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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
Fill Only
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
FILL: The Best Sort of Death 7/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-06 01:51 pm (UTC)(link)The first Nature of that of the Alpha. They are naturally commanding people that feel at ease in large crowds, or when speaking before an audience. They hold a natural air of authority, and can compel an Omega who is in heat with the usage of tone range. An honorable Alpha will not do such a thing, as to compel an Omega without consent is both rape and theft, first of the mind and then of the body. Those that do compel an Omega usually do so only with their chosen mate, although exceptions have been made in the past - some do it to help friends or family relax, or to warn off other Alphas. In the case of using it against other Alphas, it becomes a fight between souls, rather than bodies. The stronger soul will emerge as victorious, and the lesser soul will be forced aside.
"Alphas are also the most obedient of the three Natures, constantly protecting and caring for those within their family, or those that meet their high standards. An Omega's empathy can call to an Alpha's obedient nature, making them a valuable weapon for the Omega. They are respectful and polite, and usually the first to take a step onto the battlefield. They can be stubborn, lazy or arrogant, and hold a danger of having a much shorter fuse than the other two Natures.
The second Nature is that of the Beta. Betas are the grey area between the black of the Alpha and the white of the Omega. They are the rarest of the three Natures, and those that hold them are usually highly sought after. Betas are stubborn, demanding and intelligent, usually best put in areas of high security or knowledge. They can be flexible in their methods, and act as a sort of divergence or backup on the battle field, rather than active attacker. If life they can be willful, yearning towards things that they can't achieve and seeking greater riches. They can be greedy, obnoxious and sometimes lackluster. They have no particular ability.
The third Nature is that of Omega. Those of this nature are usually empathetic and sensible, and can hold a charm of their own that often lures Alphas in. As most Omegas are delicate of body, they are watched over and cared for greatly, being as they are also the life-givers of the three. Omegas come into their first "heat", an ability that is much like a woman's period, once every moon. Every Omega is bound to a different moon cycle.
The cycle cannot be put off or disrupted, but the heat can be pushed down through the means of certain drugs. These drugs must be refused once an Omega becomes pregnant, or they could risk the child's life. Young Omegas who come into their first heat are often volatile and dangerous, and are usually aided by older Omegas who know the burn and can be spared the furious wrath of the younger's temper. It is unwise to pit an Alpha against a younger Omega during his first heat, as the scent of a virgin Omega will often drive the Alpha into a near-berserk frenzy, and the scent of the Alpha will in turn enrage the Omega, causing a bloody mating if it does occur.
It is usually wise to sedate an Omega during his first heat, and provide them with all they desire, keeping them in a comfortable environment with two or three other Omegas to talk to. There are those who can resist the call of the heat, and will dissuade matings through the usage of active violence. For those who are paired with such an Omega, a different approach is usually necessary. If they are truly stubborn and insist on putting themselves on the battlefield, it is best they be used only as healers or assistants, instead of active combatants, particularly if they are going through heat."
- Journal of Malik Al-Sayf, page 5.
--------
It took Desmond all but a minute to hear and recognize the words, to realize that Templars were coming for them, and he was in heat, and ... and...
"I've got to do something." He snapped on his hidden blade and pulled the sleeve over it, reaching for a black jacket to go over the hoodie, striding towards the door with purpose, only to be snagged a second later and dragged back. "Wh-what the heck Shaun, let me go!"
Shaun snarled at him, ignoring the order as he dragged the younger man back into place, Rebecca and Lucy already rushing around in an effort to pack everything up before the Templars reached the place. "What in the name of the bloody Queen of England do you think you're doing, Miles?"
"I'm stopping the Templars, what does it look like I'm doing? Now let me go, damn it!"
Shaun's grip tightened on his arm; Desmond yanked it away anyhow. "In case you have forgotten you little twat, you are still in heat. Meaning that every beta out there will smell you-- there's nothing to be done! We just need to pack up and--"
"No," Desmond argued back calmly, feeling something inside him shift, nudging against his being. "I need to do this, Shaun. I can look after myself."
Shaun's pupils were blown, eyes nearly solidly black. He couldn't seem to make up his mind whether to be angry or attracted. "Desmond you git, if you go out there--"
"I won't be found out. Please, just trust me on this, okay? You and Lucy and Rebecca can still pack up and leave if you want, and if you come back in fifteen minutes and the Templars are still here, you can leave without me. But I have to do this. For god's sake Shaun, that's what you put me in the Animus for!"
It took every bit of Shaun's willpower not to grab the ignorant fool and drag him back as he stepped out the door again, disappearing down the hall. He wanted to follow the tugging inside him, follow Desmond and make sure things end up alright, but at the same time his logical side was screaming that Desmond is an assassin, he isn't, and he and the others needed to bail before the Templars showed up and fucked everything to pieces.
/If you let him go, they'll destroy him./
A sick feeling washed over Shaun's mind, and in that instant he knew he couldn't leave the bloody wanker that had charged out into the fray without a second thought alone. He needed to follow and provide back up. Even if it might get him killed.
Shaun dug into his desk for his gun, grabbed his jacket and followed Desmond outside.
Re: FILL: The Best Sort of Death 7/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-07 04:17 am (UTC)(link)Somehow I get the feeling that Des should've also had access to those journals, now. (Probably gonna bite the Moderns in the ass later, huh?)
FILL: The Best Sort of Death 8/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-07 10:58 am (UTC)(link)That was Desmond's first thought as he ducked into the shadows and made his way across the area above, quickly counting numbers and adding them up in his head. The total was quickly nearing four-score -- and intimidating number considering there was only one of him. He recalled Shaun's refusal to let him go, and thought for a brief moment that perhaps he should have listened.
/Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Are we going to do something or just sit here and wait for them to find us?/
Point made. Desmond climbed down, carefully sticking to the shadows and giving the adversaries a wide berth. If he could get to the back of them all, he'd start sweeping them from the back and hopefully get to the front before they could get inside and track down Lucy, Rebecca and Shaun. He still wasn't sure how they hadn't smelled him yet, but he wasn't going to look a gifthorse in the mouth.
He managed to find a little niche in the corner of an alleyway and stayed there as the numbers went by. Even when it seemed like the last of them had gone, he stayed a bit longer, in case they had set up a group further back for a plan like his. The Templars were an aggravating bunch after all - he would give them that they were intelligent, but that was all he'd give them.
After a moment or two of waiting, he tentatively ducked out from his hiding spot and began to sneak up on the first in the back row, waiting until he fell a step behind the others before reaching out, covering his mouth and slicing his jugular. He dropped the body and continued onward, keeping pace with the others and praying that they wouldn't turn around.
Luck was with him, at least until he finished the sixth man in the group. Then luck abandoned him. He wasn't sure what he did, or if it was even him, but one of them glanced behind him - and that was that.
"Assassin!"
"It's the target!"
"Get him!"
There must have been some apprentices in the group, because only novices rushed into battle like that. Desmond briefly considered how much he had just sounded like Malik before ducking under a knife swing and planting his blade firmly between the guy's ribs. There were only three of them, but it was enough of an annoyance. Especially considering they had guns, and instead they'd chosen to use knives - not that Desmond was complaining, but it was just a thought.
When the third guy was down, four more advanced, much slower than the first group. And then suddenly, they just stopped. Desmond couldn't figure out why--
--right up until they started smelling the air. /Fuck my life./
"'ey Sarge? This 'un, he's in heat," one of the men called over his shoulder. The 'sarge' stepped forward, tilting his head slightly. After a minute, he grinned.
"So he is. Well boy, unfortunately for you, Vidic wants you back. And he's ordered us not to hurt you, so you can count your blessings, however short they may be. But..."
"But?" Desmond snapped. He was feeling on-edge now, the sensation of so many hungry gazes making his instincts scream. Suddenly he was more than ready to fight and cut these guys to pieces. It was just like with Shaun, except Shaun hadn't been an enemy or made his skin crawl out of itself like his was trying to do.
"But Vidic never said we couldn't have a bit of fun before we returned you. And after all, we're going out of our way to collect you're deranged ass and all. It only makes sense, right boys?" He chuckled, and then jerked his head towards Desmond. "Secure our treasure."
Desmond's mind seemed to fall away then, some part of him stepping out of his body and watching as he was apprehended, arms held while he was forced on his knees. /No.../
They surrounded him, a solid wall of black and silver metal mixed with dark vibrations. It was like being sucked into a void of tar, slowly pulling him down and drowning him. He could smell them, feel their desire. Some part of him craved it, wanted what they were offering. The rest of him, the part that wasn't driven by the heat, was disgusted and terrified and and and--
/Kill them./
"Now then boy, why don't you open your mouth like a good pet? And don't you dare bite down."
/Let me go. Let me go let me go letmegoletmegoLETMEGOLETMEGO--/
"LET ME GO!"
And suddenly that part of him that had been sucked out was back inside, and his vision was covered by a veil of red flame. His mind went blank, and the last thing he remembered was Shaun rounding the corner right before his blade severed the head of the man in front of him.
---------
It was like watching a horror movie. Shaun could think of no other way to describe Desmond at that moment. A mere second ago he had been intent on saving the other man, seeing him pinned and surrounded. But now? Now Shaun knew Desmond didn't need any help. No, Desmond was... well, for lack of a better word, he was berserk.
It was a slaughter, simply put. He was razing the men to the ground with the blade, screaming like a wild animal, eyes unfocused as he struck down Templar after Templar, blood hitting the ground and him in copious amounts. It was enough to make Shaun sick, especially once Desmond seemed to get bored of severing head and moved on to stomachs, the contents emptying along with the intestines, the bodies dropping to the ground without putting up a single fight.
What felt like hours took only seconds. Then only Shaun and Desmond were left standing, one with a gun in his hand and the other with a blade. Shaun began backing up, trying to quietly get back inside and let Desmond cool down, the reminder of the volatile first heat suddenly striking him. He was doing well, right up until his foot hit a rock, causing it to skitter aside. In the silence, Shaun could hear his heartbeat.
Desmond turned to look at Shaun, and grinned, no sign of his sanity anywhere to be found. Shaun said the only thing he could think of.
"Oh bugger."
FILL: The Best Sort of Death 9/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-07 12:50 pm (UTC)(link)Well, more interesting. After all, he was in a group comprised of murderous Assassins, trying to keep mythical artifacts from falling into the hands of tyrant men and women called Templars. That alone was practically the definition of interesting. And that wasn't even with the addition of the supposed Ones Who Came Before and all their magic mojo thrown in. The point was, his life was hectic and had been for a very long time. He was used to hectic. But Desmond had thrown a wrench into his patterns, cast doubt on things he used to be so sure about. And Shaun liked it; it gave him something to look forward to.
Normally. But now was not normal, because now Desmond was moving towards him with his blade bloodied and Shaun dropped his gun, because he didn't need to be gutted right now and certainly didn't feel like doing so. So when Desmond pushed him down and sat on him, blade kissing his throat, he didn't move. He merely watched, not offering up any resistance. This seemed to confuse the assassin, as Desmond tilted his head and frowned, blade digging in a little. Shaun fought not to gulp in response and turned his palms over, showing he held no weapons. "Easy there, Desmond," he muttered.
Something shifted behind Desmond's eyes, and the brunette shook his head, as if trying to clear it. While he was distracted, Shaun quickly slipped his hands up near Desmond's hips. Something in Al-Sayf's journal had mentioned that occasionally physical touch could shake an enraged Omega out of their blood lust; he didn't know if Desmond was one such man, but it was better than lying there and waiting for Desmond to slit his throat.
When the blade wavered a bit, he gently laid his hands down. A hiss of breath told him that the touch was noticed; keeping his gaze locked with the one above him, he carefully slid his hands up, near Desmond's ribcage.
The reaction was not what Shaun was expecting. Desmond practically threw himself back to get away from Shaun's touch; he blinked rapidly and shook his head several times, blade slipping back into its sheath.
"Desmond?" Shaun tried.
Desmond said something, but it wasn't in English. Shaun might not have understood the words, but the tone was clear; Desmond was pleading for something. Carefully getting up, he approached the other man, palms up to show he meant no harm. Desmond didn't back up, but he didn't advance either. "Easy Desmond, it's okay... the Templars are dead now, you see? No more danger. You can relax. Just... just relax, okay?" At this point Shaun wasn't sure if he was talking more to Desmond than himself, or perhaps it was a combination of both - all he knew was that Desmond seemed to be suffering under both a Bleed and the effects of a heat-induced blood lust, which made him virtually a walking bomb.
Lucy and Rebecca could handle a lot of things, but a suddenly murderous Desmond was not one of them.
So once again, Shaun got close, Desmond wavering on his feet, looking more than a little faint as light returned to his eyes. Then, just before Desmond could collapse, Shaun seized him under the arms again. And once again, Desmond yowled and tried to spin away, but Shaun held tight. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Miles? I'm trying to help, you ignorant git!"
"L-l-let go S-s-shaun! T-t-that--"
"Why are you stammering?"
"B-b-bad touch!" Desmond yelled, cheeks turning red, and suddenly Shaun just GOT it.
"Oh. Oh bloody hell!" He let go of Desmond so fast his hands might as well have been on fire. His mind dryly recalled the little thing Al-Sayf's journal had mentioned about Omega pleasure points - it seemed Shaun had inadvertently found Desmond's. /Good going there, idiot. Way to make an excellent impression. And you call yourself an intelligent man./
"Shut up," he growled at himself, his own cheeks a fantastic shade of pink. "Uh, Desmond I didn't mean to--"
"I know, I know," the other reassured, looking more like himself already. "It- it was just... um, you-you touching, and m-my heat..."
Oh. OH. Right. He was still under his heat, and Shaun was still exuding hormones, and with him touching the pleasure point...
"M-maybe we should, uh, clean this up and go back inside and call it a day?"
"Good idea. Best idea ever."
"Excellent. You want some tea?" Shaun never shared his tea, but he was willing to make an exception, seeing as he'd practically molested Desmond just now.
"Love some. You want some spaghetti for dinner?"
"Sounds delightful. I'll let the girls know."
Re: FILL: The Best Sort of Death 9/?
(Anonymous) 2013-03-08 08:29 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: The Best Sort of Death 9/?
(Anonymous) 2013-04-21 07:08 pm (UTC)(link)