending forest around you.

“I don’t know I woke up a few moments ago” you explain body shaking.

“Probably best” he whispers.

“Where are we?” He adds.

“I don’t know Vilkas!” You don’t mean to snap at him, but your body feels in overtime.

“It’s alright pup” he says in that ever calm voice of his and you want to punch him.

“I am not a pup, neither is any of this alright do not lie to me” you take a small breath turning away from the alpha and back to the woman. You feel bad for what you’re about to do, but she has clothes on, clothes that should fit you but probably not Vilkas. You say a small prayer before you take her shirt and pants, she still has her undergarments thankfully. You close her eyes giving a small bow of your head before you hear another howl. It isn’t familiar and it has you inching back to the safety of your shield brother. You hear footsteps and both you and Vilkas are on high alert before you spot a familiar shape. Farkas still has his clothes on apparently not being forced to shift like you or Vilkas.

“Brother!” He calls before his eyes turn to yours. The look Farkas gives you isn’t one you’re used to from him, the burning hunger, the smell of his rut.

“Stay there!” Vilkas growls, up and in front of you making you frown.

“Vilkas-“ you go to say but he hushes you quickly.

“Do not come closer, I-“ Vilkas visibly shakes, the kind of shake you give when your wolf is just under your skin. There’s a growl from Farkas not a playful growl, a challenge growl. He’s shifting quickly as is Vilkas before they’re charging at each other like bulls. It happens too quickly and you can hear the sound of claws and teeth ripping through flesh before you snap.

“STOP!” Your voice is shaky but there’s a pause between the two of them and the larger wolf backs down. Vilkas stalks back to you making sure his brother doesn’t come any closer.

“Why in the hells are you fighting!? We-“ you shiver again head spinning a little, something gushing down your thigh, That’s why they’re fighting.

“Ok, I’m- I’m gonna walk away real slow over here” you mumble pointing in a random direction before you hurry to hide behind a tree. Your minds fuzzy and it seems everything’s caught up in your brain of you being in heat. Gods help you, it’d been so easy with the supply of heat suppressant potions coming to Jorrvaskr you truely don’t remember the last heat you had. Being surrounded by mostly alphas and betas it was the safer choice, not that any of them would hurt or force themselves on you.

“Wolfling?” Vilkas calls and you shake your head despite him not being able to see you. You see something flutter by your vision and look seeing another butterfly go by and off into the forest, the same older high pitched giggle filling your ears. Divines help you.

[d0ughy]

18+ Skyrim: No-Sex Pet play with Farkas & Vilkas

A request from @butter-and-too-much-bread for an asexual kink; pet play without the sex ft. Farkas and Vilkas. This is more like light pet play, so I’m sorry if this is no good! I hope you enjoy it anyways! <3

[ 18+ for the content. This is more sweet than spicy, but still.]  [img credit] Repost because it wouldn’t show up due to certain words hmm hmm + fixed some things. Fic below!

𝔽𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕒𝕤  

Farkas isn’t a man of words, but a man of action. His actions this night, however, speak much louder than words ever could. 

A missive was sent out to Jorrvaskr, which you eagerly accepted. You’ve been looking for an opportunity to have an outing with your lover, Farkas.

The two of you could go out together under the guise of a mission and then hang out afterwards without the prying eyes of the Circle.

It was only a few hours into the afternoon that the two of you set off onto a mission together, to clear out a beast’s den.

What should have been an easy task for two Companions turned out to be a long and hard-won fight. 

The beasts, wild and angry, held nothing back. Claws, fangs, the fierce roars echoing through the cave; this cacophony sending waves of adrenaline throughout the two of you.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe the sounds of beats stirring something feral inside of him, but you could feel Farkas’s eyes on you throughout the entirety of the battle. 

You’d mistake it for concern if you couldn’t feel the hunger radiating off of him. 

It wasn’t until the battle was over and you two made your way out into the night that you’d find out...

Too far from Whiterun, you two decided to set up camp for the night. Farkas’s movements seemed stiff, and he was quieter than usual. You could see his muscles, even under his armor, were taught.

You sat yourself by the campfire, patting the spot beside you while offering a gentle smile to Farkas. 

He took slow strides over to you, an intense spark in his eyes. He plopped down beside you, body heavy with his steel armor. 

Before you had a chance to ask him if he was alright or reflect on the battle before, Farkas was on you.

The tip of his nose gently gliding down your neck as he breathed in your scent, his facial hair tickling your exposed skin. A small gasp escapes your lips as Farkas rakes his teeth across your trapezius before pulling away.

He let out a shaky exhale, “I.. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Watching you fight-” He placed his forehead against yours. “-It just did something for me. You did so well, Kitten...” 

Farkas crashed hungry lips against yours, his rough hands sliding against your body.  His knee moving to spread your legs apart. You knew what he wanted, but you knew that’s not what you wanted. At least, not tonight.

A small, disapproving groan rumbled from your throat. Farkas doesn’t claim to be smart, but even he knew what you were meaning. He wouldn’t have you tonight, but that wouldn’t stop him from at least giving you something.

Farkas nibbled softly on your earlobe, whispering soft praises. “My pet... I want you to at least purr for me tonight.” His gruff voice rumbling in his chest. 

His fingers weaving through your hair and down the back of your skull. Massaging little circles along the nape of your neck. 

Your body reacted on its own, goosebumps blossoming along your skin and you arching your back to give him further access to you as contented sighs escaping from your lips.

Farkas scratched the top of your head and scratched circles behind your ears before slowly flattening his palm against your skin as he stroked your back. Gentle pets for his beloved pet. 

You sprawled out into his lap, earning a light slap on your bottom from him. Farkas’s reputation as the gentler twin between him and his brother truly shines when it comes to his alone time with you. The two of you spent the night in each other’s embrace before returning to Jorrvaskr in the morning.

𝕍𝕚𝕝𝕜𝕒𝕤 

The warrior’s life, for many, sings such a sweet tune. The thrill of combat, the clash of metal, battle prowess put to the test: you provided that and more for Vilkas when you bested him in a sparring match. Now, another song seems to have caught his ear.

It was the early hours of the day, the sun’s rays peeking through the windows of Jorrvaskr. While the whole of Whiterun seemed to still be at rest, you were already up and moving.

You hadn’t been a part of the Companions for very long, but you were eager to prove yourself to your new shield-brothers and sisters. Especially the fiery of the twins, Vilkas.

His eyes were always on you, though his steely expression gave nothing away. The ferocity in his eyes never swayed and it seemed to almost grow when those eyes were on you.

With how Vilkas spoke to you and all the other Welps, you couldn’t help but think he looked at you with disdain. So, there you were, in the twilight hours of the morning, practicing your swordplay in the yard.

The quick pacing of your steps were practiced and nimble. Your steel slashing at the defenseless dummy, adding to it’s collection of scars. So engrossed in your training, you never heard the doors to the yard open nor the clanking of metal footsteps.

It wasn’t until you had taken pause from your training, a quick moment to catch your breath, that you felt an intense gaze upon your back. Glancing back, you saw Vilkas.

He sat himself at one the tablets in the courtyard behind you, his elbows resting on his knees. Despite his tousled hair and the warpaint across his face, you could still make out his furrowed brows and cold gaze.

Turning on your heel, you tried to shake off the intensity of his stare and return to your training. If he wanted to watch, then you’d give him a show.

Taking a quick leap back, you charged the dummy at full force. Your boots grinding against the stony earth as you made quick, elegant movements around the dummy.

A diagonal slice and the left arm fell to pieces. A horizontal cut and the head slid down the shoulders and plopped onto the stone below. One final blow to end it, steel to the gut of the dummy. The impact of your blade easily melting through the dummy and into the log that held the dummy in place.

Your breath was shaky as you tried to catch it. Between your huffs, you could hear a chair behind you squeak as its tenant stood to leave it. The rhythmic clunk of steel boots grew louder from behind you.

You turn to Vilkas, a smirk threatening his lips. “Hmph. Good show, Welp. But a real enemy won’t sit there and take it like a dummy would.” Vilkas rolled his shoulders before stretching his neck, his armor rattled softly by his movements.

“You wanna really learn, then you’re gonna have to spar with me.” His brow cocked as he readied his blade. Winded, but determined, you readied your own and soon the song of steel would be sung.

White Vilkas has offered a training match, the strength behind his blows and the growing frustration throughout your fight betrayed that. You thought at the end, once you had skillfully knocked him to the ground, that the hot-headedness he’s infamous for would come out.

You expected a sore loser but was met with a genuine smile for the first time.

Vilkas, bruised and sat upon the stony floor of the Jorrvaskr yard, was looking up at you with a feral smile and an unfamiliar glint in his steely eyes.

Quickly getting back upon his feet, Vilkas leaned in closely to you. His forehead against yours as his hair draped his face. “Come with me.” His voice low. He pressed his body against yours, pushing you towards the doors of Jorrvaskr. It seemed you had little choice but to obey.

The halls were still quiet as the rest of the Companions lay snug in their sheets. The only noise that could be heard was the clunking of Vilkas’s and your boots as he guided you to his private quarters.

He lay a strong hand flat against your back as he pushed you into the room and towards the bed, nearly slamming the door behind him. You stumble into his room but catch yourself before falling onto the bed before you.

Turning to question him, Vilkas is already on you. He’s smiling down at you, but the warmth behind it was burning hot. He approached you slowly, backing you towards his bed. “You know... I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Pup. I know you’ve caught me stealin’ glances, too.”

Taking slow steps backwards, you feel the bedframe hit the back of your thigh. “Back in the courtyard, that was something. You put me in my place and now,” He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin. “I want to put you in yours.”

You shake your head and sputter out quiet protests. Yes, Vilkas was a good-looking guy, but you didn’t want to lay with him. At least, not like this.

He chuckled, his facial hair tickling your skin as he nuzzled lightly into neck. “There, there, Pup. I’ll make you mine another way.” With that, his body pressed against yours. With nowhere else to run, you fell backwards onto Vilkas’s bed.

He was on top of you in a second, his eyes dancing between your lips and your eyes. Silently asking your permission. After offering him a nod, there was no holding back. Vilkas’s lips crashed against yours in a sloppy, passionate kiss, before moving down the side of your neck.

His rough hands sliding up and down your body. One hand gliding its way down your thigh and the other resting at your neck. He pulls away, strands of hair falling into his face. “I want to hear you whine for me, Pup.”

You obeyed him, soft whimpers echoing from your throat. Whining like a dog awaiting a treat from its master. Vilkas smiled in return, “There’s a good Welp.” His thumb massaging small circles into the soft flesh of your neck.

Leaning back down, he graces your lips with a slower, intimate kiss. Only pulling away from them to demand more begging and offer small praises when you obeyed. “...You make the sweetest sounds, Pet. I could listen to you all day.”

His hips rocked gently against yours, restraining as much of himself as he could. Though Vilkas isn’t known for being calm nor patient, he showed a much more tender side of himself to you that day. You two spent the next few hours in his room, Vilkas marring your neck with love bites and kissing your lips in apology whenever he was too rough.

[anim3-g33k25]

Skyrim Masterlist

This is the masterlist for any of the skyrim characters that you want to see. If you want to see a specific character or a story about the character, please send me a dm or press the 'ask me anything' button.

I accept angst, smut, fluff, etc. If you don't want any smut then that's okay!

STORIES

Nothing yet

HEADCANNONS

Nothing yet

ONESHOTS

Nothing yet

[montcumbry-gaytor]

🅱️lease ppl I want ideas for Farkas / Vilkas x Reader smut 🙏 Im so passionate about those men u don't even know so if u have requests for them I'll take em 🤌

[mischasbongwater]

farkas x reader

warning: intense sex, vaguely fem-bodied reader but only if you squint

authors note: this is most certainly not my best work, just practice if anything but im still glad i finished it (emphasis on finished) and i wanted to share it and this felt like a good place to do it

(also for context this takes place after his transformation in the crypt that first time)

You slip into Farkas’s room as quickly and quietly as you can, out of worry that one of the other Companions might get suspicious. You carefully close the door, turn around—

—And Farkas is standing at the foot of his bed, in nothing but a loincloth.

“OH!” You yelp, throwing your hands up in front of your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-“

“It’s fine, open your eyes. I don’t care.”

You falter. “Wh- seriously?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Slowly, you lower your hands and look at him. He’s sat down on his bed now, arms folded. Somehow he still looks just as big and intimidating as when he’s wearing armor. You can so clearly see his muscles rippling beneath his olive skin, but you try not to look anywhere other than his face — or arms.

You catch the inquisitive look on his face and snap yourself back to reality. “So,” you begin. “Werewolf.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “It is a gift given only to those in the Circle. Should you want to share the beastblood, you’ll have to prove your honor.”

“Right.” You cannot stop looking at him.

“Truth be told, if you want a more technical history, you should talk to Kodlak or Vilkas. I don’t usually put much thought into it beyond the gift itself. But- are you okay?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You smell different.” He stands up.

“That- is so weird,” you respond, momentarily distracted by bewilderment. “What do I smell like?”

“Normally? Just you. But now…” He steps closer until he’s barely a foot away from you. It feels like his bare chest is looking you straight in the eyes. “It’s different. Stronger. Sweeter.”

You look up at him, eyes wide, feeling something you’ve never quite felt before. Dread and thrill both building up in your stomach, like white-hot balls of metal expanding through your abdomen. Sharp bursts of adrenaline spiking through your body.

“Are you interested in me, new blood?” His deep, gritty voice had a strange new cadence to it, like warm honey pouring into your ears.

You inhale shakily. “I- don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Can I answer it for you?”

You don’t even know if the word “yes” had left your mouth yet before you were in Farkas’s grasp. One hand is gently gripping the back of your neck, and the other is caressing the top of your head, weaving fingers through your hair. His rough, salty lips are pressed against yours, hard. You reach out and place your hands on his hips, closing the gap between you. He quivers under your touch, then melts into it, grabbing a handful of your hair and pushing his tongue into your mouth.

After a few heated moments, he pulls back, much to your disappointment.

“Do you want this?” He asks, his voice sounding much darker now.

You look at him, confused. “Wh-“

“The beast-spirit inside of me. He wants you. Bad.” He fidgets with his hands, showing the first glimpse of true uncertainty and nervousness you’ve ever seen from him. “I don’t know if I can keep being gentle like this. I don’t want to-”

“Farkas.” You take his hands. “I don’t care. I’m yours.”

A lustful spark appears in his eyes. He grabs you by your waist, picks you up with ease, and pins you to his bed, desperately grabbing at your clothes and trying to pull them off.

He seems as stocky and strong as a tree trunk, every part of him laying over you like this. He reaches down and pulls his loincloth off, then lowers himself down, almost completely immobilizing you.

His hands wander up to your face, lazily at first, then grabbing you roughly and once more pushing his lips against yours. His hips begin to thrust slowly against yours, and you feel his hardening cock sliding up and down against your stomach.

“Mmm… you smell so good.” His hands travel across your body, greedily touching every part he can reach. Your own hand begins to drift downward, but he grabs your wrist and pins it above your head.

“You had your chance to lead,” he growls. “It’s my turn now.” He pins up your other hand and buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting, forcing high, breathy moans out of your mouth. His movement slowly grows more desperate, and you feel the same.

“Farkas…” you say pleadingly. He lets out a deep purr and snaps his hips against you in approval. He raises his head above yours. You stare into his eyes, and he stares back, perfectly mirroring the burning passion you feel. His soft raven hair hangs down perfectly around his broad, rugged face. He leans down and whispers into your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin and sending tingles down your back. “I’m going to make you mine.”

Without any more warning than that, he grabs your hips so hard you think he might leave handprints, and he pushes his tip inside of you. You let out a shuddering gasp, your hands shooting up and grabbing onto his biceps for dear life.

He begins to push further into you, his thick shaft throbbing and stretching you out. The pain felt so good. A keening moan escapes from your mouth. Farkas closes his eyes, and you can see the muscles feathering along his tightly-clenched jaw as he sinks deeper and deeper into you.

“Farkas,” you breathe out. “Farkas-” you yelp as he forcefully thrusts his full length into you. “Y-you’re so big…” you manage to stammer out. “Fu-uuck. Please, Farkas.”

He opens his eyes and smirks. He smirks at you.

“Please what, darling?”

“Fuck me,” you heave desperately, your nails digging into his skin. “Fuck me, Farkas, please, I-”

You’re cut off by his strong, meaty hand pressing over your mouth, covering half your face. He gives a firm but gentle squeeze. “Sshhh, shh-shh.” He purrs. “Can’t have you waking up the others.” He starts slowly thrusting again. “Or is that what you want? Does the new blood want all of Jorrvaskr to hear them whining like a dog?”

You can do nothing but squeeze your eyes shut, your whole body pulsating with the feeling of him inside of you. That white-hot feeling is back, even more intensely now, like a sun planted in your stomach.

“That’s right,” he groans, starting to speed up. “Good.” He squeezes your face tighter, his eyes closing again and his head tilting back in pleasure. His movements grow almost animalistic, shoving himself further and further inside of you over and over. Your body tenses up, vibrating with heat and ecstasy, his cock filling you up so deep you think you might pass out. Your moans are uncontrollable and muffled by his hand, while your own are nearly drawing blood from their death grip on his arms. He keeps pounding into you, grunting and moaning huskily, holding you solidly in place. Your hips snap back up in rhythm with his, your body twitching from the pleasure and strain. If not for him muzzling you, you would be crying out, screaming his name, moaning and keening in primal euphoria.

The ball in your stomach expands like molten metal, spreading through your body until it feels as if Farkas has filled every last inch of you. It builds and builds and builds-

Until he stops, hilt-deep inside of you. You squirm and cry out, frantic with lust and just on the edge of overstimulation from his huge cock. He hums smugly at your struggle, his face inches away from yours. “Look at you. Such a desperate little thing. You like being used like this?”

You nod, aggressively and pathetically. Farkas chuckles, and the deep, raspy sound of his subtle laughter is almost enough to send you over the edge right there. He shifts, taking his other hand and grasping both sides of your face, pushing his thumbs into your mouth.

“Stay quiet,” he growls, before continuing his merciless thrusts at the same pace he left off at. Without even meaning to, you clamp down on his thumbs between your teeth, letting out a flood of sharp, cut-off moans as he fucks you with reckless abandon. You almost can’t stand the speed and girth hammering into you, sending you into a state of complete, mindless hunger.

Through your feral haze, you see his bottom lip caught under his teeth, his eyes tightly closed, and his eyebrows knitted together. Then his mouth hangs open, and a small whimper escapes into the air.

The molten ball inside of you explodes, coating his length and squirting onto his thighs and stomach. You lay completely silent, convulsing and arching beneath him, consumed with bliss. You scratch helplessly at his shoulders, wordlessly begging, and Farkas complies, thrusting more sensually yet somehow rougher into you now. He covers your mouth again, and you allow the torrent of wild moans to erupt from within you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, every vein and ridge on his cock hitting you in all the right places.

Just when you think you might finally go unconscious, he pulls out and a thick ribbon of cum streams out onto your stomach. He looks to be reared back like a horse, holding tight onto your hips to keep from falling, head swung back as he shudders through his own orgasm.

Panting, he collapses onto you, practically forcing the air out of your lungs with his weight. You wrestle your arms out from under him and wrap them around his torso — or at least, as far around as they can reach.

“Fuck,” Farkas whispers hoarsely, enveloping you in his arms now and turning you both to your sides. You make a noise of agreement muffled by his chest.

“Are- are you gonna stay here?” He asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice. You make another noise, this one of more serene agreement. He exhales deeply and goes limp, pulling you closer to him. You were both far too hot and sweaty for his blankets, but not for your own skin against the other’s. Filled with contentment and… other stuff… you relish in his scent and the feeling of his body pressed against yours. You catch a glimpse of the moon from outside his window.

Who cares if he’s a werewolf, you think to yourself. Nothing could make me rethink this.

[argisthebulwark]

Pretty Please?

summary: Asking them to let you tie a bow around their bicep💕 gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Farkas, Vilkas, Brynjolf, Miraak, Mercer warnings: some swearing, unserious threats (Mercer) masterlist

"Oh hell yeah." Farkas isn't ashamed to admit that he flexes just a little when you wrap the cute ribbon around his bicep. He loves the excited gleam in your eye and the shameless way your hands linger on his muscles even when the task is complete. "Now what?" He laughs, enjoying the satisfied smile on your face. "You keep it there." "For how long?" "Until it falls off, I guess." You shrug, allowing his arms to wrap around you. Farkas can't help himself from drawing closer to you, there's something magnetic about being in your presence. Any silly little joke is worth seeing you smile. "What if it breaks?" "How would it break?" Oh, you've played right into his game. Farkas flexes his triceps, feeling the flimsy ribbon strain and snap around his muscles. He adores the pout you force to cover up the clear amusement when you pluck the pink fabric from his arm. "You just wanted to show off." "C'mon, tie another one. I promise to leave it all day." Of course he's true to his word. Farkas double checks your knot on the second bow, strangely invested in this one staying as long as possible. He's thrilled to talk to the new recruits about his lovely partner who'd placed it there, fingers brushing the soft fabric sentimentally each time he thinks of you.

Vilkas grumbles something under his breath, eyes never straying from his book. Behind the locks of dark hair you spot his expression, noting the lack of real annoyance. Fighting back a grin you play along with his obligatory protests. "It's just a cute little bow." "What purpose does it serve?" "I can ask someone else." You sigh theatrically, turning on your heel. Right on queue Vilkas huffs, a strong hand closing around your wrist and tugging you closer. "Just put it on." He growls just as you'd expected. He thinks he's so scary, but Vilkas sits eerily still and allows you to tie a pretty pink ribbon around his bicep. Despite his protests it remains there all day. One sharp glare shuts down the giggling from a group of whelps resting in the main hall, though the older Companions are harder to quiet. Farkas nearly combusts when Vilkas breezes past him without saying a word, his gleeful expression matched only by yours. After a few boring meetings you scurry down to the marketplace in search of your partner, thrilled at the sight of him pawing through bits of armor while merchants and civilians stare pointedly at your ribbon. It had started as a funny suggestion but seeing him now makes your heart melt. Fully aware that you're killing his tough persona, you skip closer until Vilkas' large hand instinctively reaches for you. He continues haggling with the merchant, seemingly unaware of the pink ribbon flapping in the gentle afternoon breeze. "You doin' this for all the lads?" Brynjolf smirks, holding his arm out to you. "Why?" You hum, so carefully tying a perfect bow over his muscled arm. He isn't sure why you've chosen to add a pink ribbon to his armor but for you he'd do anything. "Would that make you jealous?" "Oh, desperately." He deadpans, enveloping you in his arms. Brynjolf relaxes when you brush through his hair, grateful for the distraction from the endless stacks of paperwork towering on his desk. "Just you, Bryn." You assure him, adjusting the bow until it's perfect. "Thank the gods for that - but did ya have to choose such a bright color, love?" "Some of the recruits have been eyeing you a bit too much for my liking." You admit, sinking deeper into his touch. "Had to stake my claim." "I live and breathe for you, love." From a man who's spent decades lying and stealing, those are the truest words he's ever spoken. Brynjolf loves the excited way you fuss at his bow, ensuring it will stay in place. "What if I get called on a job? This frilly pink'll surely get me caught." "Good thing you're the best there is." "Aye, love. Got that right."

"Absolutely not." Miraak lies, resolve already cracking. He can never say to no to you for long. "Why not?" "Why should I allow this?" "I think you'll look cute." He groans at your words, fully aware that he can not resist that sweet tone of your voice. Dropping whatever tome he'd been reading for far too long he allows you to crawl into his lap. It's painfully difficult to not just give in to you. Miraak knows that his intimidating persona is all but shattered in your presence but that does not stop him from grasping at its last remaining shreds when he can. "I have slain thousands. I could end you with a word. I am not cute." "Fine." You huff, still clutching the frilly piece of ribbon. "You're pretty, is that better?" "It is not." He grumbles, putting up no fight when your fingers dance up his arm. "Would this please you?" "Greatly." His heart swells at that smile, the one you've only shown him. To the rest of Tamriel you are a being of myth, the Last Dragonborn, the only one who holds the world's fate in the palm of your hands. You could save or condemn continents with a word. Yet here you sit, face cupped in Miraak's gloved hands and pouting over a cute pink ribbon. He sighs, unable to maintain the act any longer. "As you wish, my Dragon."

"Try it and I'll gut you." Mercer grunts, content to ignore your request - until he sees the disappointment shimmering in your eyes. That excited smile fades and your hands fall to your sides and oh, the guilt kicks his ass. He turns behind the desk, disgusted by how badly be wants to please you. Wordlessly, he raises his left arm. He glares down at the list of recently recovered oddities without absorbing any information when you happily bounce closer, touch featherlight as you tie the scrap of fabric around his arm. "You markin' me for some sort of hit?" He snarks, attempting to distance himself from the sheer pleasure of you leaning so close to him. "There's easier ways to kill you, honey." Your voice is light, unaffected by his refusal. "I'm goin' away on a job for a while, I just figured you'd think of me when you saw this." Mercer grunts noncommittally once more, swallowing the words threatening to escape - you think he requires a silly bow to think of you? Every moment you're away from the Cistern he's worrying over your safety, counting the hours the job should take until his chest is tight. He doesn't mention it again, though after your departure he catches a few other thieves snickering behind their hands. He strides through the Flagon without looking at them, summoning the most cutting voice he can before speaking. "Say another word and you won't live to see sunrise."

[specialagentlokitty]

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[coffee-at-daybreak]

burning | vilkas x reader

this is very enemies to lovers-esque, i find that trope fitting for vilkas. there is some mild steam thrown in but nothing too suggestive. im just very sick and sleepless rn so i had to crank something out to keep me sane :} hope you guys like it!

"You got lucky this time," you say as you finally finish wrapping the gauze around Farkas's hand. "That sword could have cut much deeper."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing we've got you on standby," he responds gruffly, flexing his palm. The dusky white bandage sits firmly against his skin. He gives you a wide grin. "Thank you, Harbinger."

You nod. "You're welcome. Just... don't make it a habit, yeah?"

Farkas chuckles. "Course. I'll be more careful. See you." He turns and heads back to the training field outside of Jorrvaskr, where he joins Ria's side as they watch Athis and Torvar engage in a practice sparring session. The approaching dusk is bringing a chill to the air, yet the Companions continue their training like nothing.

As you gather the materials you were just using to patch up Farkas's hand, you feel a tingling sensation crawling along your scalp. Someone's glare is practically digging daggers into your skin. You turn around to make your way back into the building, and you lock eyes with Vilkas, who stands next to the door with his back leaning against the wall and his arms folded across his chest.

His gaze reminds you of being hit with an ice spike spell: shards of piercing, pale blue striking right through you and leaving you momentarily breathless. You break eye contact, but the prickling feeling of his eyes on you follows you even when you slip through the door and into the building.

You head for one of the shelves in the corner to put away the bandages and anti-infection salves you used. You hear footsteps coming in behind you.

"How'd he hurt himself this time?" Vilkas asks.

You peer at him over your shoulder. His gaze is averted, pretending to adjust the rug on the floor with his boot. Not so glare-y now, is he?

"It was a sword, from his spar session with Njada." You step away from the shelf and brush past him as you head for the staircase leading into the living quarters below. "She's getting better. She gave him a pretty nasty cut this time."

Vilkas scoffs. "Didn't look nasty enough to need you there working on him for that long."

You stop in your tracks and whip around. This time, his eyes flick up to meet yours. The tingling sensation returns to your skin, except now, it spreads beyond just your head, running down your spine.

"Excuse me?" You cross your arms. "He was hurt, and I knew how to patch it up quick."

"Yes, so does Tilma," Vilkas protests, referring to the elderly servant who is often around tending to the Companions. He tilts his head, eyeing you intently. "Yet you always seem eager to step up first."

Heat floods the tips of your ears. "I'm the Harbinger. Part of my job is looking after the others."

"Yes, yes, I'm not denying that." The Nord waves his hand loosely. "Just pointing it out. This is the third time this has happened, you know?"

You snort. "What, you're keeping track now?" You narrow your eyes. "Hang on. You're jealous."

The eye roll you get in return is equal parts infuriating and attractive. "Please. Don't be childish," he mutters.

You ignore him and play the dangerous game of poking him further. "You know you can get yourself hurt around me, too." You crack a super sweet, super fake smile. "If you ask nicely, I might patch you up."

"I would rather bleed out and die, thank you."

You shake your head, looking away in exasperation. That has to be the cause for your heart rate rising and your temperature climbing. He is exasperating.

"I'm just looking out for him," Vilkas speaks up. When you glance at him, you realize he has stepped closer. You stare back at his storm-colored eyes, as intimidating as they are. "I don't want him making the mistake of getting tangled up with you."

You almost laugh at that, and bite your lip to keep from smiling. Vilkas's eyes dart down for just a second before meeting your own. You try to pretend like that gesture doesn't make your heart skitter.

"Give him some credit, he's smarter than that," you say. "He's just a friend. Not that you know what that is, you ray of sunshine, you."

His jaw clenches, and you watch the muscles of his neck flex as he swallows. Whatever insult he had ready, he thought better of it. A rush of victory swells in your chest.

But you see a flicker of something in his eyes, and there's a sinking sensation in your belly. Amongst the hard, icy emotions of that glare, there's something much softer. Something vulnerable, something you can't pinpoint but you recognize all the same, because it's something you've felt as well.

This is how it's been for a long time, too damn long. You hide behind your quips and your insults because you're afraid to face reality. The heavy, heart-wrenching reality that you have feelings for each other. To everyone else, it looks like you hate each other, when really, you hate how much you love each other.

"It's hard to be a ray of sunshine when you're a godsforsaken pain in my ass," Vilkas growls, and takes another step closer.

You should step back, you should. But the proximity of his body near yours traps you in place, and eventually, draws you in. You dare to lean closer.

"Well, I would stop, if it wasn't oddly entertaining," you murmur. "You are easy to rile up."

"You haven't seen me truly riled up."

The eye contact is searing your skin and blood, yet you don't dare break it. The voice in your mind is now screaming at you - back away, push him away, just move.

But there is also a voice telling you to grab him, to pull into him, to surrender. It takes all the effort in the world to resist.

"Not yet, maybe," you jab. "How do I get there? Do I have to patch up more muscular men?"

"Shut up," he warns, a hiss through his teeth.

"Or should I head to the inn and-"

You don't even get to finish your incessant babbling before his hand reaches for the back of your neck. You don't flinch - in fact, you let him pull you in and crash his lips against your own.

It's exactly as you imagined it, which embarrassingly, you did a lot. It's rough and firm and electrifying. His breath is hot as it mingles with your own, his stubble scraping the skin around your mouth. Your hands subconsciously claw at his torso, pulling him as close as you can, until you feel his chest against your own, drawing in the same heavy breaths that you are. His free hand grasps your hip, and your breath hitches briefly before he is plunging back in with a kiss so hard that his teeth skim over your bottom lip.

There is that hot, searing fire you always feel around him, coursing through your entire being. Burning hatred, burning desire. No difference right now, just one overwhelming inferno.

Muffled voices and laughter approach the doors a few feet away from you. Just as quickly as it happened, Vilkas lets you go. He steps back in two long strides just as the door opens.

Ria was busy giggling at something Torvar said, but she is quick to notice the tension in the room. "Woah. What's going on?" She looks between you and Vilkas. "You two look like you're about to kill each other."

You can't come up with a reasonable response, not when you're still trying to catch your breath, when your lips are still tingling with sparks and your mind is still in a white-hot daze. All you can do for a second is foolishly stare at Vilkas.

He glares back at you. Icy eyes that don't cool you down, but only make you feel warmer.

"Just a mild disagreement," he says, looking to Ria with surprising calm. Then he looks back at you. "But we'll settle it later."

Then he turns and walks away, like nothing happened. You almost huff out a breath of awe.

The other Companions pile in, chattering excitedly and ready to start preparing for dinner. You finally manage to move, your legs still feeling a little unsteady, but you try to help the others anyway, and try to keep hating him, even though now you think you love him more than ever.

[ridingtorohan]

𓇻 ft. aela the huntress x werewolf gn reader 𓇻 content. graphic murder and werewolf transformation, gore. 𓇻 summary. after being inducted into the Inner Circle and blessed with the werewolf curse, Aela comes forward to request your help with hunting some members of the Silver Hand. 𓇻 extra. crossposted to dA + ao3. this one was written in 2015 and unedited. descriptors like e/c were used so feel free to use the custom reader insert tool. 𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, share, reblog or send in asks!

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‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ───※ ·❆· ※───‎‏‏‎

You jostle yourself awake when you hear the door creak open. Your muscles twitch tightly in alarm, before a familiar scent calms you. Pine needles, sweat, and feathers from arrows seem to be Aela's trademark scent, only all the more prominent the day you tasted her blood on your lips - a fierce stab of bitterness that you'd never have guessed. She stands in the doorway, staring into the room, scowl prominent on her face. Ria and Njada were sleeping already, Torvan was snoring away, whereas Athis watched from the safety from his bed.

"(y/n)," Aela says, voice scratchy from trying to be so quiet. Usually she was loud and rambunctious, ever throwing taunts and offering to brawl with you, not caring if one of you got hurt. She had only started acting this way when she gave you the werewolf blood, because she knew you could handle it.

You say nothing to the Dark Elf as you get up from your bed, knowing he is watching and may or may not tell Kodlak later, depending on if it suited him. You dress quietly into your armour, only looking up after you tie your boots, only to notice she is gone. It makes no difference; you can always follow her scent trail - fresh and enticing, always setting your blood roaring when you were near her. You would have been able to locate her blindfolded.

The cool night air presses against you, cooling your warm body. Ever since you were given the wolfblood, your body heat was remarkably high - which wasn't so great when you had to wear heavy armour and thick clothes to persuade the other companions not of the Circle that you were very much affected by the cold.

You pass through the streets of Whiterun, nodding at the night guards patrolling, who seem to recognize you and utter a simple and curt, "Companion," as a way of a greeting.

You spot Aela beside the well, arms crossed and looking almost like an indistinguishable shadow, although you would never have doubted it is her.

The guards let you two pass through the gates; the walls are too high for you to climb over them, even when transformed, and with these guards around, you do not risk it. You aren't particularly fond of accidentally killing innocents either, when your bloodlust controlled you - or at least, not anyone that you knew.

Aela is quiet as you both trek down the pathway and beneath the archways that guard the entrance to Whiterun; it is only after you two pass the stables that she rounds on you, eyes remarkably bright in the starlight. "Can you feel it calling, [sibling]?" she smirks, fingers noticeably twitching.

"I have followed you, haven't I?" you respond, cocking your head in an arrogant way. She bares you her teeth, but you recognize it as a more primitive smile. She turns away from you and breaths in the air, her breath puffing out in front of her when she exhales. You blatantly stare at her, waiting for her to respond.

“The wolfblood cannot be controlled,” she says, finally, voice rising despite the fact that this requires high levels of secrecy. But a quick sniff of the air lets you know that you are alone with her, even though you are both standing beside the road, just upwind of Whiterun Stables. “Some nights, Hircine calls us to hunt for him. Vilkas and Farkas ignore this,” she continues, sounding remarkably upset with them. “Skjor and I are the only ones who accept this.” She eyes you out of the corner of her eye, her expression unreadable. “Then you came along. You take to the wolfblood remarkably well.” There is praise in her voice, and it takes you a moment to realize that you are leaning in towards her. “Will you run with me tonight, (y/n)?”

“Of course.”

She flashes you a triumphant look, arrogance and pride flashing through her emerald eyes. “Good,” she says, mouth twitching into a slight smirk. “Come with me; the road is far too open a place,” she frowns then, eyes darkening. Without so much as another word, she saunters off, feet stepping silently across the stones with practiced ease, starlight glinting off of her auburn hair. There is no moon tonight - not that either of you need it to see.

“Why didn’t we transform in the Underforge?” you dare ask.

She doesn’t spare you a glance over her shoulder when she responds, “It would have drawn too much attention.” She doesn’t elaborate, and you suppose that is alright.

It takes far too much time to get to a shielded area, with trees lining the sky and shadowing your steps. You only have so much time left, you know. Something inside of you feels more at ease, beneath the shelter of the tree tops, an insatiable hunger gnawing at you. “Aela,” you try, but she has already stopped, face pointed towards the tree tops, shoulders hunched. She knows.

“You can hear him call to us,” is all she says. She strips herself of her armour, underclothes doing little to stop your mind from wandering. The pieces of cloth are dumped unceremoniously onto the ground with a soft whump. “We will bring him glory, [sibling].”

She looks over her tanned shoulder at you, her eyes glinting an inhumane yellow. She does not cry out in pain; she only folds herself backwards with an echo of bones snapping, vertabrae making themselves visible along her spine. She falls forward, russet hair draped along her front this time.

All you see is her backside; her body visibly breaks out into a sweat, shivers overtaking her form. The crackling of bones that once sounded sickening are deafening loud on your heightened ears. Gore is what meets your eyes next as she sheds her human skin; it is enchanting to watch, no matter how sickening it is to see. You turn away when she looks like some form of twisted monster.

You have to shed your own clothes; you are stark naked, the air of Skyrim breezing through your hair and over your shoulders and in other nameless places. You pull on that instinct that is roaring fiercely in you; when nothing happens, you think of asking Aela -- even though she is underway of her own transformation and isn’t likely to understand you at the moment -- when your knees snap backwards and you fall forward, ankles twisting before reverting back then twisting again.

You let out a shrill noise of anguish, because nothing could ever describe the pain that is transforming. You muscles are constantly contracting and relaxing, knuckles popping and moving in a jarring sensation. Your stomach empties itself, contractions fiercely stabbing through your body. You’ve only had a few transformations that you could count on one hand, and it never gets any easier for you, no matter how smooth Aela or Skjor tell you it is.

Whatever noise you are making is cut off when your vocal cords shred themselves, blood convulsing past lips that are no longer your own. The pain almost blacks you out, the darkness would have been comforting.

Hircine is not a merciful Daedric lord, however; you are aware of every sensation that tears through you, although it all blurs together in blacks and reds. You are not aware of what happens for the rest of the duration, but the next moment you are aware and conscious of what is happening, you are still hunched over, long limbs in your vision.

Aela has never been one for comforting, but a soft growl still meets your keen ears, (y/n)? You shift your weight backwards onto your haunches and hindlegs, strong muscles rippling beneath your skin.

Blood and human skin litters the ground - your sharp nose detects it both easily. Your long fingers grapple at the ground, digging through the soil that once felt hard underfoot that so easily tore now. You pivot unsurely, awkward and gangly as you peer over at her.

Aela? you ask. Her green-yellow eyes glint at you, even through the darkness. Recognition floods through you. Aela.

The wolfblood was always hard to control at first; but recognition had flooded through you faster than when you had transformed with Skjor. Your muscles twitch, remaining in your hunched position as your trot over, snout poking at her shoulder.

Aela, Aela, Aela, Aela, you repeat, sounds vibrating through your throat with each jab of your snout at her shoulder. She does not retaliate; she only watches you with keen eyes. If you had ever thought she was beautiful as a human - which you have thought many times before, admittedly - you thought she was stunning now. She was in her element, tall and lanky, reeking of power and bloodlust. She was more confident in this body than she ever was as a mortal. Your wolfblood keeps thinking alpha, alpha, and your conscious self felt inclined to agree.

[Sibling], is her response, and she tips her muzzle briefly to your own, ears flickering. You do not speak to each other in the sense that you would as mortals - you growled out sounds at each other, words and meanings heard beneath each grunt and whine. It was a language just between you two. An intimacy that you loved to share with her.

We honor Hircine tonight, she reminds you, when she catches your eyes wandering. We will tear a group of Silver Hands asunder, her lips peel back in a feral grin. You return the gesture. In a fortnight, I will help you attack another; Skjor will go ahead of us. Do you understand? She has spoken to you of this mission a couple times before, but now was not the time to worry about it.

Hunt, hunt, kill, kill, comes the simplist mind of the wolfblood, demanding sacrifice. You would never deny Aela though, so you give a jagged nod of your head. Let us taste their blood on our tongues, and smell the fear from their bodies, then, comes a jagged noise that would have amounted to a wolfish laugh.

She turns tail and lopes off, picking up speed as she went along. You chase after her, easily catching up to her, the unfamiliarity of running on four limbs almost causes you to stumble, but you catch yourself numerous times. The wind whips across your [h/c] fur, the chitters of the flying owls and clacks of nearby mudcrabs whistling in your ears. Freedom tastes sweet on your tongue, face turned toward the sky as you run with her, both of you free.

* * *

There they are, cowering like cravens, Aela sneers, hunching over the encampment of the Silver Hands. There are only five of them; young blood by the smell of it, with one older. It is likely that they are new recruits with the older man teaching them the warning signs of the lycanthrope. Hah! Do they not know of us here? Are they really so ignorant? [Sibling], shall we go and give them a greeting? She turns to you, eyes not wavering from your face.

Yes, you grunt, blinking slowly at the few mortals; only a few of them were awake. They would be easy prey. Yes; let us hunt them, Aela. You tense your muscles along your haunches, coiling your muscles and leaning forward. Your steps are light as you tear down the slope, giving out a warning howl.

The Nords jostle themselves, raising cries of alarm and surprise. You jaws are parted; their fear tastes like victory in your mouth, and it is easy to tear through their flesh, blood tasting like copper running through your jaws and past your teeth. It is satisfying, seeing the young Nord’s eyes go bright with feverish fear and an instinct for survival, a pleasing crunch of bones meeting your ears as you grip his forearm tighter and wrench backwards. His muscles spread apart like sinew, and the shrieks that wrench from his lips are delicious. If the three others were slumbering before, they were surely awake now as your victim screamed.

It is easy for the wolfblood to grow tired, though. You tear through his jugular and take sick pleasure in seeing his blood pulse outwards, matting your fur and blood spraying across your muzzle.

Aela is already on her next victim, gnawing on his ear in a teasing way before she sprints away, leaving a raspy survivor in her wake. She pivots on her sharp-toed feet and slashes her persuer across the face, claws marking his face like a grave. He instinctively drops his weapon and raises his hands to his face, a guttural cry of surprise rising. She lunges forward and wrenches his ribcage open, gore spreading across the ground in a matter of seconds. He is dead within minutes.

The remaining two try to make a run for it. You give chase, jaws snapping at their heels as they scampered away like scared deer. The eldest of the group suddenly turns and brandishes a blade, sinking it into your shoulder and wrenching a surprised howl from your maw. How dare he!

The silver burns like liquid fire through your veins. You growl at him, springing backwards in high leaps, blood pulsing from the wound, heat flashing through you.

How dare you, you growl out, furious and ferocious all in one heartbeat. You lunge towards him and snap at the hand that bears the blade, snapping it in a quick twist of your jaws. He gives a half-hearted jerk, although there isn’t much of a surprised scent coming from him. The blade catches the corner of your lips, a red hot fire bleeding through you.

He will pay. They will all pay for hunting down your kind.

You tear into his face, blood blinding you; hot and sticky dampening your face further before you retreat. A quick snapping sound resonates through the clearing, and you pivot, [e/c] eyes blinking in surprise at the sight of another Silver Hand going limp, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Aela stands tall behind her, hand clenching from where the other’s neck was moments before. The Silver Hand had held a silver dagger, dangerously close to where you were, blinded and incapitated. She would have killed you if Aela hadn’t been there.

Thank you, you say, more of a breath than actual sounds or words. Aela tilts her head, before she turns. You both leave the bodies, trekking through the forest. The smell of gore is still fresh in your mind, although that could also be due to the fact that it was smattered across your maw and between your eyes.

Aela is always a few strides ahead of you. You do not demand to stride beside her. Protect the alpha, is what your blood sings of.

The wolfblood is what made you mercilessly kill the Silver Hand, you know. Or at least you hope so. It is what comforts you when you think of what Aela asks of you, at least.

The wolfblood is also what whispers to you - things that you think you wouldn’t otherwise think of the Huntress. Protect, is what is echoing, deep in your flesh and bones. The instinct is not unwelcome; it gives you strength, the power to be brave and courageous and every bit of the Companion that Aela seems to think you are.

You nearly bump into her, so deep in your thoughts you are. Aela? comes your whine. She says nothing, only lopes forward again and splashes into the river that you recognize as the one that tears into the earth beside Whiterun.

There isn’t much cover nearby, but at least it is close to where you two transformed. She sinks beneath the shallows, or at least, as much as she can. She has no shame in rolling over to get her back, and as soon as she deems herself clean enough of the gore that had once stained her fur, she instructs you to wash off as well.

You emerge soaking wet, fur matted close to your body. Aela gives a sharp bark of laughter at the sight of you, even though her russet coat isn’t much better.

The sun will rise soon, she explains as she moves again, silent as ever. You pad alongside her, tail brushing against the undergrowth as you let out soft huffs of air. The other Companions will suspect something if we are not back soon. Especially Athis, you respond, thinking of how the Dark Elf watched you leave. She looks over at you, making a quizzical sound but does not otherwise question you.

When you arrive at the site of where you transformed, you both simply stand quietly. Aela quickly becomes restless and moves around the clearing, simply enjoying the last bit of freedom she has before she transforms.

You like being a werewolf, you observe.

Yes, she responds without looking at you. Her gait quickers before it stops altogether, and she turns her snout towards you. There is no worry of how others will react to what I say or do. I am my own person. I own everything; nobody can hold me back. I am free. You decide you have nothing to say to that, so instead you return to watching her pace.

You do not know how much time has passed before she suddenly stops and looks at you, an amused glint in her eyes. You are always watching me, [sibling]. Am I? I haven’t noticed, you reply wryly, offering a quick session of barked laughter. ..It is hard not to.

She hesitates, eyes keenly watching you. You are interested in me, she says boldly, although with a very confused accent underneath.

You are an interesting person, you confirm, although you know that is not what she meant. Her ears fold and she bares her teeth. She trots forward, a warning growl ripping from her throat.

Your ears fold and you tuck your head quickly, wolf instinct whispering harshly, alpha, alpha. You are tired of it telling you what to do, what to think of her. You never let yourself be subjected to your more primal nature; it tells you to rebel and challenge her, even though it remembers her as alpha. You wish to be her equal, in more ways than one. She has always called you [sibling], or even, once with a sneer, ‘pup’. Aela is an enigma; power in her movements and grace in her steps. She is mistress only to Hircine, daughter of the wild. She is untameable, untouchable, unreachable. These intimate night strolls with her is all you have to seeing her carefree gestures, the only time you listen to her howl freely and without care. Subconsciously, you had been watching her - judging her movements, watching her reactions. The primal instincts first saw her as a challenge, a rival for prey and territory, but now it saw her beyond the folds and safety of the pack. She has since achieved the title of ‘alpha’ - surpassing even Kodlak. She was the only one you answered to.

She was the one who had given you the wolfblood; she was the one whose blood coursed in your veins. She was always there, scent thick and choking, something that you reveled in. As your forebear, she was more intimate with you than anyone else could be.

Aela, you say, and this time she flickers her ears. This time she listens to you. She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. Aela, Aela, Aela, you say, her name rolling through your throat and past your lips. You are dizzy with the sensation of knowing that only Skjor and you have the privilege of hunting with her. Of being with her. You are the only one who I could be interested in.

She offers a wolfish grin, and lopes a bit closer to you before bumping muzzles with you. I am inclined to agree, [sibling]. She does not elaborate, and while your blood hums with the knowledge that what she’s just said implies means that she feels the same doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s carved in stone.

Tonight, you are alive. Tonight, all you want to do is live with her, in this moment where you are eternal beings and only the moon is your witness.

I am glad to hear that, Aela, you rumble back. Taking the initiative, you continue, There is still some moonlight left; do you want to walk with me, still?

She laughs, ears folding and lips peeling back in a grin. There is nothing that requires my assistance. Let us go.

The night welcomes you like lost lovers, your blood roaring to know that you are safe with Aela by your side. There is nothing that could stop you; just the inner wolf roaring and making you twine beside each other as you pace the earth.

For now, all is well.

[captain039]

PART 2 The predator grounds

Vilkas x reader

Warnings: Forced heats/ruts, gore, smut, violence, AOB, Skyrim things, angst, intimacy

Your minds hazy and you struggle to slow your heart and control your breathing. Now is not the time to be freaking out, you’re a companion for gods sake. There’s a shift in the forest, a blur making you narrow your eyes before a werewolf is jumping out. You dodge out the way not recognising the smell of them.

“Vilkas!” You call finding yourself not able to shift like you normally could. The two brothers are over in an instant and the other werewolf is left on the ground, shifting back into human form. The woman’s cuts heal but she’s still unconscious.

“We need to move now” Vilkas says chest heaving with each breath he takes. You only nod finding yourself dizzy by both their scents.

“Come on, let’s try this way” Vilkas glared at his brother before heading left into the forest.

You walk for a while, nothing but trees, sticks, rocks and earth. The sky hasn’t changed and you’ve heard no howls since, but your body is getting weaker. Your muscles ache once this would be an easy walk through the forest, now it feels like you might collapse any moment.

“Vilkas” you hear Farkas call just as your knees shake and you fall on them. You wince planting your hands into the forest floor trying to catch your breath.

“What is it, pup?” Vilkas asks and you glare.

“You may be ok in rut but I am not ok in heat” you lay out plainly not bothering to sugar coat it for either.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Farkas offers earning a deadly growl from his brother.

“Stop fighting for gods sake” you mumble.

“Kinda hard when Vilkas here-“ you hear a punch and an oof sound from Farkas and assume he just got punched by his twin for speaking.

“I don’t care what brother rivalry you’ve got going on, I need a minute” you say. Were they any other alphas you wouldn’t take such a tone with them, hells you’re struggling right now not to bare your neck. You glance up when someone moves, Farkas moves away rubbing his jaw as he goes. Vilkas comes closer and you avoid all eye contact with him.

“Can you walk?” He asks voice soft and calm.

“I can walk, idiot” you snap your skin crawling at his dominance over you he doesn’t even realise he has at the moment.

“I know you can, Right now though, Wolfling, I will carry you, we need to keep moving” he says and you glare. You see Vilkas kneel in front of you, back towards you and you sigh. You cling to his back your body shuddering at the feel of his warm skin against yours. You feel him tense a small growl leaving his throat as his arms hook around your legs. He’s not as widely built as Farkas which you’re a little thankful for. You try not to grip your arms around his neck and burry your head there too.

“Move” Vilkas says as he passes by his brother. You feel yourself calm down, feel yourself lean in closer, you hum absentmindedly wondering how good it’d feel to pressed against him naked in a warm bed of furs.

“We’ve been walking for ages it’s not getting us anywhere, I swear that is the same rock from before” Farkas says to your side and Vilkas tenses again. You’ve never seen the alpha so tense and on edge before, he’s always calm and collected. Another giggle echos your mind and it seems like you’re not the only one who hears it.

“What was that?” Farkas asks as the scenery begins to shift. You stare in shock at the small hill turn into a cliff side cave.

“By the gods” you mutter.

“We are not going in there” Vilkas says.

“Where else are we going to go?” You ask and he huffs before grudgingly walking into the cave. It’s quiet and sheltered, a little cold but you don’t mind it against your heated skin. Villas sets you down once he’s done scouting and you sigh against the cold rock.

“We’ll need food and water, we can’t stay here forever, we need to find a way out” Vilkas says as you curl against the stone wall.

“Later” Farkas says on the other side of the cave. You close your eyes body beginning to shake again and deep ache in your bones happening too. Divines it felt so nice to be pressed against the alphas back. Safe and warm, his scent smelt heavenly, the feeling of strong muscles-

You curse your thoughts curl a little more in on yourself and sigh. You glance to each brother both apparently unbothered by their nakedness. You’re thankful for that woman being there even though she was dead, you don’t know how you’d cope being naked this whole time. A light patter of rain starts outside before it slowly gets heavier to familiar Skyrim storm.

“That’s Skyrim weather alright” Vilkas comments as thunder rumbles out. You shiver with hot and cold chills cursing silently, maybe you could cool off in the rain. You don’t want to get sick though.

You jolt realising you fell asleep after closing your eyes for a little bit. You glance seeing Vilkas a few meters away from you but not Farkas.

“Sleep well Wolfling?” Vilkas asks and you stretch out your cramped muscles with a small groan.

“Wish it was in a bed” you sigh before he chuckles softly.

“Aye I agree with you there” he agrees.

“Vilkas?” You ask and the Nord turns his eyes to you.

“What’s going on, between you and Farkas besides the obvious predicament, even then I’d thought you’d both be more behaved I suppose” you regret opening your mouth as his eyes go wide and your face heats up.

“Ignore that question, words-“ you babble looking away before he sighs.

“I honestly thought I’d have a better way to say this, more romantic and all” he grumbles to himself making you frown.

“I’ve been sweet on you the moment you kicked my ass in the training area after Kodlak said to have a look at you” he says and you freeze staring at him.

“You-“ you struggle with words.

“I’ve never met someone as brave, strong hearted or stupid as you” he chuckles as he says the last part and you smile a little.

“You never wore an Amulet of Mara so I assumed you weren’t looking for marriage, I said to myself the day you wore one I’d make sure it’d be for me” you see him smile as he looks to you then the ground.

“I love my brother, he always teases me about my feelings, but this, being forced into a rut and you in your heat, I’m afraid it’s brought out more beast than man, I don’t know what’s going on, I hate that my brother is near during this time, but he needs to be to protect you and so I can protect you both” his words hold much loyalty and fierceness.

“He would never go after you in that way, but your scent” he trails off his eyes down cast in embarrassment.

“Curse whatever stupid joke this is” he growls loudly and you tense up.

“Apologies little wolf” he mutters. Your body moves before you can decide against it, you stand and walk over to the alpha before standing in front of him. You want to fall in his lap, bury your nose in his neck and breathe him in. He stares up at you waiting and watching, he lays his bent leg flat and you shakily kneel. He helps you down hands gripping your waist so you don’t collapse on top of him before his arms go around you protectively. You sigh loudly and press your nose against his neck as your body sags.

“I haven’t had a heat in years” you admit.

“It’s not just the need for an alpha, there’s always a dull ache in my bones and muscles, I feel as if I could sleep for eternity or be up for hours, my body flushes from hot to cold” you explain enjoying the feeling of his hand running up and down your back slowly.

“I don’t know what it’s like for alphas” you add always wondering what it felt like. If it truely was more than the constant need to rut into anything that moved as your mother angrily put it.

“When I was younger I’d lock myself in my room scared of what was happening” Vilkas chuckles but you frown.

“Don’t worry, I think I was better off in there than let lose in Whiterun” you still give a concerned face.

“But it isn’t always mindless need to- well- mate, there’s always a longing for an omega of my own in our own house safe from the world” his voice is gentle and soothing you almost want to fall asleep again till Vilkas tenses and you jump at the sound of Farkas.

“Figured I’d stayed away long enough for you two to finally confess” he laughs and you feel your cheeks warm and turn your head the other way while Vilkas growls and Farkas laughs harder.

[0-animelover-0]

Skyrim Masterlist

A/N: The reader is almost always gender neutral unless I specified differently in the title.

My other Masterlists are -> here

Scenarios

When you hug them (Aela the Huntress, Ghorza gra-bagol, Grelka, Shahvee, Balimund, Derkeethus, Farkus, Vilkas, Scouts-Many-Marshes, Ghorbash the iron hand, Brynjolf, Cicero, Lord Harkon, Serana)

If you can't swim (Shahvee, Derkeethus, Scout-many-marshes)

Relaxing with their S/O (Aela the Huntress, Cicero, Serana)

S/O is the Same Gender as Them (Aela the Huntress, Shahvee, Balimund, Farkas, Vilkas, and Scout-many-marshes.)

He celebrates your birthday with you (Derkeethus)

Oneshots

Accidental Insanity (Cicero x Assassin!Reader)

Headcannons

Coming soon...