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kiatheinsomniac · 5 months

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──── 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a commission from @tired-lime who's always a darling to work with 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈��𝐆: Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor Kenway x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, enemies to lovers, porn with plot, fingering, handjobs, creampies, unprotected sex

You walk as calmly as you can through the narrow alley, not daring to lift your eyes from where they look straight ahead of you and glance towards the rooftops that cast darkness over you, the silvery moonlight gleaming just ahead as the streight leads to the main road. This place is out of sight of the sparse public that might wander past at this time of night, your vision is limited in the darkness it provides and there’s ample opportunity for an overhead ambush.

All of this puts you at every disadvantage, perhaps, but that’s exactly what you want the man tailing you to think. You keep your eyes straight because Assassins like rooftops. They provide coverage and blindspots, hidden in plain sight as most people simply don’t find themselves looking up with their eyes to the sky as they go about their day and all the tasks that come with it. It’s precisely why you’ll always find an Assassin stalking you from above and never from upon your own level.

In short, you’re baiting the Assassin above you who has gone to so much care to silence his footsteps and conceal his shadow from your sight. But you’re a Templar. You’re trained to know your enemy. You spotted him not long ago, lingering around a crowd outside an inn, trying to blend in. But your purpose for going out at all today has been to bait him, those are your orders.

Your ears are kept vigilant for the sound of something small flying through the air and in a moment's notice, you lunge forward to dodge the rope dart that had been aimed at you. There’s a hissed curse and you draw your sword as the Assassin makes his leap down to you, using a ledge of a windowsill garden to lessen his fall. He stands tall in front of you now, white beaked hood up and hiding his face. His hidden blade shoots out as he parries your offensive blow with his gauntlet.

You’re still not entirely sure what material it is that Assassins make their gauntlets from. Your mentor Haytham has one and he claims that it’s an alloy from a precursor civilization but when your higher-ups start talking like that, you sometimes begin to wonder if you’ve really overstepped your depth as an ex-mercenary and have accidentally joined a cult.

Regardless, the Assassin stands tall before you now. He is Achilles’ new novice, so you’ve been told. The only member of his ranks as your mentor has told you of how a companion of his wiped out the last generation of Assassins here in the colonies, thus giving your Order ample room to plant its roots. Though you have no name nor face to put to this companion of Haytham’s as he is always very quick to change the subject or to remind you to not speak out of line whenever your curiosity gets the better of you and you start to press for details of this mysterious person’s identity if only to create an image in your mind for all of this information that you are given.

His free hand takes out a tomahawk and you’re put on defence. You take a step back but make sure to stay in the alley and out of the public space. The last thing you want is nearby law enforcement or civilians to get involved. But the clashing of metal upon metal rings out in the otherwise quiet night.

He fights cleanly using his sheer strength and towering figure which puts you at a disadvantage. His technique is curated to be quick and efficient but your style often depends on your agility, stamina and tiring out your enemy. You’ve already laid such a foundation by baiting him to follow you from the rooftops – a much more strenuous journey than the one you had taken upon the ground. But there was something to how he was swinging at you with his tomahawk, movements tight to not allow you to get too far, a passion to his every strike and parry.

You know when you’re outmatched and so you’re now put on defence and wondering what could have happened between intel and being given your orders that could have possibly allowed you to go about this mission alone instead of preparing a sort of ambush in order to put an end to this lone Assassin that has been terrorising the Order once and for all.

Had you let the higher-ups flatter you over your skills into thinking you were truly capable of this task they had set upon you? Regardless, you’re in this now and your only priority has suddenly become making it out of here alive. You take a risk and do a rescan of your surroundings, looking for anything that might be of aid to you in order to give you just a slither of an opportunity of getting away. But you remain aware of your enemy’s every move, knowing that even a momentary slip up can be the cause of your untimely demise.

But the Assassin trying to cut you down is just as trained as you are – if not more so – and this subtle scrambling of yours does not go unnoticed by his keen, dark eyes.

“Out of your depth, Templar?” He asks in his smooth and rich tone.

“You wish I were.” You bite back and manage to take swift steps backwards, enough for you to assess that the risk of lowering your sword in exchange for the gun at your hip is worth it in order to try and create a window for escape. You take aim but don’t fire. You should be firing. You should be killing this man.

Why did they send you on this mission alone?

It’s all you can think to yourself as your finger hovers over the trigger. The Assassin knows he’s done for if your finger so much as twitches now and yet he freezes, seeing your hesitation. The two of you are brought to a standstill with you aiming your gun at the Assassin’s head and yet your finger hovers over the trigger, refusing to squeeze. He has no opportunity to strike you down at this moment as in a fraction of a second, hesitation can become a killing blow.

Your eyes narrow slightly as you repeat that question to yourself: why did they send you on this mission alone? This Assassin is clearly far more skilled than you are and even baiting him here after a journey that should have tired you out has not made a dent in his stamina. He’s been cutting down British soldiers and Templars alike, chipping away at the order for reasons not yet known to you other than the simple explanation of ‘we are Templars, he an Assassin’. Why did you believe your higher-ups when they told you that you could handle this solo mission? Have they sent you here as an execution and if so: why?

“Why do they want you to kill me?” You murmur. The question is asked aloud and yet you’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. This seems to make even the Assassin pause in puzzlement. If they want you dead then what are they doing now? Are you merely a distraction?

“That’s a good question indeed.” The toweringly tall Assassin raises his hands in a gesture of surrender and you slowly lower your gun but keep a good amount of distance between the two of you, each standing at either side of the narrow alley you had originally lured him into. You tap your toes against the ground as you ponder over questions again: is this a distraction or an execution? Either way you’re clearly expendable and it comes as a surprise to you because you were so sure you were in the Grandmaster’s good books.

So what has changed to make Haytham use you as a sacrificial pawn in whatever game he’s playing here in the colonies? Neither of you are sure what to do now, having both arrived here late at night with intentions to kill the other. But now you see that the true plan behind all of this was for you to die all along. It’s enough to make Ratonhnhaké:ton stand down and wish to spare you. Someone is pulling the strings here and part of their plan includes your death. So what’s to happen when this plan is interrupted.

“I won’t kill you today.” He speaks up after finally making up his mind following a few minutes of thick silence wherein you were both deep in thought, trying with your minds to uncover the obscurity of whatever the bigger picture is here. The best course of action is to disrupt the plans of whoever it is that’s painting it. “But when you fall it will be by my hand, Templar.” You shoot the man a glare where his eyes would be, concealed behind the shadow that the beak of his hood casts over his face in order to hide his identity.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Assassin.” You quip back but you hear him scoff as he puts his tomahawk away when you set your gun back into its holster.

“You’re right. Your masters seem to be set on beating me to that.” You open your mouth to protest but he’s already making his way up the wall of one of the buildings you’re between and returning to the rooftops. You’re quick to exit the alley and get into the middle of the main street so that he doesn’t have an opportunity to assassinate you from above should he be bluffing or perhaps change his mind and deal with you now before you become a loose thread. But he doesn’t and you’re left standing in the middle of an empty street at night.

Could you even go back to your quarters now? Perhaps they’ll use the failed mission as justification to finish you off themselves. You need somewhere to stay until you’ve figured out what’s going on and whether or not you’ve been betrayed by the Order that you had sworn your own loyalty to. But where to go?

Your eyes rise up to the rooftops that the Assassin had disappeared over. You’ve been set up by the people who this man is set on killing.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend…” You murmur to yourself as you spot a nearby ladder and use it to make your way up onto the same rooftop. It’s a risk you’re taking but it seems that every path available to you now has some degree of risk to it and so you’re left with no choice but to weigh your options and gamble.

Your foot taps anxiously against the cobble beneath you as you consider your plan. If your Order seeks to erase you, it won’t even be safe to go back to your rented room and pack a bag of your belongings. It’s the first place they’ll go to look for you and with the network of spies Haytham has been building across the city, it won’t take long for word to get back to him that you’ve failed your mission. You won’t get far hiding either. All of your tricks, you’ve learned from your mentor and to try and hide would be to put yourself at a disadvantage by playing the game of the man who had so clearly intended to use you as a pawn in whatever grand scheme he’s hatching; not so long ago, you had thought you knew his plans but tonight has changed your course of events entirely.

Into the belly of the best it is.

You decide. Now up on the roof, you look with your second sight. It’s your upper hand and even Haytham has admitted that it was one of his greatest factors in considering you as an advantageous candidate for a Templar. The route he’s taken lights up gold and you begin to follow all the twists and turns he took that would have thrown off anyone else who might have been tiling him. Not you though.

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ ☾　 °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

You find yourself outside a manor upon a homestead. It wasn’t an easy journey by any means and you hadn’t expected him to have covered so much ground either. In the forest, you found yourself wishing you had stopped to hire a horse – you still had some money on you after all. You took a break twice, made a camp once after scouting out the area but you admittedly slept very lightly. You weren’t a wilderness girl and the anxiety of being found by a wolf or bear had kept you from falling into a truly restful sleep.

And so you found yourself feeling both tired from a long way’s travel and a poor night’s rest during the small hours of the morning, all while heading right into the den of your enemy who, currently and ironically enough, seems to be your only possible ally.

The manor standing tall in the clearing above you is built in typical colonial fashion with red bricks and white embellishments. Its large size makes use of the spacious land it is upon and your mind wanders back to the stories Haytham once shared with you about the Brotherhood that once lived and trained here. Looking at the size of the place, it’s easy to imagine so many people living here once upon a time and difficult to imagine that today it only houses the old Mentor and the one and only Assassin who still lives by their Creed here in the colonies.

Though that’s only as much as your Order is aware of. You keep your wits about you, more than aware that you don’t know what you’re walking to, nor do you know how many potential foes reside within those four walls. You may very well be running from one death straight into another.

But your options are slim and you’ve wagered that your odds are better here. Back with the Order, you’re a pawn that should have submissively been sacrificed. Here, you’re either a target to be taken out immediately or a valuable source of information. After all, you’ve been betrayed and they may consider that you have every reason to surrender all of the Order’s secrets that you possess.

These are all just possibilities though and death remains a very likely outcome.

You stand from an awkward distance on the treeline for a while. Surely you can’t just knock on the front door being who you are? Then again, if you take any other route, they might see it as an ambush and you’ll be in combat or even dead before you can open your mouth to explain your intentions. Despite every other instinct within you telling you to turn tail and run to the nearest harbour, to leave the region altogether on whatever boat you can get yourself aboard, you approach the front door.

A shadow falls over you when you raise your fist to knock upon the door. He’s good at what he does, you’ll give him that. Immediately, you feel the warm, sharp edge of a blade resting against your throat. Warm and so it’s the hidden blade that the likes of him keep tucked up their sleeves, a blade like the one your mentor possessed. You’d always found it rather ironic that Haytham always stands so tall beside his principles and yet he fights with the enemy’s weapon.

“Did you come here thinking you could finish the job and go crawling back to your master?” His voice speaks up from behind you. You raise both of your hands in the air in a sign of surrender, keeping them far away from your hips where your weapons are kept around your belt. He doesn’t hesitate in unbuckling it and removing it from your body and moments later, you hear it hit the floor some distance away where he’s thrown it. You’re not unarmed in enemy territory and you begin wondering if this really was the best plan of action after all.

“I actually came with a proposal…” You begin slowly. You’re not entirely sure how to present yourself, your tone. Even you’re unsure if your own plan will work but you need to sound certain or else he may well believe you’re just here to trick him in which case he’ll kill you.

You don’t need to turn around to know that he’s looming over you. You wonder sometimes how a man of his stature can blend into crowds and hide in plain sight the way Assassins are taught to. And yet he does and it’s truly a testament to his skill.

“And what might this proposal be?” You swallow thickly. Your life depends on being able to convince him that you’re being honest, which he has every inclination to doubt considering your current standing as enemies.

“It’s been made clear that I’m seen as expendable, so I’d much rather prove just how essential I was. I have information: contacts, travel routes, locations of higher-ranking Templars. Whatever mission you’re on, I’ll speed it up by months, maybe even years.” You tilt your head back a little more, trying to ease the pressure when the blade presses more insistently at your skin.

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because I came here. Because I’ve got nowhere else to go at the moment and I’m risking you slashing my throat just for a chance to try and get out of this ordeal alive after what happened last night.” The blade leaves your neck but the threat is not removed as you then feel it poke at your back, spurring you forwards at a slow pace, hands still raised.

“Step inside.”

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ ☾　 °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Months later, you find yourself setting up camp in a familiar cave. These meetings have become familiar to you and nowadays this little cave feels like the safest place in the world. You’ve been working as a double agent for the past few months and being in the Order feels like having death loom over your shoulder all the time now. Being a Templar had once given you such a feeling of purpose and belonging, that you had a key, unshakable place in the world, that you were guiding it in a better direction.

But the more you’ve been reporting back to Connor and the chats you have in between, the more you have to take a step back and ask yourself if you were being told a one-sided story the entire time. You haven’t set foot on Connor’s homestead since you first arrived and he had to send you back with a split lip, gashed jaw and sprained wrist to make it seem like you really had fought him and not conspired with him. That gash now remains as a scar across the lower part of your face. Each time you look in the mirror, it reminds you of your new mission as the Assassin’s spy.

And each time, you pray that you’re doing the right thing.

Your attention is grabbed by the sound of feet on dirt and you look towards the mouth of the cave where he stands tall now, moving to sit on the opposite side of your little fire so that he’s facing you. His gloves come off and he rubs his hands together near the open flames. His hood comes down to reveal a face strikingly like your mentor’s and you can’t believe that this man is now your only ally in the world and you can’t even be entirely sure of his loyalty. All you know is that you need to keep yourself indispensable in order to keep breath in your lungs and a heartbeat in your chest.

He reaches into his bag and takes out a small, wrapped package. Scaled fish. They’re skewered and set over the fire to cook.

“Thank you.” You say stiffly. Interactions like this are still so unusual to you. He nods his head in a silent ‘you’re welcome’.

“What’s new?”

“Lee’s on the move.” His dark eyes quickly flick up to meet yours and you can see the deep interest in them. You haven’t asked why he’s after Lee specifically though it confuses you as you would have been sure he would go after Haytham; to cut the head of the snake, so to speak. But you’ve never asked because this vendetta seems deeply personal and you’re next to certain that he won’t open up to you about it. “They’re making preparations to receive him in Boston so whatever he’s come back with must be important… or they know that you’re after him. I’ve yet to find out which it is because I don’t have direct access to such information and I can’t put myself at risk if this is a red herring and they suspect something. But the moment I find out more I’ll tell you – but take everything with a pinch of salt.”

He nods, deep in thought and you wonder what’s going through his head. You always worry that doubt will creep into his mind and will ultimately drive him to kill you. You can only hope that he’s instead thinking about exacting whatever revenge he has planned for Charles Lee. His thirst for revenge currently is what’s keeping you afloat. Without his vendetta, you’re worthless to him.

“How have you been?” You’re not sure if you’re asking out of politeness or loneliness. Are you trying to keep in his good graces or are you seeking out the warmth of a friend, even if what’s between you isn’t really friendship?

“Busy…” He sighs. “Your Order’s been on the move.”

“I’ve heard about your meetings with Washington.” You bite your lip as you ponder your next question. It’s personal but a chance not taken is an opportunity missed. “You… You’re meeting with all these generals, men of influence and yet you work in the shadows. Do you truly have no wish for the world to remember your name? You really want to just vanish?” You had been drawn to the Templars partially by glory, by the chance of making a place in the world, a change where you and your fellow members of the Order would be revered for centuries to come.

“I do not want to be remembered, no. Our creed states that we work in the dark to serve the light. This war will be lost to memory and I will do my part to make sure that it is the Assassins who bury any record of it.” Your first reaction is to think of him as ridiculous: he’s thrown any chance at a normal life away for a battle he will never be credited for. But it’s selfless. He has nothing to gain but what he believes in: no fame, no power, no glory.

Maybe you really have been misled.

The Templars had always preached peace but with that peace came the Order having ultimate power over humanity, domination over free will. You had once focused so heavily on how that absolute control would stop war, would stop suffering. But at what cost? It must be a great one for this man in front of you to be throwing any semblance of a normal life away for it.

“Tell me more about your Creed.” He turns over the fish and glances up at you once again, meeting your curious eyes. You’re sitting down with your legs curled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them with your hin propped on your knees. This isn’t smalltalk or you digging for information, it’s genuine interest. He hadn’t missed your pondering look before, that glint of unsurety in your eyes.

“Alright…”

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ ☾　 °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Weeks later and you meet again, having shared many more meetings in the meantime. You understand Ratonhnhaké:ton better now, you understand his creed. He seems different from his mentor that Haytham had told you about, so very different. He doesn’t meddle in the first civilisation that your mentor speaks of so frequently and you wonder if it’s for the best after the stories you had heard of while in the Order. Haytham speaks of them vaguely but you still have a comprehensive enough understanding.

The more he speaks, the more you doubt your own order who wish to use these artefacts for their plans to shepard humanity towards its best self, the more you wonder if your superiors in the Order are just set on a path to repeat history. You’ve shared with him all the information you have now. You now feel like less of a double agent and more of a spy – having to give away anything about the Assassin you’ve come to secretly think of as a friend feels like a betrayal, even if it’s only for the sake of protecting your ulterior motives for having returned to the Order at all after that night you first encountered Rathonhnhaké:ton for yourself.

He’s been more open with you too. Haytham is his father – something which both made sense, looking at his face, and shocked you, considering he is an Assassin and his father a Templar. Charles Lee, at Haytham’s command, had burned his village to the ground as a child, killing his mother. You empathise with that deeply. You had joined the Order knowing that you had no family of your own to lose should things get messy. It seems that the two of you are in the same boat for that one.

Now, he’s picking out the bones from your fish while you prepare some water to boil over the fire. But time has moved on and winter draws near, bringing a chill into this little cave that feels like it’s become your one and only sanctuary in the world. You hold your open palms near the fire and try to chase away the chill but it does you very little good.

Connor watches you for a moment before he removes his gloves and hands them to you. As he holds them out silently, those well-worn gloves appear like an olive branch to you. This really is for the best, you think. More and more, you’ve come to realise that you were misled by your Order. You were promised to be a harbinger, to be one of the names that would live on forever as a part of the order who had saved humanity. But you were a pawn all along. Even despite your special abilities, Haytham had been more than willing to sacrifice you for whatever gain. You might have a little more value in his eyes now that you’ve ‘proven’ you can take on the Assassin and get away with your life but you’ve seen your old mentor, you’ve heard how he talks of the first civilisation. He’ll stop at nothing and you’re more than sure that should he see another opportunity where your sacrifice and earn great gain for him and his plans, he’ll send you walking straight into the arms of death all over again.

You take the gloves and slide them on over your hands.

“Thank you.” You offer a smile but you hold back just how happy this small gesture makes you. They’re far too big but they’re soft and warm. They’re clearly broken in, the fingertips especially worn down from what you can only assume is all the climbing he does in stalking around with the stealth of his kind. But it’s the fact he’s given them to you at all that touches your heart.

The two of you eat, drink, you share intel and it becomes late enough that you wrap yourself tightly in a thick blanket and curl up on your bedroll beside the campfire. The cave provides enough shelter to keep out the bitter wind but the temperature has still dropped drastically with the change of seasons. You sit up to wrap your blanket around your feet better and you find yourself wishing you had brought another pair of socks or, better yet, a warmer pair. You then lay back down, curled in on yourself to try and gather as much insulation as possible, and close your eyes to try and sleep. But the cold instead bites at your ears and so you pull your blanket up over the back of your head like a hood and shuffle a little closer to the fire so that your nose is warmed by the flame.

You hear shuffling around you and crack an eye open to see that Rathonhnaké:ton has moved. He’s no longer laid on his bedroll on the opposite side of the fire but has instead moved it right next to yours behind where you’re curled up on your side.

“I thought you’d be used to camping by now.” He murmurs and you can hear him lay down beside you, so close that you can feel the heat from his body.

“Not during the winter, I’m not.” You mumble into your blanket which you’ve pulled up by your mouth so that your breath can warm your face. You feel the weight of his arm lay over your waist and he then presses his chest to your back. You can feel the warmth of his breath over your neck, heating the blanket that’s tucked over the back of your head. You stiffen for a moment, surprised by his willingness to be close to you.

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and you lean into his warmth. How long has it been since anyone held you like this? It’s wonderful and overwhelming and suddenly there’s no more winter, nothing outside of this little cave where you’ve been setting up camp to meet for almost a year now.

“Thank you…” You say quietly. Whether for the warmth, or the touch, or for the new path he’s opened to you that you’ve set your life upon now, you’re unsure.

“There’s no need to thank me.” He replies just as quietly. The two of you lay there for a long time and your heart doesn’t slow, beating like a rabbit’s. He’s so close and you hadn’t expected such a thing to be so exhilarating. Rathonhnaké:ton is a toweringly tall man and you’ve always viewed it as an advantage for when he needs to intimidate. But now, you feel safer than you’ve known since that night of your first encounter when your illusion about the Knights Templar was shattered.

After a while, you can’t take it anymore and you turn around just enough to be able to look at him over your shoulder. Your faces are very close and you can feel his breath fan across your lips. When you look to meet his eyes, he does the same as he had previously been looking at your mouth.

“Feeling warmer?” He asks, his voice a rumbling murmur. You give the slightest little nod and your eyes very obviously glance at his pillowy lips again. You don’t try to hide it and nor does he miss it. You’re unsure which of you leans in first – perhaps it had been the both of you, little by little, while you were both preoccupied in imagining how it might be to press your lips to the other’s – but he’s warm and the touch of his lips against yours fills you with a bubbling heat. You turn your body to face him and he pulls you closer by your waist, thumb pressing into you through your clothes and stroking over your body while your lips press and meet again and again. One of your hands goes up to cup his face, feeling his chiselled jaw and cheekbones, then your fingers slide into his silken hair and tangle gently into it when your tongue slides against his.

You pull away for air for a moment but it’s short lived as his teeth pull gently at your bottom lip and his mouth then grazes against your chin and traces the curve of your jaw in kisses. The cold that had previously bothered you is completely forgotten about and he tugs the collar of your layers of clothing aside so that he can kiss against the pulse of your throat. Your hands find his chest and press to try and feel the contours of his body through his clothing but all the buttons and straps get in your way. Your fingers start working to undo buttons before you realise how caught up you’ve got and you pull away for a moment.

“Is this ok?” He gives a small nod and leans in to kiss you again as you remove his clothes. You leave his shirt and jackets open, revealing scarred, bronze skin to you. His body is shaped like an ancient statue of legendary heroes. You can’t help but take the opportunity to rove your palms over each contour and feel him in his beauty.

His large hands slide down to your hips and pull you a little closer. To accommodate him, you move to straddle one of his muscular thighs. He lifts it just enough to press against you and feels a deep stirring below his belt when your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan.

You had never imagined you would find yourself in this position with Rathonhnaké:ton and yet now that you’re here together, it feels so right. It feels like you really have grown close enough to be like this, like stars in their orbit being pulled to one another. His mouth is on yours again in an instant while he presses his thigh between your legs and he starts to pull at your belt to remove the clothing on your lower half. You help him by tugging off your boots between messy kisses. Once your pants are off and your lower half is bare, you shiver as the chill begins to creep over your bare skin. Connor simply pulls you closer and wraps the blanket firmly around your body while you straddle his lap, taking care to tuck it under your legs in an attempt to keep in as much warmth as possible.

His fingers dance their way down to your mound where he can already feel the intense heat radiating from you.

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks as his mouth moves to press wet kisses beneath your ear, breathing over the sensitive spot and making you shiver as a result. You nod your head and unintentionally let a needy sound slip past your lips.

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s fingers glide through your slick folds and he lets out a little breath of wonder at the feeling of touching you in such an intimate place. Experimentally, he pushes one finger inside of you and watches how your spine arches and your body then bows to lean against him. He pushes it as far as he can go and begins moving it in and out. Letting your bodies take over, allowing words to become of little importance, you begin to grind your hips against his hand so that the heel of his palm catches your clit in a sensation that feels like a delicious burn. He adds another finger and you tug at his pants until his length, thick and heavy in your hand, is freed. You gently squeeze and hear how he sucks in a hiss through his teeth. You then begin to massage up and down, matching the pace of your hips moving to meet his fingers as they draw out soft, wet squelches from your pussy. You swipe over the slit at his tip with your thumb and hear how it makes him groan lowly. You glance down to see a little pool of your arousal gathering in the dip of his palm and decide that enough is enough.

You raise your hips up until his fingers slip out of you entirely. You then remove your hands from him and loop your arms loosely around his neck instead. He understands your intentions clearly and strokes himself a few times, covering his length in the slick from your pussy. You bring your hips back down and he guides himself into you. You’re quick to press your mouth to his in another messy kiss in order to muffle the moan you let out upon feeling the stretch of him pushing into you. You pause shakily along the way, deciding you can take all of him once you’re a little more adjusted, and start to ride.

Connor’s large hands slide beneath your ass to grab at the soft flesh that spills between his fingers and he uses his hold to support you in moving up and down, holding a lot of your weight with his strength. As you continue to move your hips rhythmically, one of his hands leaves your rear in favour of pulling at the buttons and ties that keep your chest hidden. Once it’s revealed, he lets out an appreciative groan of approval and his mouth latches onto one of your breasts as he pulls you closer and you ride him. Your head tips back to the ceiling of the cave and you pant as the wind whistles outside, joining with the crackling of the fire, the shift of the fabric of your clothing and blanket and the slick sounds of his cock filling you up over and over.

Ratonhnhaké:ton is big and consequently manages to hit all the right spots at once as he fills you again and again, your hips angled just right for him to brush against the places that have you curling your cold toes. His mouth slathers your breasts in kisses, pausing to nip or suck at your plush flesh and he works your blood into a feverish heat. The two of you pant for breath, moans and groans echoing off the stone walls.

After a while, his arms wrap around your waist as he lays back, bringing him with you. He kisses you firmly as he brings his knees up and you almost feel the breath get knocked from your lungs when he begins thrusting up into you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he pounds up into your sensitive pussy and your sensitive, teased nipples brush against his chest as your body shakes and wavers with his movements.

A pressure builds in your abdomen, growing tighter and more intense until your whole body is flooded in pleasure, walls squeezing tightly around his cock as though begging him to come with you. And you’re successful in sending him over the edge, hearing him moan, the whimper in his tone as he releases into you and holds you close as the two of you catch your breaths.

But then the cold starts to kick in again. He carefully lifts you so that his softening cock slips out of your messy pussy. You watch as he searches his pockets and takes out a handkerchief which he begins to clean your inner thighs with. He looks to you as if asking if you’re comfortable with him looking after you like this but he finds your head tilted back, eyes closed as your legs twitch at having him touch your sensitive folds to clean you up. He helps you redress and dresses himself before helping you into his coat and throwing some more wood onto the fire, wrapping the blanket around the both of you again.

Once more, you snuggle into his chest for warmth and neither of you are quite sure what to say, hoping the words will just come to you in the morning.

Ratonhnhaké:ton presses a kiss to your forehead and holds you a little tighter as he closes his eyes, listening to his own pounding heart, the crackle of the fire and the whining wind outside.

He decides to make sure that the Templars won’t ever have an opportunity to sacrifice your life again.

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#connor kenway x reader #connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader #ratonhnhaké:ton #assassins creed fanfiction #assassins creed fanfic #assassins creed #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed III #assassins creed III x reader #connor kenway x reader smut #connor x reader smut #connor smut #connor kenway smut #assassins creed x reader smut #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader smut #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader smut #ratonhnhaké:ton smut #ratonhnhaké:ton smut

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reemonna · 8 months

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HI! Love ur blog. Can I req some nsfw headcanons for Connor Kenway? ;)

Oh dear, this is the first time for me to write a whole nsfw blog and I'm so anxious about it, especially if it's about Connor. I hope I won't disappoint and thank you so much!

!!! (Warning: NSFW / not for minors / +18 content) !!!

NSFW Ratonhnhaké:ton / Connor Kenway headcanons

(During the events of AC3)

In spite of his terrifying physique and alarming gazes when he's hunting down an enemy, he can be the softest and most caring creature you'll ever get to know when it comes to him having a physical contact with you

He's so strong and able-bodied, so he can pin you to the wall with both his arms easily and you're here squirming before his huge body

When you're giving him head for the first time he'd be really concerned and anxious the whole time that you might choke. He's fully aware he is that huge

Him having kinks? I don't think so. He's an innocent boy, it's even possible for him not knowing what does the word 'kink' stand for in the first place. He could even ask you about it

"Nó:ronhkwe (love), what does the word 'kink' mean?"

"Where did you hear that from?"

But if he did have kinks, they would be the least risky and hurtful ones. Which means BDSM is a conclusive no for him

Connor is a busy man, he doesn't really have the time to have sexual and romantic relationships, he was once afraid he couldn't give his woman what she deserves. So having you would be his first. Yes, that means he is a virgin

Thus explain why he's shy and probably doesn't know what he's doing in your first time together. But he's a fast learner, with very observant eyes and sharp senses, he will take some mental notes of how to improve and get better by the time. And he definitely does

He's pretty skilled with his hands, according to training and using different weapons and managing them perfectly, so he really knows how to use them well, and he's ready to show you that in other ways than fighting, to play you like a violin, turning you into a sobbing mess

During the whole thing he will ask you some questions from time to time like 'Are you okay with this?', 'Am I doing good?', 'Do you want me to stop?' to let you know that he's wary and willing to make it as comfortable and pleasurable for you as possible

You wouldn't imagine what it's like to do it with him when he's mad about something. He turns into one brutal beast you won't be able to feel your body for a week at least

Once he's done and returns back to his senses, he will regret it immediately and keep on apologising (even if you're not really protesting), making sure you weren't badly hurt

When you're both close enough, he likes to play chasing games with you, tag for an example. He likes watching you from afar, determining your location with his secondary vision, licking his lips and eyeing you in a predatory way, closing the distance between you slowly like a vulture hunting down its prey. That's until he surprises you with a full-of-happiness giggle and hugs you. Holding you tight in a teddy bear way as if he's won his prize, whispering promises of a long blissful night to your ears

He looks like a sculpted statue of a greek god after reaching his climax. With his tired handsome face, pumped lips (more than they actually are), sleepy beautiful half-closed eyes, flushed tanned skin, tiny whines escaping his lips from time to time, sculpted flawless body and a rising and lowering sweaty chest. If he's conscious enough he would have a little wanton smirk on his lips with his eyes fixed upon you

He's the sweetest boy when it comes to the aftercare. He gives away lots of kisses and cuddles, asking you if he did well enough, could even prepare a bath for you to get cleaned up. He doesn't let you make the least effort possible. He takes care of everything himself until he finally lays beside you in bed, pulling you into his lap, fondling your hair tresses and kissing your forehead softly, wishing you sweet dreams

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elfven-blog · 5 months

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The Bunny Hunt

Summary: Seeing Connor in his hunting attire, gives you the idea of being prey. Connor Kenway x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ only, p in v, fingers, public (In woods), breeding, reader is bunny, creampie, chasing, reader calls him wolf (yuck, only once), primal play, prey x predator kink Word Count: 1.8K

Your eyes opened in surprise as large warm hands suddenly rested on your waist, pulling you back against an even warmer chest. Sturdy muscle pressing against your soft back as he dipped slightly to nuzzle into your hair, a deep breath taking in your scent. And you relax automatically as that deep soothing voice fills your ears “I missed you”.

A small laugh shook your shoulders as you turned in his arms, your hands now resting against his biceps “You were gone for the morning, my love.” came your answer, and your eyes wandered down his attire. Connor had for gone his normal assassin clothes, replaced the grey and whites with brown fur, and apparently no shirt. He watched as your head tilted to the side, and your blinks slowed down as you continued staring at his bare chest until your hands moved from his biceps to squeeze gently at his chest.

The russet colour of Connor’s face turned deeper as he blushed, his hands wrapping around your wrists to pull them away as his head bowed down to hide. And a pout grew on your lips as he did so, trying to pull your hands free but he held them still, moving them above your head as he pushed you against the counter stopping you from being able to move at all as he used his stature to keep you there.

He lay his head against your cheek, deciding to ignore how you’d touched him moments ago. “And every moment I am away from you is agony, so just accept my affection”. The assassin pressed a sweet kiss to your head unaware of the way your eyes were moving lower down his body. While the man normally towered over you, with the way he was bent, you had a great view as your eyes followed the hair that disappeared below his trousers, the fabric sitting low on his hips “I’m only wearing this because I miss it…it feels like home” his voice was stern, like he could read the ideas flowing in your mind.

Your heart softens at his words, you know how hard it’s been for him since he left the tribe but that mushy feeling doesn’t stop the way you look at him, or the way your thighs press together “And what if you did wear it for other reasons?” and you felt Connor’s entire body starting to tense. His breath catching in his throat at the tone of your voice.

“What kind of reasons?” his voice rumbled from above you in that way that made your thighs press together, Connor’s hands squeezed your wrists for a moment before letting them go, his hands travelled down to your thighs, pulling your dress up until he could feel the warm soft fat of your thighs. And this time it was you grabbing his wrists to stop him.

“I have a better idea”.

And that was how you ended up running through the woods, a grin on your face as you tried to control your breathing. You’d moved away from the homestead so there was less of a chance of someone catching what you were doing. For a moment you paused, hand against a tree as you leant to gather your breath. How Connor spent hours running you had no idea. A noise startled you and your head turned quickly, you swear you saw brown so your legs started running again.

It didn’t take long until you heard something again, and then big arms were wrapped around you. Hot breath against your skin, panting in your ear as you were forced to the forest floor. He used his body weight to pin you to the ground, his arms holding your hips up as he bucked forward against your ass. Your arms moved to hold your weight up, knees on the floor as your legs spread and your breasts heaved as your own breathing became shallow.

His voice filled your senses “What’s this? A sweet little bunny alone in the woods?” One of his hands stayed around your waist to keep you in place, the other moved your dress until it was pushed up your back, and he groaned at the sight of your bare cunt. Dripping and clenching around nothing. “With a sweet little hole ready to be used”.

Connor’s hold on you made it difficult to move and all you wanted was to grind against something as his words teased you, his hand slid so slowly between your legs, ignoring where you wanted him to touch most until you whined loudly. The sound that left you had him almost growling, his hips bucking forward again.

He took a breath to control himself, his eyes glancing around him and listening for any sound of people, once he heard none his fingers slid along your pussy, gathering the wetness as his finger pressed to your clit and circled the sensitive nub until your hips were pressing down against him. “Poor bunny, just so wet” his thumb pushed at your hole gently causing you to mewl and your thighs to squeeze around his wrist.

The corner of the assassin’s mouth turned up, his thumb slipping past your hole and he moved his legs between yours pushing them open so you were held spread for him. Connor groaned at the sight, his trousers feeling far too tight suddenly. He watched your cunt clench around his thumb and his eyes darkened at the sight. The urge to fuck you taking a tight hold but he needed to get you ready first.

“Cunt just needs a fat cock to stretch it out” his thumb slipped from your hole resorting you to whimper at the feeling and the man above you shushed you lightly, his back laying across your chest as his hand moved so he could slip his fingers into you instead. Two of them pushing into you, knuckles dragging against your walls slowly “You enjoying this? Someone hunting you down and fucking you against the floor?” you clenched around his fingers in response.

Connor knew your body better than anyone, so he knew when to curl them up against that sweet spot inside you. His fingers constantly pushed into you over and over again until your slick was drooling down your thighs and pooling on the floor below you, your arms shook as they held your weight up and your back arched as you tried to push against his hand more.

The man had you painting his hand in your orgasm, honey skin glistening with your juices as you moaned and gasped from his actions. Your eyes slipped closed as you cried out from the orgasm. Your legs twitching, and your arms couldn’t hold you up as you fell against the floor, leaves and sticks prickling your skin as you lay there.

“Such a good bunny” His fingers moved from your hole and you whimpered from the sensitivity. His clean hand pushed his trousers down, and he wrapped the wet hand around his cock to pump it a few times, grunting at the feeling before he rubbed the already leaking tip across your folds and against your clit until you were trying to get away. His hand pushed your back, using his strength and weight to keep you in place as his voice rumbled through your ear “You stay right there so I can breed this pretty little pussy, or you wont cum again”.

A gasp left your mouth at his words, hips bucking back against his cockhead. And Connor’s head fell back at the feeling, using his hand to rub against your clit again so he could feel the way you squirmed, trying to stay still but failing. “Please wolf” came the desperate moan below him as you tried so hard to be good.

And he grinned down at you in that animalistic way “Well if you insist”. The feeling of his cock pushing into you and your knees drawing under you, walls trying to adjust to the size of him and your head falling against the floor. The feeling was too much for you even with the prep, Connor tried to go slowly until your hand reached for him, grasping at his waist to pull him closer, unable to speak of what you wanted but he got the idea as he quickly finished pushing into you. His hips flush against your ass, and his cock fully buried inside you.

Connor’s head fell back at the feeling of your tight walls clamping down on him, your hand falling from his hip as your hands curled against the ground, gripping leaves and anything else. His hand pushed further into your back, the other gripping at your hip as it bruised the fat there. And he stayed still for all of a moment, listening to the way you panted and moaned at feeling so full before he pulled back and then snapped forwards causing you to jolt with the movement.

Within moments Connor was bullying his cock in and out of you, barely giving you the time to adjust to him. “Gonna breed this bunny so good” his words had your eyes fluttering as his hips snapped against you. The sound of skin slapping filled the forest around you, Connors grunts and your moans drowned out the sound of animals. Your cunt clenched around him at his words and his grip tightened on you “Like that? Yeah you do, wants this wolf to breed her”

His voice was hoarse as he kept mumbling out words that sent your head dizzy, and your hole tighter. Your legs shaking beneath you, nails digging into the ground and your body jolted forward with every snap of his hips. Every “good girl”, “That’s it” and “Take it” earned Connor some of those sweet noises. His breathing shallow as he lay his chest against your back, covering you completely with his build and pressing you further into the ground.

His hand slipped from your hip to circle at your clit, you didn’t know whether to press back against his cock or forward against his hand. The feeling had you drooling against the ground until your hole spasmed around him and you moaned. Your second orgasm hit you as you soaked his thighs and the floor again. Connor’s hips stuttered at the feeling until his cock pressed into you a few times slowly, dragging against your over sensitive walls until he was forcing you to the ground completely and hot sticky ropes of cum filled you.

You twitched around him at the feeling, his hands moving to soothe your body as he pinned you to the floor with his weight. He panted in your ear as he came, his hips rolling forward a few more times until he was done. You whimpered as he slipped himself from you, he watched his cum drool from your hole before using his fingers to push it back in and your hips pressed back “That is a pretty sight” he mumbled.

#connor kenway #connor kenway x reader #Connor Kenway smut #Assassin creed 3 x reader #assassin's creed 3 #assassin creed x reader #Ratonhnhaké:ton #Ratonhnhaké:ton x reader #Connor Kenway x F!Reader #Connor Kenway x fem reader

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etherealsdreaming · 1 year

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When You Both Realize You Love Eachother 💙

Altair Ibn La’Ahad

💙 You: The mission was simple. Splitting up you would take care of the lieutenant and him the captain. Meeting at the rendezvous point you waited anxiously for his arrival. When he finally climbed up you sighed in relief. He asked if you succeeded. But before you could get a word out you saw the guard pulling back the bow. Panicked and desperate, you pushed Altair to the ground and laid atop him before it could hit. He looked at you in question then to the side, while your focus remained on his; he rolled over, atop you and threw a throwing knife at him. You were in a daze and a blushing mess as it happened all at once. Standing up he forcefully pulled you up and along with him as you both headed towards the Bureau. Arriving without anymore witnesses he turned around and lectured you for spacing off. Not paying attention you started to understand why you felt so panicked when it came to him and your lack of focus. Even when furious at you, you couldn’t help but be consumed into those amber eyes of his as your heart beat faster at your proximity to him.

💙 Him: After becoming the new mentor he could never understand why he was so inclined in having you help him rather than attend missions by yourself. It was only when you helped him with his paperwork much to your dismay in wanting more missions did he stare at you in wonder. As he watched you focused in on your work he found himself drawn to you and wanting to say something, anything. He started to realize the possibility of his feelings as he hasn’t felt them in such a long time till you came into his life. That’s when it all changed and he wants nothing more than to keep you by his side.

Ezio Auditore

💙 You: You joined in on his mission by being displayed as a couple to gain information. Despite your protests of dancing he pulled you to the dance floor. You were anxious never the best at dancing, seeing this his thumb rubbed circles along your back reassuring, he said to keep your eyes on him and nothing else. You did exactly as he said and found his slow and easy pace helping you adjust and eventually it almost seemed as if everything around you disappeared leaving only you and him to exist. As you continued with the steps, keeping your eyes locked on him, you found yourself blushing and realizing those feelings you thought you left behind once were real and true even to this day.

💙 Him: It was after a dangerous mission when you helped Ezio’s injured body onto the bed. Soaked in his blood you panicked about the amount he lost and refused to leave his side despite the doctor ushering you out. For weeks you cared for him through his fevers and pain. Even when he awoke at last you helped feed him, change his bandages and regain his strength. Being his greatest strength against it all. It was only when Caterina made an appearance did he hear your angry voice. Sitting up wincing at the pain in his side he slowly got up and shuffled his way to the hallway. He watched as you yelled at Caterina about the way she has treated him and the fact she never once came to visit him, care for him like she did in his weakest moments. Caterina gave a horrified yet angry expression, turning her heel and walking away. As he attempted to move back to his room he heard you rush towards him to help. He stared as you fussed over him and apologized for disturbing his rest. But in his mind he started to wonder, hope and question himself. All this time he has followed and vyed for another woman’s attention and left with many lonely nights and heartbreaks. With none more caring and attentive as the support you have given him today. He realized how blind he was before and now hoped to return those actions with his own and that maybe just maybe he would finally have someone to love.

Connor Kenway

💙 You: You were taking your time exploring the forest and most importantly practicing your climbing skills. But after a few hours of not returning home did Connor come looking for you. Startled by his voice you misstepped and found yourself caught in his arms. You blushed at the close proximity, sheepishly looked at him. Slowly he let you out of his arms and headed home in complete silence. It was then you started to realize the reasoning behind your feelings and actions as of late.

💙 Him: You joined Connor on his sea explorations. As he took command of his ship he looked down admiring the way the wind blew through your beautiful tresses. He saw the wonder in your eyes and the smile plastered on your face. Lost in thought he soon heeded what everyone has told him, the very love he had for you.

Arno Dorian

💙 You: Completing a mission rarely goes as planned. So when you find yourself being chased, pulled into a small hiding spot and pressed against Arno does the atmosphere change. You lean your head against his shoulder, breathing him in as his arms encircle your waist, keeping a watchful gaze out for danger. In that very moment you find your heart stuttering with a longing for him is when you knew you fell deep.

💙 Him: Getting rejected by Elise was one of the most painful experiences aside from losing you as a friend. Drinking away his sorrows in the memorable place of Versailles, until when he encountered you. Slowly he found himself taken care of by the very person he used to call friend. But it was only now that he started to realize all the longing he’s held deep within his heart was not for her but you.

#arno dorian #altair ibn la ahad #altair x reader #arno x reader #connor kenway #connor kenway x reader #ezio auditore #ezio x reader #assassins creed #ac preferences #ac headcanons

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mxgicthot · 8 months

Text

Lean on me

In which you help your husband wash himself after a long day.

In this fic you are Ratonhnhaké:ton's wife and mother to his children. Also this is an can be set in canon or modern au.

Paring : Connor Kenway x fem s/o

cw : fluff, some hurt, HEAVY COMFORT, slightly suggestive, soaping up Connor's body, hinting at height/size difference.

Word count : 553

Ratonhnhaké:ton is frozen beneath the rushing shower water. Steam rolls off his muscular back, facing toward you. Splaying his large hand on the wall, his broad shoulders tense. Paying you no mind as you slip into the slower with him.

Slipping your hand through his. "The girls are finally asleep in bed." Trying to ground him, when his brain caught reliving the past. Letting your hand go, turning around, anger and hopelessness hollow his face.

Grabbing your hips, Ratonhnhaké:ton spreads his large thick fingers out. "Thank you, love. You good?" His cheeks are thinner, with deepening dark circles beneath his eyes. The coldness melts in his narrow chocolate-colored eyes. His frown softens to a flat line.

Holding his face, reaffirming, "We're good," as he leans down, passionately kissing you, gently groaning. Parting your lips for him to slip his tongue into your mouth. Hugging Ratonhnhaké:ton tightly.

Slowly he breaks away, trailing kisses from your jaw to your neck. Biting lighting and squeezing along your sides.

Biting your lip to keep from crying out when he sinks his teeth in deeper. "I got you. Lemme take care of you." He pulls away kissing your forehead. "I have some hot chocolate waiting for us. We'll sit on the porch. I'll brush your hair out." You grab his round sponge hanging next to a loofah.

He won't talk, but you could attempt to distract him momentarily. Give him the attention and care he shows the kids and yourself. Pouring his scented soap onto it. The shampoo's back states a wonderful mix of eucalyptus, white birch, and cypress.

Scrubbing Ratonhnhaké:ton's broad, muscular chest, rubbing your fingers over his firm tits. Sliding your fingers over his well-defined abs. Trailing his loofa down, scrubbing his v-line and dark short hair. Carefully smearing soap down his soft, fat cock. Careful to make sure soap doesn’t get into his cockhead.

Letting go of his cock to squeeze soap from the loofa into your palm, fondling his balls. Ratonhnhaké:ton brings up, “I was thinking of cooking breakfast with the kids." He parts his thighs enough for you to clean his ballsack.

Smiling up at him, puckering your lips he leans down giving you a chaste, sweet kiss. "We got the stuff for triple chocolate chunk. You can help Io:nhiòte with the muffins, and the other two can help me with the omelettes and blueberry pancakes." Crouching in front of him, scrubbing down his well-toned legs, lingering on his muscular thighs.

Lifting his foot, his cheeks heating up. “You don’t need to do all this..I can wash myself.” Getting the other one, then standing up. “Aren’t you tired?"

Standing up, getting on the tip of your toes, he leans down for you to kiss his cheeks. Scrubbing his broad shoulders and neck. “I’m tired, but that doesn’t matter." Going down his muscular arm, grabbing his large hand, admiring the size difference between his and yours.

Switching to his other arm, "I want to.” Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes widen momentarily, the corner of his lips pulling up into a soft smile. "We're a family aren't we, gotta make sure you’re taken care of." A couple of tears trickle down his cheek.

Holding your hand, rising the soap off, Kissing your knuckles. "I'm so grateful I have you and the children."

#Found this while cleaning my drafts. Thought I'd finally post it uwu #Also thank you guys sm for the notes on the other fic!!#Very self indulgent fluff #Connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway x reader #Ac3

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kinkandkreep · 1 year

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Hi u🖖 i have a request about Connor ( ratonhnhaké:ton ) can you make a spicy content about him ? ( if youre not ok with it deleted my ask ) good day or night to you.

A/N: Hey hey! Thanks for sending this in hun. 😁 I decided to do a drabble to further work my hand in that, and I also tried something a little different with this one, so I hope you enjoy! And please feel free to send in any more requests y’all! My ask box is still open!

Connor Kenway Spice

Having been married to Ratonhnhaké:ton for quite some time, you’ve come to learn a few things about him.

For as big as he is, he’s a surprisingly silent sleeper, although he snores quietly when he’s had an especially tiring day.

He’s got a secret sweet tooth (olykoeks are a particular favorite dessert of his).

He’s very ticklish, but only in the most odd places, like his elbows and forehead.

But perhaps most astoundingly, you’ve learned that he’s got quite the sexual appetite.

You’re not sure what exactly you thought his libido would be like before the two of you got married, but it’s safe to say that you were rather surprised to find out that he’s essentially always ready to go.

You assume it has something to do with the near constant flow of adrenaline he’s most likely to have given how on-the-go he always is, but you’ve never asked him to be sure.

On a particularly good day, the two of you can take it to the bed upwards of 4 times, not including quickies for when Connor’s especially worked up and short on time.

You’re own drive can’t always keep up, but Connor is always very respectful of that and never pressures you. In instances like that, he takes care of himself.

Sometimes, you like to watch.

It’s not always a mutual thing exactly, though you both do get mutual satisfaction out of it.

Connor’s a big man, about 8 inches lengthwise and about an inch and a half thick. His own hands, which are large in their own right, just barely cover the circumference of him, nevermind yours.

It’s incredibly satisfying to watch him come undone, his caramel skin glistening in the light of the fireplace. A light sheen of sweat covers him, causing him to radiate with an even greater glow.

He’s not loud- expressive yes, but never loud- but you can clearly see how his eyebrows scrunch as the pleasure rocks through him.

The slick sound generated by his hand pumping his length in a steady rhythm fills the otherwise silent room.

Connor’s head is thrown back in pleasure, strong neck and prominent Adam’s apple on display for your hungry eyes. A strange sense of possession creeps up inside you as you continue to observe your husband.

‘Mine,’ you think, rather deliriously.

Or, perhaps you’d actually spoken out loud, because Ratonhnhaké:ton’s head snaps up, his normally warm carob colored eyes smoldering with a desperate sort of heat, his pupils dilated wide.

He levels you with an expectant, slightly confused look, his hand never ceasing its back and forth, up and down motion.

“Did you say som-”

“I said, you’re mine.”

Connor is momentarily taken aback, movements stuttering in their rhythm.

“You-..I’m…yours?”

“Yes,” you rise from your seat, stalking the few steps towards the man before you. Upon reaching him, you kneel down, your face merely inches away from his manhood.

Connor’s hand has long since stopped moving, his eyes following you on your path, pupils still blown out.

Reaching up, you gently coax his hand away, replacing it with your own, and beginning slow, teasing strokes up and down his length.

“You are mine, Ratonhnhaké:ton. Just as I am yours.”

Now leaning forward, you place a gentle, reverent kiss on his tip, chuckling at his subsequent sharp intake of air at the action.

You can tell from the way his cock twitches and the muscles in his thighs visibly tighten- something about what you’d said struck a chord in your husband.

You are very familiar by now with how best to go about pleasing the man: the right amount of pressure to use in your grip, just how he likes for you to slightly flick your wrist once you reach the head, the soft, barely there trace of your nails along his length.

You could spend hours just pleasuring your love and watching his reactions.

“Y-yours…”

Without ceasing the movement of your hand, you hum curiously, having been so absorbed in studying Ratonhnhaké:ton’s expression that you’d barely registered him speaking.

“I am yours, Y/N. And you are mine.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton speaks again, louder and with more conviction, albeit a little breathless.

A moment passes, the two of you maintaining intense eye contact before you smile up at him.

Raising up, you cup your hand around your husband’s cheek, eyes still locked with his as your breaths mingle.

In a moment, your lips slot perfectly into place against one another’s, pleased sounds emitting from both of you.

You swallow the precious sounds Connor makes as you begin pumping him faster. His hips and thighs begin to tense as he draws nearer to his orgasm.

It takes but a few more strokes, and the pressure of a cleverly placed tip of your thumbnail against his head that sends Ratonhnhaké:ton over the edge. Several thick strings of creamy cum rope around your hand, Connor’s hips still jerking in the aftershocks.

“Good boy,” you purr, bringing your hand up to sample his essence. It’s noticeably sweet, courtesy of how much fresh fruit Connor eats and the pies you always make him sample. It’s also only slightly salty, but otherwise tasteless.

The man himself watches you with dark eyes, chest rising and falling a little more rapidly than usual.

You’re preparing to speak, when a small yelp takes the place of the words you’d meant to say as Connor quickly flips your positions. Now it is you who sits in the chair and he who kneels before you.

You’re a little confused, until Connor begins trailing his fingers up the exposed skin of your legs, pushing up your skirt as he goes. His eyes bore into yours, pupils still wide, although not as much as before, and that signature sexy smirk of his slightly curling his mouth.

“You’ve been so good to me. Now, I am going to return the favor.”

#connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #ac3 #assassin's creed 3 #connor kenway smut #connor kenway spice #ratonhnhaké:ton smut #connor kenway x reader #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader

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recreationalfanfics · 1 year

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Some Yandere Connor Kenway/ Ratonhnhaké:ton thoughts:

BRO, THIS SKIN FOR HIM FWJJGJEJFJWJFBEBD

- One of the least sadistic yanderes, he wouldn't hurt you at all and refuses to put a hand on you. Yes he will intimidate you but this man has lost so many people already. He'll kidnap you but he'll at least be gentle about it, knocking you out by slipping something in your food, or just taking you while you sleep.

-Ratonhnhaké:ton is aware of his feelings being wrong, he hates that he was them, but he does succumb to them. At first he doesn't think its so wrong, to follow you home. That ugly feeling doesn't go away. Then he climbs and perches himself on a tree, staring at your sleeping form and even being daring enough to sneak into your room to admire you. His hand gently hovering over you but never touching you, because his conscious is SCREAMING at him about how wrong this is. However, sometimes the guilty feeling can go away. Especially if it involves a romantic interest who he has to scare off.

- Ratonhnhaké:ton isn't a threat to his darling but he is a threat to everyone else. Some templars hold his darling hostage? Biggest mistake of their lives, no one survives the slaughter and he's carrying you back to his home. You're shaking in his arms even though he didn't let you see it.

- He isn't by any means a pushover. Yes, he is sympathetic and understanding but if you try and raise your hand or try to overpower him, he will end up just catching your wrist or he holds you still and he doesn't do anything to hurt you, but he stares you down. Giving you a silent warning that his patience is wearing thin and you'd do well to behave.

- He does present you with various gifts before and after he kidnaps you. Before; you'd find various wildflowers at your door, sometimes some baked good that were made in the town nearby, or any materials that you ever mentioned needing are now there. After, he brings you various souvenirs from his missions and such.

- No one in the Homestead will believe you or your suspicions of Connor, he's such a kindhearted man who has helped all of them, and they might even try to help him get with you. Telling you about how he looks at you, how he'd make a great husband, and how you manage to make the giant assassin nothing more than a shy and stuttering love struck boy.

- Even if you did manage to escape him, he will not give up on you. His heart is yours and yours alone and whether you choose to keep it or break it by resisting his affections, his mind will always be on you.

- He's felt so much despair, anger, and sadness all from a very young age. Even if you hate him, the feelings that you give him are incredibly addicting. He will always find things to admire about you. He loves you, even if it is sick and twisted, and he needs you.

#yandere connor kenway x reader #yandere ratohnhaké:ton x reader #yandere assassin's creed #Yandere male x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #tw yandere #connor kenway x reader #assassin's creed x reader

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gococogo · 3 months

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A Fool's Life | Shaytham

Synopsis: Desmond has to dive back into Haytham to find out where a power source is for the temple. But the last thing he expects is something akin to when the Templar first met Ziio. But these emotions run something deeper, crueler.

Word Count: 3.8K

Pairing: Shay Cormac / Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Internalized homophobia

“We need you to dive back into Haytham.”

A few simple words that Desmond wished he would never have to hear. Desmond stares at his father with a scowl upon his lips waiting for the punch line. He glances to Shaun and Rebecca. Yet, they stay quiet and that is just saying a thousand words as is. It’s not some joke.

“Why?” Desmond asks as he looks to his father once more.

“Because Haytham came in contact with a power source for this Temple,” William explains monotonously. “We need to know where he put it.”

He tries to not put any hint of emotion in his words. Desmond knows what he’s doing. But it only makes him feel that itch of anger inside and he tries not to let it show.

“Can’t you just track this one like the others?” Desmond asks with bitterness in his tone.

So much for keeping it hidden. It can’t help it when it comes around his father. Almost everything he says makes Desmond want to retaliate in a frustrated manner.

This has William scowling. “It will only be for a moment, son,” he firmly says.

It’s not like Desmond has a choice at this point of time. His father will just tell him to do it until he does. They probably won’t continue on with Connor until he goes back into Haytham’s mind. Desmond throws up his hands and lays back down into the Animus with a grunt.

“Fine, but let’s get his over and done with.”

It’s the first day of Fall in Boston and the cool breeze is an ease on Haytham’s skin. But with Desmond being in Haytham’s mind again, it’s almost criminal. He can feel the anticipation on his mind, the quickening of his heart as he spots red sails coming onto port. There’s a man on that ship that Haytham knows, and it has the man itching. Which is something Desmond has only felt when Haytham was around Ziio.

Haytham may be blind to his emotions, someone that sees too much but doesn’t focus on himself, but Desmond knows this feeling. This breathlessness at the mere thought of someone.

The worn ship docks, her crew shouting out at each other, pulling ropes and bringing in sails. The Morrigan her name is and she’s seen her years for sure. Her once yellow paint is chipped and faded from years at sea. She’s an older ship, not up to date like the ones now. And she has people looking upon her that stand on the dock. Haytham only sees beauty, a fine ship that has lasted so long. But one could say that she’s only as strong as her captain. Working hand in hand.

The captain, Haytham sees him straight away and Desmond takes him in. He’s a tall, broad shouldered man with salt and pepper hair. It’s tied back into a short ponytail, one thing that hasn’t changed with him. But he now sports a brown leather coat with blue clothing. It makes him look older and wiser. Nothing like the young man Haytham knew almost twenty years ago.

All these emotions that Desmond feels nearly overwhelms him. The animus glitches for only a moment but Desmond retains himself. Haytham may present himself as a stern, serious man but by god can this man feel. And is he ignorant to his own emotions.

The man, Shay Cormac, smiles as he spots Haytham standing on the dock. Haytham had received a letter from Shay a week ago, telling him of his arrival soon in Boston. Said note is currently tucked away in Haytham’s breast pocket, just in case he got the dates wrong. Something that Shay will never know about.

A plank is drawn between the Morrigan and the dock and Haytham stands at the end of it as he watches Shay walk down. Desmond has never seen Haytham look upon a man like this as of right now. Haytham looks upon a much older version of the image he has in his head of Shay, but he still finds himself marvelling at the captain.

The two of them clasp hands in a firm handshake that feels like neither of them want to let go. But Haytham contains himself.

“It’s been a long time, Shay,” Haytham is first to speak.

Shay’s smile is something the Grandmaster has missed. It’s the exact same, just with added lines and wrinkles.

“Oh, it has been,” Shay speaks as if all those years away are now playing on his mind.

Where he’s been, who he’s met and the time he’s spent away. All something Haytham wants to know of.

“And you’ve retrieved it?”

With a soft nod, “Yes,” is what Shay replies with.

Haytham gestures out a hand. “I’ll lead you to the Green Dragon, it’s not far.” He begins. “I’d love to hear of your ventures away.”

Course you would, Desmond snaps out.

The simulation suddenly glitches and everything begins melting away into a blue, glitchy effect. Desmond groans in pain as he begins desynchronizing from the animus. This hasn’t happened since he first began with Altair. He’s aware he dislikes Haytham but not enough to desynchronize to this extent.

“Desmond. You need to follow Haytham,” Shaun’s voice comes through the animus.

It’s very hard to when it’s Haytham, Desmond snaps back.

“Just calm down. It’ll only be for a short while,” Shaun inquires again, trying to get Desmond to sync back up.

Desmond can suddenly feel his beating heart, thumping in his chest like a jack rabbit. He slows his breathing and calms his mind. The animus begins to flow again, the simulation changing from the docks to a tavern area. They’re at the Green Dragon.

It’s just Haytham and Shay sitting at the table that the Templars like to use for their get togethers. The very same that Desmond found out who Haytham truly aligned himself with.

Shay takes a long, slow drink of his ale. Haytham hasn’t touched his, still full in its cup. He watches Shay’s Adam’s apple bob up and down with each gulp before pulling his gaze away. Shay exhales loudly as he sets the cup on the table.

“I will have to say,” Shay admits. “I have missed American ale.”

Haytham looks to the other again to only find him staring at him already. He knows he shouldn’t be so sheepish around Shay. Even though they haven’t seen one another in nearly two decades, it shouldn’t be this awkward on Haytham’s end. Nowhere as near.

“Did you find you didn’t partake in the delicacies overseas?” Haytham asks.

“I don’t think that’s it, sir. I think it’s just something about this that speaks home,” the Irishman smirks.

That gets a short chuckle out of Haytham. Something that makes Shay’s brows lift ever so slightly. A warmth spreads to Haytham’s chest that has Desmond second guessing everything. He hasn’t felt this since Ziio. A longing, a want. But this runs deeper. Much crueller in its wake that Haytham wants gone. But he can’t help himself looking at Shay with a eyes that speak a thousand words.

The two mingle and talk about their lives some more. Something that Desmond finds himself getting lost in. Shay is so open with Haytham that it’s almost scary. But Haytham finds it so comforting and like Desmond, he almost gets lost in the Irishman’s tales and his way of words. He’s been everywhere and anywhere in these sixteen years away. He’ll be speaking on one thing and it’ll remind him of another story that has him talking for another thirty minutes.

But Haytham doesn’t stop him. Not once. Not even when he grabs another round of ale for them, he keeps listening. And this is so rare of Haytham. The warmth in his chest is something the British man rarely allows himself to indulge in.

As the night grows old, the two men move from the tavern to Haytham’s home. And as far as Desmond is concerned, not even Charles Lee comes around to Haytham’s in worry of disrupting the man’s privacy. In which Haytham is very grateful for. Yet with Shay, he’s more than welcome to bring him around.

The entire walk, Shay doesn’t stop talking. It isn’t an annoying chatter. It’s something so welcoming to Haytham’s ears since he has not heard that Irish accent in nearly two decades.

Shay finishes a story as they enter Haytham’s house and he doesn’t pick up another once, being self-aware to know when to stop. The host guides Shay to the living room which is something that Haytham has tried to replicate of his old home. The one where everything was right and just in the world before everything terrible and malicious that could happen in the world, happened. It isn’t the best, but the lounges are from Britian, the floral patterning hand woven instead of machine made. Bookshelves line the walls that are made from a walnut stained oak, made here in America. Each book that lines the shelves is something that Haytham holds dear to his heart, but he would never say such a thing out loud. The coffee table is also oak but stained with something darker that Haytham can’t remember at this given moment.

Not when Shay, - before he gets himself comfortable and rids himself of his coat- places the precursor box on the coffee table next to the empty fruit bowl.

The small wooden box seems to hum, and it has an energy to it. Something that Haytham doesn’t know if he’s imagining or if he can feel it. Could also be the blood rushing past his ears as his heart skips a beat or two within his chest.

Desmond has never seen anything like it, but Shay seems very familiar with it. He sits down in the lounge across from Haytham with his coat in his lap and looks to his Grandmaster with a raised, scarred brow.

Haytham, unlike Shay, doesn’t seem to be pleased with it. From where he stands, somehow on the other side of the room, he walks over and picks it up with a gingerly touch. The box is still and firm in his hand, but warm. He has to hold the shiver that threatens to run down his spine and over his arms.

“You actually found it,” Haytham finds himself muttering before he can stop himself.

Shay is a little taken a back but, he gives a heavy nod. “It took me longer than it should have, sir, but I found it,” he answers firmly, that casualness that he once possessed him gone and replaced by a formality found in soldiers.

Haytham sets it down before he drops the damn box. Such a small thing that has kept Shay away from the Order. Haytham could count how many times he could have used such a man like Shay for jobs here in America. He wishes he never sent him away after such a stupid little box. But both would argue on how important such a thing is. To keep out of Assassin hand.

Without even thinking, something that Shay catches, Haytham rubs the hand that touched the box on his coat.

“Thank you, Shay. This means a lot for the Order,” Haytham says, raising his chin a bit higher.

But Desmond hears the unsaid words. This means so much to me.

A softness comes to Shay’s hardened features that has Haytham turning his gaze away. He wonders over to one of the bookshelves and takes out one of his old journals from five years back now. Dust has settled upon it and the pages have begun to fox. He flips through to the middle and takes out a piece of loose paper. He slams the book shut before sliding it back into its place smoothly.

“I have something for you,” he says as his eyes quickly flick over the document.

Haytham turns back to Shay, who has been watching him the entire time with dark eyes. Instead of pausing or acknowledging the way Shay tracks his every movement, Haytham holds out of the piece of paper to him.

“This is your next task for me,” Haytham instructs.

Shay looks to him before down at the piece of paper as he takes it. Something shifts within his eyes, as if a flicker of hope was just snapped out like a candle snuffer. Haytham moves around the coffee table to the lounge that sits across of the Shay and sits down with his hat being placed next to him. He, in return, watches Shay’s dark brown eyes dart back and forth on the paper. Said paper is a rough sketch of an artifact that is rumoured to be a power source for a precursor sight. There’s little information and it’s outdated since said information is five years old now.

Haytham knows this could take another decade to find. And he’s very self-aware on what he’s doing. As much as Haytham enjoys Shay’s company and wishes him to stick around. As much as Haytham wishes to listen to Shay speak about his journeys across seas and in Europe. As much as Haytham would love to just be in the company of Shay, the Irishman is loyal to the course -loyal to Haytham- and is the only man the Grandmaster can trust to retrieve said items.

There were at times that Haytham thought Shay had given up, but a letter from the man would come not even a month later. It would only speak of how he is still on the trail of the box and that his loyalty to the Order has not wavered. How he misses New York and how he has missed many other things. How he’s missed the blue flowers that grow in Fort Arsenal and how they only bloomed in spring. He had said they remind Shay of someone, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d write in the next letter if he remembered but the next letter it seemed like he had forgotten entirely. Oh well…

Haytham had kept every single one of those letters, but Shay doesn’t need to know that. And never will.

The look that Haytham receives from Shay is one of hurt and sorrow. A long exhale escapes through Shay’s nose that has his shoulders sagging slightly. He seems to melt back into the lounge.

“This could take me another lifetime to find with this outdated information,” Shay comments what Haytham already knows.

Desmond can hear the plea.

“I know,” Haytham nods. “But there is no other man that I would trust to find these artifacts.”

Shay’s jaw clenches. “Is there no one else to find this, sir? Someone that is familiar with these rumours and whomever has given you this information.”

Another plea that goes unheard. Haytham is set in his ways, and he will not listen to reason.

“I can give you the contacts on who gave me that information. But I have been holding onto it in hopes you would return back with the box. This, I need for my further research into the precursor site I have been after,” Haytham tells Shay firmly but, softly.

A defeated look comes over Shay. He looks over the single piece of paper again with a deeper set frown. He lets out a sigh.

“I’ll do it, sir” Shay agrees. Only because it’s you asking.

And with that, Shay says his farewells and is off before Haytham can blink. A deep ache settles in his cold heart that has him inhaling deeply to try and rid himself of it. It only worsens and he curses to himself for having such feelings towards such a man he has only known for such a little time.

Was it amongst the letters from Shay he realized the origin of the warm feeling whenever he was around said man? Or was it when that Morrigan had disappeared over the horizon when Shay first set out for the precursor box that the first real ache came to his heart. Or maybe when he first saw the broken man at the other end of the table to pledge himself to the cause. He saw a man willing to lay down his life for something greater and for a better future.

Maybe that’s why Haytham has always had an eye watching the Irishman when his back is turned. Or reading the letters he had sent over and over again when he feels the need. It’s such childish behaviour. He can admit that to himself.

But even so, he still finds himself staring and watching the back of Shay disappear around the corner of the room with a longing. He could speak. Say something. Say such few words that he knows would change everything. His tongue feels so heavy. Even when he hears the front door click open and shut, his tongue doesn’t even know how to form words.

Even if Shay had stopped and turned, what would have Haytham had said? For once, he’s speechless with himself. He doesn’t know how long he sits on the lounge for, staring at the empty space that once had Shay. He knows this is foolish of himself, but whom is to judge him? Such a sad man in a foolish world.

The animus skips time for Desmond, and he quickly realizes that it had only taken Shay Cormac two years to find the artifact. He was good. Too good for what he does. Took him much less time to find this artifact than the box.

This time, there was no grand entrance at the dock. No long-lost lover type movie thing coming back.

Three sharp knocks come to Haytham’s door, and he looks up from his newspaper. He wasn’t planning anyone coming over at this time of day and he had planned to stay inside for the rest. He wills himself to stand off his lounge and wonders over to the front door in nothing but his white, laced collared shirt. He’s rid himself of his heavy coat and cloak, not needing it in his private home.

He opens the door, expecting someone like Charles Lee or one of his own hired men to come and spill some nonsense to him. He’s all ready to wave them away to tell them to not bother him until later. But Desmond can feel all irritation melt away as Shay Cormac stands at the front door with his back turned.

As soon as the door has opened, Shay turns to greet Haytham with a wide smile. Something that instantly reddens Haytham’s ears.

“Back already, Shay?” Haytham asks with the slightest of cockiness in his tone.

This has Shay scoffing a light chuckle. He unclicks something on his belt, something wrapped up in cloth and hands it out to Haytham. The Grandmaster takes it with a nod and unwraps a bit of it to unveil what’s inside.

“Despite with what little you gave me,” Shay says. “It didn’t take me long to track it down since this thing was actively being hidden away from me.”

Haytham peers down at the unknown artifact. It’s a steely grey with lines that run over that, glowing a bright blue like glow worms. The shape is odd and cube like.

Desmond recognises instantly as the power source for their current precursor sight. So, it was Shay that brought it into Templar hands. Now they just need to pinpoint what modern Templar base has it and they’ll be able to find it.

“I’m going to pull you out now,” Rebecca’s voice sounds over the scene laying out before Desmond.

No! Wait a moment. Desmond quickly shouts out. I want to see where this goes.

“Uuhhh. Okay?”

Haytham folds the cloth back over the power source and looks to Shay again.

“Would you like to come in?” He asks Shay, side stepping a tad with an outstretched hand.

Shay’s brown eyes look into the doorway with a longing, but he shakes his head with a, “I’m sorry,” on his lips.

“I do apologize for this quick meeting, Haytham.” Shay speaks with regret heavy on his tongue. “But I must be heading back to New York to find out what has truly become of my estate.”

Haytham can’t help the silent, “Oh,” the comes from him as he stands fully in the doorway again. He wished to speak more with Shay about all of this. To just, sit with Shay would be a pleasure.

“Is such a matter so urgent?” Haytham asks, his tone stern and rough to hide the neediness behind its meaning.

Shay bows his head, “I’m afraid so.”

“I see.”

“Are there any other artifacts you would like me to look into before I leave?” Shay asks, his voice becoming soft.

Haytham looks to the wrapped artifact in his hand. He doesn’t have any other leads he would like chased up his sleeve. But he wishes he did. He wishes he could make Shay stay a little bit longer.

“No,” Haytham all but mumbles out.

He meets Shay’s soft gaze, one that Desmond recognises as disappointment. Why fall for someone like Haytham? Desmond is real curious on what goes inside Shay’s head. He wishes to know more about him despite being a Templar. In wanting to know more, to see if Shay’s look of disappointment comes with an ache in his heart similar to Haytham’s. Both must be feeling such similar things, yet neither of them wanting to say such out loud.

Shay nods with a sniff. “I’ll be off then, sir. I’ll still be at the ready if you need be,” he says before he turns to leave.

Haytham isn’t sure what he’s doing, but he reaches out and grabs onto Shay’s wrist. He’s curious in his own mind on why he’s done such a thing. But he meets Shay’s eyes once more and sees hope. Shay doesn’t say a word, waiting for Haytham to say something. His crow’s feet furrow together as Shay’s eyes narrow onto him.

Haytham wishes. But not now. He recoils his hand away and places it behind his back. He juts out his chin and straightens his back. The Grandmaster of the American Colonial Rite stands before Shay Cormac, and that is the last person the captain wanted to see.

“I will still want those reports of your contribution to the Templar course, Shay,” Haytham says instead of all the things on his mind.

Shay’s shoulder slouch and he smiles with hurt on his features. He looks Haytham up and down before giving a slow nod.

Haytham you stupid old man.

“Of course, sir.” Shay says. “I expected nothing more.”

Haytham gives a nod back with a frown upon his features.

“Goodbye, Haytham.”

And with that, Shay leaves. He all but disappears into the crowd on the Boston street, his assassin upbringing never truly leaving his blood. Haytham lets out a shaky breath and returns to his home, the door once again clicking softly behind him with Shay on the other side.

Did they ever see each other again?

There’s silence in Rebecca’s end before a sorrow filled, “No.”

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