desmond69miles - Tumblr blog

desmond69miles · 4 days

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ezio auditore x shy!fem!reader ?

Il Dottoressa

Pairing: AC2!Ezio x ShyFem!Reader

Summary: Ezio has a crush on you, the doctor's daughter; or where Ezio gets hurt on purpose to see you.

Warnings: non-canon compliance, non-history compliance (i had to adapt), LONG ONE-SHOT, no description of reader, FLUFF, blood, injuries, italian translated using translator

Author's Notes: hii, thank you so much for requesting <3! i hope you enjoy reading it because i had tons of fun writing it! just a reminder: my requests for ezio are still open! click here for more info!

You should consider yourself a lucky woman. Your father Giuseppe was a man of Science, a doctor who always cared about your well-being and education, especially after your mother's death. He didn't obligate you to wed or have kids like most parents.

For him, for you to carry the family's legacy was to become a doctor. So you did your best to learn as much as possible, in secret. To the rest of society, your father suggested you be portrayed just as his errand daughter. Nobody knew the full extent of your abilities. So you advised treatments, assisted your dad in the shop he had, and turned out to be every child's favorite doctor. They were easier to talk to than most adults. You meet Ezio on your first day alone at the shop. Your dad had to help a patient with an urgent matter in another town and gave you clear instructions on how to proceed.

"They will try to bargain but do not drop the price too much. Let them think they got a deal."

The day went by relatively easy. Two regular clients pass by to get some medicine and talk a little. After a few hours of boredom, you open a book and let your eyes wander through the pages. Your dad may allow you to help with surgery next time if you gather more knowledge. You also needed to focus on having a steady hand...

"Scusi."

Startled by the sudden voice, you held your book close to your chest so it wouldn't fall. When you turn around, you immediately recognize the man: Ezio Auditore. Your dad had alerted you about him: the questionable man with a white robe and hood that always paid the total price. Your dad ordered you not to over-extend the conversation with the strange man. Your attention goes to his arm, where he was holding a torn, bloody sleeve. You don't need to predict he will ask you for a curative. You point to the chair, and Ezio sinks into the chair.

You get some alcohol and some clean cloths. You have no reason to be afraid or nervous; you are in the middle of town, and the man won't do anything. And now, most importantly, he was a patient.

Ignoring your internal concerns, you focused on working. His torn sleeve was soaked with blood, but you no longer saw any blood dropping out of the cut, so you concentrated on cleaning the blood from the injury with alcohol. Like most people, Ezio didn't react to the pain, so you continued. Then you begin to wrap his arm in a bandage. That cut had to be done with a sharp spear.

"Where is the other Signore that stays here?" Ezio asked, his voice sounding tired.

"My father had business somewhere else," You responded, focusing on finishing the bandage. When you are done, you make sure it was all secured. Looked perfect.

"So I won't lose my arm anytime soon, Signorina?" Ezio attempted to joke, giving you a faint smile, and you ignored him. You placed your stuff on the shop's cart and waited as he checked your work.

"Grazie. I haven't seen any women doctors around town. What is your name?"

"It will be 30 florins, Signore."

"Va bene," Ezio put the money in your hand, and you counted. It seems he gave you an extra five florins. He was already gone when you lifted your head, disappearing in the middle of the people. You want to call his name and catch up to him, but you shake your head. He either purposely did that, or it was just a mistake.

After that day, your dad decided you could stay in the shop alone. You were so excited and thrilled. Your dad could now go to another town as a doctor while you cared for his business.

You glow with pride and happiness. You see Ezio Auditore once or twice, jumping around buildings, doing who-knows. He didn't seem to notice you, which you thanked mentally. You had asked your dad what exactly Ezio was doing, and your dad affirmed it was neither your business nor his to know, it just looked dangerous. Ezio only appeared in his shop with parts of his body hurt, cut, bruised, or broken more than the average person. As curious as you are to ask, you understand your dad is done with this conversation.

The next time you see Ezio, he has a dislocated shoulder. You try to give him something to bite, but he shakes his head, gritting his teeth. You want to ask how he got this, but it is not your place. When you pop his shoulder back into place, Ezio grunts. You recommend that he avoid using that shoulder for more vigorous activities. Ezio gives you a half-smile as if he knows something you don't.

"It will be 50 florins this time."

You feel he gives you more florins when he hands you the money.

"You are giving me too much, Signore."

"As a thank you. Can't I do that?"

You don't really know how to respond to that. It is his money. Extra money even. Before you can answer, he grabs your hand and kisses it lightly. You freeze in your spot, unable to move.

"Name is Ezio Auditore. Can you tell me yours?"

It is your first time giving a good look at Ezio Auditore. He seems to have brown hair. He has a scar across his lips, now with what appears to be a naughty smile, which just makes him more charming. He is staring at you, really staring at you. You want to protest, but your voice dies down your throat. You gulp, trying to find something to say, but nothing comes out.

"We shall see each other around, Dottoressa."

And you do end up seeing him, now what it seemed once at least every week. Ezio appears with a horrible bruise on his back and watches, delighted, as you look away, mortified, when he lifts his robe. He appears a few days later with a raspy cough. Then, comes back three days later, alleging he fell to his head and had a horrible headache. You want to ask him if there are no other doctors in town, but hold your tongue. And Ezio was sincerely trying to make you smile and laugh most of the time.

Like when he appeared with a bow attached to his back. You took it out carefully, ensuring you didn't hurt him too much or cause him to die. Besides, you were thankfully thanking his presence at this point: the rate Ezio got injured, he would end up being your first surgery.

"Does it look like I die today, Dottoressa?" He exclaims as you finish cleaning the hole. Why he has to say that in such a sexy way?

"Not today, Signore Auditore."

"Ezio," He corrects you, as the other times, and you roll your eyes, ignoring him. When you are done, Ezio gives you more money than he should.

"I should not go far, probably. I will get hurt and come here for you to repair me." You answer him with a half-smile, too nervous to say anything else. You know he is getting hurt on purpose; he probably knows that as well, and instead of sending him away, you continue seeing him.

"Oh, mhm, I almost forgot," Ezio taps his body, takes out a book, and handles it to you. It seems to be about different kinds of poisons and diseases.

"What is this?"

"For you, Dottoressa. I have seen you read books about it and presumed you would like it."

You are surprised, flipping over the book with care. It looks expensive and updated. That would help you so much with your studies. You couldn't believe Ezio got you something like this.

"Signore Ezio, I can't accept it. "

"Per favore?" Ezio's voice sounds like he imploring, "You have done so much for me. It is the least I can do."

You want to say no and argue that he has already given you more money than he should, but Ezio appears so anxious for your answer. You feel the heavy book in your hands, and your desire gets the best of you. You nod, and Ezio's worried expression turns into a big smile.

"I will see you around, Dottoressa."

"Grazie, Ezio." You finally say when he is too far away to hear it.

After that, your relationship with Ezio got closer. Although you hadn't said your name, he seemed satisfied to watch you flustered when he called you "Mia Dottoressa favorita" or "Il Dottoressa Bella." Or when he continued to bring you more books. When you finally open them at home, they would have different flowers inside.

It wasn't hard to keep all of that hidden from your dad. Your father was out of town almost daily, traveling around Italy. It was also challenging to just not tell Ezio your name. Before, it was for your sense of security, but now, there wasn't much reason to keep it hidden. Ezio was nearly like a friend. Yes, he could be cocky and a little show-off, but he also had a gentle and entertaining side. He could listen to you speak for hours about how crazy the human body could be. He never interrupted you or seemed bored. On the contrary, it was like nothing else existed except for you.

"Are you going to be a Dottoressa at the end?"

"Si, Signore Ezio. Your books are helping me a lot." You confessed, feeling breathless like always when he was around. Gathering all your courage, you finally ask him, "Can I ask you something?"

"Si?" Ezio's gaze looks full of hope.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to. Why are you always so hurt? Who are you fighting?"

Ezio ponders for a moment before answering.

"For mi familia. I would tell you more, but- " You certainly felt like you shouldn't have asked now. Idiota, you think.

"Well, if that might help you... I am your Dottoressa after all."

"Oh, you are my Dottoressa?" The way he emphasized the word my! You wish a hole had just opened in the ground so that it could eat you as a whole. This was something regular now: Ezio always says or does something to leave you without words. One of those days, you will gather all your courage and do the same to him.

But until then, you are happy that Ezio sticks around. Always afraid he will be one of these days badly hurt, and you won't be around to help him. You could only hope he would always come back to you.

EPILOGUE:

You are almost home when a few guards rush in your direction, screaming and pointing at the sky. With your heart shrinking, you look up, wishing that Ezio is safe tonight. Almost at your door, you hear a loud thumb next to a haystack pile. Looking around and assuring there is no one, you investigate the origin of the noise. To your surprise, you see Ezio badly injured. You run to kneel at his side, checking the extension of his wounds. It doesn't look well.

Merda merda.

"Ezio? Can you hear me?" He is semi-conscious, his eyes struggling to stay open. You can hear more guards getting close. With no choice and all your strength, you pull his body towards the haystack, hiding and praying that the guards won't see the trail of blood behind you.

The guards finally arrive, and your heart bumps against your chest as they investigate everywhere. You feel Ezio's rapid breath as you lightly place your hand on his chest as if keeping you there alive with you.

Ezio moans low, and you bend to his ear, whispering frantically.

"Shhh, I am here, Ezio, it is me. We will be okay."

When the guards finally leave, after what seems to take an eternity, you leave the haystack pile, making sure no one is around. Not hearing anyone, you hurry back to Ezio, attempting to make him fully conscious.

"Ezio, per favore, you have to focus on me. On my voice. We need to get you out of there, we need to bring you inside!"

"Dottoressa?" His voice sounds so weak it just breaks your heart. You hold his cheek, and his skin feels hot. A fever? What if he has been poisoned? You have to get him in your house, but you are afraid to pull him, and he dies, afraid you might be found by the Guards, and he dies.

There is no time for this, Dottoressa. This is your patient, and you better save him.

You pull Ezio's body with your arms to your house entrance. With difficulty, you place him on an old sofa-like, not caring about the mess. With not a lot of options, you rip his destroyed robe and his shirt. At this point, Ezio is shaking with cold, despite his body being extremely hot. You start disinfecting his injuries, checking how bad they are. It doesn't seem that he was punctured. While you clean, you notice the rest of his body for damages. You take his boots out, and with hands shaking, you rip his pants. Praying mentally for no injuries, you cut until his upper thigh. Nothing. Relieved, you focus on his head, letting go of his ponytail. No extensive injuries. Good. You continue cleaning and give him some medicine for his fever, covering his body with a clean sheet.

You let yourself get distracted by how long his hair is. You always theorized it was much shorter. You pass your finger through his hair, and Ezio lets out a long sigh.

You know the following hours will be crucial. Ezio might react badly; you must stay awake if he needs you. If he was poisoned, he might respond during the night. You bring a chair close to Ezio, watching him peacefully sleep. You implore him to survive. You plead for him to be healthy.

When Ezio wakes up in the morning, he is immediately aware of being in a strange house, not a cell. He tries to move, but his body just hurts so much. Last night, when he was on his way to see you with a small cut on his finger, he ended up getting in the middle of a mess. After fighting his way out, he was still followed. Tired and exhausted, he didn't know the extent of his injuries until he passed out and fell from the top of a building.

He examines around, finding you sound asleep in a chair. How he ended up there? Ignoring the pain in his body, Ezio sits down, roaming his eyes through his body. It could have been worse. He lifts the sheet, notices you cut his pants down and chuckles low. That seems to wake you up, and Ezio feels slightly guilty about it.

"Dottoressa?" He calls you. You promptly get up, touching his head and arms to check for any signs of fever. Looks normal. You were glad you didn't choose the leeches last night.

"How are you feeling, Ezio?"

"I am fine, probably thanks to you. How?"

"I heard something falling from a building last night. When I went to check, I saw you badly injured. Had to hide in a haystack while the guards were looking for you. Brought you here and kept an eye on you for the rest of the night."

"How come if you have slept, Dottoressa?" He jokes, and you laugh, glad to see him alive.

"Now I owe you my life. How much is this even going to cost me, Dottoressa? Am I going bankrupt?" Ezio questions in a teasing tone.

"N-no? I am just glad you are alright, Ezio. I was so afraid last night that you were going to di-"

"You saved me, mia bella. Just to prove you should be my particular Dottoressa. Not anybody else's. Mine." He provokes you again, confident that you wouldn't answer.

"Do you want me? To be just yours?" It is funny to watch Ezio lose all the color on his face. For the first time, he is the stunned one, left without an answer, "What happened, Ezio Auditore? Is something wrong with your tongue? Should I check for you?"

You don't know if it is last night's stress or Ezio looking like he is losing his mind, but you laugh until your belly hurts. Ezio is confused at first but smiles, understanding your joke.

"Very good, mia cara. Very good. Joking with my feelings like that. I could have died last night, you know."

Cleaning the tears in the corner of your eyes, you pull your chair close to his. Ezio observes, curious, while you grab and hold his hand into yours.

"I wasn't joking when I said I could be yours."

Your confession makes Ezio's mouth drop slightly, but he quickly recomposes himself. He cleans his throat, with his other free hand calling you closer. You get up from the chair, your legs shaking, and he starts by caressing your chin. You close your eyes, and Ezio follows his touch to your cheeks and lips. He traces your lips with his fingers, admiring you as the most beautiful piece of art he has ever seen.

You melt in his arms when he brings you closer and finally kisses you. Holding into his shoulder gently, you kiss him back, letting yourself fully stroke his hair. Ezio's hands are placed on your cheeks. When you two finally break apart, you are both breathless, wishing for more. Your heart, your soul, asks for more.

"Dottoressa.."

You shake your head, smiling, and finally tell Ezio your name.

MASTERLIST | EZIO'S MASTERLIST

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desmond69miles · 4 days

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Hi! Since Ubisoft absolutely sucks when it comes to representing and appreciating women who aren't tomboys it's up to fandom.

Could you write what would a relationship with Ezio, Connor, Jacob, Arno and Altaïr be like with a feminine, dresses-wearing, cooking -liking s/o?

Like we play those games too and as awesome as it is to portray oneself as an assassin, the classically feminine side of the fandom deserves some love too.

I'd like to say that for the record there's nothing wrong with being a "girly girl" or a "tomboy" who likes assassin creed, because at the end of the day, we all become simps. But I do like this idea of this prompt so yeah, here we go!!

Ezio:

- NO BUT HE IS SO DOWN FOR THIS NGL, LIKE HE'D ABSOLUTELY LOVE AN S/O THAT'S LIKE SUPER INTO DRESSES AND COOKING.

- Obviously not in like a toxic masculine way but just in a "I love their cooking and baking and after a battle, it makes me feel a lot better coming home to it."

- Make up is fascinating to him, he never is one to make those annoying comments in it because he does think you're beautiful either way, but like, he's so fascinated by things like eyeshadow and contour or whatever you specialize in.

- OKAY BUT HE'D BE SO HELPFUL IN PICKING OUT DRESSES TOO, NOT GONNA LIE. Like, have you seen this man's sense of fashion? He knows what he's talking about.

- Loves watching you wear cutsey and gorgeous gowns and dresses, like when it feels like he has so rare amount of joys in the world, the mental image of you in your elegant and gorgeous outfits makes him smile and even more eager to get back to you.

- NO BUT HE GOES CRAZY FOR LIPSTICK KISSES. Please leave lip stick marks on his lips, on the collar of his shirts. Like, yeah he looks silly with some of your smudged lips on him and he laughs it with you but he just likes how it lays claim that he is yours. However he always forgets how difficult it can be to wipe it off.

- No but if you have a favorite perfume, Ezio will spray some of it on like a handerkerchief or something or carry around a vial of it when on missions so he can always remember your scent when he's missing you.

- NO BUT HE ABSOLUTELY HAS YOU MELTING WHEN HE COMPLIMENTS YOU. He also pulls a Gomez Addams from the Addams family and just kisses your hand before kissing up your arm while muttering compliments and praises in Italian in between.

Connor:

- Loves everything about you honestly but he doesn't show it because he's too shy or he doesn't want to come off as being like one of those guys.

- This does mean he's kinda no help in deciding outfits because you ask him which dress looks cuter on you for the day and he's like: "...Is this one of those traps that Achilles has warned me about?"

- NO BUT HE ABSOLUTELY LOVES THE FACT THAT YOU COOK TOO. He would love to help you and share some recipes from his tribe *trust me, native food is so good* and that he does look forward to your meals.

- I can imagine he does get quite covered in blood, not even just because of the killing he does as an assassin but like, also because of the hunting and skinning that he does as well so he does try to avoid you as he changes clothes because he doesn't want to get it messy.

- YOU AND AVELINE HANGING OUT THOUGH. She will drop by with some cute outfits honestly and Connor ends up sitting in between you two silently as you compliment each other and Aveline tells you about how this one dress made her think of you.

- Connor is a gentleman at heart and he tries not to stare at you but he can't help it. If you're in a room being your beautiful self, his eyes just wander to you. Is a blushing mess when you catch him though and he lets out a quick apology but you tell him you don't mind and tell him that it'd be a shame if he didn't stare because you wore this dress specifically to catch his eye. Which makes him more flustered.

- Is confused by make-up, he doesn't understand it but if someone or some other guy criticizes you about it makes a comment about it, he will just give them the meanest look that'll gave them looking over their shoulder in the dead of night.

- NO BUT MOMENTS OF HIM DOING THINGS LIKE CARRYING THROUGH THE WOODS to make sure your dress doesn't get caught on anything and he'll apologize if it does, or how he'd absolutely enjoy seeing you try on various dresses, he might not be able to pick which is his favorite but he really enjoys seeing you wear them♡

Jacob:

- HE IS ALSO VERY DOWN FOR THIS, PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

- Look, he is but a man and when he sees you with your elegant composure talking and laughing lightly with your friends about some gossip that you heard, HE IS SO WEAK AT THE KNEES.

- Chances are you're probably a noble or from the higher class and he just so happens to stop you from getting robbed and while you were shaken, you still took the time to introduce yourself and CURTSY to HIM. LIKE- WHAT-

- You definitely see him around, it's not like he's stalking you (kinda) its more like you just happen to be somewhere and he also happens to be there (after he basically questions a rook non stop about who you are) but you honestly seem to enjoy his presence. You indulge yourself by being all dressed up but its suffocating to be a woman so Jacob is a breath of fresh air to you.

- Not to mention that he's completely the exact opposite from what you are. A mysterious rogue with little to no shame but, hey, he's got a pretty face and a smile as charming as the devil himself. So its almost like you two are just pulled to each other.

- You can trick everyone else with your lovely outfits and fashionable hairstyles and make up but Evie is thoroughly convinced you have no taste because WHY WOULD YOU CHOSE HER BROTHER- Jk jk, you actually get along relatively well with Evie and help her indulge in her more "girly" side as well, especially when you notice she has a crush on a certain Henry Green.

- BUT YEAH, NO, HE IS DOWN TREMENDOUSLY BAD FOR YOU. Absolutely would LOVE IT if you wanted to show all off all of your outfits to him, like, you DON'T UNDERSTAND.

- Also, the fact you can cook and (possibly) bake is a bonus and literally would love it if you made something for him. Evie will try to steal some of the food you give him and that results in a sibling fight but, like, he literally will propose to you VERY soon of you don't stop being SO DAMN ATTRACTIVE AND SWEET. PLEASE, HE'S BISEXUAL, YOU CAN'T JUST DO THIS TO HIM-

Arno:

- Considering he was raised in nobility, its not anything to new to him, and it is probably what attracted him to you in the first place but he also is just so simply mesmerized by you.

- What attracts you to him is that he doesn't underestimate you or act all patronizing like how other men do. He sees you for your beauty but also for your elegant yet stinging remarks when a man tries to arrogantly woo you and he just laughs and smiles.

- Okay but cute moments where he's in trouble with some people and you happen to be around and you, knowing Arno, allow him to hide under one of your fine elegant dresses and hide him from them. Then once you let him know the coast is clear, he makes a smooth yet somewhat lewd comment and you just rolls your eyes before playfully flicking his nose to reprimand him.

- Expect him to steal some of anything that you cook or bake and even though you can't catch him in the act, you just KNOW that it's him by the smug grin he's giving you. Eventually you have enough of it and just make him his own meal entirely which surprises him but he isn't complaining by any means.

- Would take you on cute picnic dates, too, I feel like. He'd sneak you to beautiful private places he knows and there's just a romantic set up and he just went through a lot of effort to make it perfect for you and it shows.

- This man is literally one of the drippiest assassin's I have ever seen so if you need help with picking out an outfit under any occasion, he is more than happy to help you.

- IDK WHY BUT BALLROOM DANCE SCENE JUST SEEMS LIKE SO FITTING FOR THIS. You're already such a vision normally but as you glide on the floor oh-so elegantly, he's absolutely mesmerized and entranced by you, you have no idea.

- OKAY SOMETIMES HE FINDS YOU ATTRACTIVE TO THE POINT THAT HE KINDA HAS A TENDENCY TO JUST...NOT FIND A COMMENT. Like, moments where he sees you up close in your grace, it can render him speechless and he hates it because you tease him, the sarcastic and clever Arno Dorian of being unable to speak and he just pouts in response, which makes it all the more endearing to you.

Altaïr:

- Him with a super feminine and girly s/o would be so funny to me because other than the basic manners he was taught (and even then) he gets so flustered around you, like everything you do is foreign to this man but in a good way.

- Asks you many questions about why you do what you do. Yes, you look nice but historically, it took quite a bit of effort and resources to do so and you simply tell him that it makes you happy.

- Very funny you two end up together, he has no idea how he did it but he isn't really complaining. When he looks at you sometimes, he just thinks to himself: "Man, it'd be really hard to fight if I wore that. They look really nice in it though."

- OKAY BUT YES, PLEASE TAKE CARE OF HIM. Nothing wrong if you want to be a traditional housewife but also, maybe Altaïr just brings out that side of you because he is a poor little meow meow.

- So he's surprised when he finds out you cooked for him and when you offer to clean his blood stained assassin's uniform (because let's be honest, those things probably are in dire need of cleaning and he's constantly wearing white) and it'd take a while for him to adjust to but he comes to like it.

- He never assumes you're dressing up for him like the others and that you're dressing up for yourself but if you DO try to dress up for him, you're gonna have to tell him but his reaction will be the same, a stoic "You look very nice" but if you lift the hood, you can see how flustered and nervous he looks underneath it.

- Scary boyfriend privilege, no man dares to try and cat call you or hit on you because Altaïr follows you like a shadow. He's scary, he's intimidating, and the expression on his face tells people not to fuck with you or him, even if there is a badly wiped off lipstick mark you gave him previously.

- During missions, he tries to bring you back nice things like some jewelry he found that made him think of you and such and that he thinks would compliment your outfits nicely.

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desmond69miles · 5 days

Text

An Artists Eye

I cried many times while writing this. It's just... eugh. It's not bad but I just don't like it.

Arno finds your sexual drawings and offers to live them out with you.

AO3 LINK

Warnings: Fluff and smut, Google translated French, oral (r receiving) fem!reader, vaginal sex/fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (I hate that word), grinding/dry humping.

Word count: 3,491. It's been awhile since I wrote something this long.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Three years ago, you had the pleasure of Arno knocking you over. The streets of Paris had been bustling one fall morning, and you were late to a client meeting, scuttling down the street with your sketches haphazardly secured in your arms. You weren't looking - or maybe you were but didn't process it in time - when a man walked straight into you. It was somewhat theatrical--your papers flew up as you fell down. The man immediately bent down to help collect your sketches while muttering apologies, but it was too late; a good majority of your work had fluttered straight into a muddy puddle you narrowly missed.

As the brunette picked up what papers were still preserved, you worked on dusting yourself off. Once the two of you stood, you finally looked at the man's face, one of his gloved hands moving to push his hood back. "Je suis vraiment désolé, madame," he said, "I'll buy you a new stack of sketching papers." You blinked at his offer - somewhat distracted by his handsome face - and politely rejected it. "Non, c'est bon. I wasn't looking where I was going." The man nodded and handed you back your work, dismissing himself with a slight nod and smile before disappearing back into the crowd. You stood there for a few seconds while people passed you, their shoulders occasionally bumping yours, and you moved to put the papers in your messenger bag.

A few days later, the man randomly arrived at your door around eleven at night. When you opened the door, you were no less than shocked - he actually brought you a new stack of sketch paper! Then you asked yourself, how did he find my house? "Bonsoir Madame," he said. His brown eyes danced over your face, the same you had done when he knocked you over, and he extended his hand with the cartridge paper that was wrapped in a thin cloth to keep from dirtying. You take it from him, and your mouth flubbed open in search of some words. Finally, you decided on nothing more than an awkward "Merci... May I get your name?" The man chuckled, "Arno Dorian, and yours, madame?" Arno repeated your name once you said it, nodding along in confirmation. He left after denying your offer for coffee with a goodnight, and after you returned to your sofa, you undid the covers to the paper.

A small card with a fancy gold trim sat on the stock. You turned it around and looked at the fancy swirls of writing--If you wish for more paper, run into me at Café Théâtre. You couldn't help the wide smile that formed on your face.

Now, it will be your and Arno's second anniversary in a day.

You sat in front of your easel that held up your latest work, and one of your hands mixed up a beautiful blue on the wooden pallet held by your other hand. It was seven-ish, the sun hazily setting in the dimming sky, and the warm air of summer blew through the open windows of Arno's chambers. The ambient buzz of crickets and the fuel of early nightlife gave way to your soft humming of a lullaby. Occasionally, you'd hear the claps from the Cafe down below, a recitation of Hamlet playing tonight, and you've seen the show so much that you found yourself rehearsing the lines to yourself every so often. Your fingers plucked through your paintbrush jar until you found a suitable one and began to paint the shading colors of Arno's coat. Shading was the last thing that needed to be done, an easy task that could be completed quickly.

Arno was indeed your favorite subject to draw. Often, when you found yourself unable to sleep, you sketched him while he was resting--or when you found yourself with free time, you drew his body's familiar lines and curves in practice. Sometimes, these anatomical figures found themselves in... precarious positions, such as in nude drawings. Those were your personal favorites, your sexual admiration for him going past just intercourse, but that sketchpad had been stowed away in the very back of your closet in a box. Hiding your drawings wasn't something you liked; you were proud of your work, and you didn't shy away from drawing nude bodies. In fact, Élise's favorite work of yours was of a sexually deviant nun she had nicknamed 'The Sin.' But, you always hesitated to show Arno the drawings and paintings you have done of him. Neither of you was sure why; you argued they weren't perfect, and Arno argued you were worried that he'd judge (in truth, you were a little more than embarrassed to show the numerous sexual positions you had put your lover and yourself in through pencil).

However, you decided to face that embarrassment with your second anniversary, hence your eagerness to finish this portrait of your lover. Hours had ticked by reasonably quickly, and soon enough, you heard the grandfather clock chime twelve times, indicating the strike of midnight. You pause to look over your final work and give a more than satisfied smile, grabbing the canvas sheet you had and covering the painting so Arno didn't see it (you also had to make sure he didn't peek; he seemed fond of doing that). Your hands had been stained with colors, and your apron had a few new splotches--you didn't mind, but you still hung up your apron carefully for washing and quickly scrubbed your hands clean.

With your hands a tad bit achy from the repeated holding of brushes, you stripped yourself of the painter's gown. You didn't even bother with a chemise or undergarments and instead grabbed one of Arno's button-up shirts that had a smear of purple paint. The mark was seemingly impossible to get out of the cotton, so he had unofficially gifted it to you, telling you that he'd wear it if you ever wanted to fling paint at him again. You grabbed one of the two pillows Arno claimed and tucked one between your thighs for comfort--the pillow usually replaced by his thigh. That, sadly, was the reality of being with an assassin; most nights, he wasn't around to fall asleep with. Thankfully, it seemed like you always woke up in his arms, your lover either sleeping soundly or admiring you.

You heard the chime of 12:30 on the grandfather clock before you shut your eyes for the night and fell asleep.

Awaking in the morning was a chore. The bed was so warm, cradling you like your mother did when you were a babe, and when you shuffled to get comfortable, an arm tightened around your waist. A knowing smirk cast onto your lips - Arno was back and pressed tightly to you. "Arno," you whisper, quiet enough so he could hear if he were awake. No response. Good, you hoped he was asleep - allowing you to get up and prepare your present for him.

So, carefully, to not wake him up, you moved Arno's arm from off of you and gingerly rolled out of bed, slowly standing up so as not to make the wood creak. Once your feet were planted on the cool floor, you stretched fully before walking away from the bed. Your easel still sat in the same position with the canvas sheet covering it; the oak stook pushed out to the side with a dirty jar of brushes resting on top of it. You noted that Arno had closed the windows and drawn the curtains, only slivers of sun peeking through. You first moved to open them just a tad so the chambers would be more illuminated--mainly so you wouldn't topple over something. Then, you moved over to your easel.

You took a deep breath and hoped that it looked okay after drying. Your hands gently took the cover off, and for the second time, you smiled proudly, hands clasped together. It wasn't alright; it was... almost perfect. Something was missing, and you couldn't put your finger on it. Then, it dinged in your brain. The drawing of us! You made your way back to the bed, but instead of getting in, you opened the dresser beside it and rummaged around until you found your trusted sketchbook. You flipped through it until you found the page already torn out and signed with a small love note. You paused, though, and your tummy did a flutter.

You forgot about this drawing. It was one of the first sexual ones you drew, a rather raunchy drawing of none other than Arno laid on his stomach, arms wrapped around a faceless woman's thighs and his face pressed to her cunt. This was still when you were too ashamed to draw yourself in these drawings - hence the faceless woman - but it made you fuzzy.

It wasn't like you and your boyfriend never had sex; quite the opposite. Many nights you had been spent on the bed, Arno deep inside you while some serious French kissing went on (not to mention the time when Arno's mentor had walked in on you deepthroating the brunette's cock in none other than the Assassin's base under Cafe Theatre, but you're too embarrassed to talk about it. You still get hot when you hear Bellec calling Arno 'pisspot'). While you've had amazing sex, you've never got the confidence to ask for oral. Arno offered it, but you said no; what if you taste bad or do something Arno doesn't like? The thought of a mouth down there always intimidated you, but that doesn't mean you haven't fantasized about it.

You were so caught up in staring at the drawing that you jumped when a loud crash came from outside, dropping the sketchbook onto the floor. "Merde," you almost immediately cussed, recoiling your foot from the damage of your toes being hit by the journal. It was enough to wake Arno up, and while you bent down to retrieve the book, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Everything alright, cherie?" He said, and you were startled like you were caught doing something bad. "Oui, sorry to wake you." Arno gave you an understanding smile, sliding to the edge of the bed and leaning forward to find your waist. You tucked the sketchpad to your chest as he pulled you in for an embrace, his face resting between your shoulder blades.

"What were you drawing?" Arno muttered, and you tensed for a moment. "Sketches, love, it's nothing too important." You replied, and he hummed. "Everything is important when made by you." You didn't protest when his hand snaked from your hip up to your hands, his fingers grasping the edge of the book and pulling it free. His head moved back but still rested against you, and you heard him chuckle. Your face warmed, and for a moment, you willed the floor to open up and swallow you or for you to turn into a gnat and fly away.

"Is this woman you?" He asked, and you quietly said no. "Then you envision me eating another woman out?" You let out a defeated breath, shoulders slumping. "Non, it is me."

"But you did not draw your face?"

"It was awkward."

"Ah, then we should make it less awkward. Experiencing it may give you confidence."

Your head turns to peer at him from behind your shoulder. He has a cheeky grin that he knew he was doing - and you chewed your lips. "It's our anniversary, too. How will I marry you if I've never tasted you?" You blinked and chose to ignore the marriage comment, but as he pulled you into his lap, you knew you weren't getting out of this one too quickly. "I've heard from other women that it's relaxing if that quells your worry." One of his hands slides up your thigh and rests near the apex of your legs, thumb rubbing small circles into your flesh, and he kisses your cheek. You turn your body, legs swinging to rest on the bed and lean into Arno. He gives you a sweet look, brown eyes filled with what could only be described as love, and kisses your lips. He didn't get far once he pulled away; your hand brought him back in.

Your fingers undo the red ribbon, keeping Arno's hair tied while he bites your bottom lip teasingly. Once his hair was free and you could run your fingers through it, you allowed his tongue to slip past your lips and tangle with his. He tasted faintly of expensive red wine, and you drank the groan he let when your nails scratched his scalp. The hand resting on your thigh slid under the shirt you wore, warm fingertips running over your curves. Your noses bumped accidentally when you moved to tug on the buttons of his nightshirt, and neither of you went too far from the other. Your breaths still mingled as his hands aided yours in tugging his shirt off, the fabric falling onto the floor. Arno then moved both of you, so now you were lying against the pillows with your lover hovering above you. You exchange soft, loving smiles, eyes studying each other. Your hands ran down Arno's arms and rested against his wrists.

"Do you want to try oral?" He asked, genuinely curious, and you pondered. "Will you go slow?" You query, and you get your answer with the gentle, warming kiss Arno places against your forehead and then lips. His hands grab a pillow you are not resting on, and he says to lift your hips. You comply without question, and Arno slides the pillow under your butt, then moves your thighs apart so he can adequately slot himself in between them. The pillow gave a perfect angle for his hips to slot against yours, his semi-hard cock pressed into your inner thigh, and you could feel the wettening of your folds.

His lips find yours for a small kiss before he moves to your neck, sucking in a few light marks that can be hidden, and one of his hands trails down your body to your stomach, resting there patiently until you give the go-ahead. The attention placed on your pulse point made you let out a quiet whimper, and you circled your arms around Arno's shoulders so you could tug his body closer to yours. His bodily warmth was nothing short of what you called home, the south trail of his hand at your happy whisper of 'more,' the press of his thumb against your clit--it gave an almost sentimental feel.

There was loving, and then there was loving.

And he loved you like you loved him.

The way Arno loved you was nothing short of amazing? Spectacular? supercalifragilisticexpialidocious? There was no word for the way he treated you.

After slicking his fingers in your cunt, he pressed a final kiss to your lips before descending your body, leaving kisses every place he could reach. You shifted awkwardly once you two were positioned like the drawing--Arno on his stomach, his cheek pressed into your thigh, hands holding your legs apart. You did have to admit that it was an ego boost to see your lover between your legs with such a hungry look in his eyes. Arno pressed a kiss to where your thigh meets your leg, impossibly close to your cunt, and you felt his breath over your puffy clit. It caused you to shift your hips, a hand coming to rest on his, and Arno peeked up at you from his position.

Your insides became mush--there was absolutely no right for him to look heavenly, and you moaned as his index finger teased against your slit. "Do you want me to?" Arno asked, dipping his finger inside, teasingly curling in a way that he knew wouldn't feel terribly pleasurable. You debated--a new experience and most likely an intense orgasm, or you'll have to listen to your girlfriends rave about cunnilingus without knowing what to say next time you all met up. Most, if not all, your nerves of appearance had vanished and instead replaced by the anxious want of indulgence. Arno pushed his finger deeper, pulling back and repeating those actions slowly, awaiting your response.

"Mhm, oui. I'd like you to."

Arno smiled, and when he exhaled, you wiggled at the cool air against your warm cunt. "Merci," he hummed and leaned in, pressing his lips to your clit. Arno was gentle at first, careful not to overwhelm you. The rough pad of Arno's tongue pressed flat against your clit, and he let you move your hips, allowing you to draw your pleasure in what felt good. Once he thought that you had enough of a taste, his hands moved to your hips and pushed them down into the pillow. Your hands moved between Arno's resting ones or his head, moaning loudly when he sucked your clit with fervor. "Dieu," you exasperatedly said. Your thighs closed around Arno's head, not tight enough to hurt him but snug enough to keep him there, eyes closing when the tip of the pink muscle drew figure eights on your cunt. His finger slipped back in, this time pumping with a little more vigor, and when he curled them just right, that beautiful edge came into feel.

"S'il te plaît, oh mon Dieu, s'il te plaît," you whined and swore you could feel Arno smile into you. Your hips rocking against his face as well as your thighs clamped tight around his head, caused a slight burn from his stubble, but, shit, you couldn't care as long as he kept going. Arno's lips move up once again and slurp your clit, and "There, fuck! There, Arno, don't stop!" pours out from you. Another finger adds to your wet hole, and he gives a rough suckle just before you send hurdling over the crescendo of an orgasm. Arno lets you ride it out by grinding on his face, his nose bumping your clit in delicious aftershocks, and you eventually come down enough to release Arno's head from your thighs.

His head popped up from between your thighs, and he crawled up, bouncing down onto the bed beside you. One of Arno's hands rested on your stomach, and he asked, "How was it?" You gave a weak chuckle, "Le meilleur, fuck, the best."

"Another round?" He suggested.

"Always another round." You enforce.

Before Arno could move, you crawled on top of him and gently pushed your hips down so your saliva-and-slick-ridden cunt pressed perfectly against his hard cock. He gave that devilish smirk, hands finding your waist to push the nightshirt over your head, and you moaned as his hips met yours with equal enthusiasm. In more-or-less semi-clothed dance, you rocked against each other until Arno's hands slowed you, one going to slightly push you back just so he could free himself from his now wet undergarments. The fabric didn't get farther than his knees before you scooted back up and took him in your hand, running the head of his cock through your folds. After a few teasing passes, his tip catches your hole, and you slowly - yet easily - sink onto him. Once your lower half was pressed against his pelvis once more, Arno gave a few shallow thrusts and cupped one of your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh and playing with your nipple.

A few more seconds passed, and with a quick kiss to Arno's forehead, you tensed your thighs, hands pressing against his chest, and you began to set a steady rhythm of riding him. Your lover met your thrusts halfway with quick motions that effectively created a shlick shlick when either of you moved. The friction inside you felt good but just not enough to reach climax again, and Arno knowing this, moved his fingers to rub small circles against your clit. Arno cursed and rolled his head back onto the pillows. You watched his Adam’s apple bob with each thick swallow, and his thrusts became unsynced--a tale tail sign of impending orgasm.

With a few more messy thrusts, Arno pulled your hips flush to his and spilled deep inside of you. The warmth of his cum had made you unexpectedly orgasm, toes curling as you moaned. You stayed still and savored the moment, your spine failing to keep you upright, so you lay down on Arno's chest instead. Arno rolled over onto his side and took you with him, grabbing the closest blanket and covering you both up to keep from getting cold.

"Je t'aime," Arno whispers against your hair, and you softly hummed. "Je t'aime plus," you countered, but he won the battle with an "I love you the most."

"I peeked at the painting," he said after a peaceful silence, "I love it. You'll have to paint me nude next time."

#arno dorian x reader #Arno Dorian #Arno Dorian smut #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed smut #lynns posts

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desmond69miles · 6 days

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Literally amazing

Redrawing of an old Connor portrait

. .

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desmond69miles · 7 days

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desmond69miles · 7 days

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Was reading the Jacob x Reader with a vampire lover and I swear, I'm tempted to send a series of mythical races s/o and the Twins reaction to them 🧍🏽‍♀️

( just bc it would be funny af 😭)

Someone suggested a vampire lover for Jacob, matching the Victorian Aesthetic and what-not, but HEAR ME OUT: Werewolf Reader ✨

Like, maybe they could be one of the Rooks (?), and they start to date Jacob (don't wanna separate the canon Evie x Henry), but the Twins start to notice s/o 's oddities and discovers they have a furry buddy among them (?)

Just an idea, stay safe and your work is great! Keep going with it! 🩵

It's currently hot as balls inside my house but freezing cold and snowy outside so I'm choosing hypothermia instead of hyperthermia.

Anyway, thank you, Anonymous, for your request. My God, I love supernatural reader x character stories. They're pretty much one of my favorite things to write.

I made it so you (reader) are kind of like - how do I explain this - energetic dog who bites by accident but is very loving. ALSOOOOOOOO I've made you a werewolf that turns into a wolf, not like the Sims 4 werewolves or Karl Heisenberg or whatever you want to use as an example.

[-: Jacob steals the hearts of all of his Rooks, men and women alike. When he caught wind of a rather rough-and-tough new member of his gang that climbed the ranks rather fast, he had to meet you and found himself rather caught in your behaviors. At first, he thought you were a little strange, but hey, aren't we all? He admired your passion.

[-: Evie would like you, too. She'd be the first to come up with the theory that you weren't exactly human. I mean, when you smile, you show off those sharp teethers, and they aren't precisely human (nor is your craving for meat and the crunch of bones or the occasional wet dog smell). Evie wouldn't bring Jacob in on this for a little, though.

[-: There wouldn't be actual evidence - nor the thought of lycanthropy - until the pattern of your disappearance during the night or at full moons. There could be a few ways that the twins find out, such as...

A) Jacob is curious about your post-nine P.M. vanishing and decides to follow you out of the train. You lead him to an alleyway - he watches you from the rooftops- and Jacob swears he saw you shift into a giant wolf before prancing down the street.

B) Evie finds your book on Lycanthropy Traditions and Culture, flips it open, and finds a letter from... pack... leader? She's confused and inquires to Henry about her findings, and Henry suggests the idea of being a werewolf. They both confront you and feeling somewhat cornered by the Assassins, you come clean. That immediately explained a lot of your actions and your desire for pets by Jacob, and Evie lets you tell her brother on your own time. Although, Evie would keep a watch just in case you decide to maul her brother while he's sleeping.

[-: It definitely gets normalized among the Rooks for a huge wolf to walk in and sit on the couch.

"Welcome to the rooks!"

"Thanks, Jacob."

The door swings open, Jacob scratches your ear

"...Why do you have a wolf?"

"They're our guard dog."

[-: Cue the constant agony for the twins. HAIR, EVERYWHERE! Those were Evie's new sheets, and you got hair all over it. Jacob's hat? It's designer with real wolf fur. Henry's books? Bookmarked by your coat. Do expect at least Jacob to buy you a steak once in a while if you let him de-shed your wolf from time to time.

#jacob frye x reader #assassins creed x reader #evie frye x reader

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desmond69miles · 7 days

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desmond69miles · 23 days

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Tying the Knot

A Vergil x f!Reader Oneshot

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Summary: To many, Vergil's demonic form is frightening. But to you, it's just as adorable and endearing as the man that lies beneath. Cw: smut, fluff, tender sex, monster sex, knotting, cockwarming, stuffing, teasing, Vergil is touch starved but he will never admit it, Reader is mute, non-traditional 'marriage' proposal Word Count: 1'684 A/n: The saga of fluffy writing for Vergil continues.

The content purr thrumming in Vergil’s chest is so soothing. It’s deep and blissful, lulling your own body to relax and melt into the heat of his own.

Your hands gently caress over Vergil’s body, your soft pliant flesh tracing the jagged and unyielding plates that lie beneath. Vergil’s appearance in this form is formidable, even frightening. But the tender way in which he cradles you in his claws has you softly cooing his praises and pampering his chin and teeth with soft, little pink lipped kisses.

Each and every single one of Vergil’s movements is careful. They are calculated and precisely timed. The hide of his devilish body is strong and sharp in most places, and he knows that with one wrong move he can slice open your fragile flesh with ease.

So, Vergil tempers the wanting. You can feel the itching burn of his hunger twitch beneath the muscles on his body. The passion and desire that swirls and swims through his veins is like an expertly crafted wine—potent and powerful. But Vergil’s will proves to be the victor. He won’t risk harming you in a fleeting moment of carnal lust.

Still, that doesn’t mean that you’re impervious to impatience.

Gently wiggling your body beneath his, your pussy clenches, and you silently groan, drawing in breath as the engorged and throbbing knot inside you presses harder against your g-spot.

Vergil tenses, a warning little growl catches in his exhaled breath as his grip on your hips tightens.

“Be still.” His words are strained, but his tone is soft and gentle even with its demonic trill.

You smile, a wordless “sorry” in your eyes as your lips press into a thin line. The giggle you try to suppress writhes in your chest, and Vergil feels it. If he could frown in this form, you imagine that he would.

“You’re laughing.” He accuses.

Being cradled by the pillow, you shake your head as best you can. But the voiceless dance of air that tumbles past your smiling lips betrays you.

‘Sorry.’ You sign. ‘Just a little impatient for the next round.’

Vergil sighs, and you hear shifting along the sheets. A gentle pressure circles around your waist, and you look down to see that the culprit is Vergil’s tail.

“Insatiable little succubus, aren’t you?”

You smile, pressing another little kiss to where you imagine his nose might be if he were in his human form.

‘Look who’s talking. It better not be the demon who’s locked his cock inside me for the third time tonight.’

Vergil snorts, rolling his glowing blue eyes at your response. You reach up to spoil him with more kisses all while running your hands over his wings, his back, his horns. Vergil’s hypnotic purring gets louder with each part of him you worship.

He really does love to be touched. By you, specifically. Every time your fingers seek him out, he’s always leaning his body towards yours. If the two of you are in the company of others it’s quite subtle, but the moment it's just you and him behind closed doors, it becomes so adorably obvious.

Like a cat, Vergil basks in the softness of your touch, arching against your fingers while pulling you deeper into his embrace. And while Vergil still does retain his stiff and standoffish demeanor most of the time (even with you), it’s tender little moments like this where you can peer behind the curtain and bask in the gentle warmth of his tender heart. He really is a big sensitive softy. With the soul of a poet to boot.

“Have you had your fun?” Vergil’s mouth opens and his long blue tongue slides out from between his sharp fangs to tenderly lap at your cheek.

Exhaling wistfully your own satisfaction, you nod.

‘I have. But I won’t object to one more round.’

Vergil’s amused chuckle fills the air as your brows wiggle. Your teasing fingers make their way down to the place where the two of you are connected. As you touch him, the comforting purr in Vergil’s chest intensifies—the vibrations traveling all the way down to where he has you knotted.

Your jaw slacks as a spark of pleasure ignites a new fire in your core. With hips arching further up to grind yourself against him, you bite your lip before pulling your hand back to massage your neglected clit.

Vergil growls, eyes fixating on where your fingers toy.

Then abruptly, the half-demon ends your play. With a heavy groan Vergil takes both your hands into his own, entwining your fingers as he brings them to his mouth, licking the remnants of both of your fluids from your digits.

His sigh of rapture sends another pang of heat flowing through you. And when Vergil looks at you, the demonic glow of his eyes holds within them all the tenderness in the world.

“You are so precious to me.”

Vergil’s words are so soft—whisper quiet—like they are a secret to the very air itself. But to you they may as well have been screamed in your ear. Your eyes widen and your heart nearly stops in your chest as Vergil looks down at you. There is the slightest tremor to his breaths now.

Then his hands release yours and using the words you had taught him, he clumsily signs.

‘Stay here with me.’

Then, he points to his heart.

You’re dumbfounded, staring at the half-demon above you with utter awe as your heart and mind tries to process what you had just seen. Vergil stares silently back at you, patient as he allows you to ponder your response. He never rushes you. He is never demanding of the beautiful words you craft into the air.

But you find yourself rushing at this moment. Rushing to tell him exactly how you feel. Neither you nor Vergil had been very good at communicating your feelings in life, but now —in this private little moment—it feels totally effortless.

Happy little tears spring in your eyes, and you smile, reaching up to wipe them away with one hand as you sign with the other.

‘Always.’

And Vergil purrs happily, leaning down to take you in his arms. You wrap him in your embrace too, pressing kisses to his face. But your pampering is cut short, as Vergil takes hold of your waist and shifts his hips away, slowly pulling and popping his knot out of you.

A pathetic little whine escapes your throat as Vergil pulls out. Losing the feeling of his hot cock throbbing inside you makes you feel so lonely and empty.

“Shhh,” Vergil hushes, clawed fingers moving down to capture and cup your ass. You gasp as Vergil hoists you up, placing you prettily upright and in the crux of his lap, dangling you just above the glistening cock still covered in your arousal and his cum.

Gosh, he’s still so hard and throbbing like he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes nestled deep inside you.

Lowering you down gently, the head of Vergil’s cock presses against your swollen folds, then strokes from your clit to your entrance.

Your hands land upon his shoulders, steadying yourself as you sigh and peg him with a pleading look.

‘Please. Don’t tease me.’ You mouth.

Vergil nods, nestling his cockhead at your twitching entrance. He pauses for a heartbeat, then two, before he slowly slides you all the way down to his knot.

You gasp in pleasure as you’re filled anew, pressing your lips to his teeth as you melt into his arms. Vergil hums, snaking that long demonic tongue into your awaiting mouth with rapture—the only way the two of you can kiss while he is in this form.

You suck on his tongue, relishing in his taste and how he trembles as you clench your pussy around his cock. Coaxing him and milking him, grinding against him as you beg him with each sensual movement of your body.

And Vergil is more than eager to oblige.

The thrusting starts slow as Vergil eases himself in and out of your sopping pussy. There’s not an ounce of hurry in his movements. Instead, he frees his tongue from your mouth and moans—the demonic trill he releases sending shivers all along your skin as he savors every fleshy inch of your insides with his cock.

“So sweet,” Vergil softly pants. “No matter how many times…”

You want to tell him that you feel the same way, but your hands are currently busy gripping for dear life against his armored shoulders. So instead, you press a tender little kiss to his forehead, and Vergil understands.

The two of you writhe and thrust and pant, clutching one another with loving and desperate hands as Vergil pounds into your cunt. The wet slap of your skin against his and the desperate little breathless sounds from both of your mouths send the two of you into a frenzy. Rutting against the other as you both seek that blissful release.

It’s not long before you’re coming on Vergil’s cock, and he groans with pleasure, stilling as your pussy pulses and grips his monstrous girth like a vice.

“Let me knot you,” Vergil gasps, voice strained as he fights off his own climax.

“Please.”

You nod desperately, tears of pleasure staining your lashes as you work yourself down on his knot, trying to take it yourself but knowing that you’ll need his help to do so.

And with one forceful push, Vergil stuffs his knot inside you, tearing a voiceless cry from your throat as you wrap your arms around his neck—both of your bodies quivering as Vergil fills you to the brim and then some.

Vergil moans softly as he succumbs to his own pleasure, holding you tight as he pumps you full of his cum. He wishes that he could stay right here, inside you and on this bed forever. But Vergil has lived long enough to know that such moments are fleeting, and to savour every second while he can.

He’ll treasure you—his little muse—until the day that he dies.

divider source

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desmond69miles · 23 days

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(clip from a dmc panel around 2011)

dan giving us a demonstration of vergil's flirting skills (sound on)

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desmond69miles · 23 days

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not a day passes when i don't long for a 'press x to remove hair ribbon' option on haytham so we can see his hair down in all its glory

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desmond69miles · 27 days

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Is That A Promise? (Venom One-Shot)

Eddie Brock x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: Telling you about Venom does not go entirely how Eddie planned.

CW: mentions of monster fucking, Eddie is oblivious and a dumbass (I think I have a type)

Venom Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You’d known Eddie Brock a good while by this point. You’d started dating him a while back, and while he put others on edge, you’d found the way he talked to himself out loud rather charming, actually.

At first, you weren’t sure if he was just unmedicated, or undiagnosed. But then the news broke about the symbiote, and then there was the footage. And when Eddie started coming home right after news broke of some other attack or taking out of a bad guy or criminal or whoever, you’d put two and two together.

It was kind of hard not to. Particularly as his conversations with himself could vary from topic to topic in the span of six words or less.

Eddie had asked to meet up for lunch today at your favourite restaurant. He’d seemed a bit off on the phone, and given how prone you were to anxiety, your immediate thought had been that he was breaking up with you and that you’d done something to upset him or his bodily guest- who you did not officially know about, of course.

You’d gotten there early to prepare yourself for whatever shitshow was about to follow and to your immense surprise, Eddie had shown up pretty much right after you. Eddie was always running late, so this change in pace was also mildly concerning. You were not sure how this was going to go and you did not like that one bit.

“You’re here early, too,” Eddie had said, swallowing thickly and avoiding eye contact. You nodded, and cleared your throat, gesturing for him to sit down at the table opposite you.

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure we had a spot,” you replied, smoothing down your shirt. Bit of a nervous habit. That and ripping at your nails, but that was beside the point.

“Right,” Eddie replied.

And then the two of you lapsed into silence. You spent a good five to ten minutes appearing to read over the menu as if this wasn’t a regular spot for you and you didn’t know exactly what you were going to order. In fact, you’d be surprised if the cooks weren’t already making it up for you even though a waiter hadn’t come over yet.

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed quietly. You peered over the menu to eye him curiously, one brow arced in question.

“I didn’t say anything, Eddie.”

“Yeah, I know. I- uh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You hummed, and put the menu down to give him your attention.

“About me shutting up?”

“No- God, this is not going at all like I planned.” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face and sighed.

You said nothing, waiting patiently for him to work out his wording.

“I really like you,” he started, and you nodded, replying with the same sentiment. “And, well, there’s something I’ve been hiding from you.”

“Right…” This is where you expected him to tell you he was married (doubtful but not impossible) or had cancer or something terrible. Dear God, please no.

“Look- you’ve seen on the news, yes, the, uh- the attacks. Yeah?”

You nod. Ah, so he was finally telling you about his friend living literally rent-free in his body. Okay, you could relax a little.

“He’s me. Venom, he lives in my body. He’s in my head. Like, all the time. Right now.”

Eddie looked at the table where he was picking at the tablecloth. You were silent for a second, and Eddie clearly took that to mean you were horrified or disgusted or something. You were a little nervous about it, sure, but you’d also been living with him for the last few months. If Venom was planning to take you out, he would have done so by now, surely. You figured this to mean you were safe enough. You’d also seen your fair share of monster porn, so you weren’t exactly unkeen on the idea of dating someone who sometimes had a monster body. It was kind of hot, actually. You shook the thought out of your head and tried to focus.

“Oh, yeah- I knew about that,” you replied, and the way Eddie’s head snapped towards you was almost comical.

“You what?”

“Yeah, I figured that out a while ago. I was just waiting for you to tell me in your own time.”

Eddie blinked, and a black residue appeared on the back of his hand. It swirled and gathered on his hand before reaching for you delicately. You met it, brushing your finger over it softly. The goop (for lack of a better word) seemed to shiver pleasurably and you smiled.

“Can I meet him later?”

Eddie nodded, watching the interaction with disbelief. He’d thought that you’d go running and screaming through the doors or something, not be rubbing your fingers over Venom like you were fingering some Play-Doh.

“Y-yeah, later,” he agreed. “Not here. When we get home.”

You grinned and the black substance retreated back into Eddie’s skin as a waiter appeared by your table.

“What can I get for you? The regular?”

You looked at Eddie and clicked your tongue thoughtfully.

“The usual with a serving of chicken nuggets on the side, please.”

The waiter nodded, scribbled it own on his pad and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. Eddie looked at you in question. He knew you weren’t big on nuggets.

“They’re for Venom,” you explained, propping your head up on your palm. Eddie looked to the side as if listening to something carefully.

“Venom says thank you-” Eddie said before cutting himself as Venom said something else in his head. “No, I’m not saying that. No. No.”

“Say what?”

Eddie sighed defeatedly- something you think he did a lot when it came to Venom.

“Venom said he could kiss you right now.” Eddie looked mortified as the words left his mouth. You burst into laughter.

“Is that a threat or a promise? I hope it’s a promise,” you replied, wiggling your eyebrows at the two of them.

Eddie swallowed thickly and blushed as Venom said something else. You’d have to see if Venom could swap hosts sometime. It would be nice to have a conversation while out and about like that.

“Promise,” Eddie replied.

Good.

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