‘I admit I have gotten into fandom late. But I did my due dilligence with vids, gamplay, and on to novels. And still nothing gets me quite as hot as hearing Bayek say “my wife” with that look in his eye. And that, Signora, is a whole another matter – I mourn that kohl went somewhat out of fashion, for it gives one a gaze unlike anything else.‘
Confession [@fanworldbuildingfun]
“Fuck me like it’s the end of the world.” is a challenge I issue to Desmond Miles. “You have no idea…” is all he says and then my fate is sealed.
In his hands, I am bent over, or riding his lap, or mounted up against the wall, clinging to him with need. It is passionate and primal. The only sounds I hear are the heavy moans and pleas for more, and skin slapping on skin. He takes me like he is needy and desperate to try it all.
There is a lull, and we are both sore and he seems sated. But there is a fire that always burns in me when it comes to Desmond.
“This isn’t all I wanted,” I speak low, my voice hoarse with overuse. I climb on top of him and ride him one more time while he lays below me.
—
This time, I take my time and ride him slowly. I bend down so we are face-to-face; so I see nothing but his face, and he sees nothing but mine. In this position, I am full with adoration, my need to be embraced fulfilled. He holds me close and matches my slow pace, caressing my back. Our eyes don’t break contact. Our hands never stop caressing and stroking.
“I don’t want this to end,” are the first words Desmond whispers to me since we started our current round. I can feel his lips move as he speaks, and his breath tickles my own lips.
“It won’t.”
“You promise?” I hear something like desperation in his tone. A need for reassurance. I want to him give him all I have and all I will ever be even in this short time. I never want to let him go.
“I promise.”
After that, there is no space between us. We move together like we’re making love and it’s all we’ve ever known how to do. Even when it ends, I make sure it doesn’t.
‘Ezio enjoys having his hair pulled, especially when he’s giving oral.’
London, 1868: Walking down the streets alone at night should be a thoroughly unsettling affair. Especially when you can feel someone’s eyes on you. When you can intuit that you are being followed. You turn around; nothing out of place, not even the shadows. You keep walking, and your spine shivers with the growing sense that you are not as alone as you think you are. Your breathing quickens and your heartbeat picks up as you turn into a cold alleyway. You can barely make out the dim light of the street lamps on the other end, otherwise you are bathed in darkness. Maybe that’s why you feel, as much as you hear, the sudden thudding clack of shoes on the cobble below. You turn around; you can barely make out the man’s broad figure, but it is still imposing enough to root you where you stand. As he approaches, you can hardly make out his face, but his eyes seem to blaze intensely, boring into you with intent. Clear want.
“Are you afraid?” The man asks in a low voice. You can only shake your head yes. He suddenly stops walking though his expression and voice do not lose their intensity. Your body thrums with a tension that you are eager to articulate. You can muster your voice at last.
The raw sexual power of Jacob‘s voice and how it’s made the fandom collectively wet and wanting is legendary at this point, but I feel like he still has some tricks up his sleeve. While I headcanon him as having a huge praise kink, getting absolutely mad with lust when you tell him “good boy,” he also loves to give it in return.
He loves to look deep into your eyes when he slowly opens you up with his fingers – he is a big boy after all and he wants you absolutely prepared for his girth. All the while he is humming soft approving sounds, crooning, “You’re so good for me. You take me so well. Always so wet and ready for me.” And when he finally breaches your entrance with his hard cock, he’d keep murmuring his approval. “Cry out for me. Let me hear you,” he’d goad you, his thrusts growing all the more frenzied and intense when he hears your voice raising up in volume and in pitch. In fact, he’d really love it if you indulge in a bit of a dirty talk, too.
‘I headcanon that Ezio is an aftercare GOD. He knows how to take care of his lovers after sex. Need a cool drink? He’ll grab some lemonade from the fridge. A gentle massage? You got it. Bruises? He’s got an ice pack in hand before you can even lift a finger. Then, after taking care of you and doting on you, he’ll pull you close and snuggle you until you feel calm and safe, only allowing himself to drift off once you’re sound asleep.’
Confession [@catpop12343]
‘I bet Arno would be such a sweet lover in and out of the bedroom. He would whisper praises and sweet nothings into your ear when sensually fucking you, switching between English and French, all the while making you a mess with his talented fingers.’
‘There could be nothing more romantic than making love with Connor under the stars, in the light of the moon. Though it might still be too dark to see each other, the sensation of our hands on our hot skin, our breaths on our necks or our lips bruised together. It’s enough to bring each to the brink of deepest pleasure and perfect union. It is only when the moon is almost directly over us, shining enough to illuminate our faces. Seeing Connor’s face in the throes of our passion, watching him watch me… I would be pushed to that sweet release, almost encapsulated in the moonlight and the strength of his arms around me, holding me, loving me.’
‘I bet that Ratonhnhaké:ton is the sweetest lover you’ll ever have. He’ll kiss you softly as he asks if he can make love to you, and then, with your permission, he’ll take his time undressing you, always asking, “Is this okay?” with every touch. Then, he’ll be as gentle as can be, kissing you and pleasing you in any way he can and making you cum as many times as you want, and then he’ll wrap you up in the softest blankets and give you the sweetest, gentlest aftercare you can imagine.’
Confession [@catpop12343]
‘I’m a bisexual girl but I find myself falling more and more in love with girls. Countless times I imagined Elise pulling me into a backlit corner in the middle of a high society party to secretly kiss me. When the party was over I would sneak into her bedroom and spend a sweet night with her inside. She was very forward and enjoyed the way I shuddered and moaned under the irregular kisses she dropped on my naked body while blindfolded.’
Confession [@summer-dorian]