#skyrim neloth x reader

[goopysoup]

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..no more distractions, it’s time to be selfish..

Perhaps a distraction was just what Neloth needed?

featuring: neloth x fem!dragonborn

[I just stared the dragonborn dlc in my new save, I forgot how much I love this man 😀 expect Teldryn soon;)]

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“You are distracting me..” Neloth grumpily muttered, the Dunmer was trying to enchant a new staff he’d gotten not long ago. But, as you would see it, that wouldn’t get done any time soon.

You’d defeated Miraak not long ago and had decided to stay in Solstheim for a while, mostly staying in Tel Mithryn much to Neloth’s dismay. Well, at least that’s what it seemed like. He’d grown fond of you when he helped with getting one of the Black Books, he admired the way you thought of the puzzles the Dwemer had left for you to solve. Your strength was a bonus.

“Am I?” You asked, you sat on a stool next to his enchanter as he worked, just watching him as he worked on the staff. Truthfully, it wasn’t your intention to distract the dark elf, but knowing you had his attention either way was only an ego booster for you.

“You are, go find something to do, I’m busy,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at you before trying to focus back on the enchanting. He grabbed a stray soul gem that you’d so kindly filled for him, with what he didn’t know, nor did he want to.

“There’s nothing left for me to do today, I’ve already checked on the people of the Skaal village,” you groaned as you watch him yet, ignoring his glare, “besides, you could use a break, you’ve enchanted a few new staffs today, haven’t you?”

“That means nothing,” Neloth looks at you again, you frowned seeing how tired he looked. You knew he’d been overworking himself lately with his research on top of everything else, “no, it means something,” you insist, “come on, let’s go out and have some food by the water.”

Without letting him respond, you grab him by the back of his robes and pull him away from the enchanter. You pack away some food in a snapsack before you motion for him to leave before you, “ladies first,” you say jokingly, but he only chuckles dryly to show he didn’t find it funny. You laughed, that’s all that matters.

You found your way to the sea, quickly fighting off any threats before you sat down, pulling Neloth with you. He grumbled, but did as you directed.

The two of you sat outside by the water until the sun began to set, your head in Neloth’s lap as you listened to the many stories he was willing to tell you.

Perhaps he enjoyed your company more than he wanted to admit.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Dark Knowledge: Part One

Miraak x Hermaeus Mora x Female Dragonborn Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, canon-typical violence, brief blood, horror elements, tentacles

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Part One of Dark Knowledge

The Dragonborn opens up a Black Book and steps into the realm of Hermaeus Mora.

Part Two

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dark knowledge masterlist

On the island of Solstheim, deep within a cave, is a book.

Before you, the book rests upon an intricately carved pedestal large enough to hold the massive tome. The walls and floor around it are tentacles sculpted from stone. They form a tangled mural behind the pedestal and book.

It is a Black Book. A tome of esoteric knowledge. A Daedric artifact attributed to Hermaeus Mora, the Prince of knowledge, memory, and Fate. You’ve heard the tales—mostly from one of Master Neloth’s wayward stories. With your reputation, Neloth asked you to retrieve a Black Book, giving you its precise location.

Maneuvering through the cave was the easy part. Now that you stand before the massive tome, your feet have turned to solid steel. The book is bound in a black cover that appears soft to the touch as if it’s a living thing and not just Daedric reading material. On the cover is the symbol of Hermaeus Mora. Between the pages, a black mist leaks out and surrounds the book in its immediate vicinity. That doesn’t account for the oddly pulsing air, as if the book is vibrating, disturbing the space around it.

You do not move closer. You do not approach. You stand near the base of the stairs that you just descended. There is no eagerness in you to take a closer look.

“So. This is what Master Neloth wanted us to retrieve?” asks Teldryn Sero. The Dunmer mercenary stands directly behind you and to the right of your shoulder. He crosses his arms and also keeps a decent distance away. “Looks foul. I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”

Without looking away from the Black Book, you answer him. “Sounds like you’re starting to care about me, Teldryn.”

Teldryn snorts and leans in, his helmeted head appearing next to your face. “You pay me to care. Therefore, I shall. I like the coin. Keeps my pockets full.”

“Ever the poet, Teldryn.”

“Naturally.”

The good humor is just a front. This…thing is repulsive, and you’re not sure you want to touch it, let alone open it.

Master Neloth isn’t the only reason you’re after this thing. Back on Skyrim, during a visit to the town of Riverwood, a trio of cultist attacked you. Before they lashed out, they mentioned someone named “Miraak.” From there, you came to Solstheim, only to find parts of the local population seeking out stone pillars. There they toiled, repeating a mantra that made no sense.

It all led to Skaal Village where the shaman, Storn Crag-Strider, diverted you to Saering’s Watch to learn a Word of Power. The All-Maker stones, as Storn called them, are all cleansed. But it only pushed you deeper into this twisted treachery. Storn was adamant about not turning to Hermaeus Mora for assistance in defeating Miraak, but did mention Black Books and who would know more.

Master Neloth was that person.

Now, you’re here, staring at the thing everyone’s been talking about, and you’re not entirely sure who to trust.

As if drawn by an invisible tether, your left foot slides forward toward the Black Book. Your mind registers it only when Teldryn reaches out and grabs your shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he asks with a whispered sharpness. Teldryn pushes you up against the stair’s central support pillar. “You are not touching that.”

“How else are we supposed to get it to Neloth?” you snap.

“We don’t,” replies Teldryn. “I love gold but I’m not stupid. We don’t need to do this. There are plenty of other jobs out there for us to do that don’t involve anything like that.” Teldryn emphasizes his distaste by pointing at the Black Book.

“But I’m the Dragonborn. I have to do this.”

“Do you? Do you really?”

You square your shoulders and stare Teldryn down. “Yes. That’s my destiny as—”

“Is that what those old loons up on the mountain told you?” interrupts Teldryn. “That you have to solve all of Tamriel’s problems?”

“No, but—”

“But nothing. You are not beholden to anyone but yourself.” Teldryn pauses a moment and then inclines his head. “Except me. Still owe me from that bet we made in Windhelm.”

“If I pay up, will you stop talking?”

Teldryn considers. “No,” he says after a few long seconds.

The two of you turn your heads in the direction of the Black Book. The black mist around it appears thicker, and distantly, you hear voices whispering. Yet this inaudible chorus seems miles away, their voices just existing at the edges of your hearing. Teldryn is Mer, and his ears are sharper than your human ones.

“Teldryn?” you ask softly. “Do you hear that?”

His head tilts to the right an inch. “Hear what?”

You focus in on the sound, pushing all your attention into deciphering the message. It is a chorus, a resounding force of voices all harmonizing together, but every time you try to pick a word out, the understanding slips and you’re left with nothing.

“Voices,” you murmur. “Do you not hear them?”

Teldryn shakes his head and then slowly pivots to face the dark tome. You take a step closer and Teldryn blocks your path.

“How can you not hear it?” You’re not speaking to Teldryn but to the air, thinking out loud rather than seeking an answer.

Teldryn is no barrier. You push past him and make it five full steps before Teldryn is able to cut you off. He places his hands on your shoulders, halting your forward momentum.

“The Black Book is speaking to you. Hermaeus Mora is calling you to him,” says Teldryn, shaking your shoulders.

Your nostrils flare and you smell ink. It is thick and viscous. “I should open it.” The words fall from your lips easily, as if you are one of the possessed and hearing Miraak’s mantra.

“This is insanity,” hisses Teldryn. “You’re not risking your life like this.”

The voices strengthen, and between each intake of breath, you hear their song. It is not one language but many, and they all speak in unison, their words matching up in syllable and pitch. Some of the voices sound entirely mortal. Others are odd. Primordial. You do not understand them and their strangeness batters away at your brain.

Something wet drips onto your upper lip. You don’t wipe it away.

“Your nose is bleeding,” murmurs Teldryn. Behind the Chitin helmet, all you can see are the Dunmer’s eyes. But they speak volumes. His concern is evident.

The tug to open the book is unyieldingly powerful. There is no part of your body that isn’t sizzling with the need to touch the fleshy cover and reveal the secrets inside. In the end, you will have to open a Black Book. In the end, you will have to involve yourself. All roads lead there. You know this in your marrow.

“They’ll never stop coming,” you say, and each word is laced with sadness.

This is your purpose. This is the life placed before you. The gift of the Voice is not one you asked for. It is not something you ever wished upon yourself. But there is no way to give it back. Time and Fate will eventually catch up to you.

Better to face it all now.

“You owe no one nothing.” Teldryn is not a liar. At least, not to you. He respects you even when he disagrees.

“I know.” The admission is painful.

“I can’t protect you once you open that book. We don’t know what will happen.”

You shake your head. “Miraak’s temple is too heavily guarded. I cannot seek answers there.”

“We cannot seek answers there,” corrects Teldryn, his voice breaking slightly. “Where you go, I go.”

“You only say that because I pay you well.”

Teldryn gently rests his helmet against your forehead. “You pay me shit.”

The bit of blood on your lip rolls down to your chin. “Don’t wait for me,” you whisper. “Whatever you do, Teldryn. Don’t. Wait.”

Teldryn’s chest heaves with a great sigh. “I get your homestead in Falkreath.”

“Deal,” you laugh as another wet drop falls onto your upper lip. Teldryn loves that house, and it’s been nothing but trouble for you.

With a final squeeze of your shoulders, Teldryn pulls away, moving out of your path, revealing the Black Book. What dwells inside the book is the unknown factor. You could go mad. You could experience visions. You could simply disappear from this plane. There is no telling what might happen.

The harmonious voices strengthen as you stride closer. On the cover, the symbol of Hermaeus Mora begins to glow a sickly green. Around the book, the black mist thickens. In its foggy depths, the shadows of tentacles unfurl. They are transparent. Faint, dark whisps. The tentacles venture outwards, reaching as if seeking an embrace.

Another step. Another. Another still and then you’re right there, staring down at the thing that won’t stop talking.

Neloth will have his book, but you need this to end.

The tips of your fingers brush against the edge of the Black Book’s cover. It is not fleshy as you expect it to be. It is coarse, but not sharp or scratchy. Slowly, your fingers curl around the edge. There is a hesitation just before you start to open the cover. Moving with you, the pages follow the cover, and then the yellowed papers inside present themselves.

At first, there is nothing. The pages you stare at are blank. In the next second, all sound disappears as if the room is frozen in time. It is followed by a soft pop, and the world comes hurtling forward.

The blank pages begin to fill in archaic, living writing. The unknown words and symbols move across the page in systematic lines and circles. Some are large and easy to see while others are so tiny they float around in the background in faint swirls.

Between the pages is a void. It emerges from the binding, moving outward over the pages. It is an abyss, and its emptiness drags you forward, your boots lifting off the floor until you’re on your toes.

Tentacles burst forth from the darkness. These are not the misty tendrils from earlier but real, tangible limbs that slide over and around you. They wrap around your arms and shoulders. They suction to your face and neck. They probe and push even as you thrash about, trying to break free.

Escape is impossible. You’re hauled forward, tipping down into the abyss, delving into the darkness. There is a loud roaring and then your feet are on solid ground.

The abyss is gone, and instead…

You’re not entirely sure where you are.

Around you is an alcove made of black metal. Attached to it is an archway made of books that connect to a long hallway. The books within the archway are stacked on top of each other, almost seeming to melt together near the center curve of the arch. Beneath your feet is stone. Some of it is gray like the rock on the side of mountain. Other chunks of stone are black and dull. There are pages from books scattered all over the ground but they aren’t moving. They simply rest where they lay.

You bend at the knees and reach out, sliding a fingernail under the corner of the nearest page. Its only lifts an inch or so, and with it comes something syrupy and sticky. You immediately retract your arm and stand, wiping away the reside on your leather pants.

Slowly, you rotate, surveying your surroundings. It’s only when you turn around that you notice the Black Book. The symbol of Hermaeus Mora does not glow. There is no black mist or odd whispering.

Without second guessing the choice, you grab the cover and open the book, expecting to find what you did just seconds ago.

Nothing.

The pages are blank.

You flip the page. Nothing. Flip again. Still blank.

You go to the beginning, examining every inch of paper. No living words or symbols appear. The book is dead. Silent.

Frowning, you spin around and stare down the long hallway. The air is stale and absent of wind. Glancing up, you peer through the small holes in the black metal. A glowing, green sky greets you. There are streaks in the sky that move like clouds but their radiance is more like lightning. Shifting on your feet, you change perspective, and discover a black abyss cutting through the green sky.

Is that what you fell through?

As you watch the portal, black tentacles drop from its darkness and sway as if caught on a breeze. But you feel no wind against your skin. Then again, you don’t sense a temperature either. You’re not cold but you’re not warm, as if the very atmosphere is adjusting to your body temperature, making the stale air around you feel like absolutely nothing.

Wherever you are, it is an atrocity.

Without a way to go back, the only path is forward.

With overly slow movements, you unsheathe the sword at your waist. The hallway isn’t well lit, but there is enough light to see by. Crouching slightly, you move on silent feet, keeping close to the wall without touching it.

The stone floor gives way to twisted metal, and the walls are nothing but books. You do not stop to peer at any of them. This place is dangerous, and you need to be alert at all times. Survival is essential. Information is important. Any clues that you can take back to Neloth or Storn might help in unveiling the mystery behind this stranger known as Miraak.

Hermaeus Mora is not unknown to you. You grew up on stories about Aedra and Daedra. They were standard tales, but when you were a child, those beings seemed far from the reality of your life.

It is so very different now.

Neloth did not shy away from talking about the Daedric Prince. It was Miraak that the Dunmer dismissed, seeming more concerned with Mora and the Black Books.

What was it that Neloth said about Mora’s permanent influence? Madness. Loss of self-awareness. Black spots in the whites of the eyes. There are no mirrors and you cannot see your reflection in your sword. You’re not mad, but for a brief moment you thought you were when Teldryn couldn’t hear the voices. Your self-awareness is intact. At least, for now.

Storn called Mora the Skaal’s enemy, and spoke of hidden Skaal knowledge that Mora wishes to obtain only for the sheer pleasure of possessing it. But Storn did not say more, merely focusing on the destruction of Miraak’s influence.

As you round a corner, you arrive at an open platform. Instead of approaching, you hang back, observing your newly unobstructed view of the environment. From here, the glowing sky and black portals are in clear view. Various structures dot the landscape, and it stretches in all directions.

But there is no landscape. There are no trees or blades of grass. What should be the ground isn’t rock or dirt but a dark liquid that resembles black water. It is as dark as parchment ink, and the surface of it ripples slightly as if something moves beneath it. You have zero desire to know if its as fluid as an ocean or thick like honey.

The platform itself is rounded and juts out slightly from the opening. As you step closer, the platform shifts and fans upward, extending like the wings of a dragonfly. Another appears from above, connecting to it to form a bridge.

There is a tower there, the outside of the structure nothing but pillars of books. Your gaze sweeps across it and the surrounding area. Nothing jumps out at you except the strangeness of the place. Nothing and no one lurk nearby.

Cautiously, you step out onto the bridge. Still, there is no wind. The air is still. With silent steps, you creep to the next platform. When you crest the small curve in the bridge just before the landing, you come to a stop and immediately drop to your stomach.

A strange creature hovers just inside the archway. It has four arms, two of which hold books while the others rest against its sides. Its head is squid-like with two thin eyes and no eyelids. Hanging from its shoulders are rags of some kind, but at this distance, it might also be fur.

It has not noticed you, and you use this to your advantage. Silently, you set your sword next to you, and remove your ebony bow from your back along with an arrow. Easing up to a low crouch, you pull back on the bowstring, aiming the pointed tip of the arrow at the head of the bizarre creature.

With a book in hand, it seems such a gentle creature. It’s head tentacles flare as it reads as if the words on the page are amusing. A brief moment of hesitation stays your hand. Then you remember the voices and mist, of how blood dripped from your nose from the brawling nature of it all.

Your finger slips from the bowstring.

The arrow whistles.

It lifts its head in curiosity.

Making contact, the arrow slides between the creature’s eyes.

There is no noise or cry of pain. It vanishes in a brief vibration of mist. The rags it wore and the books it held hang suspended in the air before falling to the ground. The books hit hard. The rags drift slowly.

Before the rags touch the ground, you’re up and moving, returning your blade to its scabbard. You remove another arrow from the quiver. In this moment, you are a stealthy killer, a being of darkness in a place made for it.

Your humanity will not pause your hand. The answers you seek go beyond that. You are in Hermaeus Mora’s realm. You are alone. Teldryn is not here to help you. Everything going forward must be done with only yourself in mind.

As you step off the bridge, the dragonfly-like structures break apart. You glance back and meet open air.

A howl reaches your ears. It bites and claws, sounding of blood-filled lungs. All the hair on your arms stand on end, and your skin prickles with awareness. The awful sound comes again. It’s closer. Moving in. Trapping you against a threat of falling.

There is a ripple. A change that you sense. Of a predator seeking its prey.

You drop to your knees as a ball of vibrating air launches over your head. Spinning toward your assailant, you release the notched arrow. It strikes true, hitting another one of those creatures.

This one shrieks. Then doubles. A replicate appearing beside it.

With quick fingers, you release two more, sending the tentacle twins vanishing into puffs of mist.

It is clear that your presence has been detected. Stealth will be of little use if the beings of this realm are actively seeking you out.

Charging down the hall only proves what you expect. More of these creatures lurk nearby, actively waiting for you to make an appearance. These are not visible. They are beings of mist, and they solidify with a blink, popping up from nowhere before your very eyes.

The first surprises, nearly knocking you down.

The second almost grabs you. It’s clawed hand just grazing your leather armor.

The third hurtles into you, but you manage to roll into the fall, getting back on your feet with ease.

The bow is useless. They are too close, disappearing then reappearing in rapid succession. Your blade is sharp, and you are eager for a bit of blood.

The steel blade rings loudly and the first swing strikes true.

“Fus!” The power of your Voice slams into one of the tentacled creatures. It flinches back. Recoils from your blow. It is enough for you to drive forward.

You duck and weave, slicing through the air and dispatching your assailants with the skill that has made hundreds tremble.

But there is no blood. These creatures do not bleed. They simply vanish into mist.

Chest heaving, you finally have a moment to gauge your new surroundings. It’s a massive circular room. There are several large, metal double doors scattered throughout the room but the doors are shut, barring entry.

All expect one.

With resolve in every step, you march forward toward the open gate, passing rotting stacks of books and floating eyes with tiny tentacles. They look like horrific stars. They even blink, following you for a few strides before drifting off to move about the room.

You ascend the raised dais, pass through the doors, and up another flight of stairs before you’re spit out onto another platform.

Unlike the previous platforms, this one is already attached to a bridge. It spans a great expanse of black water, connecting to another tower. But there is too much open space between the towers, and there is zero cover. You would need to sprint, or use a Shout to speedily propel yourself across.

A roar from behind you stirs your feet.

“Wuld Nah!” In seconds, you’re halfway across the bridge, already sprinting to the other side, your arms and legs pumping with every step.

“Dovahkiin!”

The primordial voice is an anchor tied to your feet and you are in deep water. Sinking. You are sinking. The bridge beneath you is melting, sucking and solidifying around your boots.

With a cry, you reach down and try to lift your leg. Nothing. You are rooted to the spot.

A shadow falls across the bridge. A deep, unsettling, slimy sensation slithers up your spine and wraps around your throat. Your eyes are fixed to your submerged boots.

“Fate has led you here, to my realm, as I knew it would.” Your fingers tremble and you refuse to look up. “All seekers of knowledge come to my realm, sooner or later. That is what you are after, isn’t it? Knowledge. That is why you answered my call so willingly.”

No forms on your tongue. You did not come willingly. Or did you? Yes, the pull was there but you intended to open up the Black Book. Didn’t you?

You’re…certain?

A lone black tentacles drifts in front of your face. It wiggles slightly, moving toward your nose. It retreats slightly, and then with an odd gentleness, curls under your chin, lifting your face to the Daedric Prince floating in the sky.

Hermaeus Mora is a grotesque abomination. He is a green and black mass, a void of tentacles and eyes. His entire being pulsates, expanding and retracting as he…breathes? Do Daedric Lords need to breath? Or is this just a formality to make you more comfortable?

If it’s intentional on Mora’s part, it’s creepy, only adding to his aura. Hermaeus Mora is large, taking up so much space he’s all you can see. While he hovers in the air, Mora is not far from you. In fact, if you lift your hand and extend your arm, you’d easily touch him.

The large eye in the center of it all blinks slowly in observation. “Is the Last Dragonborn a fool? Speak, mortal. Why did you come to me?”

Deep in the recesses of your soul, a stubbornness blooms. Your mouth does not form the answer he’s seeking. Instead, your lips pull back, and you bare your teeth like a feral animal.

“If you are the Prince of Fate, surely you can answer such a simple question. All this knowledge around you, and yet you cannot form your own answer. I expected more.”

Hermaeus Mora bristles, his form expanding in size as his tentacles vibrate with irritation. “Be warned. Many have sought my halls. I have broken them all. You cannot evade me. You cannot resist.”

The bridge rumbles. Hermaeus Mora’s massive eye slides up to watch a point over your shoulder. Slowly, you turn, finding yet another abomination. This one is incredibly tall, almost amphibious and slightly humanoid. Each of its footsteps shake the bridge.

Mora is calm. Serene. The creature moves closer, each shattering step a threat.

“You are in my realm now, Dragonborn. Apocrypha will be your home. You will converse with me and I cannot wait to know your secrets.”

From the monster’s open mouth emerge a wave of tentacles. They wrap around your body. They cover your face and slide into your mouth, reaching toward your lungs.

“Sleep,” hums Hermaeus Mora as your consciousness begins to slip. “And then we shall talk.”

Part Two

taglist:

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

[dovahkinniez]

ur writing smacks, neloth nsfw headcanons?

thank you very much! <3 but uhhhhhh ;) let’s get into it…

18+ only! sexual content awaits your very eyes, my kind soul. ps, i will try and stay gender neutral as much as possible but there is a tiny mention of a female bodied reader, so either don’t read if that’d make you feel uncomfortable! or skim/ignore that part. :]

ps. i haven’t wrote anything sexual in a very long time, so if it’s not the best.. my apologies!

Remember to not be a silent reader, like and share your thoughts! I love hearing everyone's feedback. <3

SPICY NELOTH

— nsfw headcanons

rubs hands together, let’s get it. :D

he’s a busy man, he takes his time management seriously because with his time he needs to focus it on things that truly matter!

that’s why when it comes to you and the ‘bedroom acts’ he takes it slow, and almost studies your body and sees what exactly makes you tick and what personally isn’t for you.

i see him as a person who believes the whole, ‘as long as the two are having fun does it really matter who is dominant or submissive?’ - which is a fact but this doesn’t mean he doesn’t have certain sides to him.

naturally, he’s a service top. he loves to make you feel good, comfortable and ultimately satisfied during and especially at the end.

if you feel good, he feels good. he feeds off your pleasure because he loves to watch you, and it’s pretty much memorised and scorched into his brain, the images and even sounds of you, that even when he’s trying to do work he feels himself annoying growing stiff in his you-know-what area.

people have came to a conclusion that he gets a hard-on over his research, i’m not sure which is the most embarrassing - the truth or this theory?

your body is a map, his hands and mouth is the adventurer, he’s affectionate and touchy and wants to explore all across your body.

i saw somewhere in a post where they say he probably is the type to use spells during sex, which i completely agree on.

using spells and creating them to be able to pin you down without using physical items, or spells to make your body more sensitive.

heated hands from flames to heat you up, making you flustered with the odd shock that’s enough to arch your back against the bed.

master with his hands, spells aren’t the only things he can play with. takes his time, teasingly slow at times because he likes to hear you whine and he’ll say the odd comment, ‘aww, are you frustrated? you’ll be fine, sweetheart’ as he presses a sweet kiss against the corner of your mouth.

he knows what he’s doing and at times he can sound very condescending and bitchy, let’s hope you like the mild degradation here and there.

loves it when you’re on your knees, worshipping him with his cock in your mouth, “come on, you can do better than that.” he’d groan out as he taps your cheeks before pushing your head down further.

guides you through it, tells you what to do and instructs you between shaky breaths with his hands gripping onto your hair or shoulders.

body worshipping mf. likes it both ways. the feeling of your lips and tongue all over his skin as you reach further down sends him dizzy and his dick pulsating.

he likes to fuck you with his tongue before he even thinks about actually fucking you. you deserve the best treatment, that involves multiple orgasms.

likes to edge you, playing with you until you’re clinging to him before he stops with a short laugh, “i’m not done with you yet.” before he starts again once you’ve calmed down. changes tempo to keep the rhythm bumpy, the bigger the patience the bigger the orgasm.

after a stressful day he just wants to be inside you, sometimes you don’t even fuck. cock-warming and falling asleep in a very close intimate cuddle. the best.

sat on his lap, his hands roaming around your body as your nipple is caught between his lips, you grind down on him teasingly as you grow wetter, his teeth nip at you which just turns you on even more.

deep kisser, passionate and electrifying. sweet pecks and lustful makeout sessions, both are a must. his lips are soft and the words that leave them have you begging for more.

he just wants you to beg a little more until he gives you exactly what you want.

[justheretop0st]

Rain

He hated the rain. He hated the sound of it, the smell of it, the feel of it. And though he prayed it never comes, the thunder rolls and mocks him. How unfortunate.

She was one in an era that truly caused change. It was evident at her funeral. There wasn’t enough room to accompany the waves of people who had come to see her one last time. It lasted days, almost a week of respect and reminiscence. There were things that he didn’t even know about her. This was especially telling of the figures in black and red.

The woman he had come to call his wife was a leader by nature. She lead her side to victory in the war. She ended Alduin, granted she had legendary warriors by her side. She solved the vampire crisis, having to split her own soul in order to enter the soul cairn. She became the leader of the companions, even for a brief period becoming the Arch-Mage. She had helped countless people. He was sure there was more, but there are always secrets that are best left to die with her.

The day she died, she looked more. More of everything. More like a leader. More like a wife. More beautiful and terrifying all in the same breath. She laughed and she seemed to glow. The breeze made her hair animate with life. With every ounce of blood in his body, he swore it shone in the sun.

It was quick and he was thankful for that. Perhaps he couldn’t handle it if she suffered. Perhaps it was because he didn’t have to worry about the last words he said to her. Because he swore to tell her daily how much he adored her. It might have been out his comfort zone. But even in his actions he swore to show her nothing but adoration and love. She deserved it and he knew it was likely she was to die at any point.

Being a renowned hero, she had enemies. A single moment of peace, pierced by an arrow laced in poison. Normally it wouldn’t have punctured her armor. But she wore a dress that day. Even into the night when she was being honored with a banquet. Ale, wine, mead and more was being served. How could someone have missed a person with an arrow equipped?

He wished he could have been more vigilant and maybe he would have had it not been for the drink. He wished his last words were more fine than a sloppy serenade. A declaration of known love. On his knees before her and he could feel the air push over his head as the arrow hit its target.

Panic arose in the crowd, they all ran to cover. But he stayed kneeled there, catching her as she fell into his arms. Straight through the heart, and she stared into his eyes. A connection. A final connection. She died with a smile on her face and her hand in his. But he felt to many emotions for him to simply sit there with her. He felt anger. Remorse. Sadness. He wanted revenge.

All he can remember after that is snatching a sword from a guards sheath and searching the building. Room by room, person by person. He was to filled with emotion, but nothing would get past him. He was told that the assassin was eventually found. That this person was taken to jail. But jail was not what the person deserved. For taking such a life, death would be the only repentance.

During her funeral, it rained for those days and nights. He couldn’t bear to leave her side as she lay there. Surrounded by flowers and gifts and mementos. He remained soaked and though there were others with him, he paid their words of condolences no mind. Nothing would make this better.

How he hated the rain.

[datorchoe]

could this one get some Neloth x injured/sick! reader pls? drabble or headcanons, surprise me

Ah yes, the DILF

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- “What? You're sick? Why are you telling me? I don’t care as long you don’t get in my way.” He absolutely cares. 

- He won’t allow you to help with any experiments or anything at this point. His excuse is that you’ll infect it, but it's really because he wants you to rest. 

- Don’t even TRY to leave the tower on his watch. He will lose it. He will force you to lay down and relax. He doesn’t need your condition getting any worse. He already forces enough medicine down your throat. 

- Now, if you were injured? Oh boy. May Stendarr have mercy on the poor sod who harmed you. Neloth will straight up rip out their eyes and use them in an experiment. 

- Neloth will watch you like a HAWK as you recover. He won’t personally help you with like, moving around or getting things. He’ll order the others to do it but make them report back your condition. 

- He also uses some insane healing spells and experiments on you. Like, sometimes it'll make your wounds worse or something, but he’ll immediately use actually functioning restoration spells. 

- Neloth really means well, he’s just not sure how to express his worry and love. Just be patient with the bab. 

[getheeheed]

I finished the stupid Neloth fic, @otvlanga come get your man, fellow rat wizard enjoyer. It's an x reader, and I used they/them for the character. I don't write often, so popping out almost two thousand words seems like a lot to me lol, and it's definitely a little sloppy. I had fun writing it tho and at the end of the day that's all that matters to me. Not Safe For Work stuff under cut, if I'm missing any warnings let me know and I'll add them as soon as I can.

Warnings: nsfw, voyeurism (slight), kind of graphic anal sex

All he wanted was a damn bath. Everyone seemed extremely adamant on getting on his nerves today, more so than usual, so what better idea to help him relax than a nice, hot bath, right? Wrong. You see, Neloth had forgotten one small detail, and it went by the name of [name]. And that little detail was currently occupying his bathtub, not even paying any mind to the fact that someone had entered the room. So there he was, standing in his bath robes, staring at the Dovahkiin, naked as the day they were born, going about washing themself, and the poor elf just couldn't look away. He knew, deep down, that it was wrong, that he should've immediately turned and walked in the opposite direction, but at that moment he didn't really care. Instead, he settled on closing the door behind him, and, as quietly as he could, lower himself to sit on a stool, eyes still fixed on the figure before him.

They seemed truly relaxed, something Neloth had never known them to be, as they dragged the sponge along their arms, carefully going over any new scratches or cuts and coating them in a thin sheet of soapy bubbles, slowly scrubbing the dirt and grime away. It was kind of fascinating, really, watching them twist and turn, trying to reach every spot on their back, but they got it eventually. Going from their back to the front of their torso, he felt a bit disappointed when they moved the sponge down, where the bathtub blocked his vision. So he settled, instead, for how the light reflected off their damp chest, until they lifted a leg up, making all the harder to access areas available for both their sponge and his eyes. He was enchanted, leaning forward to rest his chin on his knuckles, from the way their hand was moving up and down and up and down their calf, and then onto the next leg, repeating the movements. They then put the sponge down and took a cup in their hand, filling it with water and rinsing themselves, putting it down when they were done and getting up.

They reached for a small towel, drying their hair and face with it, then throwing it around their shoulders, and finally stepped out of the bathtub, dripping water on the floor. Neloth now had a view of, well, everything. The multiple scars adorning the Dovahkiin's body, their muscles flexing and contracting as they moved to grab a bigger towel to dry themselves off, starting with their arms, then moving down to their legs. The elf followed the movements, trained eyes making note of every single detail on their torso, moving down to where a dragon's jaws had left quite the scar on their abdomen, and right below that lay their- "Neloth?" The elf froze, quickly shooting up. Both stood there, dumbfounded for a second, one person left with a slightly open mouth, the other clutching a towel just above their knees.

"I…. I don't have an excuse." "No, you don't," [name] said plainly, lifting the towel to wrap it around their torso, taking note that Neloth's gaze still lingered downward for a bit, before turning to look up, "An explanation, maybe?". Neloth thought for a second, opening his mouth to speak, then immediately closing it, shaking his head and frowning. "No, I can't seem to find one," he said, still searching his mind for a crumb of reason behind his actions, when the other person took a step towards him, "What are you doing?" "I should be asking you that, you're the one that was watching me at my most vulnerable, and then offered no explanation whatsoever."

They were pushing, adding to the ever so growing tension between them. It had been there since the start, but now it was most unbearable. Neloth was (both literally and metaphorically) against a wall, he had to break sooner or later. "I- well- I don't-" Their bodies were inches apart. "I mean, if you had asked, I would have let you join." Silence. Did they push too far? Had they crossed the line? Their mind almost didn't register the hands grabbing at their hips, the small distance between their bodies closed, mouth pressing, no, more like crashing on theirs. The tension finally broke, and they kissed back with all they had, one hand coming to rest on his nape, the other sliding in his robes and up along his back, pulling him as close as possible.

He was sloppy in his movements, having not touched another person this way in over a century can do that to someone, but his enthusiasm and teasing hands made up for it. Well, not really. The teasing was maddening, the way his hands massaged up and down their sides, the small bites on their lips as they kissed, it drove them insane, so they retaliated by moving a hand to rest on his ass and placing their lips to his neck, nipping and sucking until they found the spot that made him moan. His hand immediately shot up to stifle the sound, but it was already out, and the Dragonborn pulled away to look at him with a smug expression. "I usually hate it when you're loud, but, I don't think I mind this". He glared daggers at them before shifting them so that their back was against the door, yanking their towel off in the process, and going on to give them the same treatment, with a few additions.

While his mouth was busy with their neck, his hands went down to hoist their legs up to his waist, grinding his hips on theirs. They threw their head back, hitting the door, a long moan drawn from their throat as they moved their hips with his, throwing their hands to his chest to claw at his robes. "Gods… Neloth, please…" they breathed out and he suddenly stopped, snapping out of his trance when he realized they were still in the bathroom, "Not here, come on".

Neloth practically dragged them to his room as fast as he could, lest someone else lay eyes upon his Dragonborn. As soon as the door closed, he crashed his mouth on theirs again, hands roaming their naked frame, slowly moving them towards the bed. Their hands worked fast, undoing his robes and helping him shrug them off, revealing his toned body as well as his already hardened cock, then pulling him down with them on the mattress. "[Name]... what did you do?" he managed to ask through kisses, "What do you mean?" "I haven't been able to finish a single project in the past three months, all because of you," he kissed the corner of their mouth, "every time I try to focus you creep into my thoughts," he moved to their jaw, "when someone mentions you my breath seems to hitch," he nipped their neck, "you must've slipped something in my tea when I wasn't looking or cast a hex or- I don't know, what did you do you little-" "Neloth." He turned to look at them, "What." "Shut the fuck up." And with that, they took his face in their palms and slipped their tongue in his mouth, soliciting a deep groan from the elf.

His hand shot out to the side, scrambling to open a drawer on his nightstand and retrieving a vial containing a questionable liquid, as well as a towel. "What's that?" "Lubricant," he replied, pulling the cork off and pouring some in his palm, "turn around, on your knees. Oh, and put this under you, will you?" he handed them the towel and they complied, confused, if a bit curious to see what would happen next. Once they were in place, he set the vial down, rubbing his hands together and gently massaging their ass, thumb brushing over their hole, making them gasp. "Take a deep breath," he said before slowly pushing a middle finger in, drawing out a long moan from the [race] and getting them to arch their back. "So needy, we've barely even started," it was his turn to be smug and they didn't even get to reply before he started moving the finger inside them, grazing their insides and adding another one, now scissoring them open. The whole time they were gasping and writhing under his grasp, trying to keep quiet in fear of being found out, and he added a third and final digit, slowly preparing them for what was to come before removing everything, making them whine at the loss.

"Sweet gods, Neloth, please…" the Dovahkiin groaned out, desperation quite evident in their voice, "Would it kill you to be a bit more patient?" Neloth questioned, taking the vial in his hand again and pouring out a generous amount, slicking his cock and positioning himself over the [race]. He placed his tip at their entrance, making them shudder, before pushing it in with an exhale, pausing to get a better hold of their hips before pushing himself in entirely, drawing out long moans from the both of them. Neloth gave them a few seconds to adjust to the feeling, and let the pain recede a bit, before he started slowly moving in and out, grinding his hips against their ass, cock never moving entirely out yet always pushing in to the hilt.

The Dragonborn groaned and writhed under him, a bit overwhelmed from the sensation, but they certainly weren't complaining, and as Neloth picked up the pace a little more they were gasping and moaning out in pleasure. Soon he had them screaming out his name, his hips snapping forward to thrust inside them deeper and harder, and it wasn't long until they came. Neloth himself wasn't that far behind, with one final thrust he released inside them with a loud moan, thick cum coating their insides, some spilling out and on the towel as he pulled himself out. When he was finished, he procured a smaller towel from the nightstand, cleaning himself and the Dragonborn best he could and putting the dirtied towels away, and laid down, pulling them with him in his arms, their back against his chest. They were both panting and covered in sweat, his skin was pleasantly warm against theirs, they noted. He also seemed softer, more relaxed than they knew him to be. Turning around in his arms, they wrapped theirs around his torso and placed their forehead against his chest. He pulled the covers over them and held them closer, kissing the top of their head. It was strange, coming from him, but they didn't mind, it was a nice change.

"We should probably have showered before crawling under the bed," they remarked, closing their eyes, "Probably. But I'm tired". "That's new," they replied, "Oh, shut up." And with that, they slept. When morning came, Varona was very puzzled as to why Neloth hadn't yelled for her yet, until she found the Telvanni in his bed, the Dragonborn in his arms, dead asleep for the first time in years. She let them be, making sure to warn Talvas not to enter the room, before setting off to make some canis root tea for when the elf awoke.

[1000fiction]

31 with neloth pls?? 🥺

The old elf had yet to fully acclimate to this new relationship. He was invested, but it'd been so long, and he'd gotten so old - though he was loath to admit it.

He hadn't been the most social elf in his younger years, and he'd maintained bachelor status for the majority of his elder life.

He didn't regret it one single bit, he'd accomplished things others could only dream of. But that didn't stop him from being a touch reluctant in making moves upon his new lover.

“Can I kiss you?”

In his dreams he'd sweep them off their feet, his lips pressed against theirs in a kiss that'd take their breath away.

But in reality, he'd happily settle for the small hitch in breath, their surprise turning to glee as they nodded, and met him in the middle.

[laughableillusions]

Farkas Meets Neloth

((AN: I wrote this at like 2am last night and I thought it was funny, I proofread it a little but of you find any errors just ignore them)) ((Also idk if this is a bit out of character for Neloth, but mostly I think he’d be at least a bit curious abt the LDB romance choices bc of research abt the magical aspects of dragons or smth))

Lindir wasn’t expecting a manhandling interrogation when he floated up to the top of the Tel Mithryn tower, he almost tripped when the old wizard rushed up to him; berating him with questions as he held his chin in a tight grip. Poor Farkas, he could tell he was a bit overwhelmed. Then again, how many times in a Nord’s life does he float about in a giant mushroom tower?

“Well you seem fine to me, or at least you’re still exactly the same as when I last saw you…” Neloth sounded disappointed.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I didn’t know you still needed m-“

“Who is this?” Neloth had now turned to Farkas, his yellow eyes narrowing as he eyed the Nord.

Lindir stammered, his protective instincts slamming right into him at the question.

“H-He…I-I got married remember?” Lindir managed, his charm automatically masking his nervousness.

Neloth’sbrow furrowed, he was ironically a few inches shorter than Farkas. But he examined as if he was some kind of strange insect, he walked around him looking him up and down. Farkas watching him stiffly, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Well, he certainly is quite the specimen.” Neloth concluded, halting back in front of the man.

Lindir was struck dumb. He didn’t know if he should be flattered or offended at the wizard’s remarks of his husband. I mean the approval of an old Telvanni Wizard was something to be proud of right?

Neloth didn’t seem to notice or care about Lindir’s reaction, only taking his hand and yanking Farkas’s face down to his level by the chin. He looked over him, turning his face this way and that, brow furrowed in concentration. The poor Nord only glanced fearfully at Lindir, awkwardly leaned down at the mercy of the dunmar. He knew better than to stop him at least, he trusted Lindir enough to know when to act and when to stay back. The half-elf knew how to charm and maneuver social situations as well as Farkas could hear a rabbit in the brush. So he would do what he did best, stand and be silent and wait until he felt it was safe enough to speak.

Lindir on the other hand was still caught up in his mind, he didn’t know if he should stop him or not. If he did he was half convinced he would be thrown down the long shaft of Tel Mithryn by Neloth if he protested. Usually if anyone even tried anything like that to Farkas they’d receive sharp consequences (be it verbal or otherwise). One could safely say Lindir was overprotective of his husband, he had the scars from multiple altercations to protect his honor to prove it. Farkas was no exception either, though he was long-cured of Lycanthropy. The possessive instinct to “protect his own” lingered, and it showed. There were many a man (and woman) who had the bruises to prove that too.

Neloth finally let go of Farkas’s chin, brushing the dust that had coated his face off his palms.

“Well, he doesn’t seem in any way special.” The old wizard half-sighed. “But I can see why you like this one, he is quite pretty if nothing else.”

Lindir flushed a deep red at that. His temper now flaring at the back-handed compliment. “This one” “specimen” “not special” it was all simply intolerable. He couldn’t allow any more of it. Farkas was probably the most special person in his life, and he wouldn’t have some old grouch determine his worth.

“How dare you speak to him like that!” Lindir shouted, his hands flying all about him. “Why do you care about who I marry?! It’s not any of your business anyway!”

Neloth didn’t even react to his tirade, which only fanned the flames of Lindir’s anger.

“You act like he’s not even a person while he’s standing right in front of you! How about you treat him like a normal person would and address him properly you wrinkly freak!”

Neloth gave the half-elf a sidelong glance of withering boredom. Sending Lindir sputtering uselessly for words and insults.

“Of course you’d say that, you’re his husband.”

Lindir let out a cry of complete and utter disgust, looking angrily at Farkas. The Nord met his eyes, obviously taking his look as a sign that ‘this was not okay, and he had to do something.’

“I think he married me for a reason other than just the way I look.” Farkas interjected firmly.

The look Neloth gave him silenced him instantly.

“Where did you find him anyway?” The wizard sounded like he was referring to a prize horse. “In Skyrim I know, but what province?”.

Lindir huffed.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s literally standing right in front of you.”

Neloth frowned, obviously he didn’t enjoy having Lindir be pouty with him. Not that he much cared for what Lindir felt, but it was much too noisy and it distracted him. But if it would shut him up, he supposed he would ask him.

He sighed annoyingly, turning back to Farkas.

“Where are you from?”

Farkas forced himself to look at him, he would hate to admit it, but the wizard scared him. He was always a bit wary when it came to magic, even when Lindir taught him some basic restoration spells he never really trusted it. But those countless burns he sustained from battles against mages, the fireballs shot straight at his face…it was enough to at least have some respect for the craft. He could never really picture going into battle without any sort of weapon, sure swinging a sword around took training. But even then anyone could pick up a sword and use it training or not.

Coming face to face with a master wizard, a wizard that probably studied his craft for more years than he had been alive; honed and perfected every spell so that even the twitch of his fingers would produce what he wanted. Farkas couldn’t fathom the ability this man had over magic, and it was awe-inspiring as well as terrifying.

Neloth was obviously getting annoyed from Farkas’s lack of answer. He could feel himself being read by the Nord, like those pale eyes tried to prod into him.

“Well?” Neloth barked.

Farkas blinked, glancing back at Lindir before pulling together an answer.

“Whiterun, Jorrvaskyr actually.” He choked out. “I-I’m with The Companions…”

Neloth nodded a bit thoughtfully.

“The Companions eh? As in the 100 companions of Ysgrammor...” He thought for a moment, looking Farkas up and down once again. “I suppose that means you’re his legacy hm?” He concluded.

Farkas decided to keep the obligatory Companion Value Lecture to himself, he only knew so much anyway, and didn’t care much for the history either. He just nodded, hoping it would appease the wizard.

It seemed to, and he finally turned away from him. Farkas let out a breath of relief, scooting closer to Lindir to try and recover himself. He didn’t know how much more of this interrogation he could take.

Lindir took his large hand and squeezed it, obviously feeling the same way.

“Well with that out of the way, what is it that you want?” Neloth now said, his back to them.

Lindir thought for a moment, he had gotten so carried away with protecting Farkas the reason for making this tedious trip had escaped him briefly.

“Oh right! Yes,” Lindir said, now completely composed once again. “I’m here about the black books?”

Neloth turned back to him, not even paying attention to the couple’s interlocked hands.

“I thought as much, now come…I have something to show you.” He said, already walking off and not waiting for either of them to catch up.

[supervillain-smut]

I don’t know if tumblr ate my message, but for the Skyrim requests: neloth x female reader smut? Maybe established relationship?

"Can you do neloth x female reader? Maybe established relationship ? I would literally die.. 🙈🙈"

That one? Yeah, I got you!

[dovakhiindrabbles]

A New Associate (Rune x Reader)

13. “I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I can’t trust anyone anymore, can I?”

Dialogue Prompts

Word Count: 2297

God I’m gonna scREAM I was writing this post properly when my hand slipped and it accidentally ‘privately posted’ and now I can’t even find the post so whatever I guess I’ll just die instead sjfkasjflaskjf

Luckily though, I got it the writing itself saved so here it is I’m really sorry for the delay. Anyhow thank you so much and have a fantastic day!! Enjoy!!

This is a request from @lj-laufeypevensieweasley

———————————————————————————————————–

Your partner had framed you.

It was meant to be a typical job, sneaking in, snatching the treasure, and sneak out.

You could’ve never expected it to go so, so wrong.

They had agreed to keep watch, giving you an assuring smile before you crept up the stairs in Solitude, faint hints of the cold stone, brushing against your fingertips.

The treasure had been easy enough to snag, stuffing into your bag as you began to make your way back.

Until you heard yelling.

And not from your partner.

“Who the hell are you?” A man yelled, his tone hoarse and enraged. “What are you? A thief? What’ve you got?”

Your partner had hardly helped soothe the situation, instead riling them up as they tried to keep them from barreling up the stairs.

So much so, that a fight began.

You heard the two of them clamber to the floor, a flurry of fists and snarls until it came to an end with a smash against the wooden floorboards.

And from the corner of the stairwell, you saw red.

A pool of it.

“What did you-”

You rushed down the steps, the air stolen from your lungs as you stared at the scene before you. The nobleman sprawled out on the floor, eyes rolled back and paler than snow.

“By the gods…!” You clamped a hand over your mouth, disgust foul on your tongue as you glanced to find your partner.

Only to see they weren’t there at all.

Until guards were following behind them.

And your stomach dropped.

“There! See just as I told you…!” They exclaimed, pointing to you as if you were on display, leading the guards through the door you had snuck in from. “I-I heard yelling and brawling and I came in and found this…!”

“N-No…!” You muttered, eyes widening like saucers. “No, I didn’t do this! I would never kill someone!”

“You just came here to steal then?” Your partner sneered, hardly even so much as a glint of guilt in their expression.

“I-I-”

They stopped you as they approached you, leaning close to your ear and whispering, snatching out the valuable you had taken.

“I won’t spend my days rotting in a prison cell.”

They twisted back around, revealing the item to the guards.

”I think that proves it, doesn’t it?”

You froze at the coldness in their tone, your heart breaking up into pieces as you were dragged by the guards, their metal armor clamping and digging into your bare skin.

Not that it mattered.

You didn’t even struggle.

You just couldn’t remove the reminder of them – staring coldly, uncaring as they tricked you – ruined you even.

Even in the dark, damp, and cold prison cell, you just sat, waiting for whatever nightmare you were in to end – to wake up in their arms as you always did.

But as Brynjolf arrived, bailing you out, you knew it was anything but a dream.

“Hey there,” He murmured, setting a faint hand on your shoulder as the cell was opened, giving brief thanks to the man as you were lead out, unfamiliar sunlight dribbling onto the two of you. “how’re you doing?”

“I thought you don’t get people released.” You remarked, folding your arms across your chest, gripping tight.

“Not usually, but…after hearing what happened…” He sighed. “I couldn’t just leave you there in good conscious. Or whatever that means for a thief.”

He laughed weakly, coming to an abrupt halt as you remained quiet.

“Your partner broke the rules anyway…they murdered a nobleman of all people and hurt you,” He frowned, folding his lips. “maybe not physically, but…being one of our best people out there, it still wasn’t something we could let slide.”

“What happened to them?”

“Don’t know, the last sighting of them was hitching a ride out of Solitude. Guess the bastard ran out of Skyrim – wouldn’t exactly want to be on your bad side after all.”

“Does that mean I’ll be going solo for a while then?”

“…As much as I’m sure you’d prefer it – no.”

“You must be-”

“A fool? An idiot? An oaf?” He smiled smugly, raising his brows. “I’ve heard it all before. Doesn’t change that I’m about to introduce you to your new best friend.”

“Who is it then?”

Brynjolf gave a whistle, a known figure making his way through the small clusters of people in the market, dark, grey eyes glancing up at you.

Rune.

“Don’t whistle at me like I’m some dog next time?” He cocked up his head, fiddling with a small coin in his palm.

“You still came didn’t you?” He winked, clicking his tongue. “Just hope your new buddy doesn’t pick up the habit.”

“No offense, but I don’t know a damn thing about them.”

“Then here’s your opportunity,” He patted Rune’s shoulder as he strode past you, slipping a small note into his pocket, murmuring something into his ear.

Rune had shifted uneasily, stepping towards you as he let out a deep breath.

“Listen I…I respect you as much as anyone else in the Guild but…but I’m not used to working with anyone,” He explained. “and don’t get me wrong – what happened to you was awful but I…I’m probably going to get on your nerves.”

You nodded, trying to give him some sort of smile, however hard it may have felt.

“No, I get it. I’ll probably step on your toes a few times too,” You confessed. “If you can put up with me then…I guess I can try to do the same.”

He simpered, nodding. “Alright, then I guess we better get started then.”

He pulled out the note, revealing the few details to you with a lighter voice than you had accustomed yourself to the few times you’d heard him.

“I guess we ought to give this a shot then shouldn’t we?”

“I guess so.”

And that had been how it began.

The first job, set up in Markarth went well enough, even with the small mishaps here and there, stumbling about the unfamiliar city, lucky enough to make it to the tavern on your way back.

But you had made it.

And you made it through the next.

And the next.

Until it almost seemed like a schedule.

Not that you minded.

The days you’d spent traveling had begun as silent – but became lighter as conversations and stories started to fill the empty air.

It began with his, the origins of his name, his father, and his beginning on the wreck of that old abandoned ship. The old engraved stone he always had hidden somewhere with him.

And eventually grew just a bit more.

“I know someplace – well maybe someone that could help.”

“What?” He had twisted his head to you in an instant, a sort of flicker lighting up in his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Well…even though I may not have exactly had the best partner in the entire world…we at least traveled a lot before…that.”

Memories of them flooded back into your mind, your heart twisting into horrid, awful knots that left you sick to your very core.

“We uh…we met this wizard Neloth…he’s probably going to be able to help us out.” You struggled to come up with the words groaning in your miserable frustration.

“I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I can’t trust anyone anymore, can I?”

You tore at your messy strands of hair, only stopped as Rune’s voice cut you off from your thoughts, speaking oddly calmly.

Almost comfortingly.

“I don’t know if this helps but you can trust me.”

You turned to gawk at him, your lips parting as if searching for something to say but unable to figure quite what it was.

“I-I know that’s hard to believe but…I trust you – so it’s only fair you can trust me back.”

“Does that uh…does that mean we’re friends?” You finally mustered, some sort of hope for some reason flickering in your chest.

“Friends…?”

He thought for a moment, oddly earnest.

“Yeah, I think so.”

But you’d be lying if you were to say something else didn’t flutter in your stomach.

And perhaps, he felt the same. 

From then, things seemed to change. 

You were no longer constantly looking behind your back or checking on the tips of your toes – ready to disappear at any moment. 

Instead, you relaxed.

You felt safe.

You were finally able to let down your guard again. 

For the first time in what felt like centuries. 

You were able to let yourself laugh and chatter through your smiles as you’d sit in taverns, on the road, or even in the Rataway, amongst all the people that’d drop by and brag with smug words. 

But he had only been kind.

But you’d be lying if you were to say it didn’t ever seem like more.

The times you’d stumble and he would catch you, his arms tangling around your waist before he’d burst into red as he set you back on your feet. 

The days he’d absentmindedly wrap an arm around you or the frame of your seat as you sat beside one another, becoming flustered the moment he’d realize.

Or even the instances after a job where you’d have rushed out, ragged breaths escaping you as you’d look up to each other and begin to laugh – engulfing each other in an embrace.

But it had only been moments.

Until it wasn’t. 

It was as you set up camp, veered just a small bit off the path as he finished setting up a fire, the flickering flames sending shadows dancing off the tents.

“We should be set…” He drifted off, staring at you in confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“Stargazing. Ever done it?”

You were laid out in the long blades of grass that brushed against your bare skin, your head tipped up to the shining stars painting the sky above. 

“No, I haven’t…”

You moved to the side for him, patting the ground next to you. 

“There’s a first time for everything then I guess,” You grinned. “Come on.” 

He hesitated, his brow furrowing. 

“Please?” 

He melted almost instantly, his shoulders dropping and face softening. 

“Alright.”

He sat down, following awkwardly as you laid back down – heat practically radiating off of him as your head craned onto his chest.

His heartbeat was worse than racing even.

You thought it may burst even.

“So…what a-am I…what am I looking for here?”

“Shapes, that kind of thing at least,” You answered. “Like…up there! I can see a rabbit over there!” 

“Of all things, you saw a rabbit?”

You looked at him, snickering. “Think you can find something better? Maybe another stone?”

“Maybe, do you have an issue with that?” 

“A little bit.” 

He scoffed, his voice lighter than you were used to, more amused, happy. 

You couldn’t get enough of it. 

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze suddenly lit up like a firework, pointing out to the sky above you. 

“Alright, I see something!” 

“What is it?” 

“I see… a hawk.” 

“Where is it?” 

He took your palm in his, leading you amongst the constellations until he made out a small shape of the feathers, the talons, and the wings. 

But even as you were shown the whole shape, he never entirely let go of you. 

He simply lowered your hands, a thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“Maybe you aren’t so bad at this.” You murmured, grinning smugly as you twisted your body to your side. 

“Does that mean this is going to become a regular thing now?” 

“I don’t think I’d mind.” You confessed. “You know, whether you like it or not I don’t think you’re half bad.” 

“I think…” He paused, clearing his throat meekly. “I think you’re something else entirely.” 

“In a good way, I hope.” 

“In an um – very good way.” 

Your gaze met his, almost a sort of knowing ensnared in you, nervous knots tangling in your stomach.

“If you’ve got something you want to ask me, go for it.” 

“Would it ah – be so bad if I were to have feelings for you…?”

You let out a mock gasp, watching as he reddened like wine. “Rune, are you saying you might fancy me?”

“By the eight…” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y-Yes…I am.” 

You tipped your forehead against his own, gripping fondly onto the collar of his shirt, watching as a rare smile of his spread from ear to ear. 

“Well – I just might fancy you too.”

“You might?”

“I do.” 

And for once, it all seemed truly calm.

And you both felt truly happy as you answered his worries.

“I really do.” 

[dovahkinniez]

🦇 — NELOTH.

COMING SOON . . .

[justheretop0st]

“I release you.”

Her face was obscured by her helmet. It was a year of traveling. A year of knowing one another. A year of trusting him to have her back. But this was to close a call.

He laid in bed at the Silver-Blood Inn. He was badly injured and though she tried her best to heal him, she wasn’t skilled in the restoration art. Not as much as a healer of Kynareth. She tried to shove her health potions down his throat, but he’d only managed to drink one or two. They’d stopped the bleeding, and began slowly heal him. But her heart still pounded in her ears.

It was an assassin. Perhaps this Argonian didn’t realize she wouldn’t be alone. Perhaps she should have been more aware of her surroundings. There had been close calls before. But nothing like this. She just recalled hearing his warning and feeling his hand push her away. Then that sound. That squelching sound of a dagger piercing skin. She’d manage to attack the assassin whenever they’d pulled their dagger from his stomach. She made quick work of them.

Luckily they were fairly close to Markarth. He needed treatment, and surely they would have someone to help. So she called upon her friend in the soul cairn, Arvak. He’d get her there quicker. Not comfortably, but quickly.

As they rode, she tried to heal him. He was hunched against her, his head against her shoulder with her hand pressed against his stomach, trying to heal him. But blood was still spilling onto his amor and hers. He apologized and tried to keep a smile but she knew the pain was surely to much. Faster. She urged Arvak and soon, they’d made it to their destination. Only to find out there was no healer. There was no one who could help. She was the only one. And it forced her to realize, she was the reason he got hurt. The reason he was so close to death.

Once he had been stabilized, she let him rest for a bit. He awoke a few hours later and she’d tended to his needs until he went back to sleep.

“I release you.”

Silence rang despite the lobby being so close. She didn’t look up to his sleeping face. She wanted to so badly. But it felt unfair. She reached into her coin purse and pulled out 5,000 septims, placing them beside a written notice of dismissal.

I’ll be long gone when you awake and you’ll be safe. I pray that you’ll make it to your home safe. I pray that you’ll one day forgive me for leaving like this. But I couldn’t stand it. I can’t stand to that you were so close to death because of me. Never have I had to face this, and I’m sorry I am not strong enough to face this.Know you’ll always be in my heart. But please find peace and love where you may.

I release you, my love

[justheretop0st]

Memory Spell

“I’ve examined the Briarheart warrior.”

“Oh have you?” Neloth looked up from the research that lay on his desk. Both surprised and eager to begin. “Well let me just extract those memories and I’ll see if you found anything useful.”

She rolled her eyes and caught the slightest of shake of her husbands head from the corner of her eye. He had debated her about helping this Dark Elf, but her nature wouldn’t allow her to pass up an opportunity. They had traveled far to gather the information Neloth desired. It wasn’t out of the way, but it was a long distance away from home. Away from their children.

“I promise that any unrelated memories I run across will be kept in the strictest of confidences.” With this comment, she did freeze. Neloth would see everything? A blush came across her face and she opened her mouth to speak. But she was cut off by the whoosh and glow of blue around her.

Neloth absorbed this energy, during the process his eyes widened and he turned away from her. “Neloth..”

“Ahem, as I said. Anything unrelated would be kept. But I will say you two are animals. Don’t you dare think about doing that on Tel Mithryn grounds. Am I clear?” There was a shade of dark on the tip of the Dunmer’s ears. Not surprising since he didn’t expect the memories he got.

“You’re clear.” Was all she could mumble, her hands to her sides and head hanging low. Why didn’t she remember that the spell would record everything? Well it didn’t help when her husband knew how to get her going. They really needed self control.

She turned around and ushered her shocked husband from the tower, needing some space from this unfortunate happening. Talvas stopped just beside the exit, apparently on his way to his master. But concern was visibly on his face.

“Are you ok? You look rather pale.” She only shot Neloth a glance and nodded before proceeding. A simple wave goodbye to the Mer and the two were finally outside. Finally able to breath and continue on their travels.

[datorchoe]

If you don't write for some of them, that's fine! Athis, Brand-Shei, Erandur, Neloth, Ralis Sedarys, Revyn Sadri, Teldryn Sero and how they kiss pwetty pwease!!! :)

I ordered Postmates while writing this, waited an hour just to have my order canceled and now I’m absolutely livid. Anyway, unlike Postmates, I deliver so here you are my friend!!

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Athis

- Athis won’t really kiss you too often, in public at least. Maybe just like a quick peck on the forehead after a mission is complete or something but that's about it. Now, let's say a certain someone *cough* Torvar *cough* is getting a little too close to you, all hell is about to break loose. Athis will pull you away from your conversation and kiss you passionately in front of everyone. Even you are dumbfounded. 

- His favorite place to kiss you is on your forehead. He likes it when you follow him with your eyes to your forehead. 

- His favorite place to be kissed is on his hands. He doesn’t know why, but he loves it when you massage and kiss his hands. 

Brand-Shei

- Brand LOVES kissing you. In public, in private, anywhere. He doesn’t give a shit who knows or sees, he loves you and shows it. 

- Brand’s kisses are short but sweet. If you come visit him at the stall he’ll lightly peck your lips and ask how adventuring is going. 

- His favorite place to kiss you is your lips. Your lips are just so soft, why go for anything else? 

- His favorite place to be kissed is his neck. Man, you kiss there, he will be putty in your hands. 

Erandur

- Erandur gets all blushy and embarrassed when you ask for a kiss. Of course he does it but it takes him a minute to actually do so. 

- Pretty much refuses to kiss you in public. He just gets so embarrassed. Like bro you're a priest of Mara, you should be spreading the love.

- His favorite place to be kissed is his cheek (No not that one). He finds it innocent enough and will allow you to kiss him there in public. 

- His favorite place to kiss you is your hands. It's not too invasive and it's innocent enough. 

Neloth

- Neloth will barely throw you a glance in public, let alone kiss you. The most affection you get from this man is in private. 

- His kisses depend on his mood. If he’s in a good mood, they're very passionate. If he’s in a bad mood, you might get one the entire day. Poor Talvas has walked in on y’all making out so much, he just hates life. 

- His favorite place to kiss you is behind or the ear itself. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls your back into his chest and kisses your ears. 

- His favorite place to be kissed is his neck. Like Brand, his neck is kinda sensitive so you kiss there and he’s all yours. 

Ralis Sedarys

- Ralis will kiss you in public but it takes some convincing. When he gets jealous, whoo boy, hang on cause it's about to get heated. He will practically tackle you and kiss you violently.

- Ralis’ kisses are typically short and sweet. He’d rather not spend too much time kissing you when he’s got something to do. 

- His favorite place to kiss you is your nose. He loves watching you scrunch up your face in anticipation. 

- His favorite place to be kissed is his chest. I know it sounds weird but if you kiss right over his heart he’s gonna swoon. 

Revyn Sadri

- When his shop isn’t busy, he’ll stand behind the counter with you in his arms and just kiss you. He’s also kind of a rambler, so you gotta shut him up if you want a kiss. 

- His kisses are always pretty long. It's never like “oh just one” it's always about 17 different kisses. People around you want to die. 

- His favorite place to kiss you is just anywhere on your face. Like I said earlier, he kisses you a trillion times each time so. 

- His favorite place to be kissed is his collarbones. Come up behind him and massage his shoulders and kiss the back of his collarbones and he will pass out. 

Teldryn Sero

- He will absolutely kiss you in front of people. Mans LOVES PDA. He’s the kind of guy to straight up grab your ass in public, while kissing you. 

- He always has such passionate kisses. Like every time you're always left breathless and everyone around is like “good god”. 

- His favorite place to kiss you is your lips. He just goes straight for it, no holds bar. 

- His favorite place to be kissed is his ears. They're pretty sensitive so you gotta be careful or you may get stabbed. 

[1000fiction]

ooookay, i need some soft Neloth... could you please do #15 with Neloth for me, please? stay safe! 💜

The Dragonborn had been successful, in all aspects. Alduin was defeated, Miraak was defeated, the civil war was - for now - resolved, and even Ravenrock seemed to be flourishing once again from the their divine intervention.

So imagine his surprise when they chose - of all places in Tamriel - the small nook of Tel Mithryn he'd dedicated to them.

Then, gradually, the nook had become nothing but storage, and they'd made themselves a regular in his room, in his bed, and in his arms.

It was nice. Though he could hardly keep himself from asking them the question.

"Why?"

“Because, when I’m with you, I’m home.”

[datorchoe]

So I always wondered what my mer baby's would do if fem dB was a dwemer or a snow elf? (Well only fem if you want to do nsfw as I wonder if they would want to repopulate) tel or neloth or Acano? Whichever you feel like writing! (I can think of many other mer but I don't know which you write) and have a overly day and if you do answer it thank you!

So, I didn’t incorporate the NSFW just because I couldn’t think of anything specific for the characters. I apologize! Also tbh I will write for just about anyone, so your welcome to request more! Anyway, here ya are my dear!

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Teldryn

- To be honest, I don’t think Teldryn would care as much as the others do. Like, he thinks it's totally dope, but he isn’t super scholarly like the other two. 

- He definitely asks about your past and your people, but he isn’t gonna pressure you to answer if you don’t want to. 

- Teldryn is already pretty overprotective of others, but you? Whoo boy. He will not let you out of his sight. He’s like a hawk. He knows people probably will harass you and he ain’t cool with that. 

Neloth

- You walk in, Neloth sees you and squints. “By Malacath’s right asscheek, Talvas get in here there’s a ghost!” 

- Neloth will ask you SO MANY QUESTIONS. Like bro chill out, it’s not that serious. It’s very serious to him. 

- Don’t let your guard down, he WILL dissect you, and not in the good way. Bro is like, “do you even have a liver?” and your like “please stfu” 

Ancano

- Ancano tries to act all calm, but inside he’s having a panic attack because, by the Gods, you're supposed to be dead. 

- Ancano will probably be more concerned with learning ancient magic rather than your culture or anything Neloth would be focused on. I mean c’mon he did try to use the Eye of Magnus which came from a Snow Elven civilization. 

- Ancano is more possessive rather than protective like Tel. He just wants to keep you close because he’s the only one you should be telling about magic. If you go telling everyone, then everyone is gonna be as powerful as him.