asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2

Inspired by this awesome misfire & fill:
http://forkinsocket.livejournal.com/19704.html?thread=3622648#t3622648

I would like Desmond, Ezio, and/or Altair to fuck food. Maybe Desmond finds a delicious, unattended cake. Ezio humps a plate of warm spaghetti. And for Altair... well, hummus is both delicious and smooth. Sexy or funny (or both!)- it's up to you.

Bonus points if they are caught by their sidekick.

THIS. Is perfect. :'D
How does one misfire create such an amazing prompt? I should misfire more, if this is what comes out of it.
If someone fills that, I am prepared to offer a thousand flaming internet-cakes of LOVE. Srsly.

It's time for me to re-examine my life. I seriously just wrote porn about a video game character humping a popular Italian foodstuff. I... I don't even know where to begin. I just hope that OP enjoys.
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Ezio could not remember when his urges began. No, it seemed as if his unnatural carnal desires had always been with him---lurking just beyond his consciousness. Every time he saw a curvaceous shape, warm and pliant and so easy to take... he shuddered even now as the shiver raced up his spine in anticipation.

He tried to behave, honestly. He made every effort to restrain his sick lust. There was no way he could ever tell anyone how he felt; it was just so bizarre. Instead he wanted from a distance, pining in secret.

He watched so many times as Leonardo had teased him mercilessly, closing his lips around a fork full of aromatic spaghetti. His painter friend had never even known, and Ezio fervently hoped had never really noticed, the uncomfortable hardness the normally composed and calm assassin would furtively shift to hide during dinner. Place the napkin over your lap, ask to be excused, whatever it took, just get out before you're noticed.

But tonight, Ezio was faced with a new kind of beast.

He was alone, staring down the single purest expression of everything he ever desired. All of those late nights under the cloak of sleepy darkness, fisting himself to an unsatisfactory completion just to take the edge off, all of those covert glances, watching and hoping to consummate his needs and knowing that it must never be; they hit him at full force, suddenly, leaving him nearly panting with want.

This plate of spaghetti made his dick throb so hard with want that he swore his head was spinning.

Ezio had sat in Leonardo's workshop amidst canvases and half-finished sketches, listening to the artist putter around and prepare a quick dinner for the two of them. Leonardo had hastily cleared out a space for Ezio to sit at the rough hewn, paint-splattered table, then another spot for himself. The painter ate quickly and efficiently, clearly eager to get back to the inevitable masterpiece he was creating in the back room. Leonard had excused himself absentmindedly, clearly elsewhere in his own head, sifting through too many ideas and thankfully remaining blissfully oblivious to Ezio's current state.

Fah. His current state. Sitting in front of a bowl full of spaghetti noddles that were coated in bright red tomato sauce, interspersed with tiny flecks of green oregano. His pants were uncomfortable, and now that Leonardo was securely in his back room, Ezio indulged a bit and pushed his white robes aside, then loosened the pant ties at his waist a little.

He swallowed thickly and continued eating his dinner---determined to do only that. EAT dinner, and not act on his irrational dark yearnings.

Forkful after forkful he contemplatively munched, reaching down every now and again to adjust himself---yeah, just adjusting, certainly NOT touching, caressing or fondling.

Oh, dio, caressing... fondling...

His eyes clouded with lust, his skin tingled. He inhaled the rich aroma of this fine Italian sauce deeply, letting it wash over him.

Ezio imagined his will breaking. He imagined finally giving into his desires; vivid images of his cock thrusting through a warm plate of noodles, sliding through the thick sauce and racing toward a glorious fulfillment.

He clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles ached, remembering where he was and that he was a rational man, not some twisted noodle fucker. He let out a shuddering breath, hoping it would clear his head and reaffirm his resolve to most certainly NOT take that plate of alluring pasta for everything it was worth.

Ezio sat quietly for a few moments, reveling in his renewed willpower.

Ugh.

It was no use.

He darted glances around cautiously, reassuring himself over and over that yes, Leonardo was in the back room, yes, he his busy, and no, he's not going to be wrenched away from that painting for hours yet.

Ezio, unsure of just how to go about properly fucking a bowl of spaghetti, chose first to bring the dish down to his ridiculously turgid dick. He glanced up nervously once more, checking that Leonardo was still busy. He was.

Ezio tentatively slid his member into the pile of noodles. He stifled a groan that welled up in his chest suddenly, biting on his unused fist.

He thrust experimentally, once, twice, trying to set up a good rhythm. It felt spectacular, but Ezio had to admit that the angle was awkward and the bowl wasn't nearly deep enough to accommodate his entire length.

He shifted around, removing his hardness from the bowl and setting the dish back on the table. Ezio considered his options---get out now, you fool! After he took the next step, he new there would be no going back. He had finally sunk to the lowest levels of his own depravity. It was truly no use to resist, however.

With a slightly shaking hand, he reached out and dipped his fingers into the bowl, fisting a lump of noodles and sauce, savouring the satisfying squish and the warmth against his feverish skin.

He bit off another groan of anticipation.

Eying his readied hand warily, he made up his mind. He broke. He gave in. It was sick and wrong, and he needed it so badly that he couldn't think straight.

He wrapped his handful of noodles around his cock, thoroughly coating himself in red sauce. Moaning a low string of expletives as he began to gently hump his hand.

It was just like he had dreamed. The long, stringy noodles slid across his dick, caressing the sensitive head in a hundred different ways at once, each noodle producing a new sensation has it moved. The moist, gooey sauce helped the noodles wrap around his cock and created a delightfully shudder-worthy vacuum suction in his clenched hand.

Knowing he wouldn't last long if he completely abandoned himself, Ezio instead chose to have a little resolve and use slow, languid thrusts. He fantasized about so many more dishes. Fettucine, penne, bowties, macaroni---all of it. He needed to try them all.

He grunted and picked up the pace, only distantly in recognition of the fact that the red sauce had now been smeared and ground into the front of his pristine white assassin's robes. He arched his hips up off the chair, meeting his handful of noodles again and again, knowing that the coiling tightness in his muscles and his belly signaled delicious release was near.

He soon fucked his hand feverishly, losing the final threads of his self control, chanting to himself---yes, yes, there, once more, more, more, more, please! Merda! Yes! And he crested and came hard and fast into his hand. The sensations wrapped around his dick were overwhelming, and he felt suddenly too sensitive. His whole body wracked with shudders after release, he eased his hips back down the chair's seat and sat there in post-coital bliss, eyes heavy-lidded and brain swimming with pleasure.

"Ezio?"

Oh, fuck.

Ezio's gaze shot toward the doorway to the back of the workshop and he nearly leapt out of his own skin.

Leonardo stood at the edge of the small kitchen, eyes comically wide and expression aghast.

"Ezio, what are you doing?"

How would he explain this?

Ahahahahaha and pasta will never be the same for me ever again.

The food porn was awesome. Ezio's desire was awesome. If you're reexamining your life, more of this would be awesome. XD

Write!fag ahoy!
I may be entertaining the idea of Desmond/Cake, just for the record. Because it's so dirty.
Thank you for your kindness, anon. I'm glad you enjoyed.

Desmond/Cake would be breathtaking but I feel greedy begging for more.

Write!fag responds...

I love it when you beg, OP.
;)

almost 2 am. i'm sitting in my living room. trying so hard not to wake up my family from laughing SO HARD. omg anon. i almost peed myself.

Write!fag, here.
I'm so pleased that I've driven you to near incontinence! :D Or, you know, whatever. Lol.
Thank you for your kind words and your laughter.

Holy shit, I'm sitting on a bus gasping for air and trying to stifle my laughter. This was hilarious. Thank you writeranon for prolonging my life with a few years :3

You are so welcome, reader!anon. I'm thrilled that I was able to fill your bus ride with food molestation delight. :D

Driveby!anon thought this was sexy as hell. I don't care if it is weird, the thought of slippery noodles clenched around a cock was fucking hot. (Besides, rule 34! I'm sure this isn't the first instance of food porn out there XD) Also, it's now put lovely thoughts in my head of Leonardo making Ezio "demonstrate" this little obsession of his for his own amusement.

Thank you for this. And Desmond/Cake would also be welcomed. :D

Dear Driveby!Anon,

Write!fag here. Desmond/Cake is almost done. Give me another day or so, and I'll have it up.
Thank you for your kind words and I'm truly glad you enjoyed it. (I was strangely turned on when beta'ing it, myself, even though I'm not usually into food. Lol. Kinks work in mysteeeeeeeeeerious ways.)

I am shivering in anticipation! XD

Ok, I'm going to try to make this at least partially coherent...

Tears. There are tears of laughter and I think if I read this every day for a month, I'd have a legitimate six-pack.

And, miraculously, you've made it SEXY. Food fucking isn't a personal kink of mine but I love it when people give in to their weirder fetishes. I think it has something to do with the inner conflict, self denial, and eventual indulgence, which you captured perfectly here.

Just... amazing. Thank you so much!

Oh, OP, you fill my dirty little soul with gladness. I'm thrilled that you enjoyed the story and I'm so glad you found it both funny AND sexy. It's not an easy combo! Lol. Especially when, like you, I don't hold food fucking as a personal kink of mine. But I love a challenge! :D
Thanks so much for the wonderful prompt.

Love,
Write!Fag.

Desmond found himself in an interesting position, both figuratively and literally.

Literally speaking, he was sitting in a black office-type rolling chair that had uncomfortably placed arm rests. At least, they were uncomfortable due to the fact that he was trying to spread his thighs far enough for... eh... ease of access. Furthermore, the hard, ill-padded back of the chair wouldn't relent as he slumped down further, leaving a horrible cramp in his neck thanks to the odd position. His elbow jabbed against the aforementioned chair arm as he hastily unbuttoned his jeans.

Figuratively speaking, he was in in interesting position because he was harbouring latent sexual desires for food. Well, not very latent any more, eh, Dezzy?

It had begun in Baby. He rounded up on a memory of Ezio's that Desmond wished desperately that he could forget. It was seared into his retinas, haunting him every time he closed his eyes.

Ezio had been in Leonardo's shop. He could still smell the earthy fragrance of linseed in the oil paints, undercut by the strange harshness of turpentine, even now, outside the Animus. The table had been set with two bowls of pasta. Leonardo ate quickly and absently, clearly ready to get back to his painting.

What Desmond had not expected was the sudden carnal rush. At first he thought Ezio was secretly holding the flame of a crush on Leonardo. It was not implausible. However, after Leonardo left the room, the feelings redoubled. Colour Desmond perplexed!

He soon realized, though, that these odd feelings emanating off of Ezio were not directed to Leonardo or indeed even another human. That hungry look in his eye was not just from an empty stomach---the man wanted his dinner. Like, wanted wanted.

Desmond was a strange mix of horrified and ashamedly turned on while Ezio... err... went about his business. It was difficult not to be, considering he felt everything that Ezio felt. Desmond tried to reason it out---they practically share a body while he's in the Animus. Of course he's gonna be turned on if Ezio is. It's just how things work. Besides, any man would stiffen up at the sounds that Ezio was making.

Oh, hell. Who was he kidding. This wasn't about Ezio at all.

Desmond copped a quick stroke over his jeans. This was all about him, and his unleashed urges to fuck food.

In particular, cake.

It wasn't just any cake, though. This thing was a work of beauty.

It was deep, rich brown chocolate cake, baked up light and fluffy. It was decorated with smooth white butter cream icing and dotted with bright red, glossy, stem-on cherries on top. It was sitting under a transparent plastic lid, taunting Desmond.

Come fuck me, Desmond. Come ram your hard cock into my delicious depths.

He let a low groan slip past his dry lips.

It was fucking ridiculous. He did not want cake. He might want to EAT the cake, but he did not want to DO the cake.

He firmly resolved that in his mind and sat up quickly, jarring himself out of his drowsy lust-haze. Desmond buttoned his jeans again and tried to ignore the uncomfortable tension in his lower waist regions.

He focused instead on his companions. Rebecca had fallen asleep in her chair, head titled back and mouth agape, snoring intermittently. Lucy and Shaun were nowhere to be seen, also presumably sleeping. Lucy had gone on a supply run earlier and brought back some food and basic necessities. A loaf of bread, some bars of soap, a razor to replace Desmond's old one so that he could finally tame his furry face-yak, deli meats and cheeses and, as a surprise, a cake.

Fuckdamnit, cake.

Desmond ground his teeth and ran a shaky hand through his short hair, fidgeting irritably in his seat. He wasn't tired. He wasn't even remotely sleepy. Coming in and out of the Animus fucked with his circadian rhythm. He never quite felt rested anymore, not even after forced real sleep, but then again, he never quite felt tired.

Thus, his predicament. He was sitting up late at night in a chair that was too goddamn uncomfortable, dealing with pants that were too goddamn uncomfortable, staring down a cake as if it were the finest ass on the finest woman he had ever seen.

His willpower slipped a little, and he stood. Just gotta stretch my legs. He did, indeed. He stretched his legs all the way to the tiny kitchen-type area, where the cake sat in a beam of hard, cold light. Desmond stood in front of the old linoleum counter top and firmly planted his hands on the beveled edges. He was not going to touch that fucking cake. Under no circumstances are you to touch that cake, you fucking cake rapist.

The soft edges of the butter cream teased him from underneath the plastic cover. The luscious red cherries beckoned him in ways he couldn't explain. But most of all, the actual cake... it looked so squeezable, so delicate and so good.

Just a taste. Desmond tried to reason his way through it. Just one taste won't hurt and he'll stop after that, put the lid back on the cake and try to get some sleep.

He lifted a hand over the plastic container and hesitated.

“Come on, this is just a cake. Eat a slice and move on,” he grumbled, trying to convince himself aloud, as if it would be any more effective when audible.

He gave an aggravated sigh and pulled the lid off, casting it aside angrily. He stared down the round baked good, glaring at it and willing it to catch on fire and rid him of his strange needs.

He fumbled for a bit of silverware, and found purchase on a butter knife. The cake had yet to be sliced, so he would need to do that before he could... eat... any.

With an over-dramatic gulp, he loomed over the cake and pushed the knife against its delightful baked form. He mentally willed himself to cut it. Cut yourself a slice, dumbass. Do it right now. CUT IT.

After a tense moment, knife's edge lingering against the cake, he sighed and pulled away, the knife slipping from his fingers and clattering to the counter.

“Fuck,” he bit out tersely, and grabbed the cake by the plastic base of its container. He held it in his hands pensively, unsure of what to do next.

Desmond glanced around nervously, peering through doorways for any signs of life. Everyone was asleep. They were worn out, and justifiably so. Saving the world took a lot out of you. And it was a good thing, because if Shaun caught him with this whole cake in hand, Desmond would never hear the end of it. “Looks like someone's been spending a little too much time in the Animus, yeah? Time to get some exercise, perhaps!” or “Really, Desmond, have you no shame? The whole cake? You know it'll go straight to your arse.” Then there would be more snide comments any time a cake was in sight, and guffaws every time Desmond ate.

He rolled his eyes and nearly set the cake back down, but something stopped him. Out of the corner of his eye, as he prepared to turn away, he glanced another one of those cherries. There was a sudden surge of blood away from his brain and directly to his cock.

He hurried away from the kitchenette, casting furtive glances around as he headed for a more secluded area. Some place where one of his team mates was less likely to walk in on him molesting a dessert.

Desmond found an area between some haphazard brown boxes and a large crate that was mostly covered in shadow.

He knelt on the rough concrete and gently set the cake down beside him. He made quick work of his jeans and boxers, pushing them down to his knees and out of the way.

Watching his cake all the while, he took his now rapidly hardening member in hand and gave a few firm strokes. It looked so good, sitting there, beckoning him to sink into its velvety depths.

He grunted and picked the cake up with one hand, a little unsteadily. He brought it to waist-height and guided his now mindbogglingly hard dick toward it.

The nice, socially conscious part of his brain was frantically trying to talk him down from this cliff. He was Desmond. Sweet, gentle, dorky and sometimes a little awkward... but not this. Not a cake rapist.

However, the throbbing organ in his right hand thought differently. With a decidedly resigned groan, he pushed into the side of the cake.

“Oh, hell. Shitfuckdamn. Oh. Ooooh. That's gooo---oooh,” he drew out on a moan, shuddering at the end of it.

He tried to keep himself quiet, but the feelings were overwhelming. The butter cream icing had coated his cock on the way in. It was smooth and creamy and strangely sticky, but in a way that was extremely pleasant. It warmed around him from his own heat and melted a little, making a delicious slickness.

He began to move against the cake, shifting both hands to clutch it more fully, and to add leverage to his thrusts. He felt a small trickle of sweat form and snake down his back under the effort of his exertions and the heat building on his skin. The experience was singular in his life. The sensation of the fluffy baked cake texture was light and teasing across his member, exerting no pressure at all but simply sliding past him. It ratcheted up his desire another notch, and he began to move exuberantly in and out of the cake.

To his dismay, however, it began to crumble. Pieces began to fall apart and tumble to the concrete at his knees, particularly around his point of entry.

He halted his movements and pulled out with a frustrated sigh.

Desmond contemplated a solution. He could try from the other side of the cake, but it would crumble soon, too. Besides, it didn't have any of the tightness that he wanted. Ultimately, he decided the take matters into his own hands, excuse the bad pun.

He set the cake down gingerly, not wanting it to fall apart any more. He scooted forward on his knees and pulled his dick toward the cake's surface. It made contact with the thick frosting and he let out a strangled moan. He slid over the icing, now frantically attempting to coat his cock and hurry to continue. In one last good measure, Desmond pressed his hand against the cake, leaving a distinct impression in it (to him, it looked like he had spanked the cake and left a hand mark), and smearing his hand with the sugary confection.

It warmed and softened quickly against his hot skin, and he finally took his frosted cock in hand.

Hnnnnng. Oh, damn.

It was incredible.

He slid the tight ring of his hand slowly down the shaft, reveling in the feeling of the slide of the frosting. It was smooth but with a little grab, making a friction that was unbearable.

Desmond quickened his pace, not wanting to delay release any longer.

He felt equal parts irredeemably dirty and uncontrollably turned on. He ran through the words in his head, over and over, chanting his way to completion: cake, fuck yes, cake, soft frosting, oh, yessss, in, more, cake...

With one final rough stroke of his icing coated hand up and then down his cock again, he came, spurting strands of come across the cake now sitting in front of him on the floor. He groaned and double over bowing under the intense pleasure. He let his head fall back, mouth hanging open, trying his best to not moan any louder, and his hands fell limply to his sides.

He hazarded a glance over at the cake, now coated in his seed. The sight was magnificent to him, and his cock managed to twitch appreciatively. However, he was sated for now.

Desmond sat back on his calves and began to consider how he would explained the cake that would soon disappear into the trash. It's not like he could set it back out on the counter now. It was crumbled apart on one side and covered in semen. They would probably notice something off

Gently he began to recollect himself, pulling up his jeans and slightly regretting the mess the frosting made on them. He needed a shower desperately. He stood and his knees ached awfully from bearing his weight for far too long against the hard concrete. After picking up the cake, he began his trek back to the kitchenette where he disposed of the plundered dessert, and then resigned himself to a bit of blissful sleep.

Desmond woke slowly the next day, still feeling sated. The night before had been incredible, and the sleep that followed was some of the best he had in a while. He tried to wipe the blur away from his eyes as he stumbled off to the kitchen area for a glass of water. As he rounded a corner, however, he happened to encounter his least favourite person first thing in the morning.

“Desmond, did you eat the entire cake? I thought I saw you looking at it---” Shaun suddenly cut off and stared pointedly at Desmond's crotch, “last... night...” He trailed off slowly, unsure of what to make of the butter cream frosting dried into the jeans in patches, and the obvious traces of it under Desmond's fingernails.

Desmond froze and tried to come up with a suitable explanation, floundering for words, “I uh... yeah. I ate it.”

Shaun's eyes narrowed quickly at the blatant and poorly delivered lie, “You... ate... an entire cake? In one night, Desmond?”

He shifted nervously under Shaun's critical gaze, “Y-yeah.”

“Eight slices of cake? That's a lot. Even for you,” Shaun pointed to Desmond's slightly pouching gut, a result of too much time in the Animus and too little time exercising. Also, too many Cheetos.

Desmond found himself slightly offended, if only to take the attention away from his incrimination, “I'm not fat, dickhead. Now leave me the hell alone. I ate the cake and that's it. Drop it,” he pushed past Shaun and walked off, grumbling and pissed off.

Shaun's expression lit up with a hint of dry amusement, “Fine, I'll drop it. But try to avoid defiling our desserts from here on out, yeah?”

-----------------------------------
Aaaand I'm spent. I hope you guys enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing about our boys fucking food. I need to go take a shower, now. I feel dirty.
Love,
Write!fag

The driveby!anon from before would just like to say thank you verreh verreh much for this lovely bit of crack. I loved Desmond's internal monologue as he tried to talk himself off the ledge, and his complete helplessness at resisting his urges was delicious. Also, fabulous job describing the cake. Sounded good enough to ~~fuck~~ eat. XD

I will be giggling about the phrase "cake rapist" for days to come. <3

Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (4/4)

(Anonymous) - 2011-02-22 05:20 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (4/4)

(Anonymous) - 2011-02-22 19:23 (UTC) - Expand

OMG. This prompt and fill is made of win, especially since in this anon's sorority, we have a tradition of celebrating things with CAKE RAPE (which in our case is much less sexytiems, more tearing apart a poor unsuspecting cake with 20+ forks all at once).

But this anon will now and forever recognize Dezzy as the king (queen?) of our sorority. XD

Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (4/4)

(Anonymous) - 2011-02-22 19:25 (UTC) - Expand

I cannot tell you how perfect this is. I'm so lucky I was alone while I read this because I was seriously losing my shit.

Under no circumstances are you to touch that cake, you fucking cake rapist.
Without a doubt, the greatest bit of internal dialogue ever.

It was crumbled apart on one side and covered in semen. They would probably notice something off
LMAOOOOO

And Shaun's reaction was superb.

Anon, this is truly a work of crackysexyfunny art. Thank you so much!

Re: OP

(Anonymous) - 2011-02-22 19:19 (UTC) - Expand

Holy shit, anon!! This was delicious!

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.2

FOOD PORN

Misfire!Anon says....

FILLED: Noodlefucker (1/2)

FILLED: Noodlefucker (2/2)

Re: FILLED: Noodlefucker (2/2)

Re: FILLED: Noodlefucker (2/2)

OP SAYS...

Re: OP SAYS...

Re: FILLED: Noodlefucker (2/2)

Re: FILLED: Noodlefucker (2/2)

Re: FILLED: Noodlefucker (2/2)

Re: FILLED: Noodlefucker (2/2)

Re: FILLED: Noodlefucker (2/2)

Re: FILLED: Noodlefucker (2/2)

Re: FILLED: Noodlefucker (2/2)

ECSTATIC OP

Re: ECSTATIC OP

FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (1/?)

Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (2/?)

Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (3/4)

Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (4/4)

Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (4/4)

Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (4/4)

Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (4/4)

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Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (4/4)

OP

Re: OP

Re: FILLED AGAIN: Cake Rapist (4/4)