#assassin's creed smut

[elfven-blog]

Milking Session

Summary: You work at 'The Aquila Bovine Sanctuary' and it's milking day for the Italian Bull Ezio. BullHybrid!Ezio Auditore x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ only, blowjob, handjob, he is a hybrid (cannot stress this enough). Word Count: 1.8K

Working at ‘The Aquila Bovine Sanctuary’ had been a weird experience to say the least, when you had applied to be a farmhand you had expected your duties to be cleaning the stalls, feeding the hybrids and maybe helping with the calves. Originally they had put you with the heifers’ and cows’ which had led to you blushing and shifting awkwardly the first time you had helped with a ‘milking’ session. The more experienced cows had started doting on you, stroking your hair and crowing about how sweet you were and gentle too. Over the past year or so you had become more calm about your job and had no worries anymore, especially when you made friends with some of the cows and heifers.

Unfortunately you had to be moved to the Bull area, which was far less peaceful. Some of the bulls did not care for fighting or dominance or any of that, but then some of them seemed to do nothing but fight or ramp each other up. It was a very different experience compared to what you had become used to. That’s not to say the women didn’t fight, they did. Often. But then they seemed to go back to being kind with each other very swiftly, a bull fight seemed to be able to last for days.

To make it all worse, today was a milking day. Milking day with the bulls was ever so slightly different, after all they didn’t produce milk…what they did produce however was seed.

The thought had you almost scowling, you didn’t hate it. It was a job and that’s all you thought about it as, you were sure in the same way many escorts and dominatrix’s thought of their own jobs. 

It’s just that, quite often, it was messy. One time a Bull’s cum had gotten inside your glove, one of your colleagues had underestimated the amount and had dumped what would have been half a bucket more on the floor.

Today would most likely be just the same, at least the stories you swapped with your fellow handlers were funny. No one else seemed to understand your work and your nose scrunched as you remembered when you started working here, you had told one of your friends about a shift and that friend had a rather harsh reaction.

The wind grazed across the back of your neck and your body tensed for a moment before you shook your head and continued walking towards the bull field. Your hands immediately rested on the wood to help as you pushed yourself up to try and find the bull you were after.

A loud moo rang through and then the slam of horns against horns attracted your attention, and there he was. Ezio. He wasn’t the largest bull in the field but he was one of them, originally he had been kept in Italy but a few months ago they’d shipped him over to Aquila Bovine’s when he’d gotten into a rather messy situation and lost half a horn.

He seemed to have settled in quite nicely, none of the bulls were particularly aggravated with each other and most fights were really just them playing.

You yelled to the Italian bull, watching as his head shot up from the bull he was fighting and his mouth stretched into a grin before he was practically bolting over to you. His hands either side of yours as he panted down at you, his long tail flicking behind him and sweat dripped down his tanned skin.

“Tesoro!” he chimed at you, bending down to huff at your hair, seemingly taking rather long deep breaths “Where have you been?” Your body freezes at the feeling of pressure from his nose practically huffing you like glue, your hand moving to pat his arm until he decides he’s had enough and pulls away.

“I have other duties to attend to Ezio” you answer with a shrug but it doesn’t seem enough for the bull as he shakes his head and stamps his hoof “But don’t worry, I’m all yours for the moment.”

The gate is, surprisingly, easy to unlock so you make a mental note to get it checked by maintenance. You wouldn’t want the bulls escaping.

The gate itself is nearly pulled off its hinges as Ezio all but rags it open so that he can be on the same side as you, he closes it and gives you an awkward smile as he does so. The look on your face makes him bend his head and nudge you with it, he is careful of his horns but rather insistent on getting your touch so he knows you are not mad at him.

When your hand finally reaches up to stroke his hair and then at the base of his horns where you know he struggles to itch himself, his weight starts to lean on you as his eyes close and that rumbling purr sounds from him. It’s more like a groan to you, but the other handlers say it’s a purr so you go with it. 

“Ezio! Ezio!” You panic slightly until his eyes open and he stands up again with that charming half-smile he has, one of his hands awkwardly resting on his neck as he pulls away and you simply shake your head as you make sure the gate is completely locked before gesturing for the Bull to follow you.

Technically you’re meant to put him in a harness or halter but Ezio’s always good. Following after you like a lost puppy rather than a bull, it’s only when you go past the cows and heifers that he seems to struggle. His head turning to their field and his nostrils flaring as he halts in his tracks, eyes searching for someone but you’re quick to tug his tail and he happily follows after you again. The distraction forgotten as you make your way to the milking room.

You can see his nose scrunch as you enter the room that had been booked out for his milking session, the Italian unhappy with the scents surrounding him. “Sorry, bud” You said as your hand patted him on the arm before slipping down and curling your hand in his to pull him over towards the milk stand. 

It wasn’t a machine, just a bench where he would kneel and his hands would be slotted in and secured so that he couldn’t grab hold of you. The metal creaked under his weight as he leant on the plush pillow provided for his knees while you secured the straps around his wrists.

Once he was secured you grabbed the bucket and placed it just below him. When you looked up to speak to him, you found the bull already looking down at you. His pupils blown wide and his chest heaving with each breath he took as his eyes trained on you.

“You look so pretty like this” Ezio murmured to you in that rumble, his voice deeper from the arousal coursing through his veins which was made even more evident when your gloved hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the Italian pulling at his straps already with a hiss “So so pretty” he mumbled.

Your hand moves up the length of his prick, making him whine and buck his hips at the feeling. His head thrown back as he lets himself fall into that pleasure you’re offering him, ezio’s thighs tense as you tease the head of his cock with your thumb and it draws a low moan from the bull, the precum starts to drool from the slit which you use as lube to make it easier to pump your hand up and down him. You can hear his tail swaying behind him in excitement and it makes you smile more than it should.

His hips buck again as your hand slides down and squeezes the base of him, your eyes fall to the heavy set of balls to watch as they draw up to his body before relaxing again. Even though he’s now oozing precum, he’s not close enough to release yet which makes the corners of your mouth turn down as your pace increases. The bull’s eyes roll as his breathing quickens, his cock twitching in your palm but it’s still not enough even as his hips chase your hand every time.

Your eyes jump to the clock and you realise you’ve been in here for a good few minutes already with nothing to show for it. Which is why you lean forward and press a kiss to the head of his cock, Ezio’s mouth falls open with a loud groan and he mutters praises above you as your tongue flattens against his tip, swirling once, twice before you sink down on to him.

This is against the rules, something you’re definitely not meant to do but the poor bull was having trouble. Your hand moves to cup his balls, gently rolling them in your hand while the other one continues to pump around him. Your eyes close as you focus on tasting him, but it’s difficult to focus on making sure you do your job when his hips buck and force you to take more of him into your mouth.

You try not to gag from the sudden stretch of your jaw, his cock making you ache as he loses himself in the feeling of your warm throat around him. He tugs at the bindings on his wrists, groaning as his eyes roll and flutter, his mouth slack at the feeling of a wet mouth pleasing him. Your tongue tracing at the prominent veins on the underside of his cock as he fucks into your mouth until you are gagging around him.

There’s not much you can do as your hand slips from the base of his cock, his pace speeding up as he keeps humping into you and you can feel his balls drawing up again as he mumbles and moans above you “So so good”, “What a pretty girl” and “Feels so good dolcezza” all fall as praise from his mouth. His tail swaying more and more as the bench creaks from his movements, the bull chasing his high with the feeling of your mouth consuming him.

Your eyes widen as you feel him tense, his thighs shaking and his cock twitching in your mouth as he pulls at the bindings again and you’re barely able to pull off to grab the bucket before there’s white ropes of cum spurting from his cock, oozing down into the bucket as he moans. His head lolling back as he goes almost limp from his orgasm, cock twitching with the last few bits drooling from him as his eyes flutter. And you can’t stop your mind from wandering at the sight of him like this, you’ve never been so affected by your job before but there’s something about seeing the Italian so blissed out on the bench, or maybe it’s the spit covered cock that’s still hard between his thighs.

But either way, you’re really starting to enjoy working with the bulls at the sanctuary.

[sweetcocopowder]

"I've missed your touch" Haytham x Reader? 👉👈

Prompt 3 | Haytham Kenway x Male Reader

Synopsis: You've been away for far too long and you come back realizing that Haytham wants you more than you realize.

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Le smut. Blowjob. Hand job. Slight manhandling. Marking.

Notes: Thank you for the request!! I hope you don't mind that i chose to go with a male reader, was just easier to write with. Please enjoy!!

Thomas Hickey’s bark of a laugh makes you visibly wince. Even though you try your best not to, the sound is horrific. It’s more on the lines of a hack with mucus stuck in the back of his throat than anything else and you find it revolting. You can’t help it but your lip curls up ever so slightly as your eyes drift over to him. He swings back on his chair before coming back with the legs coming down with a loud clash. It’s as if the Green Dragon goes silent for a moment before the choir of voices arise up again.

Hickey points at you with a finger while still holding his ale in hand, “You got chased by dogs!?” He shouts out a little too loudly.

“Singular,” you correct. “It was one dog.”

“Mate,” Hickey grins wickedly, “I don’t think that makes it any better.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but catch the Grandmaster’s dark blue gaze appointed to you. He has his hands clasped together in front of his mouth and his tricorn sits low over his face. But you can still see his gaze fixed upon you.

Lazy like, he looks away and gestures a hand out to Hickey, “And what have you done in the month while my tracker has been on his trek these past six months?”

That cuts Hickey short. He’s the only one at this table with you and Haytham and you don’t understand why? Well, you do to some degree. He’s here for the women and the ale fifty percent of the time. The other fifty? You have no clue what he does for Haytham’s cause or how he keeps his worth but he obviously does something right.

You’ve met Gist once and as much as you wouldn’t put them in the same category, that man is a drinker himself. Yet, he’s still able to keep his worth clearly to any passerby. Goes about travelling with that Irishman most of his days now. Haven’t seen him in a good few years.

Hickey tries to defend him, “I’ve been-“

“I know what you’ve done,” Haytham says with a raised hand. “Thank you, Thomas.”

Hickey looks to you up and down with a scowl and sets his ale aside. He stands from his chair, making it scratch against the floorboards loudly before dismissing himself to the Grandmaster. You’re quite surprised that no one else has showed up yet for your arrival back. Maybe most have forgotten about you. Or they’re away.

You can’t truly blame them though. You’re not a true part of the Templar cause. You’re a messenger, an information collector that gets paid by how important the job is. You wouldn’t compare yourself to that voyager Captain Cormac but the others have. But only by the way that both of you skip and hop around the place like a rabid dog. Unable to stick to one place for too long.

But it’s what you get paid for. Heading all the way out west and south to retrieve information for Haytham. It can be tiresome some months but most days it’s worth it. Seeing all the sights that America has to give.

But all of Haytham’s attention is on you now. He stands up slowly before looking you over. Something he’s been doing all day ever since you jumped off your horse coming back into Boston. You had to come all the way from Lower Louisiana with important French intel. Something Cormac wasn’t able to do since he’s up north. Probably still is since he’s not currently present.

You don’t want to hold a grudge against the poor man but it’s very hard when you’ve barely seen Haytham. The urge to reach out and touch is an itch that won’t go away. But, for the sake of Haytham’s reputation, you keep to yourself. The last thing Haytham wants is someone to see him with a man. You adjust your specks, pushing them up your nose. Maybe one day things will change.

The Grandmaster holds out a hand, gesturing towards the stairs. “Walk with me?” He asks with a small hint of amusement.

You nod your head gently, “Of course.”

Leading the way down the stairs and out the door, you can’t help but let your shoulders ease with relief. A brief touch on your upper arm has you looking to Haytham with a solum expression, even though you feel your chest constrict within you. It’s been too long since you’ve seen him. He hasn’t changed a bit but you may say the lines around his eyes have gotten a bit more prominent. But it suits him.  

“Come,” is all Haytham says before making his way down the street.

Blunt as always. That’s something you haven’t missed. With your hands behind your back, you walk after him. You keep your tongue still, not wanting to overstep or speak out of turn. Despite him telling you that he’s a high society man in the past, you’ve seen him break into too many places to count, kill without remorse and cause chaos in the middle of the street. Something that has you rolling your eyes every time.

But something you did not expect is for Haytham to step down the way of his own estate. You’ve only been here once and that was a good few years ago now. All your other little inquiries with Haytham have been held… elsewhere. It should leave a sour taste in your mouth but with each passing travel, you find yourself yearning for the man more. Even though sometimes he feels so far away when he’s right beside you.

Haytham Kenway’s estate is a two storey building on the outskirts of Boston. You can only guess to keep away from everyone else. But with the rate this place is growing he soon might be surrounded by other houses and properties. Most likely outshining Haytham’s in every way possible. But that’s the future.

You bring your eyes down to Haytham opening the door for you. His tricorn is off his head and he gesture inwards with it for you to enter first. You hum softly as you enter into Haytham’s home. And instantly, the smell of foxing books and tea leaves invades your nose. It’s almost overpowering but it’s almost familiar. The door clicks behind you softly.

“So, what matters did you want to discuss, sir?” You ask as you loosen your cravat from your neck.

A hand presses into the small of your back and you can’t help but stiffen up. You look to Haytham as he comes to your front, feeling around your waist until he stops on your stomach.

“There are no, important matters,” Haytham slurs out. “Only you.”

You can’t help but stifle out a laugh as you place a hand over his. He raises a brow to you, that concerned look coming over his features. This is not the man that you met earlier today. His eyes are too soft now, not the hard dark blue that could stop anyone in their tracks.

“You haven’t missed me that much have you?” You asks with a lilt of cockiness in your voice. It’s hard not to have it there, not with the way that Haytham looks to you now.

“Hmm, I would say as much,” Haytham hums out.

With nimble fingers, the hand on your stomach comes up and plucks your specs off your nose. You watch intensely as he folds them up in one hand before putting them off aside. You truly hate it when he does that because everything becomes a little fuzzy around the edges. But the way he looks at you is something that’s worth the minor inconvenience.

You finally reach out and unclasp the clip to his coat. It falls heavily to the ground with a heavy thud. Your hand touches his neck before caressing up his cheek. He grips your hand and pulls it away to kiss your palm. What a sweet man.

“Do you wish to-“ before you can even finish your sentence, Haytham brings you closer for a desperate kiss. One fill with teeth and tongue. But, you return it all the same with a hand gripping into his dark hair undoing that red bow he always has tied in it. He groans into the touch, a sound you savour all the same.

He pushes you backwards into the wall, almost knocking a painting off its hook. Haytham never parts from you though as his hands waver and venture down your chest, undoing every button on your vest in his path. The vest is discarded with your shirt coming next. You suddenly feel very exposed as his dark eyes look over you.

“This ain’t fair, Haytham,” you push him backwards with a hand on his chest. He complies, taking small steps backwards into the living room. Inches away from the fancy lounge he has, he grabs your hand and takes it from his chest.

“Many things aren’t fair, dear,” Haytham says.

You can’t help but scowl as he turns you around and pushes you backwards onto the lounge instead. You land with an oof onto the soft couches. You should be upset but the way that Haytham grips onto the back of the lounge as he leans over you with that look, it’s very hard to feel that way. Especially when everything you’re feeling is travelling down below, filling out in your pants.

Haytham comes down onto the couch, a leg coming between your own and pressing against your crouch. You can’t help the hiss that escapes from mouth. It’s been a while since you’ve let anyone touch you. And when a large hand kneads you through your pants, the groan that comes from your throat is savoury.

“What have your thoughts have me been? Since I’ve been away all this time?” You ask with a grin.

Haytham looks to you and you can see so many thoughts run behind his eyes. He leans down and kisses your neck, your jaw and then your lips.

“Many things,” he whispers deeply.

You lightly grab his face, making him look at you. “Show me,” you whisper back before kissing him deeply.

Clothes are striped off at an alarming rate and Haytham’s actions become desperate. His calloused hands run over your frame as soon as you’re free of your clothing. And the shivers that run down your spine has goosebumps littering your skin. He kisses you again deeply, biting at your bottom lip and sucking. His bites and kisses venture to your neck where it almost feels like as if he’s tasting you.

You grab onto the back of his neck and drag him down further onto the couch. He has to hold onto the back of the lounge to stop himself from falling over you. You bid yourself to think and open your eyes to take in the view in front of you. The muscles on his back twitch and move as his hands feel every inch of you. You take him in the best you can as he sucks and latches himself onto your neck. A hand wraps itself around your aching cock and your eyes roll up to the ceiling.

“Haytham,” you breathe out. “Please.”

He comes up and latches onto your lips again, deep and wet. His mind is probably a blur right now because yours is too. You get lost in the pure pleasure swirling in your gut and fogging your head. You grip onto his sides, your nails digging in as the hand that’s on your cock quickens it’s pace. Your back arches slightly off the couch as he squeezes at the base before stroking back up and flicking the bead of precum that’s leaking from you. It has you panting and holding onto him as if your life depended on it.

Haytham breaks off, breathing heavily into your cheek. He grinds down onto you and you can feel his own excitement rub up against your own.

“I’ve missed you,” you breathe out into his skin. “I’ve missed your touch, Haytham.”

Haytham returns that with another kiss as if he can’t get enough of you. You grip onto his hair, tugging at his locks that earn you a deep growl. Being like this, you miss it so damn much it hurts. You earn for him too much when you’re off on your little expeditions that it’s becoming a problem. You just hope that Haytham doesn’t send you away again on another six month journey. Because you don’t think you’ll survive this one with the way he makes you feel.

And seeing him like this, desperate to touch you. Desperate to taste you. Oh, it does so many things to you. And with him moving off the couch and guiding your hips with him, your heart does a flip. He sits on his knees in front of you, the Grandmaster of the Templar Order with your cock a breath away from his kiss swollen lips. The sight is something that no one will ever get to see but you.

“This is what I’ve wanted, dear,” Haytham almost whispers. “I’ve missed this too much for my own good.”

Only you.

You grip a hand into his hair again and guide him down onto your cock. He takes you beautifully and you grind your teeth, hoping to hold out for a few minutes more. But the way that Haytham sucks and bobs his head at your bidding is almost too much. His hands grip into your thighs painfully and you know there will be bruises there later. But it’ll be a reminder to today. Something you love to see in the mirror.

All for you. And only you.

-

;)

[multi-fandoms-posts]

X Men Masterlist:

X Men Masterlist 2

Update: 10/06/24:

Charles Xavier:

His Wife

Imagine

Sweet Moment

The Professor and the Stark Heiress

An Unexpected Encounter

Lesson in Obedience (SMUT)

Charles and His Girlfriend High School AU

A Seductive Chess Game (SMUT)

The Crossing of Worlds last part (X-Men x The Boys)

The Crossing of Worlds Part 3 (X-Men x The Boys)

The Crossing of Worlds Part 2 (X-Men x The Boys)

Beyond Control last Part

The Crossing of Worlds Part 1 (X-Men x The Boys)

Beyond Control Part 1

Hihgschool AU

A Nighttime Disruption

The Power of Thoughts

A Telepathic Connection

Read my mind (Logan x reader x Charles)

Drunk idea

Training

Just Friends huh?

I will always be by your side

Imagine

Charles If....

Update: 10/02/24:

Cherik:

Equal Power, Equal Passion SMUT

Driven to the Limit

Secrets in the Storm

POV Video

Annoying encounter in the bar

Gun and pressure

The Explosive Mission last part

In the Storm of Love and Rage

The Explosive Mission part 2

The Explosive Mission part 1

Logan's sister

Playful Distraction: A Day of Mission and Mischief

Trouble maker

Training Chaos

two men protect her girl

Between Mission and Seduction

Distractions and Dynamics

Seductive Power Part 2

Seductive Power Part 1

Unexpected Revelations last part

Through the Shadows of Danger

Twin Trouble

Unexpected Revelations Part 3

Unexpected Revelations Part 2

Unexpected Revelations Part 1

dirty mind

Horror movie

Cherik

Update: 10/08/24

Erik Lehnsherr:

Erik's Secret

Someday

Imagine

Little surprise SMUT

In His Arms: A Moment of Peace

A Night of Control and Desire (SMUT)

A Challenge, a Kiss, and a Surprise

Between Magnet and Mind

In the Ruins of Conflict

Hidden Tension

Update: 10/06/24

McFassy:

sick days

Chaos Before the Oscars

Waves of Passion

A Magical Moment at Comic-Con

Update: 10/06/24

James Mcavoy:

The Tie SMUT

A Magical Evening

Video call

Surprise at Comic-Con

Sunrise Moments

A Flirt in Focus

Update: 10/06/24

Paddy:

The Thrill of the hunt

Beg for me SMUT

role-playing game (SMUT)

Imagine

Possession and Desire

The Night of Deception and Passion 2/2(SMUT)

The Night of Deception and Passion 1/2

Control and Surrender (SMUT)

The Game of Control (Paddy and Cal)

I love my psychopath

Shackles of Desire (Paddy and The Killer)

The Heat of the Moment (SMUT)

Update:09/29/24

Lord Asriel:

Lost Time: The Return of Lord Asriel (SMUT)

Amidst the Battle

In the Light of the Morning

Update: 09/10/24:

Logan:

Mission with Temptation

Uninvited Guest

Unexpected Visitor(but somehow not)

Unexpected News

Inappropriate Comments

In the Shadows of Passion

Read my mind (Logan x reader x Charles)

Scott's sister

Game night

Midnight Conversation

The Bar

[kiatheinsomniac]

. * ⋆  . · 　. ⋆ :₊ 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉-𝒖𝒑 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ♡ ‧⁺ . ♡ ⋆ . · 　. 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𓆩♡𓆪 it's that time of year again! this is my blog's third consecutive year of valentine's match-ups, a chance for you to be set up on a date with one of your favs! but this year is even more special as there are two parts to the event: sugar and spice! If you are 18+ you can enter both sugar and spice once each! 𓆩♡𓆪 SUGAR is the SFW and majority part of this event, open to everyone. SPICE* is the NSFW and smaller part of this event, available only to followers aged 18+ *spice info under the cut 𓆩♡𓆪 SUGAR! will see 14 winners chosen at random via raffle! 𓆩♡𓆪 SPICE! will only have 5 slots available and entries will be chosen via raffle regardless of engagement

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓!

♡ start your message with "sugar!" and send me a description of yourself (sexuality, personality, hobbies, likes/dislikes, etc. any details to give a profile of yourself) and a fandom (or multiple fandoms!) of your choice from the list below. ♡ I'll tell you who would ask you to be their Valentine and why as well as the date they would take you on! ♡ you can enter by sending your information to my ask box! ♡ please keep in mind that entries for sugar are one per person and not one per blog. This is to make it fair.

♡ enter now for a Valentine's date!

・💌・꒰ CLOSES 10TH FEB. ꒱ ・💌・꒰ 14 LETTERS RECEIVED ꒱

. ♡ ⋆  . · 　. 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃:

✧ I will write for literally anyone

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋:

✧Any of the Dimitrescus, Karl Heisenberg, Donna Beneviento, Carlos Oliveira, Jill Valentine

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐖 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘:

✧Elliott, Sebastian

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓:

✧Alhaitham, Arlecchino, Baizhu, Beidou, Clorinde, Cyno, Dehya, Diluc, Dottore, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lisa, Navia, Neuvillette, Ningguang, Pantalone, Raiden Ei, Scaramouche, Thoma, Tighnari, Xiao, Yae Miko, Zhongli (more will be added as I progress in the game ♡)

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋:

✧Argenti, Aventurine, Black Swan, Boothill, Caelus, Dan Heng, Dr Ratio, Jioqiu, Jing Yuan, Mr. Reca, Stelle, Sunday(more will be added as I progress in the game ♡)

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊:

✧Sol

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐑:

✧Mr, Crawling, Mr. Silver, Mr. Scarletella

𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐍:

✧Any of the ainur/ elves, Aragorn, Faramir, Haleth

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀:

✧Alucard, Carmilla, Drolta, Hector, Striga

𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋'𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄:

✧Howl

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒:

✧Tomoe

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐑:

✧Sebastian, Undertaker, Snake, Ash/Angela, Charles Grey

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒:

✧Dominique, Johann, Noé, Olivier, Vanitas

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓:

✧Sherlock Holmes, William James Moriarty

𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒:

✧Akiko Yosano, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Golgo. Osamu Dazai, Sigma, Yukichi Fukuzawa

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

✧Brother Day

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒆!

♡ start your message with "spice!" and send me a description of yourself (sexuality, personality, etc. any details to give a profile of yourself), preferred descriptions for your anatomy/gender, your kinks, boundaries, and a fandom (or multiple fandoms!) of your choice from the list above. ♡ I'll tell you who'd be your valentine and the spicy surprises they have in store for you on valentine's day! ♡ you can enter by sending your information to my ask box! for the sake of keeping minors out of this side of the event, anon entries will be invalid as I'll need to see your age displayed on your blog but you can ask for me to make your entry anonymous when it is posted for the sake of privacy if you please ♡ please keep in mind that entries for spice are one per person and not one per blog. This is to make it fair.

♡ enter now for Valentine's sex!

・💌・꒰ CLOSES 10TH FEB. ꒱ ・💌・꒰ 3 LETTERS RECEIVED ꒱

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ comms. ∘ taglist ∘ follow/reblog

[demigoddessqueens]

Hey it’s me, ya boi, a tumblr gremlin.

Remember the pirate boots striptease? What would happen if you show that little idea to said captains of the high seas Shay and Edward? Maybe Connor too seeing as he sails the high seas (or close to said seas).

Ooof stop (but not really!) everyone on the ship will hear 👂

KINKTOBER 2024

Shay

Surprised by what you’re playing at first but smoothly transitions into the scene you’ve set, going so far as to tease you more than you did him

Edward

Oh he’s got that devilish grin to him and completely immersed into your antics, shamelessly loud and teasing you as well

Connor

He’s surprised by such forwardness by you but goes along with it. Even gets more into your role playing if you let him

[thehoneybeestings]

──˚₊•Masterlist•‧₊˚──

Hello! I'm so glad you're here! To make navigation as easy as possible, all of my works will listed first by universe, second by character, third by fic type, and then labeled for content. Before you get to browsing, here are some disclaimers!

What I do write: 

Fluff (F)

Smut (S)

Hurt/Comfort (H/C)

One Shots

Headcanons

Drabbles

What I do not write:

non-c0n

x male reader 

hard kinks (or any kink I am not comfortable writing; this is up to my direction.)

angst with no happy ending! I'm not strong enough!

You may also notice that my character lists are a little short! This is simply because as of right now, I only plan on writing for the listed characters; if you'd still like to see me write for a character that you don't see listed, though, please don't hesitate to send in a request! 

Happy Browsing! 

Love, Bee ୨ৎ

──˚₊•Arcane•‧₊˚──

Sevika

Headcanons

୨ৎ (F) Sevika w/ a Partner who has PMDD

Drabbles

୨ৎ (S) More, More, More

Synopsis: The last time you slept together, you asked Sevika for more than she had equipped; she makes sure she's prepared for the next time 'round.

୨ৎ (S) Service Top!Sevika at Babette's

Synopsis: There's a reason the girls at Babette's fight over who gets Sevika for the night when she comes in, and you're about to find out why

Violet 

One Shots

୨ৎ (S) Sugar Plum

Synopsis: After years of competing for the title of Star Senior at Piltover Springs Dance School, the hatred that Violet Lanes and Y/n Y/l/n have garnered for each other is rendered a waste when in a turn of events, they are both awarded the distinction. When this forces them to confront what feelings they have for each other outside of unbridled loathing, they find that the line between hatred and lust is much finer than they thought...

Headcanons

୨ৎ (F) Enemies to Lovers with Dancer!Vi x Dancer!Reader

୨ৎ (F) Vi Sleep Headcanons

──˚₊•The Last Of Us II•‧₊˚──

Ellie Williams

Coming soon...

Abby Anderson

Coming soon...

──˚₊•Assassins's Creed: Odyssey•‧₊˚──

Kassandra

Headcanons

୨ৎ (F) A Place to Call Home

Synopsis: When Kassandra of Sparta runs into Phoibe for the first time in a year, the future she'd planned for herself quickly unravels, and the trajectory of her life is changed. Frankly, she should have figured this would happen; Phoibe always gave her a run for her drachmae.

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

End ୨ৎ

[acc--deactivated]

𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

„Sweet cunt and a sharp tongue, you're a dangerous combo, love.“

featuring: edward kenway

cw: praise, vaginal sex, semi-public i guess

synopsis: owning a tavern in havana means being used to pirates in your every day life, their crude words and behaviour. but you've never met a pirate going this far in attempt to apologize for a crewmate's bad actions.

note: „fy nghariad“ is a welsh phrase meaning „my love“ or „my sweetheart“ which i thought would be nice to include, but please tell me if i used it incorrectly, that would be kinda embarassing lol

18+ content - MDNI

───────────────────

Havana is always warm, always welcoming and soft, with sunlight flooding through streets of beige and gold, full of laughter and peaceful existence.

Even at night, it feels like the warmth wraps around people like a soft coat, summer air resting between the buildings and mingling with the scent of the sea, darkness enlightened by warm lanterns and candles. The sound of joyful music, shanties and drunken laughter has become the soundtrack of your nights as bartender in the tavern and restaurant which are owned by your father, and you like to say that Havana is a place of joy, no matter the time of day.

You've done this job since your teenage years, are used to bar fights and lusting gazes resting on you, know how to handle men who try to let their hands wander, think they can whistle at you or spit out crude and naughty things.

Most of them know that it will only get them a ban from the house, or in worst case, a beating from your main visitors or an arrest by the guards, but sometimes, there still are idiots who try it, out of pure stupidity and falsely placed ego.

Citizens of Havana adore your tavern as a centre of the city, they know how to behave and have their fun in peace, but the pirates docking on the shore are a different story.

You can see it in their gazes, in the way they talk, the way they stride through the streets like they own them and the houses forming them, that they're looking for provocation, hungry for a fight.

Thankfully, most of them are more of an inconvience and not an actual threat, and you know how to handle them, know that a tavern is a pirate's favourite place, which gives you a slight advantage against them, even if it's just out of their sympathy for the rum you pour them.

It doesn't diminish your dislike for them, despite them being your costumers.

Pirates are a disease, you've always been told. And yet, you can't help but feel a thrill in your veins, feel your heart leap and your legs trembling when a strong hand grabs your chin from behind, gently, sensually lifts your head.

The soft light filling the dim walls of the empty, closed tavern flickers in your vision, soft tears of passion melting it to a blur along with the dark of the late night and a breathed, blissful sigh leaves your lips, forced out of you by the way the body of the man behind you rocks once more against you.

Pirates are the worst of the worst, you learned early in your life. And Edward Kenway is so good at being a pirate, at getting what he wants, that he might be something even worse, armed with those mischievous eyes, his charming smirk and skilled fingers.

You did not question the leathern bracers wrapped around his lower arms, the hidden blades you saw shimmering in the dim light when you served him and his men, and you didn't question the hooded robe hanging over the back of his chair, could only focus on the white lace-up shirt on his body, the cleavage that slightly revealed the tattoos spreading over his chest.

It was no surprise and nothing new when one of his men hit on you, spitting rude words from a drunk tongue in an attempt to seduce you. What did surprise you was how fast Adéwalé grabbed him by the scruff like a puppy to kick him out of the tavern, and the way Edward apologized to you, genuinely and gentle.

Most men did not act like this when they came to drink in your tavern, only laughed when their comrades harrassed a girl. It did not fit your world view, disturbed the evil picture you carried of pirates all these years of your life.

You couldn't help but smile at the way Edward looked at you, a mixture of apologetic and enthrilled, felt your breath hitch when he asked you what he could offer to beg your forgiveness.

The way his hands are now roaming your body, his husked breaths against your ear and his body pressed against yours is not what you had in mind at first, but you'll gladly take it as a form of apology.

He lets out a groan as he fills you, slides into you like you are made for him, slicked walls hugging his cock, clenching around his girth.

He fills you just right, hits spots you have never felt, makes you see stars despite the roof above both of your heads.

„What do you say, sweetheart? Think this'll make up for the inconvience?“ he husks against your ear, sends a new shiver down your spine that ends up right inside the heat pooling in your lower stomach, and you lightly lean your head back, feel the stubble of his beard brushing your ear.

Just when you're about to answer, he hits you with another thrust from behind, knocks the air out of you with the sheer depth of his movements.

You need a second to catch your breath, collect yourself, before a little smirk spreads on your lips.

„Thought a world-class-pirate would have more to offer“, you respond, with a low, seducing voice, a tone that lures him in, makes his breath hitch lightly, bearly hearable if he wasn't so close to your ear.

He's so close even that you think you can feel the way an amused smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and you shudder again when his breath fans your cheek.

„Sly little thing, aren't ya?“

Before you can answer in an even brattier tone than before, you feel how he slightly pushes you down, makes you lean further forward until you're forced to hold onto the bar, driven further and further into the wood by his harsh thrusts.

He quickens his pace, makes you whine and moan with the way he fills you, tip kissing your womb, his slight curve brushing your sweet spots just right.

„Sweet cunt and a sharp tongue, you're a dangerous combo, love.“

His words and the deep tone of his voice only make you arch more in his grasp, make you hold onto the bar with one hand, while the other carries your balance on its wooden surface.

You feel your own arousal run down your thighs, feel yourself getting higher and higher on the wet sounds echoing through the room whenever he enters your aching cunt, your brain spinning around mixed feelings of confusion and arousal.

He's a pirate, a well wanted one as well, and yet you can not help but love the way he grabs you, the way he fucks you, the way he makes you feel.

When he leans over your back, one hand placed next to your body, the other one on your hip to hold you steady, you somehow forget how much his head is worth, how dangerous his hands should feel on your body.

It feels strange, but a spark of sympathy arises within you when he leans in further, buries you in his shadow as he pushes a soft kiss against the back of your neck, drowns you in the illusion of intimacy when he gently closes his teeth around the shell of your ear.

Edward doesn't seem like other pirates, doesn't initiate fights he can not win, doesn't harrass others, doesn't cause unnecessary ruckus to prove his ego. He smells better than most of them, covered in the scent of the sea, of salt and a hint of rum, but with an underlying note of herbs, probably because of salves that are used to treat wounds lingering his body.

And above all, he looks so handsome, a dark angel within a bunch of dirty, fattened and drunk pigs, his cheeky smirk more intoxicating than alcohol or money.

A smirk that is directed at you, resting on you as he observes you, watches you writher and shake beneath his movements. When you catch it from the corner of your eye, it fuels new fire inside of you, and your lips curl sweet and mischievously when you slightly raise your head to respond.

„Maybe you shouldn't provoke my sharp tongue too much then, captain.“

The word does something to him, you can feel it, notice the way he gasps for a second, slows his thrusts for the shortest bit. Then he suddenly slips out of you, both hands grabbing your hips and pulling you up, your back straightening for the shortest second before he turns you around, pulls you in by the waist and leans forward to push his lips against yours, catching you in a heated kiss that steals your breath, makes your knees weak.

You bury your right hand in his blonde hair, hold him close, while your other hand rests on the textile of his shirt, trying to hold onto soft linen while you sigh and feel your legs tremble.

As if he's feeling it, he lightly bends his knees, slides his hands from your hips to the back of your thighs to pick you up, makes you wrap your legs around his waist while your hands cradle his face and you sink further into his kiss, melt against his lips. You hear the rustling of clothes, feel how he picks up your discarded dress from the edge of the bar and spreads it on the counter, adjusting the textile before he sets you down on the wood, just to break from your mouth a few seconds later.

He smirks at your little gasp, licks his lower lip before raising his voice.

„Captain, huh? That a hidden request to join my crew?“

You gasp when you feel his fingers dig into the softness of your thighs, need a second to collect yourself before you scoff at his words, look at him through a glimmer of competition before you breathe out an „In your dreams, pirate.“

He only grins at that, eyes slightly narrowing as they slide down to his hands on your thighs, watches them when he spreads your legs to get new access to your leaking centre, his eyes staring shamelessly at it.

And just when you think to finally have the air to add another snarky comment, he suddenly thrusts back into you, one switft motion with which he fills you to the brim, makes you throw your head back as he falls back into a relentless rhythm, his cock slicking in and out of your warm wetness.

He leans over you again, holding you by the waist as he pounds into you, forcing high pitched moans and whimpers out of your throat that you simply can not hold back.

His thrusts feel so deep, hit you so perfectly and when he grabs one of your legs to raise it to his shoulder, you almost choke on the air in your throat, bliss filling you at the pleasure washing through you by his deepening movements.

You curse out an „Oh god-“ as you throw your head back, hear a breathed laugh from Edward when he grabs you by the hips again, adjusts your body on the textile of your dress, pulls you in to take his hard thrusts.

Another whimper leaves you as he partially folds you in half, sass and mockery leaving your body with each new thrust, slowly melting in the heat of a building orgasm within your body.

It doesn't help how he reaches out with his hand to search for your clit, forcing a loud moan from your throat when his finger presses against it.

„That it, darling? That the spot?“

Through your panting and heavy breathing, the dizziness in your vision, you see how he smirks at you, pure confidence written in his attractive features and you can only nod, breathe out a „Please-“, a word that only makes his smile widen.

Your lower body tenses, a coil clenching deep within your core, tight enough that it almost hurts.

„Don't hold back. Let me feel you come, fy nghariad.“

His voice slightly falters, breathless because of his own arousal, the tension with which he holds himself back, and his words only add fuel to the fire in your body, make the flames lap higher, reaching your chest, making your heart race.

Whimpers and gasps leave your throat, you tense, feel your thighs shiver, your entire body short-circuiting until eventually, you feel yourself breaking apart, tension and arousal reaching their peak, knocking you into an abyss of white noise, making you cry out in pleasure, your head falling back as arousal floods your veins.

His thrusts never waver, seem to get even harder, fucking you through your orgasm, almost making you pass out with the sheer overstimulation. Your brain turns to mush, simply melts away and when you look up at him, with tear-filled, flickering eyes and your tongue slightly peaking over your lower lip, he takes in a sharp, hissing breath, slipping dangerously close to an orgasm just by your gaze and your walls spasming, clenching and relaxing around him.

His hand trembles a little as he trails it further up your body, fondling your chest for a second and making you whine out at the soft feeling, before his fingers graze your neck, eventually rest on your cheek.

He spreads his thumb, runs it over the corner of your mouth, doesn't expect the way you push out your tongue to taste salt, gunpowder and rum on his skin. Not a second later, you allow his finger to slip into your mouth, relish in the way he draws a sharp breath when you lazily swirl your tongue around it.

The facade in front of his face cracks the slightest bit, and you see how he bites his lower lip, how his brows furrow a little in what seems to be despair, before he breathes out a „Shit, you're gonna make me cum, sweetheart.“

It's the cue you need and while you whine, shudder beneath each of his thrusts, you at some point slightly bite down into his finger, hard enough to make him jolt, hard enough to break his facade.

He gasps for air, lets out short „Fuck-“, before he holds onto your hip, digging the fingers of his free hand into the skin when he forces himself to pull out, holding you in place as warm, white seed spurts over the skin of your abdomen.

For a few moments, you only look at each other, breathe into the space between both of you, wallowing in the heat of each other's body. Your head is still spinning when Edward slightly leans forward, gently rests his forehead against yours before he lets out a heavy breath.

His eyes are dark and dominant when they dig into yours, captivate you with the slight glimmer within them.

„Aren't you just something else... Maybe I'll pick you up and simply take you with me. Wanna know what else that sweet mouth of yours can do.“

It doesn't matter what you learned your entire life, his words make you giddy and thoughtless, make your heart leap in joy and your lips curl to a smile.

„Careful, Kenway. My lips may seem sweet, but they come with a pair of teeth.“

He lets out a little groan, a sound of playful despair and frustration, before he leans further against your forehead, gently nudges his nose against yours.

„Fucking heavens, you're perfect.“

You smile when he kisses you, wrap your arms around him and become a mess of sweet nothingness beneath his hands when they start roaming your body again, not taking long until you throw your head back once more, sending sighed versions of his name into the warm night.

[intoxicated-chan]

Could I possibly ask for NSFW Shay x reader content? If you’re not in the mood for anything smutty then just general Drabble/hc content is more than fine too! Any Shay content is welcome 🖤

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Summary ➳ When Shay remembers your dream to see the Northen lights, it takes the chance to take you there and love you under the stars.

(A/n) ➳ Your wish is my command! If you guys have any Shay requests, I’m open!! This was more fluff than smut, I honsetly got carried away with this.

Word Count ➳ 2.6k

Content warnings ➳ Female reader/Navigator reader, teasing, jealousy, mentions of killing, sexual content, public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, penetration, p-in-v, creampie...

Everyone knew that Shay and Chevalier never got along. At first, Shay could take it, the insults, and the fights, but it became worse when Chevalier overheard Shay’s desire to court you. It was during an argument when it was brought up, teasing Shay, laughing at him, and getting physical with him, laughing at his missed punches. As usual, Liam stepped in, silencing Chevalier, and snatching Shay away.  

Shay could still hear his laughter as Liam tried his best to comfort his best friend. But Chevalier became his nightmare when he arrived from a mission to find you and Chevalier sitting on the steps of the manor, a happy expression on your face as Chevalier spoke to you.  

He stepped in, questioning why Chevalier was still here when Achilles was looking for him. But Chevalier saw right through his act, knowing how it pissed Shay off to see you with him and so before he left, he gifted you a book, one that you have been looking for.  

Shay hated how your eyes gleamed as you took the book from his hands and continuously thanked him. It was a rare book in your eyes. You escaped from your home, just days away from marrying an older nobleman when you turned eighteen.  

Shay knew that you knew Chevalier was being kind to you. Another rarity around here and he tried not to take it to heart.  

“Is something the matter?” You asked Shay, obviously clueless and knocking Shay out of his mind. “Did the mission not go as planned?”  

“Everything is alright.” He replied, giving you his signature smile. “I’ll meet you on the Morrigan?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it.  

“Oh yes! I have a charted map that I must give.” You nodded. “Chevalier said I was learning rather quickly.”  

“Did he now?”  

You nodded once again before scurrying off, waving him goodbye. He watched your figure head towards the Morrigan, making sure he saw you entering the cabin of the ship. 

And after giving his report to Achilles, you were not in the cabin anymore. You were relaxed, sitting on his ship as you read your book. You just looked so beautiful unbothered and hated to bother you, you were enjoying the moment.  

You swiped the strays of hair in your face away, trying to focus on your book. “Chevalier certainly knows what interests you.” He commented. “My men say you refuse to move, that you refused to sing with them. I thought you enjoyed Leave her, Johnny.”  

“Chevalier’s taste is quite different than mine, I’d give him quite a scare if he truly read the contents of this book.” You marked the page of your book before closing it carefully. “I did not sing but I loved their voices. We should have them perform.”  

“Might I see?” Shay reached for the book, but you pulled it out of his reach. “C’mon, you’ve got nothing to hide from me!”  

“No.” You immediately said but your smile did not falter. “I must show you the map, I’ve located numerous military camps with supplies. They will be useful to the Morrigan.”  

You both walked to the captain’s cabin, Shay opened the door to let you in first and then closed it behind him. He followed you to the table with the map laid out, a part of North America with marked points.  

“It’s quite chilly but Chevalier it would be worth it.” You commented, pointing at one at a time to explain. “When I was using the spyglass, I was able to get some of the contents of the supplies. Here, you get wood and metal. And here, cannons. There is a fort here so you must tread carefully-”  

Shay didn’t bother to listen, rather, he took in your features, how your finger tapped in a certain pattern when at a marked location, how you went into detail about certain patterns soldiers take, or how each of the supplies can help the ship or crew in many ways. 

Memories of a conversation he had with you weeks earlier came through his mind, your laughter, your casual mention of an ethereal light. It all started when you went to North Atlantic once, the temperatures were freezing, and you remained up on the Crow’s Nest. He went to get you himself and he saw you stare up at the sky, like you were waiting for something.  

You explained the stories of his and Chevalier’s crew speaking of green arches that curve across the sky, lights dancing in the sky. You wished to see them yourself instead of hearing them or paintings, you wanted to gaze your eyes upon them.  

You were exquisite, magnificent, alluring... He knew the perfect time to take you to see the northern lights, he wanted to be the first to take you, to see your eyes gleam once more.  

“Are you listening to me, Shay?” 

Shay cleared his throat. “O-Of course!” He answered awkwardly. He tried to play it off, but you did not see him staring again. To see you so focused and helping him, made him all giddy, you are available for him. “You were talking about... Um, that camp.” He gestured vaguely towards the map. 

“Really?” You lifted an eyebrow, sneering but in a joking manner that Shay understood. You then pointed at one mark. “What does this camp hold?” You questioned.  

He leaned over the table, taking a moment to think. “Ammo! There's ammo.”  

You shook your head as you tapped the spot your finger still rested on. “That is not a military camp, Shay. It is a hunting location. I marked it for personal use. Might find some deer or rabbit there.”  

He was caught off guard, his cheeks had a tinge of red on them. “Right, of course. I knew that.” He rumbled, trying to recover.  

But your demeanor shifted from playful to worried. You have never seen Shay so distracted before. “There must be something on your mind. I have never seen you so distant.” Your tone became soft, folding your arms.  

He let his eyes wander, taking everything in the cabin except you. “It’s nothing too worrying.” He assured you but when he looked at you, his resolve softened. “I was thinking what you said once, about the lights, the ones you did not know the name of.”  

“The dancing lights in the sky?” Your expression slowly brightened when you realized. “Yes, yes. They say it is like the heavens themselves are celebrating or the spirits were dancing.” You awed with wonder.  

“I was thinking... Perhaps we could set a course north. Father than we had planned before. I would like to take you to see the northern lights or as Hope calls them aurora... Borealis?” Struggling to pronounce the name, he cursed at himself for screwing it up.  

The surprise and delight he saw on your face was worth more than all the treasures they had plundered. You stepped around the table and came closer to him. “Really? You would do that for me?”  

Shay nodded, placing both his hands on your shoulders. “Yes, I believe it’s time we chased something beautiful, not just profitable or killable.” 

“I’d like that very much, Shay.” His hands moved to cup your face, your eyes locking with his. “Thank you.”  

Nothing is said between you both, your faces just inches apart. The candlelight flickered, adding a touch to the moment. Shay started to lean in first, and you followed his lead. Your lips were about to touch until the doors to the captain’s cabin burst open.  

Liam barged in, he looked urgent but froze in place when he saw how close you two were. “Shay, (Y/n), sorry but-” Liam started, his eyes darting between you two. A smirk was briefly on his lips but stopped when Shay glared at him. He composed himself. “Achilles gave us orders. We need to set sail immediately.”  

The two of you pulled apart from each other, embarrassed, but you tried masking your disappointment, covering it up with a poor attempt at professionalism.  

Shay patted himself down, turning to face Liam. “And?” He motioned Liam to continue.  

“We’re goin’ North Atlantic.” Liam handed Shay a scroll. “The French are moving deeper, Achilles believes they have a lead on another Assassin branch, he wants us to intervene.”  

You fumbled with your hands, clasped together. “I shall start preparing the crew, check supplies, and repair the Morrigan if necessary.”  

As you moved past Liam to exit the cabin, Liam leaned closer to Shay, his voice low but teasing. “Trying to one-up the Chevalier, eh?” He chuckled, but then his tone became serious. “Make sure your head stays in the game Shay.”  

“Always, Liam.”  

With that, Liam left the cabin, the doors closing with a soft thud. Shay stood there, hands on his hips as he let out a frustrated groan. He was so close! He took a deep breath as he had weeks or months to try again.  

Besides, if Hope was correct, it would soon be the perfect moment to see one.  

The Morrigan was anchored in the icy waters of the North Atlantic.  

Liam left the crew’s sleeping quarters after checking for injuries or casualties. He dismissed those standing on the deck of the ship to get some sleep, he and the captain, along with their navigator were going to keep watch for this night. He needed everyone rested and ready.  

He stood at the wheel, arms crossed, and reamined still.  

Up on the crow’s nest, the air was crisp, and the stars shined in the sky. Shay climbed the rigging to the nest, where he found you leaning again the wooden frame, gaze fixed on the sky. You twiddled with your fingers. He was able to sense the nervousness raiding off your body.  

The deep breaths you took, letting out small clouds of your breath each time you exhaled, and shifting side to side. You wore thick clothing to shield you from the weather and the gloves he gave you when you forgotten yours somehow... He took them. 

“Beautiful night.” Shay commented, his voice low as not to startle you. He leaned against the wooden railing next to you.  

A smile tugged your lips, though your eyes didn’t exactly show it. “It is.” You agreed, then sighing, lowering your head. “The lights... Will they be as the crew described them to be? The heavens celebrating, the spirits dancing. What if they don’t appear? what if they’re not everything I had hoped for?”  

Shay looked out across the sky, which was turning darker by the minute, and then back at you. “They will be.” He said, confident. “They’ll surpass every tale, every painting you have ever seen.”  

“I hope you’re right, Shay.” You laid your head on your arms, tired.  

It was a comfortable silence, waiting in the cold as the last light of the day vanished. Shay could sense the disappointment coming off you, he was ready to tell you to rest until he saw a faint flow.  

It grew brighter, greens with blues, it stretched across the sky like ribbons of lights. It was like its own river.  

He nudged her, pointing upward. “Look.” He whispered.  

Your confusion turning awe as you saw the gentle wisps growing. The ocean reflected the colors of green and blue, maybe even purple. It was more of what they said, heavens celebrating and the spirits dancing...  

“The aurora borealis.” You gasped. Your eyes wide in amazement. You could not describe the beauty of the lights, it would not compare to seeing it yourself. “I...” And you didn’t know what to say. All you could focus on was the colors dancing.  

Shay watched your face, it was illuminated by the ethereal grow. It him smile to see your eyes glimmer like before, the slight parting of your lips, your face so focused. His hand reached up to gently turn your face towards him.  

“Shay-” 

“Even more beautiful.” He couldn’t resist any longer. He leaned in, pressing his lips onto yours in a kiss, the only warmth in the chilly night.  

You responded eagerly, your arms wrapping around him as you returned the kiss. “Please Shay.” You groaned in his mouth. “Please.”  

You pushed him against the wooden mast, he kept his hands on your hips as he sat down with you right on his lap. Shay pulled out his knife, cutting a hole in your pants. He tossed the knife aside.  

Your breath hitched at the air hitting your cunt. Shay stuck two fingers in his mouth then slowly pushed them inside you. He thrusted it in and out of you, he worked his fingers deep inside you, he used his thumb to work on your clit, easing the pain, and making you clench around his fingers.  

Shay then stopped and slipped his finger out of you, making you gasp, in shock at the sudden loss. You clicked your tongue, slipping your hands down his chest and to his breeches.  

“Impatient, are we?” He smirked, watching you pulling his cock out.  

You angled your hips, gripping his shoulders as you rubbed the slit of your cunt against the hard cock.  

Shay gave you one last kiss, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck, his facial hair tickling you. “Careful.” Shay warned you. “Don’t go hurting yourself.”  

You trembled as you sank onto his cock, hissing in between your teeth. You choked on your moans as you took his full length then circled your hips.  

You began to bounce up and down his cock, he let out a louder moan. You cried out, throwing your head back. “Oh god, Shay!” You sobbed.  

Shay managed to push you to change positions, laying you on your back where your legs kept him close and inside of you. Your nails bug into the back of his assassin’s coat and Shay planted kisses on your exposed neck.  

He started at a slow pace, making sure you could feel him. Your eyes flickered open, looking up at the northern lights still there.  

“More Shay, please.” Feeling your high approaching.  

He picked up his pace, lifting his head up, and squeezing his eyes shut as he clenched his jaw. But he too, opened his eyes. He can see the northern lights reflecting in your eyes. You looked out of this world.  

That's when you looked him in the eyes, he froze for a moment. Your hand reached to the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss him.  

He continued, feeling his orgasms building along with yours. And after a couple of more thrusts, you both let out loud moans, he cursed as he felt you clamp down around him as he comes inside of you. 

Shay had no qualms about the cold, he took off his assassin’s coat to wrap it around you. He then tucks himself back into his pants and you sit up, feeling the stickiness in between your legs.  

You both sat against the mast. A smile on your face as you laid your head on his shoulder, panting. “Better than the tales and paintings.”  

Though the northern lights were gone, he could still envision them. “I’ll always take to see them.”  

“That would be impossible Shay. But I would love to see them now and again.”  

Shay snorted, standing up and grabbing your hands. You wobbled, falling into his chest. “I’ll go as far as I can to take you to see them.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “And I’ll take you under them each time.”  

“Since when did you become so romantic?”  

“Since I read your book.”  

“Shay!” You smacked his chest while he laughed.  

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. 

[neon-junkie]

OMFG ITS A WIN FOR THE FUCKING GAYS!! ONCE AGAIN!! If you want to do any requests for fem eivor I’d love your takes on her kinks/ general sex headcanons you may have ❤️❤️

Hell yes!!! I started being down bad for fem!Eivor the second I began playing as her. She's just so... *clenches fist*

I don't see Eivor as being the type to go wild when it comes to kinks. She's definitely not vanilla, but not extremely taboo either.

Outdoor sex is an obvious one, given that she spends 90% of her time out in the wilderness, and fucking in the longhouse isn't as private as she wants it to be. 

Nothing beats lounging around in a meadow, cuddling in a bed of flowers, watching the clouds drift overhead as Eivor holds you in her arms.

She's a switch. Always happy to take the ropes, or submit to you. It's your call, really.

There are times when she needs you to care for her, such as after a devastating loss in battle.

And other times when she needs to be in charge, fuelled by the adrenaline from a bloody victory.

Eivor is a giver. She's going to go down on you, drawing orgasm after orgasm until you're literally having to peel her off you.

"You want me to stop? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't continue picking you apart, using my tongue alone."

Over-stimulation? Yeah, you better get used to it. Eivor isn't going to stop when your thighs are shaking around her head. She wants to see you utterly debauched.

And if you try to give her the same treatment? Good luck. She's a strong woman who will literally pick you up and throw you around like a rag doll. That is, if you want it.

"You're so adorable when you try to boss me about. You seem to forget which one of us is taking charge tonight. Here, let me remind you..."

Skin contact is appreciated, but not essential. There's something feral about having Eivor pin you down whilst she's still in her full gear, blood stained and all.

However, when Eivor wants to be tender and romantic, then the clothes are coming off!

A little bit of bondage may enter your sex life. Nothing too wild, just your wrists tied together, or a makeshift gag whenever you're being too loud.

Eivor isn't going to go out of her way to introduce toys. Why bother? Her fingers and mouth work perfectly fine. But if you suggest it, then Eivor will listen, although she knows they will never compete with her skills.

After care is very essential to Eivor. Nothing beats a kiss and a cuddle, no matter if you're out in the wilderness, or cooped up in a bed of furs.

Expect a few courting braids to be in your hair once Eivor is done with you. It's a key part of her after care routine.

[gaycragula]

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[theewicked]

Wet & Warm

The warm water slid against your skin as you adjusted your legs, the bathroom filled with steam that closed tight around your body and mind, making you melt into the bubbles. Your thoughts drifted back to your wife, who was on her way back from work. Your lovely, charming wife, who last time you called, didn’t sound so pleased.

Her clients were always giving her grief, it was the type of people they typically were. She was a lawyer specialising in business, therefore the people she worked with thought little about the way they spoke towards her, and what they demanded from her. Eivor was no slight woman though, with toned muscles, icy blue eyes, and a towering height, she could put her clients into place when the situation called for it.

Though even that didn’t save her sanity sometimes.

A car pulled up in your drive, the smooth sound of it quiet and recognisable, immediately grabbing your attention. Keys jingled faintly as they turned in the front door, and soon enough Eivor shouting as for your whereabouts. “I’m in the bathroom!” You shouted back, anticipating seeing your wife again. Even though you two had been together for a while, she always managed to make you get butterflies. It was a comfortable feeling though, so different from the anxiety you got as a teenager.

The doorknob twisted and Eivor slipped into the bathroom, the sight of her making your breath catch in your throat. A black suit hugged her muscled body, the fabric of her jacket tailored perfectly to her face waist and arms, teasing her gorgeous body. The first few buttons of her white shirt were undone, divulging a pale, sculpted chest; skin that was was familiar to your hands and mouth. Eivor’s flaxen hair was done in a neat braid that had swept itself over her broad shoulder. Oh how badly you wanted to run your fingers through the soft strands.

Blue eyes softened as they landed on your figure, pretty pink mouth tugging up in a little smile. “I’ve missed you.” Eivor whispered, and started walking towards the bathtub your body resided in. You followed her every move, tracking her powerful legs as they ate up the distance between the doorway and the tub.

“I missed you too, I hope your clients didn’t cause too much damage to your psyche.” A soft laugh left your mouth as Eivor groaned, kneeling beside the tub and taking off her jacket in a swift manoeuvre. You licked your lips at the sight of her tight silk shirt, and at the way it clinged to her small breasts and firm muscles. Eivor rolled up the sleeves of her shirt to her elbows and rested her forearms on the edge of the tub before bringing her face towards yours.

Her lips met yours in a slow, sweet embrace that had you bringing your hands to cup her face. Your fingers traced her beautiful cheekbones and strong, straight nose. Eivor seemed to melt into your touch as she started leaning towards you, arms leaving the lip of the tub in favour of wrapping themselves around the small of your back. The kiss got deeper and more passionate, tongues entered and swept across each other in familiar but forever electrifying movements.

When the two of you pulled away to catch breaths, you looked down to see Eivor’s shirt completely drenched from being dipped in the high water of the bath. It clung to her abs and teased you with the sheerness of the material, making you rub your legs together under the water. Before you could pull yourself out of the trance your wife body had bewitched you in, the lady in question had moved her arms down from your back to the back of your thighs, and had hoisted you up from the water.

You yelped out in surprise, but Eivor was quick to quieten you with a more forceful kiss than her previous ones. The feel of her tongue dominating yours had your hips grinding down onto her waist where your legs were wrapped. Eivor moved her hands up to grip your ass as she walked through the hallway and into your shared bedroom. She placed your wet body down onto the neatly made bed with reverence and wasted no time in removing her soaked shirt and kneeling between your spread legs.

The warm light the multiple candles you lit before entering the bath provided you with the perfect light to admire Eivor’s damp torso, the muscles of it strong and full of temptation. You sat up and reached to remove the plain bra she wore before you even willed yourself to, and quickly her gorgeous breasts were on display for your eyes only. The soft peaks of them were highlighted by the sweet light filling the room, and you couldn’t help but lean towards them and pull one of her rosy nipples into your mouth.

The sound Eivor made was one of pure sin that had wetness dripping onto the mattress beneath you, and as you swirled your tongue around the hardening bud, her hands came up to free your hair from whatever protection you held it in against the bath water. “I’ve been thinking about this all day” Eivor moaned as her fingers quickly found the strands before tugging on them, not gently, but not as forceful as she could be either. Suddenly Eivor pulled your head away from her breast, her keen eyes watching the strand of saliva that connected your mouth to her nipple as she pulled you further away.

Eivor’s hands moved from your hair down to your bare shoulders, pushing gently until your back hit the mattress. She stood up quickly, removing the bottom half of clothes and exhibiting her thick, powerful thighs. Your hungry eyes trailed upwards and landed on the honey-blonde hair that covered the place you so desperately wanted to touch, taste, and feel. Eivor tracked your eyes and laughed quietly, rolling her eyes and coming towards you to kneel in font of you once more. Her body lowered down as she started to place gentle kisses on your lower stomach, before moving up to kiss and suck at the underside of your breast.

A shuddery gasp tore from your throat, and your hands found her strong shoulders to squeeze and caress. You could feel her smirk against your soft flesh, and you gripped the sides of her face in an attempt to pull her up. You heard a sound of frustration press against your skin before Eivor’s sculpted arms swept up in a flash and restrained you. Her long fingers wrapped around your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Be a good girl for me baby.” She said the words against your skin accompanied by a long lick that came to swirl around your nipple. Eivor’s thigh came to rest between your legs and you started to grind your cunt against the hard muscle. A whimper left your mouth at the friction her leg gave to your swollen clit. Eivor fully wrapped her mouth around your nipple, sucking and biting at the hard bud. One of her hands came down to trace the contours of your waist before gently rubbing your clit.

Your back arched off the bed and your hips jutted up in desperation. Eivor seemed to have got the message as she removed her last hand from your wrists. Her body moved down on the bed and she pulled your thighs to rest on her shoulders, the broadness spreading them wide for her.

Ravenous eyes glazed over when they saw you laid out just in front of them. Eivor licked her lips, pink tongue darting out and making them glisten. She pressed the muscle flat against your folds, spreading them and making a pathetic mewl escape from your lips. She groaned into your pussy and squeezed the flesh of your thighs, no doubt creating little marks that you would wake up to.

Eivor’s tongue was relentless as it lapped up your juices like they were the last thing on earth. Her plump lips came up to suck on your swollen, needy clit. The action had you wrapping your thighs around Eivor’s head and pulling at her miraculously still intact braid. She groaned into your cunt, sending syrupy vibrations up your core that had wetness spilling out of you and down your ass cheeks. Eivor devoured every last bit happily, sliding her tongue down in zigzag motions towards your hole. All of a sudden she pressed the long muscle into you, curling it upwards and rubbing it against that spot that had you moaning loudly.

Suddenly, Eivor sat up, the loss of contact in your weeping cunt making you shiver. Her large hands came and pushed against the backs of your thighs, making your legs touch your belly. She braced a tattooed, toned forearm against them both and dove back down for more. Her free hand slid up your sweaty torso, squeezing at your breasts as they passed them. Eivor’s two middle fingers came and pressed against your wet, swollen lips, demanding entrance. You obliged immediately, too lost in the sensations her expert tongue was giving you. Her long fingers slid into your mouth, the length of them hitting the back of your throat and making you gag slightly.

Her icy eyes looked up at you, and you could barely see the colour of them, her pupils blown so wide in pleasure. They were glazed over, every one of her senses lost in the pleasure she received from giving to you. The sight of her head between your thighs wretched a long, deep-throated moan from you, and you bit down hard on Eivor’s fingers.

She pulled them out of your mouth and removed her forearm from your thighs, letting your legs straighten out. Eivor pulled back entirely, the action having you furrowing your brows in confusion, a plea on the tip of your tongue. She spat on your swollen pussy, reaching a hand down to rub at your ass cheek. Before you knew it, she had grabbed your hip with that same hand and had flipped you over onto your hands and knees.

Shock reverberated through your system, and you could feel your nectar leaking down the lengths of your thighs. Eivor made a sound of pure pleasure as she lent down to lick a stripe up the back of each of your thighs, catching the wetness in her mouth. The gentleness of her tongue against your hot skin sent shivers down your spine as you awaited her next move.

The two very same fingers that had beet wetted in your mouth previously were shoved into you, Eivor’s palm angling downwards to rub against your poor clit with every thrust. The sound of your wet cunt pressing into her hand had you gripped the messy bedsheets in front of you with all the strength you could muster. You felt her dewy breath on your pussy before her lips sucked on your clit once again, the new angle making you more sensitive. Her fingers were moving in tandem with her mouth, and you soon felt your orgasm pool in your stomach. You clenched around Eivor, her fingers scraping your quivering walls just right. With each thrust, your mewls turned into moans, and those moans got louder and louder.

“That’s it baby, come for me.” Eivor said the words against your messy cunt, and you could barely form a reply before your pussy walls clenched a vice grip around her fingers. Your head fell forward, landing in the softness of the mattress as you screamed into it. Eivor slowed her movements to give you time to come down from your high, still licking long stripes up and down your cunt.

Sweat dripped from your forehead as you pulled yourself back up onto your hands.

You needed to taste her, to fill your mouth with the sweet ambrosia that was no doubt dripping onto the duvet.

What a waste.

Before Eivor could process it, you had turned yourself around and grabbed her face. You pulled her lips to yours, hers opening beneath gladly. Eivor’s mouth tasted of you, and the heady flavour reminded of what you set out to do. You put both of your hands on her broad shoulders, turning the two of you around so that she was where you were on the bed, and vice-versa. Her beautiful eyes were curious as they watched you sink down her body, kissing, suckling, and biting as you went. The muscle was hard beneath your mouth, but the skin so soft against your tongue.

The muscle trailed down her abs, tracing the dips between and leaving wetness in its wake. You nosed the pretty dark blonde hair your mouth found eventually, hands coming down to spread her strong thighs, finding wetness dribbling down them. Your mouth watered at the feeling. Eivor let out a long exhale and pulled her plump bottom lip between her teeth.

You restrained yourself, wanted to prolong this experience: It wasn’t often that Eivor let you do this, her preferring to be the one to give pleasure. You looked up to see her watching you intently, blue eyes half-lidded and breaths deep. Her high cheekbones were dusted with a honeyed pink, and her blonde braid was mussed, some soft pieces escaping and framing her face. Eivor’s small breasts moved up and down with her breaths, and you moved further down her body, positioning yourself.

The weight of her leg was heavy on your back as you threw one over your shoulder and stared down at your wife. Her pink, needy clit stared back at you, hole weeping pure sweetness and just begging to be stimulated.

Of course you obliged.

Your nose moved down to inhale her sweet, familiar scent before your mouth descended upon her. You twirled your tongue around her clit and her large hands came to grip your head instinctively. A little noise tore from the back of her throat, and the sound of it had you pulling her little bud into your mouth and sucking on it. Your hands trailed themselves down to grip her soft ass as you spread her pussy further for yourself. Fingers came and entered themselves into Eivor’s cunt, the warmth and tightness of her so familiar and so Eivor. You couldn’t get enough. You thrusted into her hard, fingers rubbing against her wet walls that parted so nicely for you.

Her voice got higher and higher, something so unlike Eivor, but you were so glad she trusted you enough to share this side of herself with you. Precious nectar poured out of her, and you made it your mission to savour every last drop. Her walls clenched around your fingers, and her hands tightened in your hair. Eivor’s movements had you groaning into her cunt.

Her voice grew in pitch, and soon enough her pussy fluttered around your fingers in movements so strong you could feel them in her clit. Eivor wailed softly as you slowed your movements to bring her back from wherever she had ascended to. You looked back up to see tears streaming down her precious face, and a smile adorning her lips. You placed one little kiss against her clit before pulling yourself up to touch your lips against hers. This time it was slower, more savouring the tastes of you two marrying together.

Legs came to straddle her torso, and Eivor sat up, causing your cunt to press against her lower abs. A soft gasp left your lips while her powerful arms came to wrap around your frame. Her tongue stroked yours and you soon found yourself grinding against Eivor.

“Think you can take another one, Love?” She whispered the words against your mouth, accentuating them by pulling your bottom lip into her mouth and sucking. Your cunt was too wet to decline.

“Yeah. Please.” The two words were ones of desperation and want. Eivor’s hands came down to rest on your hips and they kneaded the flesh there before moving them back and forth. Your clit scraped against the dips and valleys of Eivor’s abdomen, and the sensation had you gasping into the kiss. You moved your head to rest on her pale muscular should, gently kissing the skin there as you let warmth overtake your being.

You felt your climax approach quickly, your cunt so sensitive thanks to prior stimulation. “There’s a good girl.” Eivor’s encouraging words had you jutting your hips faster and harder. You bit down onto her shoulder as your thighs started to shake, pleasure running up and down them like an electrical current.

Wetness poured from you, and ecstasy flowed though your veins and wracked your bones. A long, deep moan came from your mouth, muffled by Eivor’s shoulder. Her hands tenderly caressed your hips before coming to pull your face up. She kissed you sweetly, both of you smiling into the movement.

Eivor stood up, pulling you with her and wrapping your legs around her waist once again. She moved quickly through the hallway and you moved your hands to cup her warm face.

She stepped into the now lukewarm water of your bath, and you both laughed at the temperature shock.

[elfven-blog]

Make me a Daddy

Summary: You tell Ezio you want a baby, he makes sure it takes.

Ezio x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ Only, p in v, eating out, breeding. Word count: 1.1K

It was like a switch had flipped in his head the moment you had spoken those magical words. So many hours in your day now spent with your husband between your legs, just as you were now.

Your thighs thrown over his shoulders, his beard scratching at the sensitive skin between your thighs, his tongue flattening as his nose nudged against your puffy clit causing you to whine. Your hands tugging at his salt and pepper hair, only serving to pull his face impossibly closer until his tongue worked its way into your fluttering hole. His own hands gently squeezing and massaging the fat of your thighs.

Ezio had been at this for what felt like hours, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you and making you a mess on your shared bed. Your bottom lip trembled as he worked you towards another high, thighs squeezing around his head as you tried to push him away but the older man’s hands moved to grab your own and he pushed your thighs off his shoulders so that he could keep you pinned down with his body weight instead.

“Stop moving” he voice vibrated through your cunt, ripping another whine from you at the feeling. All the while his tongue is still lapping at your soaked pussy, your eyes barely able to stay open as he pulls another orgasm from you. Your body shaking and hips jerking at the feeling. “Fuck, that’s a good girl, amore”

Satisfied with this, Ezio pulled away. What a sight he was, his beard dripping with the hours worth of arousal and juices he had earned. His hands gently massaging up from your legs to your hips and sides “‘M sorry, princessa. You just taste too good” He slowly kissed his way up your body.

Leaving you painted in marks as he went, your hands clenching at the sheets as you tried to clear your mind but the way he’d spent so long tasting you had your mind cloudy. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a reward, sweet girl” One of his hands moved to pull your leg up and back over his shoulder, his mouth trailing kisses along your neck and shoulder.

He grinned against your skin as he felt you arch, gasping as the head of his fat cock pressed against your hole. He shushed you gently as he pressed more kisses to your skin, his hand resting in the crook of your knee to keep your leg there as he stretched you open. Ezio waited only moments for you to get used to his size again before his hips were moving, the older man rutting into you at a slow teasing pace.

He only sped up once your arms wrapped around him, nails digging into the skin of his back in that way he loved so much. His teeth scraping against your neck as he fucked you, his other hand moving to grope your breast, thumb rubbing over your nipple until it had hardened into a peak “Gonna make me a daddy, pretty girl? That what you want?”

You could only whimper and whine in response, breathing coming out as pants and cunt squeezing around his cock causing his hips to stutter in their pace “That’s a good girl” he whispered in your ear. Those same fingers pinched your nipple so he could watch the way your bottom lip trembled, his own eyes fluttering shut with every throb of your hole around him.

He moved off your body, hips not stopping in their rutting against you as he unwound your arms from around him, smiling as you whined at him for the action and clasped your own hands around your knees to keep you in that position. His hand gripping the headboard as he rolled his hips against you, the sound of skin smacking filling the room with every thrust. 

His other hand dimpled the bottom of your thigh as he used it to keep you still as every time his cock drove into you, you’d move up the bed even more. Ezio couldn’t keep his eyes off you, watching the way your tits bounced slightly every time he thrust, your eyes unable to focus and fluttering constantly or how you couldn’t seem to decide between biting your lip with a moan, or letting it drop open with a gasp.

If he was any less of a gentleman he would invite Leonardo to come and paint you in this moment, he was no longer Catholic but he’d worship the ground you walked in all of his waking moments. 

His hand slipped down from its place on your thigh, his thumb finding your neglected clit and beginning to circle. It felt like lightning through your body, your legs tensing up as that familiar coil tightened in your body and your eyes rolled back as you arched. You were more sensitive after he’d spent so long between your thighs maybe that’s why tears trailed down your cheeks and your mouth opened in a silent cry as your orgasm peaked.

The mess on the sheets worse now as you gush around his cock,slick soaking Ezio’s cock and dripping to the bed below. Ezio’s own eyes rolled as he practically fell back on top of you, his weight pinning you to the bed as he humped at your cunt. Grunts and groans filling your ears like the sound of an orchestra, his beard tickled the skin of your neck and shoulder as he buried his face into the skin. 

You whined as you felt raw and sore from how he continued to push impossibly close to you. His arms falling from the headboard so he could wrap them around you, pulling you even closer and your legs shake from the overstimulation. “Fottere! Take it, princessa, take it!”  The man’s hips still as his cock twitches and fills you with hot ropes of cum, a low groan slipping from his mouth as you both lay still, breathing heavily from the exhaustion.

Your hand moves to stroke through his hair, nails scraping his scalp in that way that makes him moan and your brow furrows when he doesn’t move out of you. “Are we not finished?”

Ezio grins at your question, lifting his head as he presses a kiss to your cheek and his hands move to hold his weight above you again “Did you not say you wanted me child?” his hips began to move again, his eyes sparkling with something as he watched your own widen at the realisation that he had yet to go soft “It is best to go multiple times…to make sure it takes, no?”

[sweetcocopowder]

Shaytham + " please" for the milestone prompt? 🙏 👀 and congrats!! I absolutely adore your fics!!!

Prompt 7 | Shaytham

Synopsis: Haytham enjoys seeing the Captain of the Morrigan come undone

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: Violence. Roughness. Biting. Marking. Grinding. Begging.

Note: This is the last fic of the Lil Milestone Event!! Thank you everyone for sending in requests and I do apologize just how long it took me to spit all these out. Life has been very stressful and this year has taken quite a turn haha. I hope you enjoy this last fic!!!

The Morrigan groans as mortar fire crashes down around her like shooting stars falling from the heavens. One tears through the main sails and ropes snap apart like thunder, slashing across men’s chest and face. Some come out unharmed while some others are less fortunate and thrown backwards into the churning, cold sea. Shay Cormac grinds his teeth as he veers the Morrigan to port so that her cannons are facing the fort. The one that bears it teeth at them with its mortars and cannons.

“FIRE!” Shay cries out above all the chaos.

The boom of the cannons rings in his ear as the ship groans under the pressure. She’ll take it. She always does. The cannon balls hit their mark and a fort tower falls, crumbling into the sea below in a foam of white and blue. The satisfied swell that rises in him is quickly shut down as the destroyed stone reminds him of an all too familiar memory. He looks away, pushing it down and locking it away. He can’t get distracted, not now. Now while his men need him.

It’s not until now, snapping out of the trance he gets lost into that he notices Haytham. The Grandmaster is crouched down behind the railing, holding on for dear life all while holding onto his hat. It’s almost a humorous sight if it wasn’t for Haytham glaring daggers his way. It’s an expression that brings Shay back to himself. Reminding him of why he’s here. Why they’ve travelled so far up the River Valley to take on the fort with the foreshadow of losing men or even themselves.

Shay brings the Morrigan around again, facing her starboard side this time to the fort. Another volley of cannon balls are fired out with the sound of his booming voice shouting the order to do so. This time, only half of them hit their mark. Some strike the mountainous rock behind the fort and others in the water. Shay curses, shouting out to his men once more to reload the cannons as quick as possible. They’ll get this done. The fort will fall today!

With four more rounds of cannon fire and some quick thinking on Shay’s part, the fort groans in ache as the last of her mortars are destroyed. But the fight is far from over. Shay knows that all too well. Docking the Morrigan is a difficult challenge. Survivors of the fort fire their rifles and muskets toward the Morrigan as she docks. They hide behind the rubble of the fort, ducking in and out like groundhogs when they come out to yip before disappearing again.

Before Shay can race into battle, Haytham is quick to grab at his shoulder and drag him to face is intense stare. “We’ll go around the side of the fort! Up to the top!” He bellow over the retuning gunfire of Shy’s crew. “It’ll be quicker to get to the war room that way!”

Shay’s dark brown eyes dart up to the fort, quickly accessing the way up. “Lead the way,” he grins.

Shay doesn’t hesitate to follow his Grandmaster up and over the side of the Morrigan. Gist is quick to clear the way for the two, a bullet shooting one man clean through the eye. Shay praises his first mate under his breath, but doesn’t let himself get too distracted as he follows Haytham up the side of the fort.

The stone walls would normally be impossible to scale up. But with half of the tone tumbled and destroyed, it’s easy to get a grip on stone and bricks that jut out. Haytham rises to the top first and offers a hand down to Shay. He takes it eagerly, letting Haytham help him up over the ledge.

Shay spots the war room easily. It’s just a hop and skip away to their left. The only thing in the way is a guard staring down his rifle at the two in his watch tower. Shay pushes Haytham away as the rifle cracks. The bullet pierces through the collar of Shay’s coat. Too close to call.

The Irishman is quick to pull is own gun on the guard. He can see the fear in the white’s of the man’s eyes before Shay pulls the trigger. He dead before he even hits the ground. Shay swallows thickly as he sets his gun back into it’s holster. He stares at the guard tower, where the man lays dead. Haytham brushes a hand over his elbow, snapping him from his oncoming thoughts.

“On with it,” Haytham snaps.

Getting to the war room is easy enough. It’s the man inside that has both Templars stopping just inside the door. A man armed with two swords grins at them. Shay draws his own, ready for the fight.

But Haytham rolls his eyes. And as the man charges with a vicious shout. He clashes swords with Shay quicker than either Templar would have liked. Shay is pushed back against the door, a fist smashing against his mouth. More taunting than anything else. Shay’s eyes widen with a fierceness akin to bloodlust. But he doesn’t get the sweet taste of killing the man or even hurting him a little.

The man barks out a choked cry as Haytham’s sword is thrust through his back. The tip sticks out of his chest, glinting at Shay. The Grandmaster doesn’t waste time to push the man off of his sword and down onto the ground. He has better things to do than to bother about a man that he doesn’t even know.  

“I do hate the theatrics some men possess,” Haytham drawls out as he reloads his gun.

“What about mine?” Shay asks.

His Grandmaster quirks an eyebrow his way with a frown on his lips. He points his bloody sword towards him. “I tolerate you on good days,” he quips out darkly.

But Shay grins at that as he sheathes his sword. Haytham returns his antics with the slightest of a smile before turning towards the war room’s desk. He’s quick to look over the many papers and reports spread out on the wooden table. He plucks up three pieces of paper before rolling them up in his hand. Tucking them under his arm, he deems this mission a success with a curt nod of his head.

His dark blue eyes land upon Shay’s lip and the cut that bleeds slowly. He steps around the desk and Shay stays where he is, watching Haytham with a curiosity. His Grandmaster swipes a thumb at the blood on his lip, pondering a thought to himself before wiping it on the front of Shay’s coat. Shay watches him intensely, leaning forward a bit as his chest tightens. But Haytham hums to himself, as if satisfied before passing Shay.

“Let’s get out of here,” Haytham concludes.

And Shay follows like some lost pup.

-

Shay unfolds the papers out over his fleet reports for Haytham, letting the Grandmaster look over them first. He hums in satisfaction, his eyes flicking over the coordinates and the set dates for each cargo ship. Shay sits down in his chair with a groan, his face aching every time he clicks his jaw. He tries to get that right spot, but no matter what he does nothing works. The pops of his jaw are loud in the quiet cabin and slowly, they draw the attention of the Grandmaster.

He stops immediately. Instead he leans over the table to pick up a half empty bottle of whiskey without a word. He flicks the top off and he draws over two glasses near him as well. Haytham watches with interest as both glasses are poured with the golden liquid. Shay pushes one glass over to Haytham before he leans back in the chair and nurses his own.

Haytham takes it as his gaze returns back to the reports. Shay tries to make sense of them, his eyes skimming over the words. But he has never been a strong reader having lived on the streets nearly his entire life. Liam tried to teach him, but it took forever to crack it into his brain. He can read per say, it’s just that Gist normally takes over to make things go quicker. It always brings a bound of shame within his chest that makes him angry and frustrated at no one but himself.

“So was all this worth it for the papers?” Shay asks.

“Yes,” Haytham quickly answers. “Routes of their trade and cargo. Supplies we can obtain to keep out of their hands.”

Why his Grandmaster needs these supplies? He won’t ask any further right now. He doesn’t feel all too chatty after having bellowed his throat raw on deck. He clears his throat, feeling the painful scratchiness that only the whiskey seems to smooth over for a few seconds. So he fills his glass once more for that few seconds of relief.

Shay looks to Haytham deep in thought. Wondering what plans and other whatnots are going on up in that head of his. Has he already thought of a plan to take the Morrigan out to intercept these ships? Does he know that they’ll have to stop somewhere to repair the old girl?

Haytham catches him staring, meeting Shay with a raised brow. The Irishman only smiles as he takes another swig of his drink. He pops his jaw again.

“Are you here to distract me?” Haytham asks.

Shay looks around dramatically, suddenly sitting up right in the chair. “Last time I checked this was my quarters,” he remarks cockily.

Suddenly, Haytham’s hand comes to Shay’s thigh, squeezing lightly. He leans over into the Irishman’s space, his eyes on his lips the entire time. Hooded, dark and filled with ill intent.

“And what makes you think I can’t just make you leave?” Haytham asks lowly.

Shay swallows deeply. The adrenaline of the battle hasn’t fully worn off yet and he will admit he is a bit riled up. Shay licks his dry lips and bites it lightly, not missing that Haytham’s gaze watch the action. His Grandmaster must be feeling the same.  

“Because you enjoy my charismatic comments too much,” Shay grins around the lip of the glass before he takes another swig.

Haytham takes the glass from Shay to down the rest of the amber liquid. He sets the glass aside, forgetting about the fleet report for the moment to capture the Irishman’s busted lip in a deep kiss. Shay’s hands are quick to grab a hold of Haytham, unclasping clips and buckles. He doesn’t hesitate to try and get these stupid bulky clothes off of the man. They always hide the Grandmaster’s body and it always annoys Shay to no end. His heavy cloak falls to the floor, his coat coming off shortly after.

Haytham breaks the kiss to bring Shay out of the chair to his feet roughly with his hands fisted into the front of his coat. Shay grins wildly as he’s spun around to be thrown atop of the table. Neither of them care about he many papers and reports that litter the table top. Some of them are pushed aside and they shower to the floor.

None of them take notice as Shay’s groans fill the quarters as Haytham kneads a palm roughly to his groin. It’s a delicious sound that has Haytham palming more to milk them out of the man under him. Shay’s hip rut up into his hand, trying to get more friction than he’s being given. But Haytham stops all together.

“Please,” Shay breathes out.

Haytham hums at that, loving the view before him. Knowing he can have Shay like this at a simple touch. It’s almost intoxicating. He’s quick to undo Shay’s belt and throws it aside without a care. He pushes the man’s vest and shirt up his torso to reveal the body that’s been made with years of hard work and discipline. Haytham’s runs his hands over Shay’s hard stomach, earning him a shaky exhale from him. Beautiful.

“Hmm?” Haytham finally questions.

“Please, I need you,” Shay whines out.

That commanding Captain that was once on deck is gone for the moment. He looks to Haytham with only want and need. Begging for his Grandmaster to do something, anything.

So, Haytham gives him something. He leans forward to plant a kiss to the man’s stomach. His skin is salty with sweat and he can taste gunpowder on him as well. He kiss and laps at his skin all the same, sucking and biting lightly to hitch those noises from Shay’s busted lips. Haytham hooks his fingers into the hem of Shay’s pants as he ventures lower into the man’s snail trail. He bites lightly at the v of the man’s torso, Shay’s hips bucking up lightly with a groan from his throat.

Haytham grins into his pale skin before pulling his pants down to his knees in one swift movement. Shay’s cock is already hard and red. Haytham doesn’t mind it though, he stands up to lean over Shay. He towers over Shay to grab his face so that the man’s dark brown gaze is looking at him and only him. He wedges himself in between Shay’s thighs so that the only touch he’s receiving is the harsh friction of his closing.

He closes the gap to kiss Shay deeply, his tongue invading his mouth to taste the cheap whiskey. Shay moans into the kiss, his hips rutting upwards into Haytham’s crotch to try and earn himself some friction. But a firm hand on his hip holds him down, a thumb digging painfully into the soft skin.

Haytham breaks the kiss to only mouth at Shay’s prickly jaw. He ventures downwards, biting and kissing the Irishman’s neck, collarbones, chest and back down his stomach. Leaving purple and red marks of different shades. And with each one Shay whines and groans, his hooded eyes watching Haytham in a haze.

“Please,” Shay breathes out again, quieter this time.

Haytham smiles as he hovers over the man’s half hard cock. His deep blue eyes look to Shay with adoration. Only because Shay asked so nicely. He does love it when his best man begs like this. It just as delicious as he tastes.

-

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[desmond69miles]

The Catch

This is sort of a prologue to 'An Artists Eye'. It uses the same way of meeting/Élise and Bellec are still alive, but reading the previous fic is not necessary! This is supposed to be after the game (but obviously a different ending), it more so came out as a completly different timeline- what the hell it's fiction anyway

Arno offers to show you around the hidden assassin base below Cafe Theatre. He also offers a risky sexual time in a small, curtain-drawn study in the archives.

Warnings/Tags: Google translated French, GN reader (no descriptions listed), oral sex/blowjob, risky sex, getting caught, probably ooc Axeman but IDK anything about him (he 'flirts' with you).

Word Count: 3.4k (rounded up)

AO3 LINK: Here

Enjoy.

---

Arno Dorian was a man of many suits. He drank like a monster, risked his life daily in more ways than one, and fought like a madman. But, he was an attentive lover. Caring and somewhat good-natured when it came to you.

You were wary of Arno's regular disappearances and injuries once you started dating him, perhaps a little more worried than a normal partner would be. You weren't sure if his gambling was getting him into fistfights or if he got into one too many scraps with local drunks, but you could never recall a time when he didn't come back to you unharmed. 

At first, you’d thought him a thief or maybe a smuggler. To your surprise, he was neither (or both) but an assassin. You laughed at him then, giving him a look of disbelief, but when he stayed stone-faced, your look of humor soon turned into panic. 

“Arno,” you had said, “you cannot be serious. An assassin?” He gave you a slight smirk that you can still picture perfectly today and took your hands in his. “Yes, an assassin. I’ve been one since I was twenty-two.” He said it so plainly that there was no other truth besides that- a killer. You weren’t scared, though, and perhaps you should have been. You trusted him not to get himself captured or, worse, killed. 

Despite your trust, he did come home wounded quite often. The unexplained injuries suddenly made a lot more sense, especially the stab and slash marks from a sword--and, god forbid, a bullet hole once in a blue moon. While you weren’t thrilled about becoming skilled at suturing your lover, you got exceptionally good at it. In return, Arno affectionately called you ‘mon infirmière.’

My nurse.

“Arno,” you sighed nervously while threading a needle. “You know that you’re supposed to stick them with your sword, not be stuck by their sword, right?” He laughed and winced after, fists clenching at the two-centimeter-deep slash wound on his right side. “Oui, mon amour, I’m well aware. Sometimes, it’s a bit difficult while fighting three people at the same time.” You side-eye him then, tutting. “I have you, though, mon infirmière. You are much more gentler than Elise and not as scrutinizing.” 

You also missed him a lot, even when he was right beside you. The constant fear that he might one day leave and never come back haunted you.  Every time he returned in the dead of the night, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief. You would thank him, your voice barely audible as he quietly removed his boots, careful not to disturb your sleep. 

It’s been six months since you’ve started dating Arno. Your worry decreased dramatically during that time. Partially because the longest missions Arno’s been on are only a few days to a week at most, partially because he’d always spend a day or two before that mission with you doing things he’d know would quell your stress. This time, though, he’d be traveling to Toulouse for three weeks: six hundred and seventy-eight kilometers, a day and a half carriage ride away.

Arno was going to leave in two days, and he had been spending time with you in between the preparations. You sat in a chair by the fire, scribbling around your sketchbook. Arno was gone—probably below Cafe Theatre or in the study—the only thing keeping you company was the gentle crackling of the flames and the songbirds chirping outside in the terrace garden. Summer was coming to its final stretch and starting to transition into fall. Leaves were turning into gorgeous shades of red and orange, the temperature just warm enough to leave without a coat, and the apple trees were blooming to make the perfect apple cider. 

A beautiful time of growth and change, and you’d be experiencing it with mostly Elise and your best friend (not that you had anything against Elise or your best friend; you did love them, but something about fall was so romantic). 

“Mon amour,” a disembodied voice said, “what are you drawing?” His hands rested on your shoulders, squeezing lovingly before he leaned down to kiss the top of your head.  “Eurasian jays,” you replied, moving your gaze from the crisp paper to your lover. He stole a chaste kiss and looked at your page of elegantly drawn birds. Arno recognized them as the bird that stole a piece of your bread a few months back, a smile drawing to his face. 

Arno sighed through his nose. “How are you?” he asked, his voice ever more soothing at this peaceful moment. “Alright. How is your work going? Are you still leaving in two days?” His slight noise had confirmed, although he did not speak, and he moved one of his hands down, carefully taking your sketchpad away and setting it down on the table next to the chair. 

“I have something that might put your mind at ease during my mission,” Arno said softly. “The Council has permitted you to visit our headquarters. You can meet my mentor and our fellow assassins. While you can't go there alone, I thought it might comfort you to see where I spend my time.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, quickly taking his hand as he helped you stand.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t certain,” he replied, reassuringly smiling. “There aren’t many people there right now, maybe my mentor or a few friends. We could go now if you’d like?” You chewed your lip briefly, pretending to ponder before nodding. “Alright, let’s go.”

Arno led you down the familiar hallways of Cafe Theatre, but this time, he stopped at a spot you had never taken much notice of before. With an odd-looking key that you’ve never seen before slotted into the lock, the dark wooden door swung open with a quiet groan. Inside was a dimly lit staircase that descended into a stone hallway with a red rug lining the middle.  “This way,” he said, taking your hand as he guided you into the dimly lit corridor.

The passage trailed downward, the air growing cooler and damper as you descended. The walls were lined with old, worn stone, and the faint scent of old books and earth made up the air. Arno walked with the confidence of a man who’d traversed these halls too many times to count, his gloved fingertips brushing against the bricks while his arm that didn’t wield the blade held your hand. 

Eventually, you arrived at the bottom of the staircase. The hallway was much grander than you had seen from the top of the stairs--curtains framing big paintings of what you assumed were important figures in the assassin world, numerous pedestals holding silver or iron statues, and a large red tapestry with a white emblem on it hanging from the tall ceilings, the Creed’s sigil. The room was illuminated by torches mounted on the walls, casting a warm, flickering glow that danced over Arno’s face and shadowed a beautiful gleam on him. 

Once the hallway ended, there was a room containing a long table surrounded by haphazardly pushed-in chairs. On all four sides of the room was another hallway, but the one in front of you led into a vast room resembling a courtroom. It was no less magnificent than the hallways—possibly a little more—such as the oak table covered in various maps and documents and the walls lined with weapons and other neatly organized tools of the trade. 

Arno turns to you with a gentle smile, speaking in a tone that feels a little too loud for the setting, “This is where I spend much of my time when I’m not with you. It’s not much, but it’s home.” 

You took in your surroundings with a deep breath. There was a strange comfort, as well as uncertainty and awe, seeing where Arno lived most of his life. You had talked about seeing the creed’s hideout when you first found out about his position, and honestly, what you saw now was not what you envisioned in your mind. When you think of Assassin, you think of torturing and other dark things. While you were sure it did happen, there was no hint of it here. 

True to his word, there weren’t many people in the hideout. In fact, there wasn’t a soul around. “Is it normal for there not to be people?” You ask, looking at Arno as he wraps an arm around your waist. “No. Usually, there are many people, but most of us are out on missions, and the council is out on a meeting with-” “Arno!” 

“Axeman, mon ami!” 

You turned your head to the right to see a man walking towards you, an axe strapped on his back. You rolled your eyes playfully at the ‘clever’ name of his friend. Axeman slapped his hand on Arno’s shoulder in a hello, his brown eyes meeting yours. “And half of us thought you made them up,” he jests, sticking his hand out for you to take and gently kissing the back of your hand. “How could I make someone so great up?” Arno smiles, and his arm briefly squeezes you closer. 

Axeman chuckles while running a hand through his pushed-back brown hair. “As much as I’d like to stay and chat with your lovely partner, I do have a mission to get to.” He gives you a small smile and Arno a playful smack again, turning to walk the way you came in. “Bellec’s around, so be on your best behavior.” 

Once his buddy left, your lover turned to you, giving you a frisky smirk. “Let me give you a tour,” Arno grabbed your hand again with a slight squeeze and led you deeper into the underground hideout, his hand warm even through the worn leather glove. “This way,” Arno said, pulling you to the left hallway. This passage was thinner than the others and dimly lit by candelabras placed every five feet, occasional carvings etched into the stone walls between large pillars. Large wooden doors started after the fourth pillar, and Arno took you to the second one on the right side, swinging open the heavy door and nodding you inside. 

“This is the main training room.” He gestured with a flourish, letting you step inside and look around. The space was huge, with mats covering the floor. Wooden dummies and targets lined two of the four walls, some riddled with throwing knives and arrows, some looking so broken it was just remembrance of rough training. Three assassins were sparring, one sitting down to the side drinking water and two practicing their knife skills. 

“Care for a quick lesson?” He teased, knowing full well that you weren’t one for battling people, instead gnats or annoying flies that buzzed around. “Maybe later,” you replied with a grin, “What’s next?” 

He followed you out and closed the door behind him, leading you across the hall into the next door. “Here is the armory.” The room opened to reveal wooden walls lined with weapons of every kind: swords, daggers, pistols, rifles, smoke bombs, bomb bombs, and, of course, things to maintain the hidden blade. Each was meticulously maintained and ready for action. “Most of us have our preferred weapons, so this is mainly for recruits or people who have lost a weapon. Pick any weapon, and it’ll have a story,” Arno said, following you inside.

His fingers brushed an ornate-looking sword, the beautiful engraving on the blade glinting in the candlelight. You reached out, touching a dagger with an intricate hilt next to the sword Arno was looking at. “What about this one?”

“Ah, that belonged to Thomas de Carneillon, an assassin in the 13th and 14th century,” Arno explained, “he tried to steal a sword of Eden, the same one that killed Germaine.” He gives you an inquisitive look and lets you wander around the round room, watching as you observe the weapons with a curiosity that makes his stomach twinge in an absurd kind of attractiveness. 

Once you circle the room and return to Arno, he offers his hand again and leads you out of the room and deeper into the hallway. “You’ll love this,” he assures, motioning towards the end of the hallway where a huge arch opened up to a library. “This is the south archive,” he said, smiling at your giddy smile. 

It smelled like old parchment, ink, and worn leather-bound books, a scent that engrained itself in your brain. Shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes, scrolls, and books lined the walls, going up to the ceiling where a giant metal chandelier hung. Maroon velvet curtains lined the arch, and when you slipped into the library, you didn’t notice Arno tugging the golden rope that held them back. The drapes made a soft noise as they closed, dimming the room just the slightest bit, and Arno watched as your fingers trailed over the spines of the books. 

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “You said that this is the South archive?” Arno hummed a ‘yes,’ coming up behind you as you pulled one of the smaller books off the shelf. He wrapped his arms around your hips and kissed your temple, scanning the book you opened. “This library isn’t the biggest one here, but this one is always empty, perfect for us.” 

Arno watched the trail of your fingertips against the worn paper, gentle like your fingers when you trail them over Arno’s back. His eyes followed your hand as you turned the page, forefinger and thumb pinching the page like when you pinch your nipple while he’s fingering you. He should not be turned on right now. 

“Arno,” you said, head turning to look at your lover behind you. His eyes caught yours, your pretty eyes that always glistened right before you orgasmed, and right then, he made up his mind. Before you could speak again, Arno had pressed his lips against your soft ones, maybe just a little too roughly, the leather of the book in your hands creaking with how hard you gripped it. 

His hand grabbed the book from your hands and placed it back on the shelf with a little bit of struggle. Nipping your bottom lip, Arno’s hands gripped your hips and slipped his tongue inside your mouth. He tasted like wine and something sweet--something him-- and god, you’d be lying if it wasn’t intoxicating for the both of you. When you did pull away, a slim bridge of saliva connected your lips and snapped when he licked his. You were suddenly very aware of the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into--his erection pressed into your behind and his needy hands wandering your body.

“We’re in the base,” you un-needily whispered, sucking in a small breath as his lips moved to your jaw and pressed a kiss just behind your jawbone. “Oui, but we are alone. No one is near us, and we’ll be quiet.” You shakily breathed as he continued to kiss along the side of your neck and fuck; if the thought of risk didn’t set a throbbing between your legs, you weren’t sure what did. 

With an enthusiastic nod, Arno grabbed your hand and pulled you to one of the curtain-drawn study rooms off to the side. As he did with the entrance to the archive, Arno pulled the rope holding the drapes back off and dropped it to the floor. The ambient candlelight under the curtains, the only light in the ‘private’ study room, set a surprisingly intimate aura as Arno’s hand cups the side of your face and kisses you again. This one was headier, making your mind swim as his other hand grabbed your butt, pushing your hips into his. 

Your hands that had been resting on his shoulders slipped down his chest and to his belt, one palming his obvious arousal and the other fiddling with the belt buckle. He groaned into your mouth, hips chasing your hand as you moved it up to help undo the buckle. His hands joined yours in a messy struggle, and once his belt was undone, you immediately sank to your knees. 

Arno swore--a short, breathy ‘merde’ that sent every single ounce of blood that was in your brain rushing south, and with that blood came a fleeting thought of how easy it was to get you to suck him off in a place with people. It wasn’t the first time that you had sexual interactions in a public place--far from it--but it was the first time that you’d be on the giving end. 

His hand came to rest on the back of your head as your fingers unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down with his undergarments just to free his cock. Even in the darkness, you could tell that he was fully hard, your hand that didn’t rest on his hip coming to stroke him teasingly slow. Your thumb swiped over his tip that dribbled precum, and his hips twitched with a soft groan that was nothing short of heavenly. 

You softly pressed your lips against his head and trailed them down his shaft, letting your spit dribble against his heated skin and slicking him up with your hand. His quiet groans and the schlick of your hand made up the space--an erotic opera--and finally, your lips slipped around his tip and gently sucked. “Dieu, fuck, don’t stop,” Arno groaned, hips rocking in time with the drawls and push of your head. After enough saliva drips from your mouth and down his cock you took him deeper in just so the head of his cock was resting against the back of your tongue. 

Arno moved both of his hands to the side of your head and gently held you in place, his thumbs stroking over your cheekbones, and he began to thrust into your mouth. At first, his thrusts were shallow, but as your hands came to his thighs once again, Arno gave a chuckle and picked up his pace. You slid your tongue against the underside of him, and he let out a groan, one that was a little too loud. “Good job, mon amour, good job…” 

No matter how many times you took him in any way, there was never a time where he failed to make you so painfully aroused. 

“Suck,” Arno said, stopping his movements rather deep inside the constrictive heat of your throat and petting your head. And just like he said, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked. His head thudded against the wall he had his back rested on, and, oh, that groan. Primal and needy and wanting in every sinful way known to man. “S'il vous plaît, continuez, putain, juste comme ça. Tu me prends si bien- si bien, fuck!”

His fingers threaded through your hair and gripped the strands, holding them tight as he rocked against your mouth. Arno was so, so close, you just needed to suck a little harder and-

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, ARNO?!” 

You immediately pull off of Arno, who seems equally surprised but, strangely enough, not embarrassed. You wiped the back of your mouth with your hand and turned around, face mortified at the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway. He shook his head and turned around, letting the curtain fall behind him, and you could still tell he was outside due to the shadow from under the drapes. Arno haphazardly tucked himself back into his pants and offered you a hand up off the ground. When he pulled you up, you gave him a look, one that said Arno, are you fucking kidding me? but all he did was chuckle and step out of the study. 

“Désolé, Bellec.” Your lover said, utterly unphased by the fact you had just been caught in a very precarious and intimate moment, and you heard a sigh from not Arno. “You never fail to amaze me, pisspot,” The man- Bellec- laughed. 

You stood in the study for a good fifteen minutes with your face aflame, too embarrassed to even walk out of the hideout. 

Thankfully the second meeting with Bellec was not when you were sucking Arno off and instead over wine (that doesn’t mean you weren’t a hot-faced mess with an embarrassed smile on your face throughout the whole thing, though). 

[kiatheinsomniac]

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You walk as calmly as you can through the narrow alley, not daring to lift your eyes from where they look straight ahead of you and glance towards the rooftops that cast darkness over you, the silvery moonlight gleaming just ahead as the streight leads to the main road. This place is out of sight of the sparse public that might wander past at this time of night, your vision is limited in the darkness it provides and there’s ample opportunity for an overhead ambush. 

All of this puts you at every disadvantage, perhaps, but that’s exactly what you want the man tailing you to think. You keep your eyes straight because Assassins like rooftops. They provide coverage and blindspots, hidden in plain sight as most people simply don’t find themselves looking up with their eyes to the sky as they go about their day and all the tasks that come with it. It’s precisely why you’ll always find an Assassin stalking you from above and never from upon your own level. 

In short, you’re baiting the Assassin above you who has gone to so much care to silence his footsteps and conceal his shadow from your sight. But you’re a Templar. You’re trained to know your enemy. You spotted him not long ago, lingering around a crowd outside an inn, trying to blend in. But your purpose for going out at all today has been to bait him, those are your orders. 

Your ears are kept vigilant for the sound of something small flying through the air and in a moment's notice, you lunge forward to dodge the rope dart that had been aimed at you. There’s a hissed curse and you draw your sword as the Assassin makes his leap down to you, using a ledge of a windowsill garden to lessen his fall. He stands tall in front of you now, white beaked hood up and hiding his face. His hidden blade shoots out as he parries your offensive blow with his gauntlet. 

You’re still not entirely sure what material it is that Assassins make their gauntlets from. Your mentor Haytham has one and he claims that it’s an alloy from a precursor civilization but when your higher-ups start talking like that, you sometimes begin to wonder if you’ve really overstepped your depth as an ex-mercenary and have accidentally joined a cult. 

Regardless, the Assassin stands tall before you now. He is Achilles’ new novice, so you’ve been told. The only member of his ranks as your mentor has told you of how a companion of his wiped out the last generation of Assassins here in the colonies, thus giving your Order ample room to plant its roots. Though you have no name nor face to put to this companion of Haytham’s as he is always very quick to change the subject or to remind you to not speak out of line whenever your curiosity gets the better of you and you start to press for details of this mysterious person’s identity if only to create an image in your mind for all of this information that you are given. 

His free hand takes out a tomahawk and you’re put on defence. You take a step back but make sure to stay in the alley and out of the public space. The last thing you want is nearby law enforcement or civilians to get involved. But the clashing of metal upon metal rings out in the otherwise quiet night. 

He fights cleanly using his sheer strength and towering figure which puts you at a disadvantage. His technique is curated to be quick and efficient but your style often depends on your agility, stamina and tiring out your enemy. You’ve already laid such a foundation by baiting him to follow you from the rooftops – a much more strenuous journey than the one you had taken upon the ground. But there was something to how he was swinging at you with his tomahawk, movements tight to not allow you to get too far, a passion to his every strike and parry. 

You know when you’re outmatched and so you’re now put on defence and wondering what could have happened between intel and being given your orders that could have possibly allowed you to go about this mission alone instead of preparing a sort of ambush in order to put an end to this lone Assassin that has been terrorising the Order once and for all. 

Had you let the higher-ups flatter you over your skills into thinking you were truly capable of this task they had set upon you? Regardless, you’re in this now and your only priority has suddenly become making it out of here alive. You take a risk and do a rescan of your surroundings, looking for anything that might be of aid to you in order to give you just a slither of an opportunity of getting away. But you remain aware of your enemy’s every move, knowing that even a momentary slip up can be the cause of your untimely demise.

But the Assassin trying to cut you down is just as trained as you are – if not more so – and this subtle scrambling of yours does not go unnoticed by his keen, dark eyes. 

“Out of your depth, Templar?” He asks in his smooth and rich tone. 

“You wish I were.” You bite back and manage to take swift steps backwards, enough for you to assess that the risk of lowering your sword in exchange for the gun at your hip is worth it in order to try and create a window for escape. You take aim but don’t fire. You should be firing. You should be killing this man. 

Why did they send you on this mission alone? 

It’s all you can think to yourself as your finger hovers over the trigger. The Assassin knows he’s done for if your finger so much as twitches now and yet he freezes, seeing your hesitation. The two of you are brought to a standstill with you aiming your gun at the Assassin’s head and yet your finger hovers over the trigger, refusing to squeeze. He has no opportunity to strike you down at this moment as in a fraction of a second, hesitation can become a killing blow. 

Your eyes narrow slightly as you repeat that question to yourself: why did they send you on this mission alone? This Assassin is clearly far more skilled than you are and even baiting him here after a journey that should have tired you out has not made a dent in his stamina. He’s been cutting down British soldiers and Templars alike, chipping away at the order for reasons not yet known to you other than the simple explanation of ‘we are Templars, he an Assassin’. Why did you believe your higher-ups when they told you that you could handle this solo mission? Have they sent you here as an execution and if so: why? 

“Why do they want you to kill me?” You murmur. The question is asked aloud and yet you’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. This seems to make even the Assassin pause in puzzlement. If they want you dead then what are they doing now? Are you merely a distraction? 

“That’s a good question indeed.” The toweringly tall Assassin raises his hands in a gesture of surrender and you slowly lower your gun but keep a good amount of distance between the two of you, each standing at either side of the narrow alley you had originally lured him into. You tap your toes against the ground as you ponder over questions again: is this a distraction or an execution? Either way you’re clearly expendable and it comes as a surprise to you because you were so sure you were in the Grandmaster’s good books. 

So what has changed to make Haytham use you as a sacrificial pawn in whatever game he’s playing here in the colonies? Neither of you are sure what to do now, having both arrived here late at night with intentions to kill the other. But now you see that the true plan behind all of this was for you to die all along. It’s enough to make Ratonhnhaké:ton stand down and wish to spare you. Someone is pulling the strings here and part of their plan includes your death. So what’s to happen when this plan is interrupted. 

“I won’t kill you today.” He speaks up after finally making up his mind following a few minutes of thick silence wherein you were both deep in thought, trying with your minds to uncover the obscurity of whatever the bigger picture is here. The best course of action is to disrupt the plans of whoever it is that’s painting it. “But when you fall it will be by my hand, Templar.” You shoot the man a glare where his eyes would be, concealed behind the shadow that the beak of his hood casts over his face in order to hide his identity. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Assassin.” You quip back but you hear him scoff as he puts his tomahawk away when you set your gun back into its holster. 

“You’re right. Your masters seem to be set on beating me to that.” You open your mouth to protest but he’s already making his way up the wall of one of the buildings you’re between and returning to the rooftops. You’re quick to exit the alley and get into the middle of the main street so that he doesn’t have an opportunity to assassinate you from above should he be bluffing or perhaps change his mind and deal with you now before you become a loose thread. But he doesn’t and you’re left standing in the middle of an empty street at night. 

Could you even go back to your quarters now? Perhaps they’ll use the failed mission as justification to finish you off themselves. You need somewhere to stay until you’ve figured out what’s going on and whether or not you’ve been betrayed by the Order that you had sworn your own loyalty to. But where to go? 

Your eyes rise up to the rooftops that the Assassin had disappeared over. You’ve been set up by the people who this man is set on killing. 

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend…” You murmur to yourself as you spot a nearby ladder and use it to make your way up onto the same rooftop. It’s a risk you’re taking but it seems that every path available to you now has some degree of risk to it and so you’re left with no choice but to weigh your options and gamble. 

Your foot taps anxiously against the cobble beneath you as you consider your plan. If your Order seeks to erase you, it won’t even be safe to go back to your rented room and pack a bag of your belongings. It’s the first place they’ll go to look for you and with the network of spies Haytham has been building across the city, it won’t take long for word to get back to him that you’ve failed your mission. You won’t get far hiding either. All of your tricks, you’ve learned from your mentor and to try and hide would be to put yourself at a disadvantage by playing the game of the man who had so clearly intended to use you as a pawn in whatever grand scheme he’s hatching; not so long ago, you had thought you knew his plans but tonight has changed your course of events entirely. 

Into the belly of the best it is. 

You decide. Now up on the roof, you look with your second sight. It’s your upper hand and even Haytham has admitted that it was one of his greatest factors in considering you as an advantageous candidate for a Templar. The route he’s taken lights up gold and you begin to follow all the twists and turns he took that would have thrown off anyone else who might have been tiling him. Not you though. 

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

You find yourself outside a manor upon a homestead. It wasn’t an easy journey by any means and you hadn’t expected him to have covered so much ground either. In the forest, you found yourself wishing you had stopped to hire a horse – you still had some money on you after all. You took a break twice, made a camp once after scouting out the area but you admittedly slept very lightly. You weren’t a wilderness girl and the anxiety of being found by a wolf or bear had kept you from falling into a truly restful sleep. 

And so you found yourself feeling both tired from a long way’s travel and a poor night’s rest during the small hours of the morning, all while heading right into the den of your enemy who, currently and ironically enough, seems to be your only possible ally. 

The manor standing tall in the clearing above you is built in typical colonial fashion with red bricks and white embellishments. Its large size makes use of the spacious land it is upon and your mind wanders back to the stories Haytham once shared with you about the Brotherhood that once lived and trained here. Looking at the size of the place, it’s easy to imagine so many people living here once upon a time and difficult to imagine that today it only houses the old Mentor and the one and only Assassin who still lives by their Creed here in the colonies. 

Though that’s only as much as your Order is aware of. You keep your wits about you, more than aware that you don’t know what you’re walking to, nor do you know how many potential foes reside within those four walls. You may very well be running from one death straight into another. 

But your options are slim and you’ve wagered that your odds are better here. Back with the Order, you’re a pawn that should have submissively been sacrificed. Here, you’re either a target to be taken out immediately or a valuable source of information. After all, you’ve been betrayed and they may consider that you have every reason to surrender all of the Order’s secrets that you possess. 

These are all just possibilities though and death remains a very likely outcome. 

You stand from an awkward distance on the treeline for a while. Surely you can’t just knock on the front door being who you are? Then again, if you take any other route, they might see it as an ambush and you’ll be in combat or even dead before you can open your mouth to explain your intentions. Despite every other instinct within you telling you to turn tail and run to the nearest harbour, to leave the region altogether on whatever boat you can get yourself aboard, you approach the front door. 

A shadow falls over you when you raise your fist to knock upon the door. He’s good at what he does, you’ll give him that. Immediately, you feel the warm, sharp edge of a blade resting against your throat. Warm and so it’s the hidden blade that the likes of him keep tucked up their sleeves, a blade like the one your mentor possessed. You’d always found it rather ironic that Haytham always stands so tall beside his principles and yet he fights with the enemy’s weapon. 

“Did you come here thinking you could finish the job and go crawling back to your master?” His voice speaks up from behind you. You raise both of your hands in the air in a sign of surrender, keeping them far away from your hips where your weapons are kept around your belt. He doesn’t hesitate in unbuckling it and removing it from your body and moments later, you hear it hit the floor some distance away where he’s thrown it. You’re not unarmed in enemy territory and you begin wondering if this really was the best plan of action after all. 

“I actually came with a proposal…” You begin slowly. You’re not entirely sure how to present yourself, your tone. Even you’re unsure if your own plan will work but you need to sound certain or else he may well believe you’re just here to trick him in which case he’ll kill you. 

You don’t need to turn around to know that he’s looming over you. You wonder sometimes how a man of his stature can blend into crowds and hide in plain sight the way Assassins are taught to. And yet he does and it’s truly a testament to his skill. 

“And what might this proposal be?” You swallow thickly. Your life depends on being able to convince him that you’re being honest, which he has every inclination to doubt considering your current standing as enemies.

“It’s been made clear that I’m seen as expendable, so I’d much rather prove just how essential I was. I have information: contacts, travel routes, locations of higher-ranking Templars. Whatever mission you’re on, I’ll speed it up by months, maybe even years.” You tilt your head back a little more, trying to ease the pressure when the blade presses more insistently at your skin. 

“And why should I believe you?” 

“Because I came here. Because I’ve got nowhere else to go at the moment and I’m risking you slashing my throat just for a chance to try and get out of this ordeal alive after what happened last night.” The blade leaves your neck but the threat is not removed as you then feel it poke at your back, spurring you forwards at a slow pace, hands still raised. 

“Step inside.” 

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

Months later, you find yourself setting up camp in a familiar cave. These meetings have become familiar to you and nowadays this little cave feels like the safest place in the world. You’ve been working as a double agent for the past few months and being in the Order feels like having death loom over your shoulder all the time now. Being a Templar had once given you such a feeling of purpose and belonging, that you had a key, unshakable place in the world, that you were guiding it in a better direction. 

But the more you’ve been reporting back to Connor and the chats you have in between, the more you have to take a step back and ask yourself if you were being told a one-sided story the entire time. You haven’t set foot on Connor’s homestead since you first arrived and he had to send you back with a split lip, gashed jaw and sprained wrist to make it seem like you really had fought him and not conspired with him. That gash now remains as a scar across the lower part of your face. Each time you look in the mirror, it reminds you of your new mission as the Assassin’s spy. 

And each time, you pray that you’re doing the right thing. 

Your attention is grabbed by the sound of feet on dirt and you look towards the mouth of the cave where he stands tall now, moving to sit on the opposite side of your little fire so that he’s facing you. His gloves come off and he rubs his hands together near the open flames. His hood comes down to reveal a face strikingly like your mentor’s and you can’t believe that this man is now your only ally in the world and you can’t even be entirely sure of his loyalty. All you know is that you need to keep yourself indispensable in order to keep breath in your lungs and a heartbeat in your chest. 

He reaches into his bag and takes out a small, wrapped package. Scaled fish. They’re skewered and set over the fire to cook.

“Thank you.” You say stiffly. Interactions like this are still so unusual to you. He nods his head in a silent ‘you’re welcome’. 

“What’s new?” 

“Lee’s on the move.” His dark eyes quickly flick up to meet yours and you can see the deep interest in them. You haven’t asked why he’s after Lee specifically though it confuses you as you would have been sure he would go after Haytham; to cut the head of the snake, so to speak. But you’ve never asked because this vendetta seems deeply personal and you’re next to certain that he won’t open up to you about it. “They’re making preparations to receive him in Boston so whatever he’s come back with must be important… or they know that you’re after him. I’ve yet to find out which it is because I don’t have direct access to such information and I can’t put myself at risk if this is a red herring and they suspect something. But the moment I find out more I’ll tell you – but take everything with a pinch of salt.” 

He nods, deep in thought and you wonder what’s going through his head. You always worry that doubt will creep into his mind and will ultimately drive him to kill you. You can only hope that he’s instead thinking about exacting whatever revenge he has planned for Charles Lee. His thirst for revenge currently is what’s keeping you afloat. Without his vendetta, you’re worthless to him. 

“How have you been?” You’re not sure if you’re asking out of politeness or loneliness. Are you trying to keep in his good graces or are you seeking out the warmth of a friend, even if what’s between you isn’t really friendship? 

“Busy…” He sighs. “Your Order’s been on the move.” 

“I’ve heard about your meetings with Washington.” You bite your lip as you ponder your next question. It’s personal but a chance not taken is an opportunity missed. “You… You’re meeting with all these generals, men of influence and yet you work in the shadows. Do you truly have no wish for the world to remember your name? You really want to just vanish?” You had been drawn to the Templars partially by glory, by the chance of making a place in the world, a change where you and your fellow members of the Order would be revered for centuries to come. 

“I do not want to be remembered, no. Our creed states that we work in the dark to serve the light. This war will be lost to memory and I will do my part to make sure that it is the Assassins who bury any record of it.” Your first reaction is to think of him as ridiculous: he’s thrown any chance at a normal life away for a battle he will never be credited for. But it’s selfless. He has nothing to gain but what he believes in: no fame, no power, no glory. 

Maybe you really have been misled. 

The Templars had always preached peace but with that peace came the Order having ultimate power over humanity, domination over free will. You had once focused so heavily on how that absolute control would stop war, would stop suffering. But at what cost? It must be a great one for this man in front of you to be throwing any semblance of a normal life away for it. 

“Tell me more about your Creed.” He turns over the fish and glances up at you once again, meeting your curious eyes. You’re sitting down with your legs curled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them with your hin propped on your knees. This isn’t smalltalk or you digging for information, it’s genuine interest. He hadn’t missed your pondering look before, that glint of unsurety in your eyes. 

“Alright…”

°:.   *₊    ° .   ☆ ☾　 °:.   *₊  ° . ° .•

Weeks later and you meet again, having shared many more meetings in the meantime. You understand Ratonhnhaké:ton better now, you understand his creed. He seems different from his mentor that Haytham had told you about, so very different. He doesn’t meddle in the first civilisation that your mentor speaks of so frequently and you wonder if it’s for the best after the stories you had heard of while in the Order. Haytham speaks of them vaguely but you still have a comprehensive enough understanding. 

The more he speaks, the more you doubt your own order who wish to use these artefacts for their plans to shepard humanity towards its best self, the more you wonder if your superiors in the Order are just set on a path to repeat history. You’ve shared with him all the information you have now. You now feel like less of a double agent and more of a spy – having to give away anything about the Assassin you’ve come to secretly think of as a friend feels like a betrayal, even if it’s only for the sake of protecting your ulterior motives for having returned to the Order at all after that night you first encountered Rathonhnhaké:ton for yourself. 

He’s been more open with you too. Haytham is his father – something which both made sense, looking at his face, and shocked you, considering he is an Assassin and his father a Templar. Charles Lee, at Haytham’s command, had burned his village to the ground as a child, killing his mother. You empathise with that deeply. You had joined the Order knowing that you had no family of your own to lose should things get messy. It seems that the two of you are in the same boat for that one. 

Now, he’s picking out the bones from your fish while you prepare some water to boil over the fire. But time has moved on and winter draws near, bringing a chill into this little cave that feels like it’s become your one and only sanctuary in the world. You hold your open palms near the fire and try to chase away the chill but it does you very little good. 

Connor watches you for a moment before he removes his gloves and hands them to you. As he holds them out silently, those well-worn gloves appear like an olive branch to you. This really is for the best, you think. More and more, you’ve come to realise that you were misled by your Order. You were promised to be a harbinger, to be one of the names that would live on forever as a part of the order who had saved humanity. But you were a pawn all along. Even despite your special abilities, Haytham had been more than willing to sacrifice you for whatever gain. You might have a little more value in his eyes now that you’ve ‘proven’ you can take on the Assassin and get away with your life but you’ve seen your old mentor, you’ve heard how he talks of the first civilisation. He’ll stop at nothing and you’re more than sure that should he see another opportunity where your sacrifice and earn great gain for him and his plans, he’ll send you walking straight into the arms of death all over again. 

You take the gloves and slide them on over your hands. 

“Thank you.” You offer a smile but you hold back just how happy this small gesture makes you. They’re far too big but they’re soft and warm. They’re clearly broken in, the fingertips especially worn down from what you can only assume is all the climbing he does in stalking around with the stealth of his kind. But it’s the fact he’s given them to you at all that touches your heart. 

The two of you eat, drink, you share intel and it becomes late enough that you wrap yourself tightly in a thick blanket and curl up on your bedroll beside the campfire. The cave provides enough shelter to keep out the bitter wind but the temperature has still dropped drastically with the change of seasons. You sit up to wrap your blanket around your feet better and you find yourself wishing you had brought another pair of socks or, better yet, a warmer pair. You then lay back down, curled in on yourself to try and gather as much insulation as possible, and close your eyes to try and sleep. But the cold instead bites at your ears and so you pull your blanket up over the back of your head like a hood and shuffle a little closer to the fire so that your nose is warmed by the flame. 

You hear shuffling around you and crack an eye open to see that Rathonhnaké:ton has moved. He’s no longer laid on his bedroll on the opposite side of the fire but has instead moved it right next to yours behind where you’re curled up on your side. 

“I thought you’d be used to camping by now.” He murmurs and you can hear him lay down beside you, so close that you can feel the heat from his body. 

“Not during the winter, I’m not.” You mumble into your blanket which you’ve pulled up by your mouth so that your breath can warm your face. You feel the weight of his arm lay over your waist and he then presses his chest to your back. You can feel the warmth of his breath over your neck, heating the blanket that’s tucked over the back of your head. You stiffen for a moment, surprised by his willingness to be close to you. 

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and you lean into his warmth. How long has it been since anyone held you like this? It’s wonderful and overwhelming and suddenly there’s no more winter, nothing outside of this little cave where you’ve been setting up camp to meet for almost a year now. 

“Thank you…” You say quietly. Whether for the warmth, or the touch, or for the new path he’s opened to you that you’ve set your life upon now, you’re unsure. 

“There’s no need to thank me.” He replies just as quietly. The two of you lay there for a long time and your heart doesn’t slow, beating like a rabbit’s. He’s so close and you hadn’t expected such a thing to be so exhilarating. Rathonhnaké:ton is a toweringly tall man and you’ve always viewed it as an advantage for when he needs to intimidate. But now, you feel safer than you’ve known since that night of your first encounter when your illusion about the Knights Templar was shattered. 

After a while, you can’t take it anymore and you turn around just enough to be able to look at him over your shoulder. Your faces are very close and you can feel his breath fan across your lips. When you look to meet his eyes, he does the same as he had previously been looking at your mouth. 

“Feeling warmer?” He asks, his voice a rumbling murmur. You give the slightest little nod and your eyes very obviously glance at his pillowy lips again. You don’t try to hide it and nor does he miss it. You’re unsure which of you leans in first – perhaps it had been the both of you, little by little, while you were both preoccupied in imagining how it might be to press your lips to the other’s – but he’s warm and the touch of his lips against yours fills you with a bubbling heat. You turn your body to face him and he pulls you closer by your waist, thumb pressing into you through your clothes and stroking over your body while your lips press and meet again and again. One of your hands goes up to cup his face, feeling his chiselled jaw and cheekbones, then your fingers slide into his silken hair and tangle gently into it when your tongue slides against his. 

You pull away for air for a moment but it’s short lived as his teeth pull gently at your bottom lip and his mouth then grazes against your chin and traces the curve of your jaw in kisses. The cold that had previously bothered you is completely forgotten about and he tugs the collar of your layers of clothing aside so that he can kiss against the pulse of your throat. Your hands find his chest and press to try and feel the contours of his body through his clothing but all the buttons and straps get in your way. Your fingers start working to undo buttons before you realise how caught up you’ve got and you pull away for a moment. 

“Is this ok?” He gives a small nod and leans in to kiss you again as you remove his clothes. You leave his shirt and jackets open, revealing scarred, bronze skin to you. His body is shaped like an ancient statue of legendary heroes. You can’t help but take the opportunity to rove your palms over each contour and feel him in his beauty. 

His large hands slide down to your hips and pull you a little closer. To accommodate him, you move to straddle one of his muscular thighs. He lifts it just enough to press against you and feels a deep stirring below his belt when your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan.

You had never imagined you would find yourself in this position with Rathonhnaké:ton and yet now that you’re here together, it feels so right. It feels like you really have grown close enough to be like this, like stars in their orbit being pulled to one another. His mouth is on yours again in an instant while he presses his thigh between your legs and he starts to pull at your belt to remove the clothing on your lower half. You help him by tugging off your boots between messy kisses. Once your pants are off and your lower half is bare, you shiver as the chill begins to creep over your bare skin. Connor simply pulls you closer and wraps the blanket firmly around your body while you straddle his lap, taking care to tuck it under your legs in an attempt to keep in as much warmth as possible. 

His fingers dance their way down to your mound where he can already feel the intense heat radiating from you. 

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks as his mouth moves to press wet kisses beneath your ear, breathing over the sensitive spot and making you shiver as a result. You nod your head and unintentionally let a needy sound slip past your lips. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s fingers glide through your slick folds and he lets out a little breath of wonder at the feeling of touching you in such an intimate place. Experimentally, he pushes one finger inside of you and watches how your spine arches and your body then bows to lean against him. He pushes it as far as he can go and begins moving it in and out. Letting your bodies take over, allowing words to become of little importance, you begin to grind your hips against his hand so that the heel of his palm catches your clit in a sensation that feels like a delicious burn. He adds another finger and you tug at his pants until his length, thick and heavy in your hand, is freed. You gently squeeze and hear how he sucks in a hiss through his teeth. You then begin to massage up and down, matching the pace of your hips moving to meet his fingers as they draw out soft, wet squelches from your pussy. You swipe over the slit at his tip with your thumb and hear how it makes him groan lowly. You glance down to see a little pool of your arousal gathering in the dip of his palm and decide that enough is enough.

You raise your hips up until his fingers slip out of you entirely. You then remove your hands from him and loop your arms loosely around his neck instead. He understands your intentions clearly and strokes himself a few times, covering his length in the slick from your pussy. You bring your hips back down and he guides himself into you. You’re quick to press your mouth to his in another messy kiss in order to muffle the moan you let out upon feeling the stretch of him pushing into you. You pause shakily along the way, deciding you can take all of him once you’re a little more adjusted, and start to ride. 

Connor’s large hands slide beneath your ass to grab at the soft flesh that spills between his fingers and he uses his hold to support you in moving up and down, holding a lot of your weight with his strength. As you continue to move your hips rhythmically, one of his hands leaves your rear in favour of pulling at the buttons and ties that keep your chest hidden. Once it’s revealed, he lets out an appreciative groan of approval and his mouth latches onto one of your breasts as he pulls you closer and you ride him. Your head tips back to the ceiling of the cave and you pant as the wind whistles outside, joining with the crackling of the fire, the shift of the fabric of your clothing and blanket and the slick sounds of his cock filling you up over and over. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton is big and consequently manages to hit all the right spots at once as he fills you again and again, your hips angled just right for him to brush against the places that have you curling your cold toes. His mouth slathers your breasts in kisses, pausing to nip or suck at your plush flesh and he works your blood into a feverish heat. The two of you pant for breath, moans and groans echoing off the stone walls. 

After a while, his arms wrap around your waist as he lays back, bringing him with you. He kisses you firmly as he brings his knees up and you almost feel the breath get knocked from your lungs when he begins thrusting up into you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he pounds up into your sensitive pussy and your sensitive, teased nipples brush against his chest as your body shakes and wavers with his movements. 

A pressure builds in your abdomen, growing tighter and more intense until your whole body is flooded in pleasure, walls squeezing tightly around his cock as though begging him to come with you. And you’re successful in sending him over the edge, hearing him moan, the whimper in his tone as he releases into you and holds you close as the two of you catch your breaths. 

But then the cold starts to kick in again. He carefully lifts you so that his softening cock slips out of your messy pussy. You watch as he searches his pockets and takes out a handkerchief which he begins to clean your inner thighs with. He looks to you as if asking if you’re comfortable with him looking after you like this but he finds your head tilted back, eyes closed as your legs twitch at having him touch your sensitive folds to clean you up. He helps you redress and dresses himself before helping you into his coat and throwing some more wood onto the fire, wrapping the blanket around the both of you again. 

Once more, you snuggle into his chest for warmth and neither of you are quite sure what to say, hoping the words will just come to you in the morning. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton presses a kiss to your forehead and holds you a little tighter as he closes his eyes, listening to his own pounding heart, the crackle of the fire and the whining wind outside. 

He decides to make sure that the Templars won’t ever have an opportunity to sacrifice your life again. 

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[demigoddessqueens]

Masterlist 11

Writing Drabbles

Intimacy

avert your eyes

SFW writings

Match up pairings - Valkyrie // Trevor Belmont // Alucard // multi-fandom pairing //

Song 🎶 fics - Vax fic // Percy fic // Grog // Caleb // Cadeuces // Grog - fic 2 //

Song fic: multi-party - Pike/Jester/Laudna //

Pretty Little Liars 💋/Original Sin 🔪- being mouse’s sibling //

Genshin Impact - Neuvillette flirting //

Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon 🐉- aegon + writing prompt // aemond headcanons // incorrect quotes // jock 💪 aemond //

Ewan Mitchell - Martin (in the modern world) //

The Decameron - Dr Dioneo fluff // Dioneo and the artist //

Hades - making out with Moros //

Marvel

MCUniverse - Namor + female general // Paradox ⚡️ headcanons // incorrect quotes // incorrect quotes 2 // incorrect quotes 3 // incorrect quotes 4 // incorrect quotes 5 //

Werewolf by Night - Jack Russell fluff //

X-Men - relationship headcanons //

Bridgerton - Benedict SFW (+ NSFW) //

Fallout - found family + Lucy //

Dune - Chani + sister!figure //

Ultraman Rising - kenji x male!reader //

A Quiet Place: Day One - dating Eric //

Monkey Man - writing prompt ask //

Blood of Zeus ⚡️- ares x Hindu!god!reader // Dionysus with pregnant!reader + twins // hard to get Ares // can’t carry a tune 🎶 // Hermes and Apollo twins // sneaking with Poseidon // childhood friend // rise of Venus 💕 // friends of monsters // plus size reader //

Critical Role 🎲

Vox Machina - thicc thighs // (my darling) yandere // grog + sorcerer!reader // Percy + harpy kiss // yandere Vax and Percy // bard oc + scanlan // kidnapped?! // wild witch 🧙// domestic + affectionate //

Mighty Nein - hold my ale // you get separated // flirting as a bard 🎵//

Bell’s Hells - constellation Druid //

Other -

Dungeon Meshi - toshiro headcanons //

Castlevania/Nocturne 🌙 - once upon a December // Fae healer lover // fall asleep on their shoulder // Trio + modern au // lover’s voice kink // divine paladin, cleric // roasts and insults // richter + elf!reader // sugar 🍬 rush //

Assassins Creed - Kenway friend // drunk Haytham // Connor and author s/o // the cuddling type // gyaru reader // altair and day off // Altair and eagles // Malik headcanons // markings of Eden // supportive Altair //

Codexmonthly prompts

July “magic”

August “rooftop”

September “leap”

Baldurs Gate - linking pinkies // peck 💋 on lips // practicing “I love you” // Gale + insecure!body reader // blue dragon in the rain // too close to call //

Batstarion 🦇 Week 2024 - day 6 // day 7

Star Wars - Rey skywalker + reader with anxiety //

NSFW writings

Twisters 🌪️ - sweet darlin //

Critical Role 🎲

Multiparty - match freak //

Vox Machina - lover & giver // ride of your life //

Mighty Nein - your reward + round 2 //

Bell’s Hells - braius fic //

Castlevania - you taste good (ft C.R.) //