asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Entry tags:

assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
Fill Only

Join or Die

✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.

✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.

✩ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.

✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.

✩ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.

✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.

✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!

List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Before Colonists arrived in America, most Native American tribes believed same-sex relationships and trans* or non-binary individuals were sacred. Charles Lee learns this and decides to punish and humiliate Connor with his new information, despite Connor not actually being trans*, non-binary or attracted to men.

Bonus points for use of corsets and garters/suspenders with stockings, and some of Lee's information being completely incorrect and having nothing to do with Iroquois traditions at all.

I feel so bad, and yet at the same time, so good.

-----

Conner couldn't shake the way that Haytham watched him while he changed—like the man was sizing him up, calculating how dangerous he was. Watched the scars on his body from accidents through the years, and then Haytham stepped closer just as he shrugged on the shirt that he had taken from the mercenary.

He felt the breath on his shoulder. By some happy accident of fate they were the exact same height, of similar build as well—although Conner's shoulders were wider. His breath was held—Haytham moved closer, another puff of breath on the side of his neck. A hand, not so much hesitant or unsure as curious, pressed against the base of his neck, fingers trailing down his spine over his shoulder, to the dip between his shoulderblades. Haytham's other hand, the same curiosity, sliding around his jawline and down his neck, over his chest.

Conner took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, and held very still. It was utterly silent—it was like the whole city, outside of this silenced island of an alleyway surrounded by fences, had just dropped out of existence. He curled one hand, as Haytham's fingers continued to move.

He waited, and breathed.

Haytham's hand continued, down over his spine, to the top of the breeches Conner had half-tugged on and not-yet fully laced, and slid over his hipbones. They had always stood out, no matter how strong he had gotten, or how much he had trained or tried to make them hide. Haytham sighed, and his breath warmed over the top of his neck, up against the shell of his ear.

"Are you eating well enough?" His voice was low and dark and Conner had a sudden desire to turn around or pull away. Haytham's accent had never weakened—even though he had been in America for Conner's entire life. Still strong, still British, and still this slow, smooth mix—like warm wine. "Your hipbones are—"

"I'm fine," his words were clipped. Haytham stopped that line of inquiry—stopped questioning. His hands just moved, further. Back to Conner's front, starting at his shoulders. Collarbones, down over his pectorals (Conner resisted the urge to make a quiet gasp of breath as Haytham's palms rubbed over his nipples, and he felt his eyes close, didn't even want to, but there were goosebumps on his back and his breath was held) and to the top of his stomach.

Haytham moved closer. They were close to back to front. His face was tucked into Conner's shoulder, breathing into his neck—his hat was off, they were close together.

Conner could feel Haytham's hot breath over his ear, and let out a shaking breath of his own as Haytham's hands continued down over his stomach, to the top of his breeches.

Neither of them breathed. Conner couldn't ignore it now—there was a sort of burning heat that ran over his skin, in the centre of his bones, heating in his marrow. A taste at the back of his throat.

This was not something he had felt before, not like this. Not as strong as this. Just occasionally and slower and deeper inside him—a burning he had slaked with a hand and the muffling of his pillow at the homestead.

Haytham slid closer. They were pressed tight together, and Conner was pushed against the wall, hands flattening against the brick and then he felt Haytham up against him. The lines of his coat, pressed against his skin. Hot breath still, the slight press of his lips (not purposeful) against his shoulder. Waistcoat and buttons and then—

Conner felt it, pressed up against him. In Haytham's breeches, thick and hot and hard.

That was most definitely not a sword or a pistol. Conner felt Haytham's fingers, sliding past the laces of his breeches, and then against the skin at the base of his stomach. Both hands, one pressed against the base of his length, the other wrapping around the side, pushing aside the leather to get it out of the way.

Conner felt almost like he should throw up. There was something twisting in his stomach but he was on fire and resisted the urge to let out a slow breath, a shaking breath, as Haytham's hand moved up over his length and Conner felt his whole body catch and twist. There was so much wrong here. So much that he didn't even want to think about it—he could easily have broken free, have thrown Haytham off, beaten him back, but instead he was frozen. Frozen and burning like hellfire.

But Haytham's hands—they were rough and warm and touched him where he needed to be touched. They were breathing in time as his fingers started moving and the silence was thick with air, as Conner curled his fingers into his palms and bit back any noise. Haytham's hands knew what they were doing—one, at his base, wrapped underneath his length, against his balls below and the other, moving with calloused skin over the sides. A pause at the tip, to twist around his head and then his thumb catching at the underside and running up over the head, a dip into the slit to wet his palm.

When his fingers rubbed at the notch behind the head and ground there Conner couldn't stop it, and the noise in his throat caught with his breath and bubbled out as a quiet groan.

Haytham groaned back, and his hips shifted closer, rubbed up against Conner's back, up against his backside, ground into him. Gasping harder, Conner felt his neck get loose and he leaned back heavily against Haytham. The older man made a quiet noise and his mouth was pressed against the side of his neck—not opening or sucking or biting—just there with burning breath, as his hand got faster. Conner clenched his fists more, shifting and rutting forward into his hand.

This wasn't it. This wasn't what he wanted but oh this was what he wanted. He wanted it more than anything else. The heat of Haytham's hand was fast and strong. He moved his hand faster, and Conner stopped thinking because he couldn't think. Not right now. He just needed—the touch. Haytham's hand went quicker and ground around his base and then back up, his breath got rougher, shifting and grinding and rutting toward Conner. The pressure dragged him forward but the press of the heat against his back did it too, a hot promise of something not given.

This was the first time this had ever happened, and Conner didn't even know how he was supposed to react. He felt another moan catch inside his throat just as Haytham dragged him further back, panting for breath and grinding against him hard and fast and Conner felt it inside him, coiling like some unknown power—he finished, digging his nails into his palms until he felt them break the skin, jerking forward to try to get more motion or anything and Haytham muffled whatever noise he was about to make on Conner's shoulder, moaned into his skin, grinding hard against him until the man froze, rocking desperately for one last fraction of friction and Conner almost thrashed against him, unsure of if his eyes were open or closed.

It had never been like this. Never in his life. Haytham held him, pressed tight against his chest, and then finally the other man loosened his arm and Conner felt himself slump against the wall, gasping for breath and bent over, boneless.

Haytham moved away, Conner's back suddenly cold, and he heard the man clear his throat. "Finish getting dressed," Haytham said, quiet. There was the sound of clothing being flattened, laces being opened, and something wet hitting the ground. Conner didn't have the energy at the moment to turn around and look. "We have work to do."

He sounded almost winded, voice still rough. Conner opened his eyes and stared at the bricks and the ground, now stained white, and his limp cock hanging out of his breeches, and let out a shaking breath.

"Of course."

He couldn't bear to look his father in the eyes.

If you don't know, Aveline has the ability to charm guards/people in her game while in her Lady disguise.

Anon would like to see her using this against Connor during their mission together and him being kinda uncomfortable or maybe having the charm just flew over his head, which left Aveline amazed and pissed at the same time. Then she up-leveled her advances.

May or may not lead to smut or extreme awkwardness on Connor's end.

Yes please. Any kind of fluff.

Pretty much what the title says. Bonus points if you somehow work sexy times into this (maybe even as part of the Templars turning him?).

yes please

Throughout the game I kind of noticed how EVERYONE of the Englishmen seemed to be touching Connor when they spoke to him, and that he was pretty clueless and even confused about it. Sooo, I just want to see someone actually getting it on with this mountain of a man (seriosly, did you SEE that upper body?) and just revering every inch of him.
Connor is oblivious (but grateful nonetheless? :D ), of course, since wiry, muscled bodies aren't THAT rare among his clan.

Are there any pairings in particular you want to see? Because I might have accidentally written nearly a whole superoblivious!Connor fill.

I'm COMPLETELY open for suggestions and shall be happy with any potential-filler's decisions! Really!

And tbh I finished the game an hour ago and my cognitive capacity is... well... Gone. At the moment. So. Um. Yeah. I haven't even considered possible pairings yet.

(ILU. <3 )

yes omg this is such a cute prompt uwu

GASP This is the hottest prompt everrr
SECONDED!!!

It's shorter than I expected to write, but I'm going to blame that on the awful bout of insomnia I've been having...
---
It makes me nervous when the non-natives stare at me. I wonder what they're thinking. 'A savage!', most likely. Or perhaps 'I want a slave like that'. The English are the worst, whispering and pointing despite the perfect manners they profess to have. My father's comrades are especially awful. At least I know I can escape with ease should one of them decide to attack or capture me- they are not agile. They cannot climb, for some reason. Many cannot swim. Most can barely run. It's strange. Perhaps those skills are unneeded here.

"Hell...oh!" a male voice exclaims as I walk past, on my way to meet Washington. I don't understand why some of them greet me in such a strange way. Perhaps it's a cultural thing, for strangers, or something... Sometimes they whistle instead. Once it happened when I was with Father, he simply tutted and murmured something about lower-class idiots and wolf whistles, but that makes no sense. Wolves do not whistle.

I ask a lady on the street for directions to a certain square. She blushes, and glances at my clothes. I suppose they are kind of strange. After all, the styles of clothes the Seneca wear may seem strange and different to me, but to a Colonist I daresay they would look the same as those my nation wear. Perhaps the same principle applies. She seems to especially appreciate my boots- they are, after all, much longer than those even soldiers wear, and I have not yet seen a colonist wear deerskin.

I walk on, watching the people around me warily. They don't touch each other a lot, but I always seem to have a hand on my shoulder or arm, someone rubbing small circles into my back. It's rather annoying, if I'm honest. There are few other Natives around here, perhaps our percieved rarity is the reason my companions act so oddly on occasion.

...

I roll my eyes at Stephane. He's taking an awfully long time to remove my clothes. While I appreciate his attention, I would much prefer a more... focused attention.

"You can't stare at me all night," I say. "We've got important things to do."

"Ah, but I could. You are different. Beautiful. Lean, and yet so strong. So agile, so handsome. And those 'important things' can wait, amour." His mouth lets flow a stream of French that I do not understand at all, though I adore the sound. He feels the same about Mohawk. He runs a hand oh-so-slowly over the skin on my collarbone, and I snatch it away, my patience finally wearing thin. I push his hands to where I really want them to be.

"That may be so, but I have needs. You can caress me all you like when I'm finished with you." And with that, I push him onto the bed. He does not resist. The promise of examining me most thoroughly is something he fully intends to hold me to.

It's... perfect ;__; just perfect. Thank you so, so much for writing this awesome fill! I read it at half my usual speed just to savor every word, and your choice to use Stephane here is ALSO perfect, though I never would have guessed before reading it!

Short can be good, and this is certainly a VERY good kind of short! Well done!

I know what that feels like, btw. Insomnia can be a bitch. Hope you'll be able to get some more sleep soon!

Ziio tells Haytham she's pregnant and Haytham is a regular figure in young Connor's life, visiting the Mohawk village whenever he has time to spare.

There's awkwardness as Haytham tries to get past his awkward British gentleman ways and Templar duties to be a good dad, culture clash between his and Ziio's teachings to baby!Connor and all sorts of good things like that.

If Ziio still gets ~~fridged~~ killed Haytham takes Connor in to live with him permanently.

Up to author if Connor still ends up taking the way of the assassin despite this.

So Ezio looks up to Altair (ie, he's a huge fanboy), but Altair favors Connor and Connor wants to be friends(ie, he's crushing) with Ezio. Ezio is jealous and Connor is confused, Altair finds it annoying and Desmond doesn't care and wishes they would all get over it.

Wolves do not whistle.

Oh I love your Connor and I love you so much.

I didn't even realize that Connor/recruit was anything I needed so much <3

Aveline and Élise. Whether it's just them being friends, or them being lovers, or whatever, I just need to have something of the two of them interacting. Because Élise is REALLY awesome, and her banter with Aveline is fantastic.

Night/day of Connor's conception, yes pls

The official Collector's guide made hints that Desmond could now be existing in a state similar to Juno was after his sacrifice; I mean, it's possible, right? That technology could surely preserve him after it destroyed his body.

So - Desmond living as a digital hologram, confined within the Grand Temple. Do William and the others come back to find him? Does he search within the abandoned Animus and reconstruct Clay? Can he communicate through the Pieces of Eden like Juno did? Or maybe he's just alone and remorseful...

I would like to see Aveline visiting the Homestead and interacting with the others like Myriam, with some fluff of awkward Connor trying to gain Aveline's interests.

Can you imagine if Haytham and Ziio actually got married? They would snark at each other all the time and have the weirdest fights. I guess this would have be an AU and if you can include Connor it would be great!

IDK whether any of you remember the movie The Patriot, but those of you who do probably remember Jason Isaacs as the gorgeous and evil Colonel Tavington.

So, the dastardly Colonel Tavington gets his hands on Connor. Dubcon or noncon ensues.

Connor and another male character have sex in, on, or over one of Lance's incredible folding chairs (re: the Homestead mission "Thousand-Pound Idea"), as folding chairs are quite obviously the best thing since sliced bread.

Bonus points if the prototype chair collapses while they're in the midst.

I will never be able to think of Paul Revere the same way again.

Bad touches. On horseback.

I...might have something in the works for this one. Would you mind AC3 postgame cause obvs, spoilers?? And it's probably going to be non-smutty because a) it's going to be more rom-com and b) I frankly suck at writing smut.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 4 of 385

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

Culture Clash (tw: humiliation, possible noncon)

Re: Connor/Haytham

Aveline charming her way through everyone (Connor/Aveline)

Re: Why must you hurt me this way?

How was Haytham turned?

Re: Culture Clash (tw: humiliation, possible noncon)

Connor/any - body worship.

Re: Connor/any - body worship.

Re: Connor/any - body worship.

no subject

Re: Teaching him his place- Haytham/Connor, non con

I'm not sure what I've done here.

Re: I'm not sure what I've done here.

AU Haytham raises Connor

Altair/Connor/Ezio + Desmond

Re: I'm not sure what I've done here.

We can put Liberation prompts here, right?

Haytham/Kaniehti:io

Desmond lives on as a digital construct within the Grand Temple

Aveline/Connor - On the Homestead

no subject

Connor/Col. Tavington, AC3/The Patriot crossover

Connor/? : Crack prompt ahoy!

Re: The Midnight Ride

Possiiible filler here