#grandmaster kenway

[kuroganedorian]

Sir. Can you stop looking so handsome no matter your mood?

[anli-rambles]

I can't explain how incredibly funny I find that Spanish cheese merchant scene from Forsaken. Haytham strolls into a mansion with a stolen brick of cheese all confident in his plan just because he speaks Spanish fluently, but then he gets busted at the door by the first person he talks to and has to lie that he's actually Italian and somehow it works until he speaks again and immediately gets clocked as an Englishman by his target who also recognizes the cheese Haytham stole bc Haytham was wholly unprepared and unable to sell his act (man knows nothing about cheese) and just trying to bullshit his way through this mission, like if this isn't proof enough that he's 100% Edward's son idk what is

[shaycormacaroni]

I will never shut up about how the 18th century Assassins are shit and how they strive far away from what the Assassins are supposed to be.

Keep in mind that when I say 18th century Assassins I don't mean Connor, Aveline and Arno. They are the ONLY Assassins with some brains, but they still fell victim to their mentors idiocy.

I'm also gonna hold your hand while I say this but even Shay fucking Cormac in the robes of a Templar acts more like an Assassin than the Assassins itself. If Altair or Ezio must roll in their graves it is because the 18th century Assassins don't act like Assassins at all, NOT because Shay stabs a few """Assassin""" here and there so to avoid disasters like Lisbon and Haiti from happening ever again.

[shatinn]

AC3/Haytham and youngie Ratonhnhake:ton

2/?

[sweetcocopowder]

Day Twenty Five: Rough Sex

Synopsis: Haytham needs to let off some steam and he loves to rile up Shay. But maybe he's gone a little too far with somethings he has said tonight.

Word Count: 3.8K

Pairing: Haytham Kenway / Shay Cormac

Warnings: Rough sex. Anal sex. Spit as lube. Manhandling. Name calling. Begging. Biting. Marking.

Notes: I wrote this like, ages ago in march sometime when I saw a shay fanart of @especiallyhaytham 's. Thank you for the go ahead in march to write something inspired from that art piece. I'll find it and tag it in this post when I have the time haha. It's currently late when I'm posting this fic.

It’s Haytham’s foot that Shay trips on. The tavern becomes as silent as a cold night as Shay lands on the wooden floorboards heavily. The former assassin should have been able to regain himself easily. But with the amount of ale and whiskey flowing through his flush cheeks, he all but faceplants into the floor.

Gist stares wide eyed before he turns his attention back to the bartender and his drink. He’s aware of the mood that his Captain is in tonight and the last thing he wants is to be caught in the middle of it. He takes a slow, long slug of his ale. He doesn’t dare get in the middle of the two.

Shay silently gets his hands underneath him. His hair spews around his face, his band coming loose in the tumble. He doesn’t get up right away, the knock to his head making his already light head spin. His stomach churns, but he keeps the contents of his stomach down with a thick swallow.

The Grandmaster on the other hand, looks down to Shay from the corner of his eye. A frown sits deeply on his features, his brows furrowed with disappointment. He uncrosses his hands from behind his back and taps two fingers on the bar. The bartender perks up, making sure that it’s his attention Haytham wants. He places down the glass he’s cleaning and takes only two steps towards the Grandmaster.

“A glass of water please,” Haytham says firmly.

The bartender is quick to grab what is needed. His fingers work nimbly, grabbing a glass, giving it a quick wipe out before filling it with stale water from a small barrel. Something that Haytham personally wouldn’t drink but that’s not his intention.

Shay stands up, swaying where he stands. He opens his mouth to speak but all is forgotten very quickly. The glass full of water is thrown into Shay’s face and the Irishman barely flinches. The water drips from his chin and drenches his hair to his face. Gist can’t look away this time, his mouth agape with shock and terror.

The bartender takes two steps away from Haytham.

Shay wipes his face of water, his brown eyes staring dangerously at his Grandmaster. He pushes his hair backwards and out of his face, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He doesn’t dare turn around to meet these newfound judges of the drunk. But he feels the most sober now than he’s been this entire night.

The Irishman will give himself some credit here. He did warrant this behaviour from Haytham. Urging him on and pestering him when all Haytham wanted was a report of the week’s events to him. He could have waited. He knows he could. But he wanted it now, like some spoiled child.

And maybe because he wanted to see Shay. And maybe it’s been only a week but this Irishman has weaved his way into Haytham’s life and it’s infuriating. And to top everything off, the first thing that Shay does is come to the closest tavern with his crew instead of reporting to his Grandmaster first. He knows something must have gone unsatisfactory on his hunt for the former Assassin. Haytham thought he grinded out all those habits. But this habit is one that Haytham has been trying to break, and it isn’t going too well right now.

Haytham sets the empty glass back on the bar with a soft, tink. “I was expecting you in my office, not here acting like an insufferable buffoon as soon as you hit the dock,” he speaks as if he’s scolding a teenage boy.

And that only gets on Shay’s nerves even more. But he bites his tongue. He knows his place. He may not be the best at speaking to his superiors, but he knows when the time and place is. Yet Shay’s hands clench into fists as a single drop of water drips from his nose, trying to hold things together the best he can.

Two hands clasp Shay from behind, dragging him away. Gist chuckles lightly to his Grandmaster before him. Shay’s wolflike eyes never leave Haytham. Many, many thoughts run through his head and none of them are pure.

“I do apologize for the Captain here, sir,” Gist expresses his regrets as he makes Shay take another step backwards. “Our week was filled with mishaps and whatnots. We were to hope that the ale would lesson our… irritation before attending your office, sir. I can have that report on your desk by tomorrow morning!”

Haytham will give the Templar one thing, he is good with his words when he needs to get out of something, and maybe that’s just the reason he’s in the Order. But that alone isn’t going to get Shay out of this one.

“I want it on my desk before midnight, tonight,” Haytham speaks sternly, his voice as solid as stone.

Shay suddenly rips himself out of Gist’s hold and straightens himself up. He pats down his coat and flicks away the loose strand of hair that has fallen over his face. His cheeks are flush with ale and his teeth gleam as he smiles like a wolf that snarls at its prey. Haytham watches the wolf closely.

“It’ll be there,” Shay speaks without the slur that was thick on his tongue before. “I’ll see to it personally, sir.” He mocks the formality of his politeness with a slight bow of his head. “Good night, Grandmaster.”

And with that, the wolf stalks out of the tavern as loudly as he had come in, pushing someone aside that dares not move from his way. Haytham watches Shay leave with a frown and his nose slightly scrunched.

“I do-“ Gist starts but stops when Haytham raises a hand.

“No need,” he says. “The report will be there. That is all that is needed.”

Gist nods and doesn’t push any further. With a glance out of the corner of his eyes, Haytham leaves with a small nod of his head. He leaves the Boston tavern with his hands clasped behind his back, the same way he entered.

The Boston night is lit by the amber streetlamps and the ally ways loom with an eery darkness. It’s oddly quiet tonight for this time of the hour. He only passes a few other men that dare walk this late. Haytham keeps his pace unwavering and his shoulder square, his ears pricked for any noise. But none come. No dangers stop him. He arrives at his house just fine.

It’s a satisfactory house on the outskirts of Boston. Two storeys with a nice garden that is well looked after by the men that Haytham have hired. The curtains are drawn closed and the lights are off.

All but for the office window. A yellow light can be seen from inside, the curtains blowing out of the open shutters. Haytham hums to himself but doesn’t find it surprising when he finds the front door unlocked. How many times has he told him not to do that.

Haytham leaves his tricorn at the entrance but doesn’t bother with his coat. He takes his time going up the stairs and turning to his office. The door opens with a click and inside, as expected, stands Shay.

He stands with his back to Haytham, his hand outspread on a rolled-up piece of paper on the table keeping it open. The report from the week and Shay’s scouting. He lets go of it and the paper rolls back up, bouncing once on the table before becoming still. There was no time to go back to the Morrigan and retrieve the report. He must have had it on him the entire time. Explaining his arrogance from beforehand.

Shay’s hair is tide back but a few wet strands still fall over his scarred brow. He looks to Haytham with a deep-set frown upon his face from the corner of his eye.

“There was no need for that,” Shay spits out quietly.

Haytham rolls his eyes and wonders over to his desk. He keeps clear of Shay though, those wolf-like eyes never leaving him. He keeps to the other side of the table, knowing best from past experiences. But at Shay’s comment, Haytham can only sneer at it. He takes the report from next to Shay’s hand and reads over it lazily.

“Yes, I’m aware but you should know well that, that behaviour is not needed in public,” Haytham more mumbles than speaks it. He looks up from the report to the other, “Or have you forgotten?”

Shay all but roars as he slams a hand down onto the table. “Humiliation!? Is that something you’re so worried about!?” He bellows, his accent thickening and slurring with the alcohol still on his blood. Shay is never an angry drunk, Haytham knows what type he is. “I have a crew that will now snicker and speak of me behind my back!”

Haytham keeps a calm demeanour. Clearly, he overstepped tonight. Shay steps around the table and in unison, Haytham takes a small step back.

“Insufferable,” Shay chuckles at that. “I’m well aware, sir. I’ve been mocked and called such things my entire life.”

“I said no such thing!” Haytham barks, lying through his teeth. “That was my last intension!”

Shay almost snarls at that, taking a step forward. Haytham doesn’t move, instead standing up wider and taller, jutting his chin out. This only makes the situation worse.

“Last intention!?” Shay snaps as he jumps forward and grabs the front of Haytham’s coat. He pushes the other man into the wall with a loud thud. “You-“

Haytham grabs onto Shay’s hands and bellows over him, “You were the one that took a step out of line! You forget yourself sometimes behind these closed walls!”

Shay goes quiet but the fire of defiance still flickers within those dark eyes. If he wanted to harm Haytham, then he would have thrown him against the wall. This was more like a light tap to their standards.

Haytham continues, “You need to control yourself outside of these closed doors. Especially when you’re intoxicated. Otherwise I wouldn’t have to called you such insufferable things to drag you out of this la la land you like to-“ Desperate lips crash into his to silence him.

Shay’s grip on Haytham’s coat tightens as the kiss is all but romantic. It’s all teeth, sloppy and the faint taste of shit ale is still on his tongue. But Haytham returns it all the same. He grips onto Shay’s waists, urging him forward and closer. The hunger and anger behind Shay’s kiss is more on the lines of an assault. Haytham hisses as more than once his lips are bitten down on.

Haytham tries to get a grip in Shay’s hair to pull him away, but that doesn’t happen. Shay grips onto both of his wrists and slams them against the wall above his head with a loud thud. He holds Haytham up high that he almost has to stand on his toes. It takes the Grandmaster by complete surprise, forgetting just how strong Shay’s strength is.

Shay’s assault ventures to Haytham’s jaw where he bites and sucks at the stubbled skin. Haytham hisses in a breath of air, squeezing his eyes shut as the other continues down his neck. One hand holds onto Haytham’s wrist as the other rids his throat of his necktie and the first few buttons on his coat.

“I should mark you where everyone can see,” the Irishman hisses into his skin.

Shay bites down hard into the nape of Haytham’s neck that it breaks a deep groan from within his throat. He squirms a hand out of Shay’s grip and grabs onto the hunter’s throat, pushing him away. Shay snarls like some wild animal, quickly wrenching the hand from his throat to slam it back into the wall. Wolf eyes stare at him, teeth bared in a snarl.

“I don’t wish the need to cover up in public,” Haytham snaps but all that authority is gone from his tone with just how breathless he is.

Shay huffs a laugh, one that makes Haytham feel a little pathetic. He lets go of Haytham’s pinned hand to only grab him by the front of the coat and pull him across the room. The Grandmaster stumbles, almost tripping over himself if it weren’t for the grip in his coat. The next thing takes Haytham by pure surprise, Shay all but lifts him into the air to only slam him down onto Haytham’s desk with a loud crash. Haytham is surprised in that moment that he didn’t go through the wood with how much force was behind it. He grips onto the sleeves of Shay’s coat, teeth bared like a dog ready to snap.

“So, you get the privilege to be a grand Samaritan while I’m made the fool in front of others!?” Shay snaps loudly. “No. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to make sure everyone knows how improper the Grandmaster of the Templar Order can be.”

Haytham knows for his reputation he should push Shay off. He knows he could if he wanted to. But every single word of Shay’s goes straight to his cock. He can feel his face going a flush red that Shay notices well enough.

With the strength he showed before, Shay flips Haytham around and pushes him into the desk. Every single paper and report that was in order is now in disarray as Haytham is pushed over it. He goes to bring him off the table a bit but he’s all but slammed back down into the wood with a hand on the back of his head. His chest heaves against the desk, heart hammering within his ears. He keeps still, gripping the edge of the desk as he spies Shay from the corner of his eye.

His pants are quick to be torn off and they’re left to pool at his ankles. His cock is pressed painfully against the table, fully hard and twitching with every movement that he can feel happening behind him. He flinches as a firm hand grabs at his ass painfully. He breathes out lowly, trying to hold himself together but the low whine that comes from his throat has his face flushing.

Shay kicks his legs out wider with a boot, as far as Haytham can go with his pants still at his ankles. He feels very exposed, his ass on full display to the man behind him.

Yes, he’s riled Shay up in the past to get this result. But tonight, he thinks he’s gone a little too far. Yet he doesn’t find himself complaining about his current situation. Not when a rough, spit slicked thumb is pushed into his ass to knead him from the inside out. Not when a hand comes to grip into his hair and keeps his face pressed into the desk. And especially not when Shay begins to bite and mouth at the back of Haytham’s neck.

Haytham flinches, the desk creaking underneath them as Shay swaps his thumb out for two thick fingers. The older cringes at the burn, gripping onto the edge of the table with white knuckles. Shay thrusts a painful pace, working Haytham open on nothing but a little bit of spit. But it’s glorious and has Haytham groaning deep noises from his throat.

It doesn’t last long though, just enough to make sure that Shay is going to split him in two. Haytham wouldn’t mind, but now he at least knows that at least some respect towards him does shine through.

The head of Shay’s cock pushes at Haytham tight rim, smearing precum and fresh spit onto his ass. That’s the little warning Haytham receives before Shay is pushing in. He grinds his teeth together and groans a choked sob as Shay’s cock thrusts half way in. He pulls out a little before pushing all the way in, knocking a bark out of Haytham below him. He grinds his hips a little, causing a hiss to escape Haytham’s lips. It stings, yet his cock weeps are what Shay gives him.

Shay pulls out sharply to only begin a brutal pace. The first thrust knocks a pained moan from Haytham, tears springing to the corners of his eyes as he squeezes them shut. The table creeks with each movement and Haytham holds onto the table, his groans turning to moans as the pain slowly ebbs to pleasure. He turns his head to look at Shay but a hand threads through his hair to grip painfully at his roots, all to push his cheek into the hard wooden table.

“Sh-ah- Shay,” Haytham pants out, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets himself be used.

“Shut up,” Shay grunts out through clenched teeth. “I think you’ve said enough for tonight. Don’t you think?” He asks.

Haytham tries to look up at Shay, but he can only stare downwards into his table. He nods the best he can with Shay’s grip on the back of his head, the only noises slipping through his lips being pants and moans. He’s only let Shay ravage him a few times and with each passing time he’s only craved it more and more. Riling Shay up so that each pound of his dick into him is painful yet oh so pleasurable is something he’s found he loves. Letting go and having Shay have his way is enough to release all the months’ worth of stress he holds on to his shoulders.

Suddenly he cries out as teeth sink deeply into the nape of his neck. He squirms but Shay holds him in place as he maintains his pace, his hips only stuttering a moment before continuing on. A tear slips past his eyes as Shay laps at the bite with his tongue before he does it again on the other side of his neck. The table jolts loudly with how badly Haytham flinches. But all while his dick weeps painfully against the hard wood. He can feel sticky precum easing the painful friction he was panting over that was becoming unbearable.

Shay hasn’t touch him once and Haytham could cry out. His dick is trapped between him and the table, unable to reach. He slithers a hand down though, trying to wriggle in between himself and the table to touch himself but his efforts are short lived. Like before, Haytham’s wrist is grabbed and pinned into the wooden table with a loud thud.

“After the shit you pulled tonight you think you deserve to have some leisure?” Shay growls in his ear.

After a moment, Shay pulls out entirely. His hands stay where they are on his head and his wrist, not letting up for a moment. Haytham tries to wiggle back at the sudden loss of Shay but the Irishman holds him tight. Haytham’s eyes stare widely at the table, wondering what is going through that man’s head.

“I’d love to see the Grandmaster beg for it,” the grin in Shay’s voice can be heard from a mile away. “That would be a sight now wouldn’t it. Haytham Kenway, begging for cock.”

Haytham swallows thickly, brows furrowing. “You can’t be serious,” he murmurs.

The hand on his wrist disappears to only come back and slap him on the ass. He flinches, the table screeching a little across the floor. His dick twitches beneath him and he all but whines at the sting.

“Come on, Haytham,” Shay purrs. “I think you’ve gotten your way too easily in the past that you’ve all but forgotten what it’s like to beg and plead for shit these days. Wouldn’t do you any harm, might teach you some manners.”

Haytham hesitates, wondering if Shay is serious in this moment. He’s curious on what the Irishman will do. And as if waiting too long, a harsh slap is what he’s reward with that stings worse than the first. He groans deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as Shay kneads his ass with a large hand.

“Please,” Haytham breathes out quietly.

Shay towers over him again, bending down just over his ear. “Say that again,” his words curl around Haytham’s delirious head.

Haytham swallows thickly, peering at the other man from the corner of his eye. He must be a sight. Face pressed into the table, drool pooling around his face, hair a tangled mess. Must be ridiculously satisfactory.

“Please,” Haytham says a bit louder. “I need you to fuck me.”

Shay stands up, eyes wide at the profanity. “My, my, Who knew Haytham Kenway could have a such a dirty mouth on him,” he slurs, his accent thick.

“Oh pleas- AH!” Haytham cries out as Shay slams his entire length in. Haytham moans deeply, shakily breathing as Shay begins a quick pace, his cock hitting that sweet bundle of nerves with each pass. It’s all too much and has Haytham’s legs shaking where they’re pinned by Shay. The hand in his hair tightens and he finds himself only needing more.

“I want you to come only on my cock,” Shay grumbles down near his ear once again.

Haytham shivers at that, panting louder as louder as he can feel that coil of heat tightening in his gut. With his own dick trapped and getting only a little friction from where it is, he doesn’t think he can.

“No- I can’t,” Haytham stutters out.

Shay grabs one of the Grandmaster’s thighs suddenly with the hand that use to be on his wrist and brings it up so his knee rests against the table. The new angle gives Shay better access to drive into Haytham, all the better to drive into the older’s battered prostate. Haytham cries out, stuttering and moaning, trying to collect his breath the best he can but it’s futile. He feels every nerve come alive with each pass, his balls tightening as the tension coils even firmer.

“That’s it,” Shay groans. “Just like that.”

Haytham shivers, gripping onto the edge of the table as he cums. He cries out, his entire body shaking at how violent it is. He squeezes around Shay’s cock, stuttering him in his movement but he continues on. He knocks the moans out of the Grandmaster as he rides him through his orgasm, loving the way that his face scrunches up and his mouth falls open to let everything out.

The look alone brings Shay closer to the edge and he has to pull out quickly, letting go of Haytham entirely to pump his own cock. He cums with a groan, hot white ropes landing onto Haytham’s ass. He’s been ridiculed before for coming inside of his Grandmaster. Even in a state like this, he doesn’t want to step over that.

Haytham shivers on the table, panting as he tries to collect his breath. Maybe he did rile Shay up a tad too far tonight, but by lord was it worth it. He may not be able to sit down properly for a few coming days, but no one will question it. He’ll say it was a bad horse ride. Over his dead grave would he admit to something like this.

-

please like, reblog and comment if you enjoyed this!

[kuroganedorian]

TEMPLAR TUESDAY

[cippicat]

Happy Birthday Adrian

The voice behind the grandmaster Haytham Kenway

@thegrandmasterhaytham It's your voice actor birthday 🎆🎆🎆🎆

[f4t4-m0rg4n4]

Haytham is filled with ✨the audacity✨ and that makes him even more of a dilf.

Haytham Kenway is lowkey a dilf

[haythams-fat-nuts]

WIP

Relationship: Haytham Kenway x Templar!Reader

Tags: Somewhat fluffy smut, porn without plot

Tagging: @sangheilihoes @ladysaturnsdust @wyyvernn @bloodhaven99 (anyone else that wants to be tagged in the future just let me know!)

(Critique is welcome at this stage!) Anyways...

~•~•~•~

You gaze down at the dashing man sprawled on the bed beneath you - your hands flat on his chest, his resting up above his head - drinking in every detail you could by the dim light in your boudoir.   Deep-set slate eyes regard you calmly, a slight smirk pulling at his features.  You weren't usually the one to be positioned atop, but here you are, straddling his hips in absolutely nothing.  Your Templar companion however, remains in just his off-white breeches, which - to your delight - do little to hide what they contain.  

The warm candlelight casts deep, long shadows from his sharp cheekbones, the strong Grecian-style nose, and those beautifully full lips.  Gods, how you loved those lips.  They were always soft and supple against yours, always smooth and plush.  Silky dark locks peppered with grey fan out across the pillow and spill over one shoulder.  The flicker of firelight reflects off the graying strands that originate over his ears, giving the impression that his long black hair is streaked with silver and steel as you card your fingers through its waves.  You run your hands appreciatively over his muscular, rounded shoulders, feeling the muscles bunch up beneath his skin whenever he lifts his hands to gently grab your hips.  Your hands continue their journey down his chest, caressing the diamond of soft dark hair that spread across his pectorals and pointed down toward his navel, where a smaller patch of hair trails beneath the waistband of his breeches. 

“What did I do to deserve you, Haytham…” you murmur dreamily, forever awed at how fortunate you were to have the Grandmaster's affection. as you plant your hands back on his chest and lean forward, softly pressing your lips to his.  He responds with a large hand on the back of your head, pulling you in for a more fervent kiss before sucking your lower lip into his mouth and grazing delicately with his teeth.  You make a small, involuntary noise and you can feel his member twitch beneath you, begging to be released from the snug confines of his trousers.  You smile against Haytham's mouth, rolling your hips so that you slowly grind yourself against his bulge, and enjoying how you can feel his breathing quicken beneath you.   You trail your tongue along his lower lip, and he happily opens his mouth to you. As you deepen the kiss, a low sound rumbles through Haytham's chest, and you can feel him continue to swell.  When you pull away his gaze follows you, a desperate look painting his face.  The Grandmaster isn't one to beg you with words, but his eyes plead with you to do more than tease him.  You decide it's time to finally begin to oblige.  

[shatinn]

AC3/Haytham and youngie Ratonhnhake:ton

1/?

[sangheilihoes]

I had an idea and I got encouragement from my friends 🥴

Haytham discovers fleshlights

Warnings: Sex toys, masturbation, light D/s undertones, dirty talk (?)

Tagging: @bloodhaven99 @wyyvernn @ladysaturnsdust @psybrepunk @konnisart @haytham-loves-chocolate @memoriesofafallen @demigoddessqueens @heiress-prime @anli-rambles @amefuyuu @grandmaster-haytham-kenway @dairsmuids

Don't like, don't read. MDNI

Imagine before leaving for a long trip, you gift Haytham a fleshlight so he can have fun while he’s away. He almost feels guilty, such a lewd toy and to use it while thinking of you, he doesn’t want to degrade you but you insisted he take it, so he did. While on his trip, you sent him a letter, telling him of your day to day life and how much you miss him. When finishes reading it, he notices another two other pages. Written in your handwriting, the second page says:

Before looking at the third page, I want you naked, in bed, with that toy in hand

He immediately felt a pang of arousal shoot through him, his face beginning to burn. He was tempted to peek at the third page but he was a good, obedient boy and instead got up from his chair, walking over to his cabin door to check that it was locked. Once he was satisfied, he began stripping down a little too quickly, almost tripping over his trousers in the process.

His cock was already half hard. The things you could do to him with just a few words or a simple glance never failed to make his head spin. Digging into his personal bag, he found the toy quickly, getting more excited by the second. Now naked with the toy in his hand, he grabbed the letter and sat on the bed, placing his back against the headboard. Making himself comfortable, he gave his cock a couple pumps with his hand, fully hardening. Finally he looked at the third page,

My dearest Haytham, I know you feel hesitant using your gift but I can assure you, I want you to and I want you to ruin it, to pump it full of your seed over and over and over again while thinking of me.

Unable to take his eyes off the words, Haytham took the toy in his hand and lined it up to the tip his cock, picturing you on top of him, eager to ride him. He slipped himself into the toy, gasping at the tightness and little nubs that were inside the toy stimulating him. He continued reading,

Do you want to know a dirty secret of mine, my love? I have my own toy that I use when we’re away from each other. I fuck myself, over and over again, wishing you were there, to hear my moans, to touch me and to feel my cunt around your cock.

A loud moan left his throat before he could stop himself. He bit on his tongue to keep from getting loud again and waking the crew. To think about you using a toy on yourself, watching your pussy get stretched and moaning for him, his cock twitches within the toy.

“Y/N…” Haytham moans out. He wished you were with him, riding him, feeling your walls clench around him, the warmth…

What would you do to me if I was there? Would you beg me to touch you or perhaps you’re tired of waiting and you throw me on the bed, fucking me into the mattress? Would you be gentle to your wife or rough to your whore? Worship your goddess or use your kitten?

He whimpered, his head swimming in thoughts of you. Every scenario playing in his head, each equally intoxicating as the last. He wanted- no, he needed you.

“I yearn for all of you…” He whispered. His hips rutting up into the fleshlight.

I miss all of you, your kisses, hugs, your voice. You’ve done some kind of magic on me, Haytham, I crave all of you, everyday I don’t feel your touch and when I do, I crave you that much more.

“Y/N!” He cried out. He was getting close, that familiar knot in his stomach quickly approaching, yet he continued reading.

Make a mess of that toy, Haytham and then come home to me and tell me how hard you came while moaning my name like a prayer. Make love to me, ruin me, fill me with your seed and then do it all over again

He crumbled, sobbing out your name, he fucked his hand furiously as he came, cum leaking over his hands and into the toy, his entire body shaking. When he came down from his intense high, he looked at the piece of paper again,

Have a good night, my love. I await your return and your touch

Love, forever yours, Y/N

He made a mental note to keep this letter with him for now on. Perhaps his nights won’t be so dull anymore. And the fleshlight can stay too.

[fromashesweriseuphiddenones]

First Recruit Cast List

Ezio Auditore: currently 41 years old and is a master assassin and soon to be mentor of the Italian Brotherhood. He is also Desmond's ancestor and adoptive father, though the cover story is that Desmond aka Malik is his bastard son.

Maria Auditore: Ezio and Claudia's mother. A stern yet fair woman who views the working class as the true citizens of whatever city she resides in. She lost her husband and two of her three sons twenty four years ago. Maria loves her grandson Malik despite the unorthodox way he was introduced to them.

Claudia Auditore: Ezio's younger sister. Currently 39 years old. She's a hot head and feisty but loving and kind to those she calls family and friends. She can be a pain to her nephew but when it matters she shows Malik that he can always come to her should he need her help.

Desmond Miles: The descendant of Altaïr ibn-La'Ahad, Ezio Auditore, Edward Kenway, Haytham Kenway and Ratonhnhakē:ton. He is Cypher, the savior of Humanity. Yet when he died, he didn't expect to be waking up in 1500 Rome. Meeting Ezio Auditore is the start of his new life

Malik Auditore da Maysf: Ezio's Bastard son, and the cover story to explain Desmond in the past. Sixteen years old and thrilled to have a family. He's proving skilled already. He gets along with most people, expect Machiavelli.

Niccolo Machiavelli: a bad tempered young man currently in charge of the brotherhood. He seems to not like Malik and has said as much. Getting slapped in the process.

Leonardo Da Vinci: Ezio's best friend of twenty four years and a master artist. He's a well known procrastinator but so beloved by the community that it's overlooked. Currently in the care of the Borgia he's forced to make war machines and he is unhappy.

Clay Kazmarek: effectively replacing Sali (sorry he just doesn't sit well with me) Clay is Leonardo's apprentice and secret lover. He also assists Leo like reminding him to eat and sleep.

Update 6/20/2024 1AM:

Shay Patrick Cormac: Somehow this assassin hunter was reborn in 16th century Rome. Malik recruits and trains him in the brotherhood telling him that Lisbon wasn't his fault.

Haytham Edward Kenway: The Templar Grandmaster was reborn in 16th century Rome as well as Shay. Though seeing Ezio as reasonable and compatiant chose to work with the newly minted Mentor.

[fanfenomenon]

fern's intro post and masterlist! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

hey all, thanks for stopping by! actually, i've been using tumblr since its heyday, around 2014-2017(?), and i rlly missed it so i made a new account (☆10.15.24)! here's all you need to know about me:

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉ ╰─ ♡ about me: ୨୧┇name: fern ୨୧┇pronouns: she/her ﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍ ╰─ ♡ current fandoms: ୨୧┇assassin's creed ୨୧┇musicals (hamilton, les miz, etc.) ୨୧┇mouthwashing ﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍ ╰─ ♡ more important stuff: ୨୧┇DNI MINORS. ୨୧┇i'm a proshipper, so if ur uncomfy with that, block me. ୨୧┇i post some of my own content (art/prose/edits), mostly fan content of my fave media ﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍ ⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

keep reading for masterlist! (may contain nsfw content)

updated masterlist! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

started: 11/10/2024 (mm/dd/yyyy) last updated: 11/28/2024

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉ ╰─ ♡ assassin's creed ୨୧┇ac edits ♡ Codextober 2024: Day 31 - Family ♡ Soldier, Poet, King, but it’s the Kenway Family. ♡ Haytham realizes how alike his father and son are. ♡ ���sakataterihwáhten” ♡ "Too late to tell him I’m sorry.” ♡ if they only knew. ୨୧┇ac fanfics/imagines/oneshots ☆ can i just say how much i enjoy long distance relationship fanfics of shaytham ☆ i think shaytham should get married ☆ i just know haytham would be the type to keep a locket with a picture of shay on it ୨୧┇ac fanart ☾ father and son bonding time ☾ haytham and baby connor ☾ templar!connor's portrait ☾ haytham during his service with the coldstreams ☾ the grandmaster's best wingman: ...his own son ☾ "please don't cry, master kenway..." ☾ shaytham sketches i made at 2am ☾ shay comes home; good old banter ensues ☾ messy sketch of shaytham kissing ﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍ ⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

[missy235]

Another little Haytham stuff:

"Come on darling, you promised the kids!" Tenderly, Elena touched the shoulder of the Templar Grandmaster, who made no move to get up on his day off.

"How about we spend some time together first," Haytham whispered with an amused smile on his lips and effortlessly pulled the petite black-haired girl into bed. With playful protest, she slapped her husband's muscular chest.

"Yet again ?"

Her lips touched his, demanding, the sweet taste of last night hadn't left his lips yet. Her hand ran deeper over his pronounced abdominal muscles - deeper. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips.

"Oh Elena....."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Haytham???"

"Thank God you woke up - we were worried!" With a slightly sore head and a little dazed, Haytham met the green eyes of the person who haunted his dreams straight away.

"What...?"

"You fell down with your horse - it looked really horrible!" Carefully, Young Birch brushed a strand of hair out of his face.

"I was told that you called me in your fever dream...?"

A little embarrassed, young Kenway looked away. Jesus Christ, what was that dream? "That can be possible."

"Anyway, it's very pleasant to wake up and see your pretty face first."

[demigoddessqueens]

I'm not sure if ur reqs are open but I just found out a close family member has brain cancer and has less than a year to live. Could I get angst/fluff with Haytham Kenway? I really could use a good cry in his arms rn. If you don't feel comfortable answering this I get it. Have a good day🤍

Oh anon I’m so sorry for you and those close to you for such news. I hope you have the support as well

That being said, I hope this does bring you comfort in a time such as this

You didn’t expect it but you still didn’t want to accept the truth of your supposed “friend”

A fellow brother in arms who meant to betray you to the Templars, shattering every idea you held of them and what you stood for. Or what you used to. Now you sat here alone in hiding and not knowing what to do next.

A knock at the door made you flinch. Blade drawn, you approach cautiously.

As you carefully open the door, you see a figure you’d least expect: Grandmaster and Leader Haytham Kenway

He sees your expression, demeanor, and the way your hand shakes with the blade in it.

A low “I’m sorry,…I know” breaks apart what’s left of your heart.

Dropping your blade as hot tears flow like tiny rivers from your eyes, you feel yourself collapse into his broad shoulder(s). Heaving sobs from your chest claw at him as this most feared man holds you closely as one does for a supposed lover.

It was news to him that your friend had defected to the Templars, but it came at the cost of you. And that was something he couldn’t allow if it meant you.

Means to end is how Haytham saw his arrangement with you, but he committed the worst crime in his work: being personal and getting close to you.

But for right now he will offer the comforts he can, whatever you need of him or however you use him.

[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.

-

;)