Riding genshin men, how will they react?
Ft & Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Alhaitham, Lyney, Albedo
Cw: Riding, praise, overall soft, fluffy and short. Might have grammar mistakes, just ignore lol, wrote this in a hurry so might be a mess.
Neuvillette: All pretty, sitting on top of him in his office, raising your hips before slamming them right back down, one of Neuvillette's hands around your waist, helping you ride him, "Mmhpf- I'm coming, I'm... C-Cumming!" You cried out sensitive as you released all over on his cock, you let out a load moan, tightening up around him as you felt him grind you down onto him, not allowing you to calm down as he chased his own orgasm. "I'm sorry, my dear but I need to be quick, the trial is starting soon. Just hold on to me and be quiet." He lowered his head, pressing a kiss on your temple. After your short meeting with Neuvillette, his clothes were...rather messed up and his hair slightly disheveled which the people of Fontaine found strange, it left them what could be the reason?
Scaramouche: This guy would rarely allow you to be on top due to his pride, but this was one of the very rare occasions where he was simply too tired and feeling vulnerable which you of course used to your advantage. Bouncing up and down his cock, the sight was worth it he thought, maybe it wasn't too bad after all?, his hands gripping your hips tightly as his lips find their way into your mouth, biting on your bottom lip to draw blood. "Hah... Turns out, you aren't completely useless." he'd mutter, smirking as he bit on your neck. He wouldn't mind having you ride him more in the future, after all, seeing you bounce up and down, trying so hard to make the both of you finish, was quite adorable...
Alhaitham: After seeing you beg for attention, he had to give in, placing you on his lap, originally only to cockwarm him as he worked but that soon ended up into him slamming your hips against his, lewd sounds filling the room. "Y-Yes, keep going, pretty girl... I can feel you squeezing me, are you close, hm?" He asked, placing a kiss on your cheek, he certainly didn't mind you distracting him, all he wanted was to fill you up and have you ride him like the good girl you are.
Lyney: He enjoyed nothing more than having you ride his cock after a tiring day of acting and making others smile, it was his job, yes, but it sometimes got exhausting and what better way to relax than have you on his cock, all pretty and eager to please him? "Mm, you're doing so good, ma cherie... It feels heavenly." He murmured, drunk on the feeling of your pussy wrapping around his shaft so perfectly, his head buried in the crook of your neck, soft moans and occasional mewls slipping past his lips.
Albedo: He rarely had time, all consumed with his research and experiments but that wouldn't prevent him from making time for his angel. Having you on his lap, either cockwarming or riding him was a regular thing of you two which you both enjoyed, this was no exception. "Are you alright, my love? Getting tired already, hmm? In that case, I'll offer you some assistance since you have been a good girl up till now..." He remarked, smiling lovingly as he pressed a soft kiss on your lips, his focus now shifting on to you instead of his work. Helping you ride him faster, the sweet praises which left his mouth making you cum on the spot, earning an impressed chuckle from Albedo, he would surely note this later, "There you go, angel. Now, be good and rest while I finish this, alright?" He patted your hair, pulling you to rest your head against his chest.
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Moon — Thomas Shelby.
— CW: 18+!, smut. breeding kink, (slight) housewife kink, mentions of kidnaping. Age gap. | word count: 1.7k. (not proofread!)
— a/n: I have no clue from where this came from. I'm not in the best mindset and this happened. This is also my first time writing for Tommy so don't hate me lol. This isn't canon compliant ig because I don't want it to be. I just want him so bad it's not even funny.
Vulnerability.
It was a word he never thought he’d truly understand the meaning of.
It was always meant to be a secret. Why? Because good things don’t last long— not for him. Never for him.
And every time he is away from you, it is a constant heartache that not even the strongest alcohol or an insane amount of tobacco could ease. He wishes he could steal the moon from the dark skies of Birmingham and hand it to you, he knows how much you love the moon. Night after night, he raises his head to stare at it for hours, wondering where are you, if you are thinking about him as much as he is thinking of you.
Wondering if you love him as much as he loves you.
Love. Such a funny word. A meaning both so full and so empty.
He wishes he could steal you.
He knows how much he loves you.
It is always better to be safe than sorry— that’s why he secluded you, and you understood. Perhaps it was the naivety granted by your young age, or maybe it was your blind love for a man who was doomed since the day he was born. Whatever it was, it kept both of your hearts attached, beating as one; watching the same moon.
He counts the days, the hours, and sometimes even the minutes; he is a smart man, he knows where you are and with whom, he knows what dress you wore and who you talked to. And he does it for love. Or even obsession. A strange urge that creeps into him every night when he thinks of you after a long day of work— an urge to be loved. He counts the days, the hours, and sometimes even the minutes until he is able to see you again. To hide under that perfect, warm blanket that is your arms, your kisses, your body.
In front of your front door, he knocks even though he knows the door is open. He has guards on every corner, eyes on every window. He already lost too many precious things in his life. He can’t afford to lose you. He built you a house, a paradise for you to enjoy, cherish and take care of. He gave you everything you could ask for, even more. Growing up, you never experienced the same deficiencies and struggles he did, you never had to lift a single finger and that’s alright for him. Because on those days when he feels powerless and exhausted, he knows he can always ride back home, and regain that power by standing next to you.
Home. Home. Home.
“Tommy!” The squeak of excitement makes the long trip worth it. Everything is worth it if it comes to you.
He hugs you, keeping you tight against his chest wishing he could stay that way forever, basking in your delicate soul, your selfless heart. Thomas calls your name in an affectionate way that no one could evoke in such a genuine way. He kisses you with such passion that makes your blood boil and your heart flutter.
“How are you feeling?” He asks, ignoring how his mind scolds him for the hint of vulnerability that laces his voice.
Placing your hands over your stomach, his body tenses at the small bump underneath your expensive, tailored dress. “We feel good, we missed you— I missed you” You reply with adoration. He is finally here.
“I’m here,” He says as if you needed confirmation that he is in fact in front of you.
“How is everyone?”
“Good” He places a large hand over your stomach, rubbing it with his palm. “Ada keeps asking me when I will bring you back to Small Heath”
“And when will that be?” Your question gives him a pang of guilt. He wishes he could have an answer, his face says it all. “It’s alright, love. I understand things are… difficult”
“Enough about that” He breathes, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He wants the distraction, he wants the warmth, he wants you. “I’m here to see my wife, not to talk about work”
With a giggle, you kiss him. “Fine. Whatever you want”
And he loves that. He loves how willing to please you are. He loves how you let him guide you upstairs, undress you, and adore you. Thomas’ hands caress the small bump in your stomach as he carefully lifts his hips to thrust deeper, enjoying every small moan and gasp. Normally he isn’t this gentle, but he will never harm you or your baby. With his occasional grunts and pants, he grabs your thighs, increasing his pace. Watching you bounce on top of him is a heavenly sight and is in these moments when he is sure you are an angel sent from heaven from him. He might not believe in God but whatever exists in this cruel world granted him with a Goddess.
“I m–missed you” You moan digging your nails into the pale skin of his shoulders. “I missed you s–so much”
That damn wave of vulnerability washes over him, the bed creaks with your combined weight, creating a delicious, sinful melody that he evokes on those nights when he is too desperate for your body and has to find relief in his own hands.
His large hands cup your breasts, paying attention to your swollen, sensitive nipples. Thomas pinches them gently watching you tremble. He can already imagine them full and heavy, ready to take care of the baby that you are expecting— his baby. A louder groan falls down his lips at the thought. Such a wonderful mother you will be. Such a perfect, precious housewife.
Such an angel sent from heaven.
“I love how you look” He confesses in a husky fashion, bouncing your tits in his calloused palms. “I can’t wait to see you— to see you all round and heavy with my baby”
His words send a shiver down your spine, clenching around him and making Thomas hiss from the raw pleasure of your tight pussy. “Please— don’t stop”
“I wasn’t plannin’ on, doll”
Thomas dares to increase the pace, using one hand to grope your ass to keep balance. Your moans also increase in volume, igniting the primal desire to claim you inside of him. “You are so fucking tight— I will fucking pump another baby into you as soon as you have this one”
You nod fervently, closing your eyes and scratching his chest. “Yes! I’ll have as many as you want Tommy— anything you want! Anything”
The loyalty he so loves.
His lust wins over his composure for a moment, landing a sharp slap over your asscheek that makes you whine and clench again causing him to grit his teeth. He is aware of how much you adore it when he is rough with you, he thrives on the submission you gave him since day one. Unable to help himself, your husband slaps your ass repeatedly, relishing the cries of pleasure that call him like a siren to a poor, lost sailor.
“Say you are mine” He grunts after another hard slap. He isn’t going to last any longer. Not with such a breathtaking view.
“I belong to you!” You comply instantly. “I am y–yours! I’ve always been” He knows you are telling the truth. That’s why he had to take you away from your home, to manipulate you in order to give up your last name, to cast you under his spell— that’s why he had to have you since he first landed eyes on you.
But at the end of the day, he was the one wrapped around your finger.
He is the one wrapped around the velvety, soft walls of your cunt, squeezing him for dear life and silently begging him to breed you, use you, claim you…
Love you.
With a strained cry, you come around him. He could watch you unravel on top of him for hours— in fact, he has. Your movements were slow, deliberate, and intense. He could feel his breath hitch as you moved, and his heart raced as you arrived at your climax. His gaze was unwavering as he watched you ride out the waves of your pleasure. Thomas followed you seconds after, moaning your name under his breath; he fills you up just the way you both adore, it’s evident that when the hours pass, time is the only thing left to waste. Panting above him, he carefully settles you next to him, spooning you and keeping his softening cock inside of you. This is how he wants to end every day, to wake up every morning.
Kissing your sweaty neck, he breathes you in, memorizing your scent once again. He knows his time with you is limited before someone notices his absence and begins to track him. Thomas needs to be two steps ahead of anyone. Your soft giggles make him smile, a genuine smile that feels so foreign to him. Under the darkness of your bedroom, his hands caress your hot skin, providing you with the heat and care he knows you crave.
“I love you” You whisper, closing your eyes and falling asleep rather quickly. He listens to your heavy breathing, peaceful and unbothered; and that’s how he wishes it could stay forever. Away from worries, stress, fear.
“I love you, more than you can imagine” He musters, hiding his face on the crook of your neck.
It’s true. Because love is such a funny word that gives him such a funny feeling.
A warm, fuzzy feeling.
He opens his eyes, raising his head to look at the windows. The curtains are wide open, the weak glow of the full moon casting a divine glow over your naked body. His lips land on your shoulder, allowing the sensation to wash over him. It's a moment of peace and serenity, a moment in time that will never be forgotten. A moment he doesn’t want to end.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will bring you back where you belong. It doesn’t matter the consequences, it doesn’t matter if the whole world finds out Thomas Shelby was the one who kidnaped Jack Nelson’s younger sister. As long as he has you, he is alive.
And he swears it to the moon.
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❁ Sugar (I've developed a taste for you) ❁
!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!
Summary: Astarion asks for a favour and ends up getting more than what he bargained for (or: I'm a lesbian but this fictional little vampire twink can get it)
Rating: Explicit (for eventual smut)
Wordcount: 2.4k
Descriptors: I try to keep my reader-inserts fairly neutral, but let me know if anything slips through the cracks! Astarion is his usual self, pathetic and awful yet somehow also lovable as fuck.
CW: bad flirting, friends with benefits (and the benefit is bloodsucking lol), blood, blood drinking, biting, hint of praise kink, eventual proper smut, nicknames, so much innuendo
✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦
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Chapter 1: My my, those eyes like fire
He could be lovely if he wasn’t so self-involved.
That is the first thought you have when you meet Astarion. He is not downright mean, but something about him just bugs you. He flirts with every creature on two legs (sometimes even those with more), but that’s not it.
Something about all his honeyed words just feels so… insincere.
You think Astarion has something to hide, and you desperately want to know what it is. So far, he has shown no signs of weakness, and he is as much as self-entitled twat as when you first met him. And this continues to be your opinion of him… up until today.
The day has been hard. Your feet hurt, your hands have blisters, and you are smeared with blood pretty much all over. Your shirt has been ripped and frankly, you don’t know when you might find the time to mend it. There is a giant bloodstain on the thigh of your trousers, and you are pretty sure your hair has become completely encrusted in blood quite some time ago.
But you have made it back to camp and that is all that counts.
As you shake out your bedroll and try to ignore the fact that this is the seventh night in a row that you’ll have had bland stew for dinner, you catch Astarion’s eyes across the fire.
His gaze is… odd.
You have seen him in the heat of battle, you’ve seen the glint in his eye when he comes up with another of his devious plans. You’ve even seen him amused, shaking with laughter when Gale recited an - admittedly very ambiguous - poem to you.
But you have never seen him like this. It’s not affection, nor is it desire that lights up his delicate features. He almost looks… desperate. Like he is starving for something, and you can’t place your finger on what it is.
As soon as Astarion notices that you have caught him, his eyes flick away. He saunters off, way too casual to not be obvious about it.
You stare after him, vaguely confused. But then, Karlach makes her way over to ask for more stew, and you forget all about it. For the moment.
Her smile makes your belly flutter, and you wish you knew more about her, and so you do your best to make conversation, joking and asking shallow questions.
Astarion’s eyes haunt you through dinner.
Even though the day was exhausting, the nights in your little camp are starting to grow on you. Gale is funny in his own, book-wormish way. You have learned that Karlach is downright hilarious in her joy about the world outside of Avernus, and Wyll is always scandalised by her, which is admittedly quite fun to watch. Lae’zel and Shadowheart keep to themselves a bit more, but even they share the meals with the rest of you.
You laugh when Karlach imitates Wyll’s horrified expression, but in spite of yourself. your eyes keep wandering to the silver hair of your elven companion who is sitting across from you.
Astarion is staring at you again, his eyes focused on some point below your jaw. He is watching you intently, seemingly unaware you have caught him. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away - he just stares at you as your spoon scrapes along the bottom of your bowl.
Only when you get up to wash off before you go to bed does he move again.
Sometimes, Astarion reminds you of a scared animal in the way he moves, his eyes flicking back and forth, his hands trembling slightly whenever he is not in battle. He hides right out in the open, behind his swagger and his dirty jokes and innuendos, behind his beautiful face and his beautiful body.
Tonight, though, even in all his desperation, Astarion is not prey. He is a predator. And like any talented predator, he has managed to get his prey away from the protection of the group.
You are kneeling in the small stream that runs by the camp, washing your bowl, your clothes, yourself - everything is dirty and soaked in mud, sweat and blood. You are barely wearing anything, but your companions have seen you in much more precarious situations at this point.
Astarion approaches quietly, sneaking up on you in that manner where you can never tell whether it is intentional or not. He is just… there, suddenly, shedding his clothes next to you, blood still smeared on his pale skin.
He stops short of the water, watching you from the riverbank. You try not to gawk as he undresses, but something about him seems unusually anxious. The way he pushes hit foot forward so slowly, testing the water, makes you wonder if he might not know how to swim.
Astarion smiles suddenly, taking a step into the stream and towards you, then another, his smile growing the deeper he wades into the water. Dark red streaks appear in the water where the blood is washed from his pale skin.
He clears his throat and raises a sharp brow.
“And how are you feeling tonight, sweet thing?” he inquires. His eyes flick over your body, focusing on a point below your ear for a moment before he rips his gaze away again.
“‘M alright,” you answer, brow furrowed as you scrub your shirt a little harder than you actually need to. Why he has to be so infuriating with his nicknames, you’ll never know. “Today was… a lot. I wanted to have a quiet moment.”
“Ah.”
He doesn’t seem to get the hint. He merely wades further into the stream, shimmering pearls of water running down his back. When you don’t say anything else, he turns to face you once again.
“Are you not going to ask me how I am, darling?”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” you mumble, throwing your shirt to the side, Clearly, you’re not getting anywhere with it tonight.
“Tsk, so rude. Somebody should really teach you some manners.” He clicks his tongue at you like you are an insubordinate child, shaking his head until droplets hit you.
You press your lips together. If he wasn’t so beautiful, he wouldn’t get away with half the things he does, and it frustrates you to no end. You catch yourself forgiving him on occasions where you don’t mean to, simply because his face is the prettiest things you have ever seen, and you hate it.
Astarion watches you carefully, gauging your mood. You stare back at him defiantly. What the hell could he want from you, anyway?
The hunger in his eyes is back, you notice - that desperation that you can’t quite place. There is a pained expression around his mouth, and despite all his cockiness, he is clearly not doing entirely well - his skin even paler than usual, his hands shaking a little when he crosses his arms.
Astarion yawns, his gaze raking over you in a way that makes you shiver. You tell yourself it’s just the cold of the water.
“Well, I was going to ask you for your help, but you are in a terrible mood.” He inspects his fingernails, and even though you know exactly that he is baiting you, you can’t help yourself.
“You? Need my help? Never thought the day would come.” Your voice is biting, but you can’t hide the note of curiosity that sneaks in.
“Don’t make me out to be such a horrible companion.” Astarion takes a step closer to you through the water. You take a step back. He laughs, but his eyes catch on your neck again. “I’m not that bad, am I?”
You shrug.
“Sometimes you are.”
“Hm.” He raises his brows, and takes another step towards you. This time, you don’t step back. “Well, I suppose that can’t be helped, my love. We all have good and bad days, don’t we?” He cocks his head. “And today has been quite hard for me.”
You make a non-committal noise, staring him down. What in the hells is he trying to do? Seduce you?
Your body likes that thought much more than your mind does.
Astarion is watching you intently. He stretches out his hand to take yours, and in your surprise, you don’t even pull back. His thumb rests right against the delicate inside of your wrist, and he closes his eyes.
You wait for him to drone on about how he carried your group on the battlefield, to gloat that you now owe him your life seven times over, but he doesn’t. Astarion stays eerily still, breathing deeply as his thumb strokes your wrist, pressing against your pulse point.
You can’t keep quiet any longer, not with the odd way he is behaving. Maybe he got hit by a spell, or…
“Any reason today was particularly hard for you?” You meant to sound sarcastic, but the question comes out sounding sincere. You scold yourself for caring so much.
Your skin burns like fire where he is touching you. Astarion’s eyes open, and he looks at you like he was a million miles away. He is so close now - much closer than you realised. You can see the fiery ring around his irises.
“I…” To your surprise, his voice is hesitant and quiet. “It’s easier to just… show you. You see, I need something from you, my darling.”
You frown.
“Why ask me? You could ask any of us, and most of them would be more inclined to help than I am. I’ve seen the way that Gale watches you at the fire-”
“Gale?” Astarion sounds genuinely amused. “Darling, do you think I’m asking you for sexual favours right now?”
“I- yes?” Your voice is full of uncertainty. “I mean… is that not what you were going to say?”
Astarion smiles, small and sharp.
“No.” He is even closer to you now, his thumb still caressing the skin of your wrist. “Even though I would not be disinclined if you offered… you are quite beautiful, you know?”
“Mh. Thank you?” You wish your heart would not beat faster at the way he looks at you. It’s a look that doesn’t fit the words that fall from his lips, a look that betrays the desperation with which he needs this favour. “What-”
“What I am asking for is simple.” He is so close now he could kiss you if you leaned in. “All I want is… a taste.”
“I- what?”
His lips are on your neck, his hand in your hair. You are not quite sure when that happened.
“Say yes, sweet thing,” he breathes. “Just a taste of your blood and-”
“My blood?” You sound more distraught than you actually feel. You are… oddly resigned. You should have seen this coming - you knew something was up with him, you knew he wasn’t telling you the whole truth.
And now, here you are. With a fucking vampire. His lips graze your pulse point, and your heart beats faster. You can feel the heat of his breath when he utters a single word.
“Please.”
It’s that one word that changes everything. Just like that, he has you. All the arrogance, all the superiority is gone from his voice, and what is left is just hunger and the fear that you might reject him. For a moment, you are sure you must have imagined it, but then, Astarion repeats himself.
“Please.” His hand tightens around your wrist, though he is trembling more than you are. “Just a taste, no more.”
Your lips are numb when you answer, your mind screaming at you not to let him- this is dangerous, this is stupid- you have already lost so much blood in the fight today and-
“Yes.” Your hands are on his shoulders, then in his silver hair. He smells so good; even after this horrid day. Your voice is softer than you intend for it to be, but his desperation makes you weak. “If you need it, it’s yours.”
Astarion makes a sound that shatters you, and before you can think too much about your own colossal stupidity, his fangs sink into your neck.
It’s not painful.
It’s uncomfortable, but the fear that bites into your heart ebbs after mere seconds. Astarion’s hands are surprisingly warm against you, keeping you upright. Your head falls to the side, granting him easier access and - oh.
Why does it feel so good?
You become acutely aware of your blood flowing from the small puncture wounds in your neck, and for a moment, you panic, stiffening in Astarion’s arms.
“There, there, sweet thing.” His lips don’t raise an inch from your neck. “It’s alright, just trust me. Just a taste, all I want is a taste…”
Your head is swimming.
“You have tasted me,” you whisper, trying to pull away. When you look into Astarion’s eyes, there is a red glint in them - and a sadness that overwhelms you.
“No taste of you will ever be enough.” Astarion looks up at you from beneath long lashes. “You are divine, my love.”
The tip of his tongue wets his lips, licking up the small droplets of blood that linger.
You stare at him, trying with all your might to focus.
“You said… just a taste. No more than you need.”
His finger traces your jaw, down your neck, and your whole body is on fire.
“If it were up to me, I would need all of you,” Astarion sighs, his lips on your neck again, his tongue lapping at the blood that flows from the wound he has given you. “I would take and take, and give you so much in return. I would have you in ways you did not even know you wanted. Taste everything you have to offer.”
You shiver when he raises your wrist to his mouth, soft lips pressing to delicate skin.
“I would cherish you, keep you. My little pet, so perfect, so beautiful in every way. So eager to give what I need. Would you give me more if I asked?”
“Of course,” your lips say even though those were not the words you were planning to utter. But how could you ever say no to him? “If that’s what you need.”
Astarion’s sigh is one of rapture and delight.
“So obedient for me… You know, all these days I thought you hated me.” He chuckles to himself. “I suppose even I can be wrong sometimes.”
His teeth sink back into your neck, and the world goes dark.
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HELLO MY DOVES i finally found time to format this for tumblr so here you go, for those who are not in love with the bear, you can get the twink, as a treat.
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