skyrim men x reader | random relationship headcanons
a/n: something a lil different and special to celebrate 100 followers! (i'm acting nonchalant but i am shaking with joy). it may not be a massive number but its massive to me. thank you SO so much to every single one of you who reads, like, and reblog my works!! it means the world to me and i really appreciate it 💚 here's some random fluff stuff feat. a few of our beloved skyrim men. lmk if you'd like to see some more characters!
| brynjolf |
1000% brings you pretty trinkets he finds on jobs that remind him of you. particularly likes to collect necklaces and rings made with your favorite gem
in public settings, he is fond of subtle physical touch. a hand along your lower back, brushing the hair away from your face, kissing your hand or cheek when you have to part ways. in private though? definitely not as subtle
he likes slow, long kisses. the kind where you're both practically gasping for air afterwards. he thinks you just look too cute when you're all flushed and breathless
takes you out on dates a lot. going out for a fancy meal, or a swim at the lake when it's hot out, or finding a nice rooftop to stargaze. even when you're both busy and barely have the time, he will squeeze something in - it's mandatory to him
leaves you lil folded handwritten notes on your desk or bed when you have to work away from each other. some of them probably cheesy as hell
when you're cuddling he almost always ends up spooning you. he just loves having you curled up against him, your back against his chest, fitting perfectly in his arms
| farkas |
frequently gifts you flowers. bouqets, bundles, sometimes a random single one he picked out on a walk or something. "i saw this and thought of you"
he's incapable of simple, short hugs. bear hugs are the default, the kind where his arms just envelope you and give you a firm squeeze. and if he sees you for the first time after not seeing you for an eternity (or like, two days by farkas standards), he will greet you with a pick-you-up-and-spin-you-around hug
awful singer but he likes to sing or hum along with you anytime he catches you doing so
he lovesss to lay his head in your lap. bonus points if you play with his hair during. he can very easily doze off right then and there
will instinctively hold your hand when you are in a remotely crowded area or exploring someplace dark ane unfamiliar. you will not be separated at any cost
he becomes extra motivated for workouts and exercise when you keep him company. probably asks you to do that thing where you sit on his back while he does push-ups
| vilkas |
he's an early early bird and almost always wakes up before you, but uses that time to grab you some breakfast
loves to grab your chin when he kisses you. gently of course (unless you're giving him a reason to catch you by surprise)
lil bit of the jealous type. if he so much as sees someone else looking at you while you're out together, he'll tug you closer and won't let you out of his sight
grumbles a protest if you call him something soft like "cute" or "handsome" but secretly eats it up. will still think about it for days to come, actually
he's a quality time fanatic. even if its something simple at home, like reading your own books in comfortable silence, your head leaning on his shoulder
usually serious but has his own little games he plays with you. like if you ask him to hand something to you, he'll do so but not without a lil game of tug-of-war. or he'll be like "hold still, there's something in your hair", only to ruffle his hand through it and mess it up even more
| teldryn sero |
turns into a big grumpy baby when the weather is too cold/wet. his mood improves drastically if it means you get to stop somewhere and you can snuggle up together to get warm
he's an amazing storyteller and an even better listener. he lives for late night chats where you spend hours swapping stories with each other
he has good, strong hands and therefore is excellent at massages. he'll gladly help you work out any stiff or sore muscles you have
will sneakily buy things he sees you ogling in shops or on market strolls and surprise you with them later
if he's bored he'll provoke you into a sparring match, where he manages to balance actual practice and playful teasing. sometimes he lets you win (and it's definitely not in hopes that you'll end up pinning him down)
he loves whenever you wear something of his, like his scarf or shirt. just gives him a lil burst of tender possessiveness that never fails to make him grin. "you can keep it - looks better on you anyway."
| miraak |
he is touch starved to the max. for this reason he practically melts into any physical contact you give him, no matter how big or small
commits to learning how to cook solely to be able to prepare your favorite meals after you've had a bad day
he greatly enjoys and is comforted by the weight of your body against his, like pressure therapy. he'll ask you to lay your legs across his when you're sitting next to each other or sometimes he'll just straight up ask you to lie on top of him completely. and don't even try to protest you'll "crush" him - he's a big guy, he can take it
his favorite kisses are forehead ones and he will dish them out on you regularly
becomes very, very protective when you get injured, sick, or anything of the sort. he will hover like an obsessive mother and scold you like one if you try anything out of your limitations. would do literally anything you ask him to do (but trust, you won't need to)
he's already a bit of a clingy sleeper but will bring you even closer when he struggles with nightmares. it's easier to forget them when he has you - his salvation - wrapped up in his arms, soothed by your presence
| marcurio |
when you stop at an inn or tavern where there's a bard, he'll either request your favorite song, or a song you hate. depends on how much he wants to mess with you
does gentlemanly things for you without even thinking about it. holds doors open to let you in first, pulls out chairs and stools for you to sit on, offers you the first bite of a shared meal. it's like second nature to him
prides himself on smelling good and thrives off any compliments you give him about it. he'd definitely buy overpriced fancy soaps and scents from markets and shops
he likes to draw in his downtime. usually just studious sketches of buildings or foliage but occasionally he'll draw you. he especially likes to capture you doing mundane lil things like watching a sunset or fixing your hair
sometimes he'll accidentally hit you with his magic in battle but he'll immediately be on you again with a healing spell. he'll either mumble out hurried apologies or call you an idiot (affectionately) for getting in his way
reads to you after you've had a bad day. something with a light mood, like a humurous story or sweet poetry, while his fingers trace idle shapes on the back of your hand - gentle comfort, however he can provide it
[all are gender neutral, but there is a mention of being called ‘pretty’] [this took me almost three hours 💀 I don’t like most of them:(]
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farkas
He could smell them from a mile away.
That’s weird, let’s start again, shall we? Farkas swung his sword at the giant, fighting the urge to turn and run towards the sweet smell approaching. The beast inside him begged— pleaded— for him to go and engulf himself inside that smell, to cover himself in it, whatever it was.
That’s when he saw them. They aimed a bow, a steel arrow shooting through the air and into the giants eye, making it roar out before Aela ultimately got the last hit and killed the giant on the farm. Farkas couldn’t keep his eyes off them, the smell was coming from them. He watched as Aela spoke to them, not even registering what she was saying as he watched this person— the most perfect thing he’d ever seen.
Later, he’d seen them at Jorrvaskr, watching them enter and sneak downstairs. Were they joining?
“Farkas!” He’d heard Skjor’s voice shout from Aela’s room, “did you call me?” He asks as he smells that sweet smell again, his eyes locking on theirs. He barely heard what Aela was saying to him, “uh— new blood? Oh, hello. I’m Farkas. Come, follow me.”
He’d spoken to Kodlak later that night, asking him what in oblivion that sweet smell coming from them was and why was it just coming from them?
Kodlak laughs, forgetting that Farkas could be a bit dense at times, “she’s your mate,” he says as he pats him on the back a little harshly, “your soulmate, in other words.”
His soulmate..
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vilkas
He’d had their stupid name imprinted on his wrist since he was just a pup, a name he’d never heard of in all his years. Vilkas had begun to doubt that his soulmate even lived in Tamriel, in Skyrim, how unlucky was he? First, his lycanthropy, now his soulmate was nowhere to be seen? Nobody knew of someone with such a name?
It was a normal day as any, Vilkas sat at the small table with Kodlak, the two of them wondering if there truly would ever be a way for them to be rid of the beast. The beat haunted Kodlak, he knew that, the old man wanted to get into Sovngarde as any true nord would. But the beast prevented that, he would end up in Hircine’s land hunting for the rest of eternity.
It wasn’t long before an unfamiliar person walked into the halls of Jorrvaskr, heading down towards the two men. Their conversation was cut short, “I’d like to join the companions,” their voice was nice, I stark contrast to the armour and weapons they had on their body.
“Would you, now? Here, let me have a look at you? Hmm. Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit.” Kodlak spoke, making Vilkas furrow his eyebrows.
“Master, you’re not truly considering accepting them?” He asks, making Kodlak give him a subtly pointed look, explaining they had empty beds for people with a fire in their hearts, “Apologies. But, perhaps this isn’t the time. I’ve never even heard of this outsider.”
The person sheepishly looks to Vilkas before they state their name. He freezes for a moment before he looks at them, Kodlak letting out a hearty laugh, making the person look at him with confusion.
“Vilkas, take them out to the yard and see what they can do.” Kodlak says before the person looks between Vilkas and Kodlak for a moment.
Oh gods..
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mercer frey
He’d known they were his soulmate from the moment he’d met them. Mercer saw the tattoo imprinted onto their forearm before they pulled their sleeve back down, he wasn’t stupid. But he’d never said anything, never gave them the hint he wanted them as much as they wanted him, not with the plans he had against the guild.
He’d let his guard down, it was so unlike him to bring any of his walls down but they made him. It was their fault, wasn’t it? He reaches over, his hand brushing against their cheek as they both stood outside in the backyard of his home, concealed under the stars, slone with no one watching them.
“I know,” they say suddenly, he furrows his eyebrows, “know what?” He asks in return, slipping his hand down to their neck, cradling it. He could choke them and end the misery of having him as their soulmate.
The grasp his wrist, carefully sliding down his sleeve to show the matching tattoo. His face hardens, pulling away as he covers the tattoo with his sleeve again, “it means nothing.”
He didn’t entirely mean those words, he yearned for them in secret, but he wouldn’t let his walls come down again. They didn’t need to get involved in his dirty work, he didn’t even want them in the guild anymore. It was to protect them.
“Leave, don’t come back, you understand?”
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brynjolf
The Dragonborn walks into Riften for the first time, almost laughing at how scared the guard outside had been when he realised they knew there was no tax. They make their was through the town, they liked the atmosphere even if they couldn’t see the colour of anything, it was better than dealing with the whole Alduin thing, anyways.
“Never done an honest day’s work in your life for all that coin you’re carrying, eh?” Brynjolf’s voice sounds out quietly as he approaches the famous Dragonborn. Who didn’t know of them, being clad in such armour and that weapon? They didn’t hide it.
“I’m sorry, what?” They ask, looking up at the man before a myriad of colours struck their vision within seconds, overwhelming them. Their head ached at the sight before they finally got used to it and looked around, not noticing the look that Brynjolf was giving them, admiring.
“I’m saying you’ve got the coin, love, but you didn’t earn a septim of it honestly, I can tell,” Brynjolf says once their eyes move back to him, crossing his arms with an expression that matches flirtation.
“How could you possibly know that?” The Dragonborn asks, almost bewildered as they finally get a good look of him, he was handsome, effortlessly charming. It was almost.. irritating? No, that’s not the word, “wait— my wealth is none of your business.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, love. Wealth is my business. Maybe you’d like a taste?” They’d gone through with the plan, stealing what’s-his-face’s ring and planting it on the other who’s-his-name successfully.
“Looks like I chose the right person for the job. And here you go.. your payment, as promised,” Brynjolf hands them the payment he’d promised his soulmate. He couldn’t wait to get them into the guild, to live a life with them— even if the life was illegal.
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cicero
Poor Cicero hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak to the pretty assassin that had walked into the sanctuary the day he’d brought his dear mother. Sweet, sweet Night Mother. He was such a good Keeper, wasn’t he? Why wouldn’t she just speak to him! No, he must be calm, that’s what sweet mother would want, isn’t it?
He spoke to the Night Mother now, they were alone, sweet solitude with the sweet Night Mother, “Have you.. have you spoken to anyone? No.. no, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and the saying!” He continued for a while, rambling to the mother.
Suddenly, he opens her coffin, gasping with confusing and repulse. Here, the pretty assassin was in the coffin with the Night Mother!
“What? What treachery! Defiler! Debased and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother’s coffin! Explain yourself! Speak, worm!”
The pretty assassin’s eyes seemed to widen at his words, he couldn’t tell if it was because of his words or tone, but he didn’t care, “The Night Mother spoke to me! She said, ‘I am the one.’” Now, it was Cicero’s turn to widen his eyes. Those words! The words! His words! The ones on his arm, the ones his soulmate would say! His Listener!
Good luck with this one, dear Listener..
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ancano
Ancano had noticed them as soon as they’d walked through those gates. Another new apprentice, how bothersome. Still, he continued his conversation with Mirabelle, quickly growing more irritated by the treatment she was giving him.
The new apprentice was guided away by Mirabelle, leaving Ancano to his thoughts. It was odd, he felt drawn to them, though he didn’t know nor care why. He had business to attend to.
The apprentice was in the Hall of Elements with Tolfdir, the two of them watching the mysterious orb they’d found in Saarthal. Clearly, this mage was more troublesome than Ancano had thought. The Psijic Order was asking for them. So, Ancano had inturruped the two of them, gaining a temper tantrum from Tolfdir. It was only when they were alone that the elf had noticed a familiar scratch on the side of the apprentice’s neck- one that matched the one that had appeared on his not but a few hours before.
Gods be damned, this apprentice was his soulmate, “I need you to come with me immediately. Let’s go.”
For now, he wouldn’t say anything about it, this apprentice seemed to be too oblivious. Or, at least, that’s what they pretended to be with that stupid little smile on their lips.
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serana
Being trapped in a tomb for gods know how long wasn’t something Serana entirely enjoyed. I mean, who would? It was dark and cold, dreary and cramped, far too undeserving of even a vampire such as her. She just had to remember, she was doing this for her father and he would come back for her, right?
She hadn’t woken up until she was almost fallen on the floor, but her quick instincts helped her to keep balance. She was free, her father had come back..—
Glancing up, she noticed a person standing there watching with a small amused smile, obviously the one that had rescued her from the dreary space she was just in, obviously not a vampire. Obviously not her father. She was sure her father would’ve come to get his daughter, so who was this? Though, as their eyes met, a shockwave shot through her, the feeling of being alive again was strong, flooding her veins and undead heart. This was her soulmate, she’d waiting thousands of years for this, but why was she so reluctant now? Reluctant to go with them- to trust them, but a part deep inside her knew this was right, she could get used to it. She could get used to them.
“Who are you?” Serana asks, finally having gained her composure. She looks this person up and down, analysing anything and everything she can see. It was clear they were a vampire hunter. Great.
“Who were you expecting?” They ask, almost amused as they watch the pretty vampire, crossing their arms in a similar way Serana was.
W A R N I N G S: mentioning of blood; reader is injured in Vilkas'; gender neutral!reader; 2nd person.
#VILKAS
This man notices straight away, and he is right there by your side—he told you to stay home. He had a feeling that something would happen like this.
His hands take a grasp of you, picking you up from the ground, "Come on, let's get you home, yeah?" His gravelly voice was softer than usual as he wiped the dirt from your cheek; the blood dribbling from the cotton of your torn shirt; the fur of your armour was long disregarded on the floor during your panic.
The horse galloped back, your hands pressing into the wound as each click against the floor jolted your body, sending shots of excruciating pain throughout your body.
"Come on." He says, helping you from off the horse, leading you back up to Jorvaskr with strong arms and hurried legs.
Once back, he is at your side until you feel better. He stays up when you sleep. He makes sure to keep your wound clean, to check up on it to know that it's healing correctly; he's worried sick, really.
#FARKAS
You woke up under the weather, and you best believe that this man feels terrible for you—he just doesn't really know how to show it.
So, instead, he places a tankard of water beside you on the bedside table. He plays with your hair as he presses a kiss against your forehead.
Farkas makes sure that you stay in bed and that you rest up properly.
He doesn't want you to be anymore ill than you already are—especially since that Whiterun is beginning to cool due to winter.
He doesn't speak much, he doesn't know what to say, so he shows his affection and worry by just simply looking after you.
Vilkas mooning over a sweet n quiet dragonborn, getting all angsty when he overhears some Companions gossiping about how cute they would be with his brother.
Meanwhile TLD is sat with Farkas, nervously shushing him when he gets too loud trying to convince them to quit their pining n take Vilkas' grumpy ass on a date.
Poor Vilkas. He's never been hailed for his social graces - he's intelligent and strong and nearly unbeatable in combat but people are not his strong suit. Annoyance swirls in his gut and he downs the warm dregs of his ale, kicking himself for his inability to do anything.
He can't bring himself to leave but the alternative makes him nauseous. He'd rehearsed the speech countless times throughout the day, punctuating it with blows that left Jorrvaskr's practice dummies in shambles. He knows every single word he needs to say but his tongue feels too thick in his mouth, blood too hot in his veins. He might be sick if he stays here but he catches a glimpse of your smile again and knows he's absolutely fucked.
You're too much for him. Too beautiful, too charming, too sweet, all of those horrible things that leave his stomach in knots. Your cheeks look flushed from the nearby fireplace and oh, how he wishes to cradle your face feel how warm they are. Sweaty hands grip the arms of his chair and Vilkas wills himself to get up. It's only a few steps and a couple words. He's taken out giants and hordes of bandits before but fuck, this may be the hardest thing he's ever done.
He can walk across the hall. He can ask his brother to give him a moment alone with you. He can sit down, look you in the eyes, and tell you how you've captivated him. Vilkas' throat runs dry but he knows that he can tell you that he cannot stop thinking about you and he can stomach whatever answer you give him.
"Aren't they just the cutest?"
"I know, I do not believe they're 'just friends'. They look so sweet together."
"Oh definitely. There's something going on between those two."
Mere gossip between two recruits is a kick to his gut. Vilkas deflates into his chair and doesn't attempt to shake off the aching disappointment clawing at his chest - of course you'd want his brother. Farkas is funny and charismatic, he's everything Vilkas is and so much more. He watches your hand slap to his brother's mouth, a conspiratorial smile there and jealousy stomps out the last little shred of hope.
His head falls to the table with a dull thud, the sound at least scaring off the recruits who'd chattered about you. Dread creeps into his heart, chilly fingers stealing away whatever shameful hope he'd let crack through his pessimistic demeanor. Of course you wouldn't want him, you'd be foolish to not want Farkas. And Vilkas was a fool for ever considering otherwise.
"Shut the fuck up!" Gods, sometimes you want to beat him. Farkas' grin is persistent under your hand, his gaze unwavering. Your heart's in your throat when you fall back into your seat, unsettled by how nervous you are.
"Why? Afraid he'll hear me?"
"I'm going to kill you." You lie, glaring at your friend.
"No you aren't." He snorts, shooting an obvious look at the object of your conversation. "I'm the only one who knows your secret and the only one who can help you. You need me."
"Gods help me, I do." You catch a glimpse of Vilkas' glower when two of your bunkmates sidle toward him, stomach flipping. A hot flash of jealousy steals your breath when his eyes slide their direction.
"Just ask him on a date." Farkas reiterates for likely the hundredth time this evening. There's a pink color in Vilkas' face you've rarely seen - is he taken by one of them? You try to formulate a response but when you look back at Farkas your mind's empty.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"What if he rejects me?" You blurt, too flustered to soften it. "What if he's disgusted by my offer and we have to continue working together?"
"Is torturing yourself by pining after him any better?"
You want to inform him that yes, of course it is. Even if you spend every evening gazing after Vilkas, yearning to be close to him once more and fantasizing about how nice that gruff voice would sound saying sweet things, it's much safer to live in your fantasies.
The only logical conclusion is to let it go. Holding onto your crush is doing nothing but torturing you and annoying your friend. He's surely sick of hearing you yammer about how handsome his brother is.
"Let's be realistic, Farkas." You clear your throat against the threat of tears. It feels like a terribly sad realization but it's childish to waste so much energy on mere fantasies. He straightens in his chair, clearly trying to get a laugh out of you.
"Oh, let's."
"There's absolutely no chance that your brother wants anything to do with me and I think it's healthier if we both move on from this little infatuation." Farkas barks out an unexpected laugh that only serves to bruise your already battered ego.
"You think he's what? Too handsome? Too brooding and tough?" His teasing only causes your heart to sink.
"Farkas, I'm being serious -"
"Could I talk to you for a moment?"
The world freezes when you hear his voice. Vilkas leans against his brother's chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. Thank the gods he can't see the excited expression on Farkas' face.
"Of course." Your voice is too high. There's an awkward beat before Vilkas' stare moves to his brother.
"Preferably without an audience."
Dear gods, his hands are shaking. What the fuck was he thinking? Vilkas crosses his arms to hide the trembling and loses all that bravery when you look up at him. Something in his chest melts, it feels too fucking good just to look at you. More than he deserves.
He can't decide if he's thankful or terrified at the prospect of Farkas leaving. It's difficult to think with you looking at him, following as he falls into his brother's vacated seat. His entire body feels too sweaty when he realizes that there's no way out. He has to say it.
"Are you alright?" Gods, you're worried about him. Vilkas nods too quickly, throat threatening to close up at the prospect of professing his feelings.
"'M fine." He grumbles, aware that he's too gruff. "I just - I need to tell you something."
"Alright." You straighten in your chair and Vilkas realizes too late that you're probably expecting his usual corrections on combat stances.
"I think, I-" he curses his nerves, heart nearly beating out of his chest with every word. "It's alright if you say no, I don't expect you to feel the same way or anything, but I think I have feelings. For you."
Realistically he knows it's only a few seconds but it feels like a lifetime passes before you respond. Your mouth opens a few times and his heart leaps every time even if he knows the only words you'll speak are rejection. He'll be alright, he's ready.
"I have feelings for you too."
He didn't prepare for this. Vilkas' brain stops functioning at your words, unable to process the cute blush in your cheeks or the nervous way you can't quite meet his gaze.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes." He answers, again too quickly. "I'm fine."
"Oh, thank the gods all that's over with." Farkas sighs, squashing himself into the seat beside Vilkas. Blood heats his face as his brother's hand claps to his shoulder. "Listening to you both yearn after each other was getting tiring."
— CONTENT: Masc-bodied reader but they're kept gn, pet play, size kink, dumbification elements, some monsterfucking and brief piss play
— AUTHORS NOTE: more submissive vilkas! i wanna see more submissive vilkas!
SUMMARY: To the rest of Whiterun and the Companions, Vilkas was a formidable warrior who was not only skilled in battle, but gifted in intelligence as well. But whenever he was getting demolished by you, you ripped that mask right off to reveal the big fuck-mutt underneath.
He used to see receiving anal as a threat to his masculinity, so he never had it until his first sexual encounter with you. He still had an insecurity towards being perceived as the “submissive” one in the relationship, so he put up his macho front again in public.
“Just be gentle, ok?” he stammered. His eyes flickered between your face and your cock, wondering how the hell you’d even fit it all.
“Of course, love,” you cooed as you slathered some lubricant on your cock and then some on his asshole. One of the strongest fighters in the Companions - and in Whiterun - laid at the edge of the bed with a nervous expression you’ve never seen before. This oh so smart and ferocious warrior was about to take your cock up his ass, how sweet. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, just relax…”
Vilkas never had his mind so completely broken. You’ve fried all his brain cells and reduced him to a dog whose only purpose was to follow commands and cry during sex
Like every mutt, he loved being called a good boy. Besides the bedroom, you also said it during training sessions (when you two were alone) or after bringing down an enemy.
After clearing out a camp of bandits, you both turned towards each other with victorious grins on your faces. You reached over and placed your hands on the sides of his head, ruffling his hair as you would a dog, “Good boy! Goood boy! You are such a good guard dog!” Vilkas looked utterly adorable. His pretty face was covered in blood, adorned with a beaming smile that revealed pieces of flesh between his teeth. He wore human remains so well! Just a second ago he was skillfully slaying enemies, and now here he was, soaking up commendation from his master. If he were in his wolf form, his tail would fall off from how fast it would be wagging.
Vilkas was tall and very muscular, but next to you, he was small. Just putting two fingers in his mouth completely filled it, and gods, you just loved shoving them in there. Little dummy would mindlessly start sucking and bobbing his head, or stroke your middle and index as he sucked on your thumb; similar to how he'd stroke your cock and suck your balls.
“Mmuuhh aah! Ouhh!”
“Yeah…? You enjoying yourself…?” you growled between clenched teeth.
All you saw before you was Vilkas bent over, having his body forced back and forth on your cock. His head hung low, causing drool to dribble off his top lip and fall in strings onto the messy sheets. He was getting the daylights fucked out of him, and there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to be sore after this.
You removed your hands from his waist and stuck them in his mouth, stretching it into a smile with three fingers on each side. If only you saw how stupid he looked, the silly bastard. All he could do was roll his eyes back as you played with his body, head empty and full of bliss.
[Lycanthrope!Reader] You were even bigger in your beast form, holy hell. Your cock always left his ass a gaping, wide hole that oozed cum whenever you were done with him. You fucked him so rough and so good that he would leak a little.
Speaking of leaking, you both got the chance to leave your “mark” on each other. Farkas smelt a hint of you all over him but did not say anything even though it was so tempting to tease.
[Lycanthrope!Reader] Your stamina was also insane, and sex in your beast form also meant that he wouldn’t get sleep for a very long time, especially if he were in his form, too.
There have been multiple instances of animalistic sex in the remains of fallen foes.
Every sexual encounter added to the many scratches and bruises you both had. They could be played off as battle scars so it wasn’t a big deal if they were showing or not
Soft little drabble, pre-relatioship. Reader can be or not a werewolf, but they are part of the Companion. Inspired by that letter of Farkas where Vilkas is said to knit.
“You… Knit?”
Vilkas found it hard to deny when you surprised him knitting, late at night in Jorvarrsk. He had knitting needles in hands, and wool around him.
“Dragornborn, I…”
“I miss it, you know.” You cut him.
“You… What?”
“Miss it. Knitting, but also wool spinning and all of that… That’s what I used to do, you know, before the dragon problem awoke. I used to weave fabric, sew clothes, too. I remember helping make clothes, warm coats with fur for jarls, pretty dresses for noble ladies… Before getting used to wield swords, these hands were holding needles…”
You look down softly at your calloused hand, that you now know are covered in blood, and you cannot do anything about it, not when the aedra had made you who you are, bearing that dragon soul in your human body.
Vilkas look at you softly, his eyes more gentle-looking without the war paint.
“You… regret it, don’t you?”
“Not exactly… More like missing. I miss the weight of needles in my hands instead of a sword, when the smell was because of untreated wool and not blood… It was hard, at first, when I was alone. But then… The Companions found me. I… can we stay quiet together?”
Vilkas nod softly, and you sit beside him, watching the man you fell in love with doing something that was once everything you had in life.
At the New Life Festival during Evening Star, the Wolf Twins make their claim on you.
ao3 // 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.”
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.
