asscreedkinkmeme ([personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2009-12-26 11:46 pm
Entry tags:

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme
Fill Only

Welcome to the Animus 2.5

✠ 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
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
( Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only

(Anonymous) 2010-02-01 05:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Altair/Malik taking a bath together and having fun during this... experience

(Anonymous) 2010-02-02 10:39 am (UTC)(link)
A quick doodle to inspire any fic-writers ♥

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-01 05:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Leo/Ezio - Leonardo trying to calm his friend down after the death of his father and brothers

(Anonymous) 2010-02-03 11:58 am (UTC)(link)
Quick question:

Do you prefer this PG-fluffy or NC-17-sexy?

When does this take place?

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Re: Anonfail... ohai wouldja look at that

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Really quick art!fill

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-01 06:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Leonardo/Ezio; Leo knows some things the young noble has never heard about. Curious Ezio, of course, wants to know what his friend tries to hide behind his shame... and learns a lot more than he expected.

Extra points if this is Ezios first time with a man and Leo has some kinky hobbies! The rest is up to you, anon!

Secret pasttimes [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2010-02-05 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[A/N: Taking a stab at making this prompt in character was fun.]


“So I hear that Leonardo is a mutual friend,” Ezio said, sprawled in a deep chair in Teodora’s office, sipping wine and waiting for the furor of alarm outside to die away. Sooner or later the heralds and patrols would lose interest, and he would be anonymous again. “It is strange.”

“Why so?” Teodora was perusing a ledger, managing accounts with a flourishing quill. “Many men come to me to take the cares off their backs for a little while, and Leonardo is just like any other.”

“Leonardo has cares?”

“All men do.” Teodora said absently, dipping the quill into the inkpot and turning a page. “Stress from their work, unrequited loves, boredom, curiosity, there are many. And no, Ezio, before you ask, Leonardo’s reasons are private. As would be any client’s.”

“It is probably curiosity. God knows he has enough curiosity for all of the people in Venezia added together,” Ezio tried fishing, but Teodora merely smiled enigmatically. “I have never seen him even look at a woman.”

“We have some very beautiful women.”

“Half of the time he is surrounded by beautiful women, at Court.”

“Beautiful, available women.”

“Leonardo is rich and handsome. Most women with eyes would be available.”

“Ah, well then,” Teodora said cheerfully, “In actual fact, it may be that he is more interested in beautiful, discreet, and available men. That I can also arrange for.”

Ezio nearly swallowed the wine down the wrong way. “That is not amusing.”

“Who said that I was jesting?” Teodora turned another page. “It has been a mutually profitable arrangement for a while. After all, his first and last attempt at soliciting such specialized succor on his own almost ended up in a hanging. Check the Court books in Firenze if you wish.”

Stunned, a little appalled, intrigued and confused, Ezio said, “He never told me.”

“And why would he? To many people this would be unacceptable. Fatally unacceptable, I should add. Not only for him, but for myself, the participants to date, and even my girls, perhaps. Accomplices to the act. So we are all discreet.”

Ezio mulled this over, a little resentfully. Leonardo was his closest friend, and yet, a secret of this magnitude had been so skillfully kept from him. “Assuming I believe that you are not slandering my friend, how often does he engage this… arrangement?”

“It is irregular. Leonardo is a very busy man.” Teodora sighed, almost theatrically. “It is such a pity.”

“Why, he pays well?” Ezio growled, sarcastic.

“No, no. The sessions are always so… instructive.” Teodora snapped a fan from her drawer open, fluttering it quickly, her eyes a little distant behind the lace. “Very popular with the girls.”

“What do you mean, instructive?” Curse his morbid curiosity.

“Leonardo has a few specialized interests,” Teodora said delicately. “Nothing that will hurt another, no, you know how he is like. But he is very… knowledgeable about the human body, shall we say, and he is very good at using it to his advantage. Why,” she added, fanning herself a little faster, “One of the boys actually offered to work for free if Leonardo would ask for him again. Not that he will, of course.”

Rather overloaded with information, unable to reconcile the distracted, good-natured and carefully polite Leonardo with the hedonist that Teodora was describing, Ezio said, “Why?”

“It is one of his requirements. Not an unusual one by all means: he has to be careful, after all. The men we find must be discreet. Leonardo will be masked. They are blindfolded here and returned to where they were blindfolded as well. They will not know Leonardo’s name, or any of ours. Myriad little securities, like that. And say what you like, it is not very difficult to find a supply of handsome young men in the oldest profession.”

“And you – and the girls – watch?”

“Just thinking about it makes me feel faint.” Teodora leant away, to pull at a discreetly hidden length of velvet. After a moment, one of the girls opened the door to the office.


“Get me a glass of water, Elise.”

Elise stared challengingly at Ezio, and then back at Teodora, hesitating at the door. “Do you wish to be left alone, Sister?”

Secret pasttimes [2/?]

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-02 03:12 am (UTC)(link)
Can I have an AC2/Road to El Dorado crossover? Ezio/Leo would be appreciated, but not mandatory.

I'm really excited to see this filled. <':

Dear lord, seconded.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-07 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
It's crazy how much I can see this working. 'A'

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Will Fill!

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-02 07:32 am (UTC)(link)
Shaun and Desmond, Desmond on top. Somewhere in the fic, Desmond has to utter the following line (or a permutation of it): "You look like you could use a stiff cock. COCKTAIL. I meant cocktail."

I'd do it myself, but I can't be arsed to write my own fap fics. I'll do one for someone else though.


(Anonymous) 2010-06-19 04:41 am (UTC)(link)
attempting this...

Re: ...

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Short untitled fill is short and untitled

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Re: Short untitled fill is short and untitled

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-02 03:34 pm (UTC)(link)
I'd like to see the reversal on the stump kink fic from page one. Malik gets his revenge and finds out Altair's chest is his weak point. Or, really, anywhere else would work. Whatever you like, writer anon. I'll write a request of yours in return.

Turnabout is fair play. :)

(Anonymous) 2010-02-03 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
After embarrasing anon!fail, I present you with this. Hope you like.


Malik likes to explore Altaïr’s body. He’s seen it many times over the years, but hardly ever in quite the lazy, explorative way he favored. It was rare for Altaïr to let him press him back against the cushions and trace his body with his fingers and lips and tongue. Malik had mapped every scar on Altaïr’s body, knew which spots would cause pain and which pleasure, and Altaïr’s familiar taste was forever burned into his memory.

He likes to leave trails of kisses down his broad chest, feeling the muscles clench in anticipation under his deft fingers. Fingers traced over scars, some old, some new, before he placed a gentle kiss over each one of them. Altaïr watches him lazily, sometimes content, sometimes anxious. For now, he’s calm, and Malik counts this as a blessing as he continues farther down the other male’s body.

He shifts their positions so he sits between Altaïr’s legs, kneading the assassin’s thighs gently with his knuckles. Altaïr makes a sound – something pleased and startled and wanting– and Malik takes this as a sign to continue. The muscles are tense under his fingers, but Malik hadn’t intended for this to be a massage so he stops his kneading to rest his hand flat.

He’s whispering something against Altaïr’s stomach as he nuzzles gently, he isn’t entirely sure what, but he can hear Altaïr’s sharp intake of breath as he does so. Gently, he kisses the taut muscles before licking a line down to his bellybutton. Altaïr actually jerks against him, and Malik hesitates, looking up.

“Don’t,” Altaïr warns, but Malik ignores him because turnabout is fair play and he licks at the other male’s bellybutton teasingly. Altaïr makes a sound, something pleased and stressed, and Malik nips gently causing the other to squirm under him. “I hate you,” Altaïr moans as Malik continues teasing with his tongue.

Malik isn’t sure how he had missed this before, this spot, but he isn’t complaining now. Not when Altaïr’s fingers tangle into his hair and he continues to make those sounds. He’s never heard Altaïr quite like this before and the sound is going straight to his groin. Which reminds Malik there was a point to this in the first place, and he palms Altaïr’s cock through his leggings.

Altaïr bucks against him as Malik takes him into his hand, working his shaft while he continues to nip at and around the bellybutton. He can’t pin Altaïr down, not in this position, but if he continues to pant and moan under him, Malik isn’t sure he has any right to complain. If nothing else, he knows now he has a new weapon against the spiteful assassin and that alone makes it worth it.

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Re: Turnabout is fair play. :)

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Re: Turnabout is fair play. :)

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Re: Turnabout is fair play. :)

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Re: Turnabout is fair play. :)

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-03 05:43 am (UTC)(link)
I would love something with anyone crossdressing. Preferably Leonardo but I would be happy with anyone.

Maybe something like Leonardo's forced to crossdress to help Ezio on a mission?

(Anonymous) 2010-02-19 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
I did not in any way write this (I can't write for SH*T) but when I read your request it was the first thing I thought of

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Uncle Mario's 'Hobby' Part 1a/2

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-03 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm actually thinking of a pairing involving Anyone*/Ezio. Rough! or Angry!Sex style. Noncon depends on your tastes.

+100 lollerptz if that 'Anyone' is Vieri Pazzi.

*Anyone does not include Leonardo or any of the females in AC2. I'm sorry Rosa, I don't want you to see this!

(Anonymous) 2010-02-04 03:45 am (UTC)(link)
Anon is working on this one now.

Making Trouble 1/2

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Making Trouble 2/2

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-04 08:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Anon would LOVE some Shaun/Desmond with Desmond bound with anything, anywhere.
Basically some bondage!kink for us all to enjoy! :]

filled - Just don't mention the ball gag 1/4

(Anonymous) 2010-02-07 11:07 pm (UTC)(link)
"Calmed down yet?"

Desmond glared. He thought he was doing a pretty good job of it - communicating the fact that if his hands had been free, Shaun would be dead right now - but apparently not, since Shaun seemed not only completely unconcerned, but actually amused.

"No, I have not calmed down! Let me the fuck out of this right now, Shaun, you asshole!"

Shaun just smirked and leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms.

"Sorry, Desmond," he said, but he didn't sound all that sorry. "No can do. Orders are orders, after all."

Desmond swore, harshly and at length. "Screw orders! Lucy's out there!"

That won him something other than an infuriatingly calm smile. "Oh, well, thank you for stating the bleeding obvious to which I was completely and utterly ignorant," Shaun replied, scowling. "Look, Desmond, I appreciate how you feel, but while this might be difficult to wrap your little, macho, male supremist mind around, I'd like you to try. Lucy is one of our best operatives, and therefore does not actually need your help. So you can just bloody well stay like that until I hear from her like we originally planned."

"Fuck," Desmond said explosively, but his hands were tied, literally. Shaun not only was faster than Desmond had actually expected, he also tied some pretty mean knots. Desmond was better off trying to break the chair he was sitting on than get these ropes loose, and since every damn thing in this cabin seemed to be made out of solid cedar, that wasn't happening anytime soon either. Of course, it didn't stop him from trying.

"You're just going to hurt yourself doing that," Shaun said after a while, a little more subdued and Desmond threw him another glare and kept pulling at the ropes. It only made him madder that a part of him was kind of on Shaun's side, if truth be told. There really was no point in chasing off after Lucy; she probably knew the terrain far better than he did, and she'd spent her whole life training to do what she was out there doing right now but when her communication had cut off, something in him had just panicked. He'd been heading for the door before he even realized. Then Shaun had made the mistake of getting in his way, and Desmond had responded the way he'd been training to, and then suddenly they were fighting, full on hand to hand, until Shaun had managed to get in a hit that had stunned Desmond long enough for Shaun to dump him into a chair and tie him to it.

And Desmond was far from happy about any of it.

"Then untie me, Shaun," he pleaded in desperation, and made himself take a deep breath and relax in the chair, like he was the most harmless thing on earth right now. "Come on. Honestly, I won't leave, I promise. I get it. I'm too valuable to risk losing out there right now. I was just… I mean, all this time, I've been training to kill people. How did you think I was going to react?"

Shaun stared at him for a moment. He seemed to be mulling something over.

"Just the way you reacted, actually," he said. "But I'm still not untying you. In fact, I rather like you this way. Wonder if there's something I can use for a gag…" He cast around the room like he was actually serious. "Ever worn a ball gag before, Desmond?"

"Don't you fucking dare, Hastings," he warned, but his pulse was suddenly tapping out a frantic beat high in his throat and his face felt incredibly warm.

Shaun smiled, this time slyly. "Well, isn't that a lovely effect," he murmured. "Desmond, you naughty little boy. You're not going to tell me you have worn a ball gag, are you?"

filled - Just don't mention the ball gag 2/4

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-04 08:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Malik is losing Altaïr to the Apple, and doesn't like it.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-05 12:49 am (UTC)(link)

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-05 02:05 am (UTC)(link)

Creepy-voyeur-Caterina forces the Orsi brothers to screw around with each other. I don't care which way, or how she gets them to do it (money, threats, whatever).

I'd prefer it if Caterina stayed out of the sex part. >_>

filled! Blackmail ( 1/1 )

(Anonymous) 2010-09-05 12:11 am (UTC)(link)
( writer!anon apologises if this is not what OP was looking for! so someone feel free to snag it again ~ )

She blackmails them, yells at them, forces them to do things to each other. It is not because she finds them attractive, but that she wants to put them in their place. To teach them where they stand in her world, in her Forli.

They will learn.

She leans against the bed as the paw at each other. As each one fights the other for dominance. Teeth have bitten into skin, bruises have bloomed on their bodies, and still, she reminds them, they have not done what is necessary to get out of this room.

One of you, she says, is going to have to learn how to be a woman.

With a growl the elder brother pins the younger. If he knows what is good for him, he will stop fighting back. After all, the quicker they were done, the quicker they could get out of this fica's place.

And then all hell breaks loose. The fight worsens, the blood they spill increases, and finally - she doesn't care which - one of them gives in.

She watches as one brutally shoves his way into his brother. There is no love, no tenderness - just taking.

No longer caring, she turns to leave the room and leave them to it. If they notice her gone, so be it, they can leave.

She found out what she wanted to know.

In the end they did not even care enough for themselves to show one another an open palm instead of a closed fist.

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 06:40 am (UTC)(link)
Kadar's ghost cockblocks Altiar.

what. ಠ_ಠ

(Anonymous) 2010-02-18 10:55 am (UTC)(link)
Kadar is watching you.

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Filled - Kadar is in ur ceilin [1/?]

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 07:36 am (UTC)(link)
some Des/Shaun pls
channeling Altair/Malik mannerisms

Fill [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2010-06-26 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
Probably not what you wanted, but I doubt anyone will see this this late anyway. Also, as a note, I prefer Altaïr's voice in the PSP game (Bloodlines) better than in the first game, so there's that. I don't know that the Altaïr voice in my head matters to you, but whatever.

More should be forthcoming, eventually, but it's dinner time and I have a lot of stuff going on and this is taking longer than I expected.

It's also not very good. Sorry. :(


Desmond had been somewhat off all night. Shaun had dismissed it mostly as something Desmond would work out after a few hours out of the Animus, but so far, he didn't seem to be getting better. In all honesty, Desmond seemed to be getting worse.

And then the screaming started.

"Bloody hell," Shaun muttered, flipping a screen on his workstation and getting up to check on the man who seemed to be screaming in his sleep. Showing uncharacteristic concern (the girls were out and Desmond was clearly out of it) Shaun lowered himself down on the bed next to Desmond and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I am," Desmond replied flatly, in thickly accented English, turning toward Shaun.

"Desmond, what on Ear--" Shaun started, then stopped abruptly. "Christ," thought Shaun, "the bleeding effect." It was late and Shaun was tired, not to mention completely used up on his meager ration of patience for the day.

"Of course you are," Shaun mumbled.

"What was that?" Altaïr's voice asked, through Desmond's mouth.

"Nothing," Shaun asserted, shaking his head. "You prick," he added mentally.

"Good. It is late," Desmond intoned, gesturing to the empty side of the bed.

"If you think I'm going to lie down next to you, you're sadly mistaken," Shaun grumbled, getting to his feet. "Someone's got to watch this place while the girls are out and you certainly aren't up for the job."

Desmond's eyes narrowed. "Don't argue with me. This isn't up for debate. We have an early morning tomorrow. Your brother should be back with information and we can finish this mission and return to Masyaf."

He doesn't see me, Shaun realized as Desmond switched to Arabic. The English previously had obviously been in response to the fact that Shaun was speaking English, but the longer Desmond thought he was Altaïr, the less he noticed what was actually in front of him.

Truth be told it was late and he was exhausted, but his prior statement still stood - he was on guard duty, and even if Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was telling him he should sleep, sleeping was the last thing he should do. Especially if Altaïr thought that he was either Kadar or Malik. He hadn't been clear yet. Shaun had watched everything Lucy had downloaded to him of Desmond's time in the Animus at Abstergo whenever he could catch a moment, soaking up information on Altaïr in case they needed it and there had been some interesting tidbits that he was quite certain were unrelated to the Templars' Grand Mission to find the Apple of Masyaf. Tidbits about Altaïr's personal life and how he had related to Malik after they'd reconciled, which pointed directly to the nature of the relationship Altaïr had held with him before the incident at Solomon's Temple.

Desmond was looking at him expectantly, impatience seeping into his almost impassive features. Shaun sighed. Could he really argue this? And was it even worth it? If the girls got back and found him there, what could he say? "Oh, sorry, it's just that Desmond thought he was Altaïr and that we had some mission tomorrow morning. I wasn't going to argue with him." Sod it, Shaun thought, sitting back down. Easier to explain it to the girls then try to argue with Altaïr.

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Fill [2/?]

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Fill [3/?]

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Writer!anon here

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 08:24 am (UTC)(link)
For a prompt, since you guys are out...

Hmmm...I really want to see Templar x Leonardo. Just a Templar that really wants a painting to be done...privately at his manner. And more innocent little Leonardo things nothing of it! It happens all the time! But then the Templar wants more than just the talented artist hands on the canvas and brushes...=) Good luck!

(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 09:27 am (UTC)(link)
On it! Hope OP doesn't mind dub con - I can't write non con :3

The Commission [1/5]

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 08:37 am (UTC)(link)

Rough sex. Ezio has some pent up aggression which leads to the biting, bruising, clawing and general mauling of Leonardo. I wouldn't mind seeing a bit of blood play but that is entirely optional and up to the author.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-08 08:31 am (UTC)(link)

working on this~

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 08:52 am (UTC)(link)
I just want Desmond/Shaun porn (Shaun on bottom). I don't care how what or why, but just the two of them. No Malik or Altair involved.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 08:58 am (UTC)(link)
I'm on it!

(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 09:28 am (UTC)(link)
Shaun/Desmond: Miles catches the Brit in the middle of the night during a heated session of cyber sex, webcam included.

Will draw art of kink fillers choice in return. Can provide samples of quality if requested.

Private Moments [1/3]

(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 01:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[A/N: Bribery is extremely effective on me, sadly.]


‘Cabin’ was a delightful understatement. Sort of like using the word ‘boat’ to describe a cruiser.

Beneath the ‘cabin in the woods’ were layers of security and facilities, mostly abandoned but still working, multiple levels of living quarters, one level of sparring rooms, eating areas, an a tangled level of computers and monitors. “Templars,” was all the explanation Lucy offered him when Desmond asked where the hell everyone had gone, and now he spent his nights with a restless sense of impending dread. Damned woman.

Prowling around the living quarters and trying his best not to look at the silhouettes of horses and men that occasionally thundered out of the walls or through him, Desmond decided that he hated not being able to sleep. Hated being in the middle of nowhere, with no chance of returning to his normal life. Hated being sucked back into all the insanity that he had thought he had escaped. Hated wondering if this was no better prison than Abstergo. It wasn’t as though either side seemed particularly invested in him being alive and sane, other than Lucy, and Lucy had also been at Abstergo.

It didn’t help that a bunch of ancient aliens evidently thought that he was the cat’s pajamas, which had effectively ruined the rest of his life for the near future, since it now appeared as though he was an asset in a war of assets. Mulling over the sheer insanity of that particular development in the increasingly disorienting sitcom that his life had become, Desmond flinched as he heard a low moan drift towards him.

This part of the living quarters should have been empty. Lucy, Rebecca and the Shaun-The-Eternally-Angry had agreed that they would only use the second floor living quarters, in case they had to escape quickly through the tunnels. Looking around hastily in case his personal hallucinations had abruptly developed surround sound, Desmond flinched again as there was another moan, louder, more urgent, as though in pain.

Wishing that he had brought some sort of weapon with him, Desmond took a deep breath, and switched into the Sight, scanning his surroundings. No one. He would have to check the rooms. Grimacing, Desmond blinked his way back to the dim glow of the dulled overhead lights, padding as silently as he could in the direction of the sounds.

Another groan, slurred, this time, as he neared a closed door, then a slurred, “Y-yeah… just like that, put more of that into yourself…”

Shaun’s voice. Shaun, the I-Hate-You-And-Wish-You-Would-Just-Short-Circuit-In-That-Chair, the You-Are-Only-Useful-For-Your-DNA, cold, aggressive, self-assured Shaun. Desmond felt his brain break a little, as the computer tech groaned again, ragged and pitchy and vulnerable, feeling his cheeks begin to heat.

He could not hear anything else from the room other than some sort of changing background buzz, but Shaun laughed again, choked and harsh. “Think of it like it’s my cock, pushing into you, slow and steady…”

Desmond squirmed uncomfortably, his jeans feeling tight. Now he really wanted to see, even if Shaun were to disembowel him afterwards with a letter opener. He opened the door silently, slowly, just a crack, and peeked inside.

Shaun was splayed on his chair, his legs spread, his breeches pushed down just enough to free his cock, and he was touching himself, in long, slow, deliberate strokes, more for show than for pleasure. The room was dark save for the glow of the computer screen, that drew harsh shadows over the computer tech’s handsome face. His glasses were inching their way down his nose, sliding on sweat, and there was an image on the screen that moved.

Another person, sprawled on a bed, moving something – a toy – in and out between his thighs. A webcam was perched on the monitor screen, likely transmitting Shaun’s image to whoever it was on the other line, and the tech’s expression was slack with pleasure, with want, and discreetly, Desmond reached down to adjust himself. Fuck, the man was gorgeous like this, soft and open. Maybe that was why he had to act as though something had crawled up his arse and died all the time.

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writeranon says

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 12:45 pm (UTC)(link)
The assassinated Duke of Milan in the Lineage cinematic had no pants. Please have Giovanni make a comment about this, preferably in some context to Lorenzo. :)

Falconry [1/?]

(Anonymous) 2010-02-14 09:28 am (UTC)(link)
...I just realized there isn't actually a comment per see in what I wrote. But, uh, here went my best shot at it anyway. >.>


Giovanni glanced back at the murdered Duke behind him as he still knelt beside the dead assaulter. If the way the Duke of Milan had fallen earlier did not confirm his fatality, the steadily growing pool of blood forming around his prone body now as his servant knelt beside him certainly made it obvious. However, the Assassin oddly found himself honing in on another detail about the dead body as he stared in its direction: the lack of pants.

It was an odd thought to focus on and without much precedence but he almost lost his serious look for a moment as it occurred to him. It wasn’t as if the fashion was outdated or uncommon, but some vague reference dredged up a certain scene within his memories. It was absurd but he could not more deny it than the rising of the sun. It was a quick flash, a brief image before his eyes, of another pair of men together, one kneeling in front of the other.

Giovanni stepped around the corner and quickly closed his eyes as the scene before him registered in his mind. Instantly he knew what had happened: this particular summer Palazzo had a rather prominent fountain in the garden and the unique in-laid design made it treacherously easy to slip and fall in its swallow depths. Swallow it may have been, but tripping and falling within didn’t mean landing very prettily. The young Medici’s pants had been completely soaked.

He must have come here alone today and had not expected visitors. Wherever the servants were they daren’t show themselves now if they valued their jobs, or perhaps even their lives. Dancing awkwardly on one foot Lorenzo de’ Medici was trying with little success to hop out of his sodden trousers.

Giovanni hadn’t even realized he’d let a small chuckle out until the young Medici’s head snapped around, startled. The Auditore watched with some vague amusement—it was much too hard to keep his eyes closed
now—as a faint red tint spread slowly over Lorenzo’s cheeks. It was even more adorable with the way he tried to glare fiercely at the Assassin.

“Accidenti a te, bastardo subdolo! What are you even doing here?” the young diplomat demanded.

Giovanni bowed at the waist in a sweeping gesture as he replied, “My apologies, young lord. I hadn’t meant to startle you.”

The response was given a scowl and another curse from the young Medici and it was all Giovanni could do not to chuckle again in the boy’s face. He straightened his expression expertly before exiting the bow proper.

Lorenzo angrily yanked the rest of his pants away and threw the clothing to the ground with as much force as he could put behind the gesture. He refused to admit that he was embarrassed to be caught in such a compromising situation. After a moment of stillness and silence between the two, Lorenzo’s back mostly to the Assassin behind him, the Medici finally pivoted rapidly and stalked towards the elder Auditore with a stern expression.

“Inginocchiarsi! On your knees! Show the proper respect before your master, assassin.”

Much to the younger Medici’s surprise, Giovanni immediately bent the knee to comply. The Assassin bowed his head and kept his eyes shut as Lorenzo closed the distance between them. Even so, Giovanni could still tell that the boy’s presence was exceedingly close.

“If I was not to obey so readily?” the elder whispered before he even realized what he was doing, startling himself with the huskiness to his voice as he asked the dark question.

Falconry [1/2]

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Malik's sons and Altair's sons get into an argument, much to the amusement of their fathers.

Like Father, Like Son [1/1]

(Anonymous) 2010-07-02 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
A/N: I realized after I finished writing that you asked for sons and I only wrote one each. D: I AM SORRY. I hope this short story so long after the fact can make up for my fail, OP.


As children, there had always been a rivalry between Talib and Fakhir. Their fathers had raised them in the Assassin way, and they'd always considered each other friendly enemies, ignoring the other novices and boys their age when it came to competition. They played hard and worked hard and everything - even the mundane - became a challenge. Even so, they were friends as children, inspired by how close their fathers were.

It wasn't until they began to grow into men that things changed. Suddenly, training was all-important, and Fakhir, who had a sort of natural ability with it (like his father, Altaïr) was challenged only by Talib, who remained only one step behind. The rivalry became something more as Fakhir began to taunt Talib, taking every available opportunity to remind him that he would always come in second when Fakhir took first.

Malik and Altaïr didn't find the relationship too surprising - they were boys, and the rivalry was normal. It wasn't until Malik one day found his son sitting outside their home, arms crossed in anger, leaning against the back of the house and practically seething that he began to wonder if the boys weren't moving out of "normal" territory and into something more intense.

"Talib," he asked, "what is wrong? I asked you to gather wood."

"It seems someone has already done so, father," he said, bitterly, standing just as Fakhir approached the house, a bundle of wood under his arm. He strode towards Malik and Talib, a familiar cockiness in his gait, smirking as he tossed the gathered wood into a small, now full corral.

"Hello, Malik," he said with a nod. Turning his gaze to Talib, his smirk only widened. "Talib."

"Fakhir," Talib growled. "You have no business doing my chores. I can gather my own family's firewood."

"Really?" Fakhir looked mock-surprised. "Why hadn't you done it, then? Perhaps you should be faster, Talib. Unless you like to keep your father waiting why you sit at home, lazy."

"How dare you!" Talib cried, taking an incensed step forward. Fakhir didn't move, staring Talib down. At just a few inches taller, Fakhir managed to make himself look intimidatingly larger, but Talib didn't back down. "I have been doing chores since sun up! You have only... finished yours and decided to come into my home!"

"It is only a few steps," Fakhir offered, doing his best to sound bored. "It looked like you needed my help, Talib. I was only trying to be friendly."

"Friendly!" Talib spat the word back. Malik watched the two, feeling a slight feeling of amusement. He had to be honest with himself - the two arguing like that just brought back all kinds of memories of times gone by...

With a glance, Malik could see Altaïr standing outside his own home just across the street. Malik padded towards him, glancing to his friend. Altaïr's eyes were on his son, lips quirked.

"He is purposefully antagonizing Talib," Altaïr noted. "He needs to learn a bit of humility."

"Like someone else I once knew," Malik remarked. Altaïr glanced towards him, almost grinning.

"I hope your son can put mine in his place, then," Altaïr answered. "Ah... maybe he is." With a tilt of his head, he indicated Malik's yard, and Malik looked back over just in time to see Talib throw a punch right into Fakhir's jaw. Malik winced.

"Should we...?" he asked, glancing back to Altaïr.

"No," Altaïr said, firmly. "Let them fight it out. Come inside, have a cup of coffee."

Malik nodded, stepping in after Altaïr, glancing over his shoulder just in time to watch Talib attempt to throw another punch, but this time, Fakhir caught his wrist, pulling him forward and spinning him around, pinning his arm to his back.

Malik made a mental note to speak to his son soon about his explosive temper... but perhaps, he thought with a smile, Fakhir would help him with that in time, too.

Not OP but...

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 07:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Ezio/Leonardo with hot Venetian back alley sex. Bonus if you include Desmond and the gang watching it on the Animus and commenting away.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)

The Animus is for Porn [1/2]

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-06 09:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Altaïr/Malik - Malik doesn't like the cold. :3

(Because I like A/M 1,000,000 times more than LeoEzio. >.>)

(Anonymous) 2010-04-11 11:37 am (UTC)(link)
On nights like these, Malik curses the fact that he lives in a desert, wonders why he doesn't pack up and leave for somewhere that is constantly warm, and wishes that the desert did not get so cold at night.

He lay curled in his bed late at night (or was it early in the morning?), hunkered under the flimsy blankets that seemed to do the exact opposite of what they were designed to, trying to stop his body from shuddering long enough to fall asleep. It was in vain, though, as after about five seconds of stillness, his frame was wracked with shivers. He didn't like it- after all, shouldn't an assassin (even one who had lost an arm) be able to keep himself still?

Apparently not.

Dark eyes glared out from under the blanket drawn up to his nose at nothing in particular, before he resolutely shut them. Not five minutes after he began to really try to sleep, a breeze blew through the room, and the Dai sat up, a furious look on his face as he looked for the source. For a moment, he could not spot why his window had mysteriously opened all by itself, and then Altaïr stood from where he had been crouching underneath the windowsill.

“Close that right now! Now!” Malik hissed, as it was night, and not to mention he had been trying to sleep up until this point. The anger that he felt was a little diluted, though, as he was trembling visibly as he wrapped the blanket around himself further. Once he was certain that no part of skin that didn't need to be exposed wasn't, he began to become eve more irritated.

Not only had Altaïr let the cold even further into his room, he had decided to come into Malik's sleeping quarters. As the master assassin slid the pane shut, Malik began to rant a bit. It didn't help get his point across, though, as his teeth clattered together loudly. “What d-do you think you're doing?! Th-th-there's a perfect-fectly good d-d-do-door at th-the front, or d-did you need a m-map to find that t-t-t-t-too?”

Altaïr frowned underneath his hood, watching as Malik wrapped the blanket around himself even tighter (if possible). He had noticed a considerable difference between the outside and Malik's room, but his breath still misted in front of his face. “I s-sl-sleep here, now g-g-get out s-so I c-c-c-can return t-to my rest.” Altaïr turned away and went for the door, a scoff on his lips.

“It was merely the closest entrance.” Now absolutely livid with indignation, Malik reached over and grabbed the closest weighty object he could get his hand on. It was a large book, that he threw with great vigor at the back of Altaïr's head. Of course, Altaïr ducked his down to avoid it with great ease, something that Malik huffed at before throwing himself down on the bedclothes, screwing his eyes shut.

Malik had every right to be angry. Even though Altaïr was (generally) welcome at all hours of the day, he had decided to trespass into the bureau leader's room, while he was in a state of undress, so to speak. Not only that, but he had let cold air into his room when he was visibly shivering under that thin blanket, and although Altaïr couldn't say he really cared at the moment. The two might have started to get closer lately (read: could actually hold a semi-normal conversation and only ended up at each other's throat a few times), but that didn't mean that he gave two shits whether he had interrupted the man's beauty sleep.

It would be a long time before Malik could actually fall asleep, and once he did, it was light and fitful, his body moreso shut down from exhaustion than actual rest. Without the help of the man who organized all of the paperwork, maps, and anything else in that particular place, Altaïr had to search for the longest time for what he needed, not wanting to get another earful, and once he had it, poked his head in Malik's door, extremely cautious of more flying books.

The sight was actually a little sad. Malik was curled up on his bed into a ball, shivering in his restless sleep, a hint of a frown on his face. He looked perfectly miserable there, and for a moment, Altaïr felt a tinge of pity for the man. After all, he did not even have comfort of another arm to hold the heat in. He willed the twinge away, but it persisted, speaking to him in a most insistent fashion. 'Why don't you help him? He's frozen.'

filling part 2

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-07 01:59 am (UTC)(link)
Altair!angst. I want him to feel guilty about what happened to Kadar. Massive kudos if you can somehow work some guilt!sex or masturbation into this.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-07 02:02 am (UTC)(link)
When you say guilt!sex, do you mean with Malik? 'cause if so, I am so on this.

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The Most Painful Companion [1/?]

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-07 07:07 am (UTC)(link)
Instead of killing Vieri, Mario takes the boy under his wing instead and it quickly becomes obvious that the boy has Daddy issues.

Mario/Vieri (CRACKCRACKCRACK) Freudian sex. :}


(Anonymous) 2011-01-20 05:19 am (UTC)(link)

Anon will probably have to replay ACII and anon absolutely doesn't have time for it, but anon doesn't care.


(Anonymous) 2010-02-07 05:00 pm (UTC)(link)

Twenty-first century office romance GO~!
Bonus points if Kadar is the intern traumatized for life.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-08 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
oh yes
seconded like the fist of the north star

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(Anonymous) 2010-02-07 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Federico/Kadar or Kadar/Federico

I don't really care how you do it, anon. I just want to see it.

(Anonymous) 2010-02-13 07:49 pm (UTC)(link)
This anon is on it!

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