#enchanted elixirs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prythianpages · 4 months

Text

Dandelions | Azriel x Witch Reader

summary: Azriel asks you for an elixir to soothe his aches and you accidentally give him the aphrodisiac you had made for Nesta, bringing to surface one of his hidden desires.

warning: this is purely smut with a breeding kink. some fluff at the end

a/n: this is based off this request. I feel like this can be read as a stand alone imagine but if you're interested in reading more of Az x witch reader, you can find the masterlist here.

The door creaks open, signaling Azriel’s return from a day that seemed to drag on endlessly. His wings sag under the weight of fatigue and as he steps into your study, the scent of herbs and potions are instantly wrapping him in a soothing embrace.

And there you are, a sanctuary amidst the enchanting chaos. His mate.

You're engrossed in your apothecary work. Your spell book floats in midair in front of you, your keen dark eyes scanning through the ancient text as your fingers deftly work their magic to bring the essence of the herbs to life. The sight reminds him of the day he met you, when the mating bond had snapped.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he stands in the doorway for a moment. The fatigue that clung to him like his shadows begins to lift as he watches you, admiration and love evident in the way he drinks in the details–from the concentration in your furrowed brow to the way your pretty lips move in incantation.

The weariness he feels is soon replaced by a warmth that radiates from the depths of his heart and quiet footsteps carry him closer. He’s surprised his shadows haven’t given him away. They love you as much as he does and it is often them who greet you first.

His arms wrap around you from behind and he pulls you into his embrace. He nuzzles his nose lovingly into your neck. “Hello, love.”

“You’re home!”

He can hear the smile in your voice and you can feel the exhaustion in his body, his tense muscles finally relaxing and body slightly slouching into yours. “Long day?”

“Yes,” he responds and you’re turning in his embrace to face him properly with a gaze of deep rooted concern. He kisses your worry away. “But coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.”

He takes delight in the way you grace him with a smile, your eyes softening into their natural color as you brush his hair back. “Should I draw you a bath?”

He pulls you tighter against him until you are chest to chest. Your heart, the emerald talisman kept safely in his chest pocket, hums between you. A bath sounds nice but he just wants to bask in your comfort.

“Will you join me?”

“If you wait for me,” you reply and pull away to catch the slightest frown on his face. “It won’t be long! I have one more elixir to finish!”

Azriel’s eyes drift to the line of elixirs you have sitting on the counter behind you. They seem to glisten enticingly under his curious gaze. “Do you have anything to soothe aches?” He asks as he reluctantly lets you go to carry on with your work. “Training was rough this morning.”

“Of course. The one with the green liquid should work,” you say as you mindlessly point to the array of potions you spent all afternoon making, failing to catch the way the aphrodisiac you made for Nesta morphs from its deep red to a verdant green. “Drink all of it, if you need to. I can always make more. Just let me seal this last one with a spell and then I can draw your–”

Your voice falters as you turn to face Azriel, your gaze momentarily flickering to the potions before settling back on him. He fails to catch the way your eyes widen in a sudden panic and swallows the sweet liquid in a big gulp. It’s only once all the liquid is gone from the vial that he picks up on your slight distress.

"What?"

“Umm,” you stammer, your hand rubbing nervously at your neck as you sheepishly look up at him.

“It wasn’t poison, right?” He jokes but your silence wipes the smile off his face. “y/n.”

“Of course not!”

You drop your gaze, murmuring something else quietly under your breath. Both his shadows and ears strain to discern your words but they fail in their attempt. “y/n,” he calls your name again, growing worried by the second.

You slowly raise your eyes, and as they meet his, a rush of warmth colors your cheeks, betraying the fluster that has settled on your face. You should’ve separated the love potion from the others, especially when you knew how sneaky it can be. It’s known to masquerade itself as any elixir beside it as it yearns to be used and your poor mate took the bait.

“Youaccidentallydrankanaphrodisiac.”

Though your words are mushed, your voice is louder this time and he’s able to make them out. He throws his head back and laughs. A deep and amused sound.

“You’re not mad?” You say and though he’s laughing, your body tenses at the thought of him saying yes. Your hands clasp behind your back in a timid manner, inadvertently puffing out your chest and drawing his attention there.

“I’m not mad, love.”

His eyes land on the silver jewelry delicately hugging your neck and then to the charm with his initial. When you suck in a short breath of relief, he watches the rise and fall of the curves of your breasts as the sweet sound caresses over his skin in a heated whisper that pricks at his skin.

“Azriel.”

“I’m fine,” he says, brushing off your concern but his gaze lingers on the movement of your chest for a moment longer before meeting yours again. He follows up with a boyish grin, despite the sudden racing of his heart and the familiar feeling of blood rushing downwards.

“How about that bath?”

There’s a buzzing underneath his skin. All the soreness and ache of his muscles melts away and it’s not from the inviting embrace of the steaming bath. A burgeoning impulse stirs within him. It’s as though the elixir he consumed earlier is coursing through his veins, gathering strength and coalescing in the depths of his stomach before dropping to his hardening cock.

Every gentle lapping of the water against his hot skin, every touch of yours as you help clean him feels so good. It certainly doesn’t help that you’re putting on a show, intentional or not, as you bend down and shift around him, gracing his eyes with tempting views of your ass or breasts.

He submerges his head into the water and while his body is now clean, there’s nothing clean about his thoughts when he rises back up. You’re at the center of every single one of his whirling thoughts, filling his head with lewd images. Of you on your knees as you take him into your mouth, of you under him as he thrusts into you hard and fast, of you on your back as you let him have a taste. Fuck. He wants it all.

As you drag the stool and shift to sit behind him, he reclines in the tub. His hands are gripping the edge of the porcelain roughly, his knuckles whitening under the strain and he can feel the flicker of amusement it draws from you through the bond.

His head goes quiet when he feels your chest brush against his wings, muscles tensing as your cool breath fans over the back of his neck. A teasing brush of your fingers along a sensitive spot on his wing as you clean at them with a damp towel has him biting his lip, suppressing a whimper. It’s almost embarrassing the way you’ve barely even touched him at all and he’s already at the verge of coming undone. He feels like a touch starved horny teen all over again.

“What’s the matter, my love?” You whisper sweetly, lips hovering dangerously close to his ear. Your velvet voice is smooth and it sends a thrill down his spine and straight to his throbbing cock. When you brush your fingers along that spot again, the porcelain cracks under his grip.

The air is thick and heavy with his scent and the damp towel falls from your grasp. When you press your hands onto his shoulders, he can feel the shift in your demeanor. “Need some help?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

He can hear the smirk in your voice but the way you’re touching him renders him momentarily speechless and he can’t bring himself to muster a sly remark. Not when he’s completely at your mercy. He’d have to take what he can get for now.

His breath hitches when your hands graze the hardness of his chest, easing their way down to where the warm water of the bath laps at his abdomen in a slow and taunting manner. Your cool touch immediately soothes his heated skin. As you reach further down, his eyes flutter shut and head tilts back into your chest. His throat bobs when you stop right above where he needs you the most.

“Please, touch me,” he breathes, no longer caring how desperate he sounds and it’s like music to your ears.

Azriel is not one to beg…but for you? He’d do anything for you. If you’d ask him for the moon on the string, he’d deliver it to you and in this moment, he’d do so in a heartbeat. Anything to feel you. He’s aching to feel your touch. So bad it’s nearly painful.

Sensing his desperation, his shadows are trailing down your arms to his muscled chest, guiding you to Azriel’s cock so you can grant their master the relief he’s begging so sweetly for. Your teeth nip gently at his neck in approval before wrapping your hand around him and he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Like this?”

“Gods, yes.”

You continue to kiss along his neck, stroking his length just the way he likes it, drawing the sweetest whimpers and moans from him. The water laps against his chest at your movements and his nipples harden at the sensation. He’s never felt so sensitive.

When your lips pepper kisses along one of his wings, he loses his resolve. His stomach tightens and he lets out a deep groan followed by a string of curses as he comes undone. His eyes flutter shut in pure bliss.

You kiss his temple. “Good boy.”

He doesn’t know if it's your words or the aftermath of his orgasm but that exhilarating buzz returns to his skin and he can feel the sinful liquid coursing through his veins again. More, more, more.

His eyes snap open and he stands abruptly, prompting you to do the same.

Water traces sinuous paths down his body, leaving glistening trails in their wake as he steps out from the bath. His wings unfurl behind him and his frenzied shadows disperse. Azriel’s gaze darkens until there’s only traces of hazel left behind, mirroring the gradual darkening of his shadows that envelop the room, casting an ethereal aura upon him.

He looks like a god.

Your knees tremble and you find yourself leaning against the counter behind you for support. His keen eyes pick up on the subtle movement, lips curling into a smirk. “You liked having me at your mercy? Hearing me beg for you, didn’t you?

You don’t answer but you don’t need to.

“My sweet girl,” he purrs as he steps forward and you clench your thighs in anticipation. “I can smell you.”

Long gone is the soft and whimpering male from moments ago. It’s as if a flip was switched from the intensity of his release. In his place, stands something darker and primal. He approaches you like you’re his prey and cages you in, his wet body pressing into yours. You keep your eyes on his, letting out a shaky breath when you feel something hard against your stomach. His smirk widens.

“You’re all wet,” you protest weakly as you look up at him.

His hand caresses your face, a thumb sweeping in a long stroke along the side of your throat as he leans down and inhales sharply. “So are you.”

He nips at your neck the same way you did to him, his hand undoing the front laces of your dress. “It’s my turn to have my way with you, to have you at my mercy.”

Your dress pools at your feet followed by your underwear and he steps back, eyes tracing every contour of your bare body in deep appreciation. Mine, mine, mine. Dark tendrils curl around you, caressing every place his eyes do and if your scent had not given you away, the shadows would’ve. As they travel lower, they meet your dripping core, humming with eagerness. A cool stroke against your clit as a small moan escaping from your lips and when his eyes lifts back up to meet yours, there’s pure lust simmering in his heated gaze.

A slight pressure against your shoulders has you giving in and dropping to your knees in submission. It’s a silent agreement that you’re his to use and only his and he nearly growls at the sight. Desire consumes him like a raging storm, unleashing a torrent of unbridled passion. He’s filled with the primal urge to claim you and devour you in its wake. He brushes a hand against your face when you look up at him, thumb brushing against your lips.

“Open.”

You do and your tongue eagerly swirls around the digit before sucking it into your mouth. He lets out a hum of approval, slipping his thumb out from your mouth with a pop. His hand buries itself into your hair, tilting your face the way he wants it while his other hand pumps his throbbing cock.

He doesn’t have to ask. Your hand is already wrapping nicely around the base of him with the guidance of his shadows. You lean in to flick your tongue across his leaking head.

“Fuck,” he hisses as you take him into your mouth. His head tilts back, lost in the pleasure, barely giving you any time to accommodate his impressive length before pushing his hips forward. “So good for me.”

He begins to thrust, the hand buried into your hair guiding you to move in rhythm with him. He allows his shadows to continue to touch you and they brush along your folds, teasing your entrance. They rub against your clit and it doesn’t take them long to bring a wave of pleasure crashing over you. You’re moaning, sending delicious vibrations straight through him. His pace quickens, thrusting deeper with every snap of his hips.

“That’s it. Take it all.” he groans, digging his nails into your scalp. He holds you flush against his pelvis while you gag on him. Tears prick your eyes at the stretch but you’re desperate to bring him to his release and swallow around him. “Oh fuck.”

He feels the coil in his stomach about to snap and he wants to give in to it, to cum down your throat and make you swallow every drop. But there’s a voice inside his head, a deep and primal urge of need, that has him pulling away abruptly.

“Come here,” he says with a low growl as he beckons you to your feet and as soon as you're standing to your full height, his lips are slotting over yours in a heated kiss.

He presses his body further into yours and you can feel every inch of him vibrating, his entire body pulsing with need. His skin feels so hot against yours and as his shadows envelop you both, you’re stuck in a dance of fire and ice. The dark tendrils disperse and you realize you’re in your bedroom now. You almost want to laugh. The walk from your bathroom to your bedroom is a short one but your mate is keen on not wasting anymore time.

His scarred hands are rough on your hips as he spins you around and presses your front against the bed. “I need to fuck you.”

You arch your back for him. “Please.”

Deep heat spreads over his skin at your whiny and desperate tone. He slaps your ass, reminding you that he’s in complete control now. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” you’re begging and he loves every second of it, his cock twitching in anticipation. “I need your cock so bad.”

One hand kneads the soft flesh of your ass while the other pumps his cock. He drags his thick length along your folds, coating it in your arousal. “I’m going to fill you up so good. You want that, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes.”

He pushes into you, reveling in the way your walls are wrapping around him. You’re so warm, so tight and he’s already completely lost in the pleasure. He doesn’t give you time he normally does to adjust to his thick length. He thrusts so deep into you, your hands are clenching around your silk sheets. He fucks into you ravenously like a man starved, hands gripping onto your hips so hard you’re sure you’ll bruise.

“Going to cum so deep inside you until you’re full with my seed.”

Your face falls forward from the strength of his thrusts, knees giving out. He sees you struggling to get back on your knees so he pulls you flush against his chest with a hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing slightly. You cry out at the new angle that has you seeing stars. His breath is hot and heavy and he brings his mouth to your ear.

“Perhaps, I’ll fuck a baby into you so everyone knows you’re mine and only mine.”

“Gods, yes,” you cry out, clenching around him, his words bringing you so close to your release.

A deep growl resonates from his chest. He can feel everything you’re feeling through the bond. You want this as much as he does. The mere image of your body changing, swelling with his child has him quickening his pace. His brain fogs and he gives himself completely to that primal desire that was brought to surface by the aphrodisiac.

Bringing his free hand to your stomach, his fingers tease at the flesh right over where he can feel the bulge of his cock as he pounds deep into you, right where your womb would grow with his seed. All he can hear are the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and your pretty moans.

One brush of his thumb across your clit has your thighs shaking and screaming out his name as you reach your peak. He can feel his own release trembling underneath his skin. A couple more thrusts and wave after wave of immense pleasure courses through him. His cock twitches and then he’s spilling thick ropes of cum into you, groaning as your walls spasm and contract around him. He cums so hard, he can feel his release running down your thighs.

He pulls out just long enough to turn you so you’re on your back. A sinful smirk graces his lips at your blissed out expression but he’s nowhere near done with you. He’s still so painfully hard. More, more, more.

Positioning himself between your legs, he sinks into the delicious warmth of your hot dripping core, both moaning when he bottoms out.

“Please.” Tears stream down your face and you’re not sure what exactly you’re begging for. You’re so sensitive, hands clenching so tightly onto the sheets as he drags his cock over and over that deep spot inside you. “Azriel, I don’t think I can–”

“You’re going to take everything I give you,” he interrupts sharply with a growl, leaving you a whimpering and crying mess beneath him.

“Az—oh fuck.”

“You’re so perfect for me.”

His arms wrap beneath your shoulders to mold your body to his and he presses hot, feverish kisses down your neck and chest. His lips then slot over yours, stealing your breath away. When you moan into his mouth, he swallows it and eases his tongue into you, urgently exploring every crevice of your mouth.

He’s well aware that the elixir he accidentally took has amplified his every sense. Yet, amidst his heightened state, his love and adoration for you, so deep and genuine, remains the most enchanting potion he has ever known. The candles flicker with the green glow of your magic and he continues his brutal pace, immersing himself in the pleasure of it all with a strong determination for you both to reach another painfully delicious release.

Azriel blinks his eyes open and his heart melts at the sight of you, his beautiful mate, curled up in his arms. The tenderness of the morning light casts a warm glow over you, highlighting the delicate curves of your face. He gently reaches out to trace a strand of your hair, relishing the softness beneath his touch. A stark contrast to the way he handled you last night. He knows you're awake when he feels you tug on the golden strings of the bond, flooding him with a profound sense of pure happiness that seeps into every corner of his being.

“I love you so much.”

“Good morning to you too,” you say, your voice still thick with sleep, but a hint of a smile on your face.

You stretch out your sore muscles and Azriel’s eyes flash with concern when the sheets drift lower. He catches a glimpse of the bruises littering your body and you can feel a flicker of guilt down the bond. “Are you–fuck. Was I too rough? I’m so–”

You shift in the bed and silence him with a soft kiss. When you pull away, you smile at him, sending a wave of reassurance down the bond because while yes he was rough, you loved it.

“You were perfect.”

He sits up in bed and when he finds no trace of hurt or regret of how rough he was with you last night in your features, he finally relaxes and returns your smile.

Your smile falters. “If anything, I’m sorry. It was my mistake that you drank that aphrodisiac. I made it for Nesta and I knew I should’ve stored that sneaky elixir somewhere safer but it wasn't too bad, right?”

Now it’s Azriel’s turn to brush away your concern and he shakes his head at you with a deep chuckle. "It wasn't bad at all. I enjoyed every part of your mistake."

“The best mistake I’ve ever made,” you grin and he laughs with you, his shadows dancing happily around his shoulders.

“What was in that elixir anyway?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean? It’s an aphrodisiac, it stimulates sexual desire.”

“I know what an aphrodisiac is,” he replies and he feels the heat rise to his cheeks. Oh gods, he was going to have to say this outloud. “I’m talking about the way I was filled with the primal urge to–to breed you.”

“Oh,” you say and laugh again at the look bewildered look Azriel was giving you. “That was all you.”

You sit up and you don’t miss the way Azriel’s gaze flickers down to your bare body. Reaching out, you coax his gaze back to yours.

“My magic does not work that way, remember? It can’t create and destroy desires. It can only bring to surface what’s already lurking deep within."

Your eyes are alight with amusement as realization dawns on your mate. He’s flustered but only for a fleeting moment. The corner of his lips curve up and when your hand begins to move from his cheek, he places his own over it to keep it there.

“You wanted it as much as I did.”

“I did.”

There’s a warmth radiating from his heart that is so strong, you can feel it too. His hazel eyes hold onto yours with an intensity that goes beyond words, and when he speaks again, there’s a delicate vulnerability to his voice because in the year since you’ve been mated, this is a topic you’ve yet to discuss.

“You want to have children…with me?”

“Yes.” The response spills from your lips without a moment’s hesitation and his entire being seems to shudder in response. “Do you?”

"Of course I do," he breathes out, sealing his words with a tender kiss to the palm of your hand that has your heart fluttering. “I want everything with you.”

“I want everything with you too.”

Happiness dances in his eyes. Azriel is not a selfish man, always putting others’ wants and needs before his own. He had even accepted that meeting his mate was an unattainable dream. That is, until you came along, dismantling the walls he had spent centuries constructing around himself.

You, a manifestation of his long-buried dreams and wishes, emerged as a living, breathing reality. The selfish desire to have everything with you consumes him, even more so when your desires always seem to mirror his. You're his perfect match and he doesn't know what he did to deserve you. He can only thank the Cauldron, forever indebted to it for entwining your soul with his.

Overwhelmed by his profound emotions, tears brim in his eyes and you're kissing them away before they can escape, smiling when his lips capture yours afterwards. He pours everything into the kiss. It starts soft and sweet but quickly morphs into something more as he brings his hands to your neck.

He pulls away, rolling over to hover over you in your bed, bracing strong arms on either side of you. He kisses your nose and lowers his body until his lips are hovering over right where your heart is racing. Another kiss.

Heat pools down and your breath hitches when he pauses at your stomach to press a kiss there. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He murmurs and you can feel his grin against your skin as he settles himself between your legs. He hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, slowly running his tongue up your thigh. The gesture draws a soft sound from you that he will never tire of hearing.

“I’m worshiping the mother of my future children.”

a/n: the bath scene was purely inspired by this because hot damn 🥵 I do plan on writing some future imagines of Az and reader having kids but meanwhile, you can have a glimpse at their first born from this headcannon.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriel x witch!reader #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #az!dandelions

2K notes · View notes

temptaetions · 2 months

Text

spellbound secrets ✩ stray kids (m.list)

welcome to the spellbound institute of magic! have a look around, but don't peer too much — you could end up in a sticky web of secrets, lies, and love.

general content warnings: fluff, smut, angst, possible darker/heavy themes. warnings for individual fics vary, please read them accordingly before proceeding.

˖⁺‧₊ angel eyes - bang chan ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @temptaetions

✩ pairing: bcc x reader

✩ specialty: healing | memory inducement

✩ genre: teacher x student | strangers/idiots to lovers

✩ synopsis: you’ll think you’re in paradise, and one day you’ll find out he wears a disguise, don’t look too deep…

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ one's elixir - lee minho ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @felixitate

✩ pairing: lmh x reader

✩ specialty: alchemy | potions

✩ genre: acquaintances to lovers | academic mentor

✩ synopsis: you’re a walking disaster. not just in minho’s eyes but for anyone in the academy so when he was asked to supervise you, he had to agree to ensure everyone’s safety. but is it worth the risk to involve himself in something that even you can't control?

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ sweet escape - seo changbin ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @temptaetions

✩ pairing: scb x reader

✩ specialty: interdimentionalism (pocket dimension creation) | empathic transference

✩ genre: friends to lovers | secret admirer

✩ synopsis: forever, perfectly together…and tell me, boy, now wouldn’t that be sweet?

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ fleeting mirage - hwang hyunjin ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @felixitate

✩ pairing: hhj x reader

✩ specialty: illusionism | phantasmagoria

✩ genre: rivals to lovers | childhood sweethearts?

✩ synopsis: as both the top students in your program, getting along should always have been maintained between you. however, something always sparks any feud, hindering your cooperation by whatever means necessary. would you be able to put it aside when your positions start to get threatened?

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ cherry bomb - han jisung ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @temptaetions

✩ pairing: hjs x reader

✩ specialty: fusionism | sentimental awakening

✩ genre: coworkers to lovers | mutual pining

✩ synopsis: lips on my lips, hearts beating as one…but you slip out of my fingertips, every time you run.

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ in bloom - felix lee ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @felixitate

✩ pairing: lyb x reader

✩ specialty: floramancy | herbalism

✩ genre: classmates to lovers | forbidden love

✩ synopsis: watching him from afar while he tends to those flowers never fails to make your heart flutter. but for the sake of your secret, you’ve kept your distance. until when can you avoid him before he notices the signs of your waning abilities that only he can maybe help with?

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ silver springs - kim seungmin ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @temptaetions

✩ pairing: ksm x reader

✩ specialty: catoptromancy | empathic transference

✩ genre: exes to lovers | semi-first loves au

✩ synopsis: i know i could've loved you, but you would not let me, i'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you.

✩ read here!

˖⁺‧₊ shifting feelings - yang jeongin ₊‧⁺˖

✩ sorceress: @felixitate

✩ pairing: yji x reader

✩ specialty: polymorphy | divination

✩ genre: enemies to lovers | soulmates

✩ synopsis: he’s an enigma. with enchanting eyes that became everyone’s whispers each time he passed by but you’re not shaken. who’s to say you can’t unravel the truth when he slowly reveals this part of himself that he’s been persistently guarding the more you pry?

✩ read here!

host notes: hey! thank you for reading our collab, we planned this so quickly it makes my head spin. just for reference, all specialties in italics are secondary to their primary specialty, or an extension of it. everyone is a wizard. if you’d like to know more about each story then please head to our respective mail boxes! feel free to comment or send an ask our way to be added to a taglist. please have your age and/or year of birth in your description, otherwise you will not be added to the taglist. we hope you enjoy!

temptaetions © 2024 || felixitate © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

663 notes · View notes

madwomansapologist · 1 month

Note

Hi, are you still looking for Baldur's Gate 3 requests? Could you please write something about the main BG3 Companions (+ our boi Halsin) with a Tav/reader who's really short and adorable and just an absolute sweetheart but is horrifyingly powerful in their lore? Like NPCs who know about them back away in fear kinda thing. Maybe Tav can even transform into some sort of battle form where they're like 9 feet tall (as opposed to their usual height of like 4' 10") and can absolutely kick ass on the battlefield?

Thanks so much, I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care!

bg3 companions with a adorably powerful tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: Who could imagine such a sweet thing as you had the reputation of a hero?

warnings: companions (lae'zel, shadowheart, astarion, gale dekarios, wyll ravengard, karlach, halsin, jaheira) x tav. fluff.

note: thank you for your request! oh gods how i missed writing headcanons. i hope you like this, have a wonderful day!

Lae'zel

Lae'zel knew your shared condition had a cure, and was willing to put herself in danger by taking the entire party with her to the nearest crèche. That being said, how couldn't she judge you?

You were too easy on everyone. Making promises you clearly shouldn't, taking them seriously despite her best efforts to put some sense in your head. The party was supposed to only stop walking when surrounded by githyankis, but no burdened tiefling or hurt animal escaped your careful gaze.

That you knew how to fight surprised her, but to see fear and admiration in the eyes of civillians... that made Lae'zel pay more attention to you. You had a reputation. Not as a writer, bard or patron. You're know for striking down your enemies.

Fighting at the goblin's camp, there were so many oponents even Lae'zel didn't knew if it would be her last fight. You saw it too, so you made sure to use everything you had to win. Even if you would rather not turn into an eldritch creature.

She got enchanted by your battle form. Steel and iron where nothing against the pure strenght of your skin. Whatever crossed your path that day suffered at your hands.

That was the first time Lae'zel got happy for being wrong about someone.

"Perhaps I've judged you too hard. You are fierce, foracious, as sharp as my sword and as brave as a red dragon. Keep on surprising me and a istik you'll be no more."

Shadowheart

Shadowheart couldn't care less about the tieflings and their problems, but it was endearing to watch you wandering throught the Coast in an attempt to ensure their safety. It was a sight she couldn't expect to observe in this journey, not when considering the worm twitching behind her eye and the artifact messing with their dreams.

Still, you could shut down her biggest fears with ease. While she tried to remain quiet, you were full of kind words to share with whoever was near. You care for all beings, great and small, and Shadowheart can respect that. A person without a truth to follow is empty, but one with a mission turns into so much more than just a walking corpse.

She focused on protecting you during fights. Always giving you some sort of magic shield, casting sanctuary, begging you to drink potions and elixirs that would keep you safe.

Goblins attacked, and for a second everyone was too surprised to react properly. Except by you. You were quick to defend your party, to fight for them, and won a fight no one was preparad to.

Shadowheart decided not to underestimate you again. Kind words, gentle actions, caring gaze: she was so focused on her own view about you that forgot to pay attention to the way everyone else saw you.

You're powerful. The kinda of powerful that their party had to be grateful that you were fighting besides them.

When you revealed your beast form to her, Shadowheart already knew you were a sight to behold.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you? Good. I like how you keep me on my toes, love."

Astarion

In theory, he should've been delighted with your personality. You were the perfect prey. A leader so sweet, he could change your mind at his will and you wouldn't even noticed. Others respect you. Astarion would be safe and sound.

But Astarion isn't capable of forgetting how easily you fought back when he tried to fool you. How he didn't even saw you moving, and was alone on the floor before he could understand what had hit him.

Instead of a person, you were a walking question mark. How can you be so sickenly adorable, and still so ready to strike down your enemies? Were did the sweet half of you finished and the other one started?

People know you. He saw respect in druid's eyes, fear when goblins heard your name. Halsin knew about you. And so did Minthara.

Few are able to live up to their reputation, but you're one of those. So strong, so brave, but your kindness wasn't ignored by him. It was as if in your head the whole world deserved your kindness, until it did no more. Only then you react.

Astarion don't know what to think about it.

When you attacked as a beast, tearing spiders apart as if they were a piece of meat in your plate, Astarion laughed until his belly ache.

How could be so right and so wrong about someone?

"Don't mind me, darling. I'm just rejoicing at the sight of your bloody hands. Come here. Let me taste your heroic mess."

Gale Dekarios

Gale learned two things about you when you pulled him out of stone: you were kind, and so damn strong.

You were adorable. A perfect equation between what people must do in order to survive and what they must do in order to live well. He can't see you not being surrounded by friends and admirers, all enchanted by your sweet words and rightful attacks.

He feared the party's reaction to the Orb, but a part of him knew you would let him stay. He never imagined you would give him magic artifacts without a second question, or that you would hug him after he told you his whole story.

You didn't let him go. Neither did Gale.

To say he was willing to agree with whatever you did was to say his heart beats. It was only natural. Maybe you both differ on the path you want to take, but the destination is usually the same.

When he saw you feral, body changing to give space to something else, Gale wondered if he was one of those enchanted people surrounding you. If he wasn't fighting for his life, Gale would gadly gaze upon you for the rest of the day.

"Disgusted? I was unable to look away from you! You are the one I love, no claws or tentacles will ever change that. Must I add, my love, your light remains strong in whatever form you decide to use."

Wyll Ravengard

To say the least, he's a fan. Oh, how lovely are the tales of your adventures through Faêrun. He remember arguing with bards about the accuracy of their versions and the reason behind their choice of words. You were what a hero must aim to.

How long were the nights he spend wandering after he was casted out of Baldur's Gate. Lonely nights, but never silent. Wyll's mind fought against itself. He lost everything to help and protect others. Sometimes he worried if he had lost himself too.

Your tales weren't his salvation. None of them shut down those voices that insisted on telling him about the mistakes he made, neither did them shut Mizora. But they inspired him. If you did all those things, remained human even as a beast, he could survive a talkative cambion. Wyll Ravengard can defeat her by staying loyal to himself.

Wyll didn't had to hear your name to know you were fighting next to him, defending the grove against goblins and worgs. He saw enough drawings of you to recognize you from miles afar. When you asked him to be a member of your party, Wyll felt as if a million fireworks exploded inside his chest at the same time.

He did felt anger and pain because of the tadpole, but never fear. Fighting beside you, Wyll knew he didn't had to fear for his future. And after seeing how willing you were to argue with multiple cambions, he started to have hope.

"I used to read about legends, myths of bravery and rightousness. Some see it as just tales for the naive. Thank you, my heart. For proving them wrong time after time."

Karlach

She's the only one with an excuse for not knowing who you are. When strangers call you by your entire name, when companions use your epithet: Karlach just never thought about it. She ignored it, paying no mind to others.

But Karlach did knew you were a absolute sweetheart. What you didn't had of height you compensate with a gigantic personality. For her, the way you behaved was simply alluring.

While many prefer to think the world is a bad place and no one living there can chose to be or do better, you are just another reason for her to know that it's bullshit. Because Karlach is good, despise it all. And Wyll. And you.

And Minsc!!!

You had a fire on you whenever you had to fight. She didn't need to know your story to see how great you can be. Some people just have that. She don't know if that fire is born or forged, but some people just have it.

To see you as a beast made her the most happy woman in Faêrun. She got speechless, all she could do was laugh and run around to have a better view of you ending the Steel Watch.

"You got 'em, soldier! Go on, bite his arm off! You see that monster over there? The one with glowing eyes. That's the love of my fucking life."

Halsin

He saw you before. Druids and harpist fought against sharrans, and you were one of the heroes who joined their cause. At that time Halsin didn't talked to you, but he knew you fought until the very end and stayed to help with the infirm.

When you rescued him, Halsin knew you remembered him too. There was some understanding between you both, a companionship that only those who foght together can share.

He knew you were a hero, one of those who fight wars that don't affect them because someone needs too, but your personality was a good surprise. Halsin haven't imagined you so easy going. Always offering smiles, light jokes, being clumsy without a care when danger was far away.

After the battle against sharrans, he thought those who refered to you as a monster were trying to make others understand how eficient you were. It surprised him to see they were just being honest.

Nothing would stop Halsin from turning into a bear and joining you.

"In this damned city, you are a beacon of hope. The Oak Father graced us with your light. From your fiece strikes to your honey soaked words... I am lucky to live at the same time as you, my love."

Jaheira

As a fellow adventurer, it surprised Jaheira that you weren't already tired. You both lived for so long, did so much, it would be only natural for you to give a pause on your endless smiles and envied patience. She was wrong, but that wasn't a bad thing.

Jaheira knew how this life can steal things from you. Peace feels like a threat, to stop make you feel like a prey, to laugh makes you wonder if it will be the last time. Is impossible to be a hero without losing. She's glad you didn't lose yourself in your path.

There was an unspoken pact between you both. The stories, the songs, the faux memories. So many think to know everything about you two. Sometimes Jaheira will read you a book you're in when she knows it's a shameless lie, and you sing her songs about adventures she did not lived.

Your laugh could make her feel younger. Alive. You both were so differents, but knew each other in a way few could.

Whenever you chose to strike as a monster, she would join you as a myrmidon and had her fun. You both deserve it.

"I did well not underestimating you, cub. It is impossible not to laugh at those who can't see how your bright smile hides sharp fangs. As pretty as a diamond, and as fierce too."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

646 notes · View notes

domnamewoman · 6 months

Note

what would shang tsung, syzoth, smoke and rain be like with a gn!witch? who do spell with more natural things, like crystal, herbs, etc... imagine them being like "I found this little rock, maybe you'd like it" and their s/o picks it up like it's a goblin lol. I love your work, u are amazing 🌟

Characters: Rain, Shang Tsung, Reptile, Smoke

Warnings: Witch!GN!Reader

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

“Can you hand me the duck feathers?” You ask, reaching out your hand to Syzoth.

Syzoth picks up the feathers from the table and walks over to you, placing them in your hand.

“Thank you.” You grab the feathers and stir them into the brewing elixir.

“It amazes me that all these random ingredients can be mixed together to create magic,” Syzoth says in wonderment.

“It’s not so much the ingredients than it is the intention of the person mixing them.”

“Hmm, so the real power comes from you,” Syzoth contemplates as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes, I guess in a way.” You nod, “But I can’t enchant someone without them being exposed to the potion in some way.”

“You seemed to do a pretty good job of enchanting me,” Syzoth mumbles into your cheek as he places a kiss there, “Making me fall for you.”

“You are so cheesy,” You grumble, loving every part of it.

“I think I might pass out…” Zeffeero pants as he hovers over the toilet.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” You apologize as you rub comforting circles on his back.

“Why”–heave–”Why would you even need a p-potion that induces vomiting?”

“It can be useful to demobilize an enemy during a fight,” You reason sympathetically.

“Except I’m not an enemy who's trying to fig-” Zeffeero gets cut off by more contents getting expelled from his stomach.

“I mean it is kind of your fault. Why would you drink a random liquid you haven’t seen before?”

Zeffeero turns his head to you and glares, “M-My fault? I was thirsty. Why was your potion in the refrigerator?”

“The ingredients had to be cold in order to fuse together properly,” You sigh as Zeffeero is hit with another bought of vomiting, “Okay, I should have labeled it. I’m sorry.”

“H-How long is it s-supposed to last?” Zeffeero pants out.

You cringe, “Two hours…”

“Two hours!?”

Shang Tsung stares at the potion you were brewing with repulsion. He leans over and takes a sniff before quickly covering his nose and holding back a gag.

“You know, I would be most delighted to teach you my sorcery. It is more sophisticated than creating vile concoctions like this.”

“Oh shush, there is more than one way to do magic, Shang. This is mine,” You say as you add five drops of toad’s blood to the cauldron.

“It’s tedious and ineffective in an emergency. You have to spend time brewing potions and then have someone consume it for it to work,” Shang Tsung argues.

“They don’t have to consume it, I can also put it in a bottle and throw it at them like a Molotov. Also, making potions isn’t tedious, I actually find it rather relaxing.”

“What could be relaxing about this horrid smell?”

You roll your eyes before turning to Shang Tsung and raising an eyebrow, “Well if your sorcery is so sophisticated, why don’t you zap away the smell?”

You and Shang Tsung stare at each other, your smile growing by the second. Shang Tsung pompously waves his hand before turning around and walking away.

“I thought so,” you chuckle as you turn back to your potion.

You’re standing in your spell room, organizing your crystals and taking stock of potion supplies when Tomas excitedly bursts through the door.

“Baby, I got you something,” Tomas sings as he walks up to you with his hands behind his back.

“What is it?” You excitedly inquire as you try to peek around him.

“Something almost as beautiful as you.”

“Show me already,” You impatiently demand.

“Ta-da!” Says Tomas as he brings his hands in front of him and extends his fingers to reveal a rainbow-colored crystal sitting in his palms.

“Oh my gosh, Tomas-”

“It’s pretty isn’t it? I knew you would lov-”

“No, it’s dangerous.” You snatch it out of his hand and jog to the front door, throwing it as far as you can away from the house. “That is a lifeforce-draining crystal.”

“I-I just thought it was a pretty rock… I’m sorry.”

You shake your head lovingly at Tomas as you comfortingly rub his arm, “I appreciate the thought, anyway. Just leave the crystal scavenging to me.”

#domnamewoman #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #shang tsung x reader #shang tsung #reptile x reader #syzoth x reader #syzoth #rain x reader #zeffeero x reader #zeffeero #smoke x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada #mk1 #mk #reaction #mortal kombat reaction #witch!reader

727 notes · View notes

soulofapatrick · 5 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy - Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Summary: A party held by Boa Hancock makes Zoro admit his feelings for you

Words 2.4k

Warnings: heated make-out session only

Y/N’s POV

As the ornate gates of Boa Hancock’s mansions swung open, a hushed awe falls upon us as we step into the opulent halls. It’s a sight to behold, adorned with intricate designs and lavish decorations that whisper tales of luxury. To my right stands Sanji, a protective presence, a testament to our mutual wariness towards Hancock’s extravagant invitation.

The air hums with an aura of elegance, the mingling scents of perfumes and exotic flowers infusing the atmosphere. Amidst the revelry, I catch Zoro’s intense gaze, his eyes fixed on me, Robin at his side as Hancock has paired us off. It’s an unspoken acknowledgement, a silent understanding amidst the glittering masks and elaborate attire.

Boa Hancock, draped in regal elegance, moves through he crowd effortlessly. Her presence demands attention, yet your caution remains. We tried carefully, observing, while the festivities cascade around us.

Sanji, never one to miss a chance to charm of course, offers compliments and flirtatious banter, yet his gaze shifts to ensure my safety as the ‘baby’ of the group. I appreciate his protective stance, even amidst the allure of this enchanting gathering.

With Sanji distracted I make a swift move towards the bar, the need for a momentary respite calling me while everyone dances in vibrant colours and are having loud and bubbly conversations and elegant attire. At the bar, the ambiance shifts to a quieter melody. The bartender, a silent witness to many such gatherings, nods with a knowing smile as I order a drink, seeking a temporary sanctuary from the whirlwind of the night. The crystal glass in my hand holds the promise of respite, a momentary escape from the enchanting, yet overwhelming, allure of the mansion.

Nami appears by my side, her presence a familiar comfort in the middle of the grandeur. We exchange a glance laden with unspoken understanding, the shared sentiment of finding solace in each other’s company in these unfamiliar territories. The elegant chime of her laughter adds a touch of familiarity to the sophisticated air of the gathering. I should be appreciating the place with awe and wonder but none of the Straw Hats know that I came from something like this before they found me.

The drink in my hand carries a subtle complexity—a blend of flavours that dance upon my tongue, a crafted elixir meant to soothe amidst the whirlwind of the evening. Its hue, a deep amber, catches the soft glint of the ambient lights, casting delicate reflections that mirrors the opulence surrounding us.

As Nami points out how extravagant and probably arrogant all these people are here, I steal a moment to glance around, taking in the splendour of Boa Hancock’s extravagant affair. The grandeur is not lost on me; the mansion, adorned with elegance, holds a familiarity that echoes with distant memories that taste something sour in my throat.

The soirée, a realm of sophistication and polished façades, is a stark contrast to the life I led before the Straw Hats found me. None of them are aware of my past, of the world I once navigated with practiced grace—a world akin to this one, where elegance with both a shield and a cage. I should be socialising and mingling, finding out what I can from these upper-class, self-entitled people probably being one of the best to do so, other than Sanji.

Observing the gathering, my eyes catch a sight that speaks volumes—a moment frozen in time between Sanji and Boa Hancock. His trademark charm is in full display, evident in the way he gazes at her, a delicate hand placed strategically on her lower back. Boa's subtle blush betrays a hint of vulnerability beneath her regal composure, an unspoken exchange that resonates with unspoken truths. Their interaction, a dance of subtle gestures and lingering gazes, unravels before me. It’s glimpse into the intricate web of dynamics within this enigmatic world, a world where even the most confident souls reveal vulnerabilities in fleeting moments.

As my gaze shifts, I find Luffy, his infectious enthusiasm palpable even from a distance. Usopp stands by his side, engaging in animated conversation, their laughter resonating through the room. Their camaraderie, a testament to the unbreakable bond forged though shared adventures, offers a grounding familiarity.

However, it’s Zoro who captures my attention next—a figure of strengths and stoicism engaged in a conversation with Robin. His usual air of aloofness sees softened in her presence, their discussion veiled in layers of quiet intensity. The subtle gestures, the shared glances—they paint a picture of understanding and mutual respect between two individuals whose depths run deeper than what meets the eye.

As I watch Zoro and Robin, a pang of unfamiliar jealousy stirs within me—a feeling foreign yet potent. Their connection, veiled in unspoken understanding, tugs at the edges of my composure, awakening a part of me I thought I'd left behind—the echoes of a past self yearning to resurface.

Excusing myself from Nami’s side with a feigned smile, I set out to mingle, seeking a distraction in the vibrant tapestry of guests. Amidst the opulence and sophistication, I spot a striking figure—a man exuding an air of confidence and allure that beckons with temptation. I slip back into the persona I wore before I joined the Straw Hats—a façade of charm and sophistication, a mask that once defined me in a world I thought I'd left behind. Engaging effortlessly in playful banter and coy smiles, I mirror the flirtatious exchanges that used to be second nature.

The handsome stranger, a willing participant in this dance of fleeting connections, becomes my temporary refuge—an embodiment of the person I once was, a remnant of the world I once navigated with practiced ease. In his company I rediscover facets of myself that lay dormant, submerged beneath the adventures and camaraderie that define life aboard the Thousand Sunny. The pulse of the night quickens, the energy of the gathering fuelling the sparks of a persona that feels strangely familiar yet distant.

The charismatic exchange with the stranger is abruptly interrupted by a sudden weight on my waist, a sturdy hand claiming possession. Startled, I turn my head to find Zoro standing besides me, his presence commanding, a stark contrast to the templar refuge I sought in the strangers company.

“Piss off.” Zoro’s voice is tinged with an edge that brooks no argument, cuts through the chatter of the gathering as he tensely dismisses the man. The interloper retreats with a flustered no, leaving a trial of confusion in his wake. Zoro’s firm grip on my waist remains, a silent assertion of his claim in the midst of the chaotic evening. Without a world, he guides me away from the commotion, leading us towards a secluded hallway—a sanctuary away from prying eyes and murmurs of the party.

Leaning against the wall, I find myself entranced by Zoro’s commanding presence as he paces with deliberate steps. His usual attire, synonymous wit a rugged warrior’s spirit, is replaced by a tailored black suit that moulds to the contours of his frame. The fabric, sleek and refined, whispers softly as he moves, exuding an aura of understated power.

Underneath the dark suit jacket, a forest green silk shirt peeks out, a subtle flash of color against the monochrome palette. The fabric, delicately woven and contrasting against the dark backdrop, accentuates the strength in his broad shoulders and the defined lines of his physique. His movements are controlled, each step measured yet purposeful, creating a rhythm that reverberates through the otherwise still corridor. The dim lighting casts a play of shadows and highlights across his features, emphasising the sharpness of his jawline and the intensity in his gaze.

As I stand there, an array of emotions stir with me. My heartbeat quickens at the sight of him—Zoro, the swordsman whose strength I've always admired, now clad in this unexpected guise of refined elegance. The sight of him in this attire, so far removed from his usual rugged persona, tugs at the strings of my heart, evoking a sense of awe and longing.

“Are you gonna stop pacing and say something?” The words escape my lips, breaking the charged silence that had enveloped us. Zoro's restless pacing, a testament to the simmering tension between us, continues as he grumbles under his breath, his agitation palpable.

Finally, he does halt, in front of me, his intense gaze locking with mine. His eyes, dark pools of determination and depth, sweep over me, and I feel his scrutiny like a tangible caress. There’s an unspoken question lingering in the air, a tension thick enough to be sliced with a blade. The dress I wear, chosen for the occasion, drapes around me in delicate layers of midnight blue. Its fabric, a dance of silk and lace, moulds to my form with a grace that contrasts sharply with the tumultuous emotions swirling within. The dress, simple yet elegant, accentuates curves and hints at vulnerability, a stark contrast against the backdrop of the secluded hallway.

As Zoro crowds me against the wall, a myriad of emotions surge within me—a mix of apprehension and anticipation. His hands, placed firmly on either side of my head, are a testament to his strength, yet they evoke a sense of protection rather than fear. There's an undeniable intensity to his proximity, a closeness that crackles with unspoken desires and unresolved tension.

As my gaze flickers down to Zoro’s lips, a rush of nerves tingles through me. His growled question pierces the charged silence, the intensity in his voice sending a jolt through the air, “Why were you flirting with that guy?” His worlds, rough and direct, catch me off guard, the weight of his inquiry echoing in the tense space between us.

Meeting his eyes again, I sense the vulnerability underlying his intensity, “Why were you flirting with Robin?” I shoot back, my voice carrying a mix of defiance and uncertainty. The tension in the air tightens, the unspoken emotions swirling between us like a tempest.

Zoro’s eyes roll in exasperation, his response sharp and abrupt, “I wasn’t flirting with Robin you dumbass.” His words, laced with frustration, hang int he air, echoing in the hollow silence of the hallway, the muffled chatter and music fading to silence as all I can focus on is Zoro.

Before I can protest or rationalise further, his proximity intensifies. The world dissolves into a whirlwind of sensations as Zoro’s hand finds the curve of my neck, tilting my head upwards with a gentle yet firm touch. His lips crash against mine in a fervent collision, igniting a fiery storm of pent-up emotions and desire.

The kiss is everything I expected from Zoro—hot, heavy and charged with an intensity that sends electric pulses coursing through my body. His mouth moves against mine with a raw hunger, a passionate urgency that leaves no room for doubts or hesitation. There’s a fervour in the way he tastes, a heady blend of passion and restraint mingling in the heat of our entwined mouths. His lips move against mine, teasing and exploring, each movement setting my senses ablaze with a fire that refuses to be contained.

The heat of the moment amplifies the sensations—a mingling of fervent desire and unspoken yearning, an uncharted territory where emotions collide in a tempestuous dance. It’s a kiss that speaks volumes, conveying a depth of emotions that words could never capture.

As the fervour of the kiss begins to ebb, Zoro breaks away, his lips trailing a searing path along the sensitive skin of my neck. The sensation is electric, sending shivers down my spine as he leaves behind a trial of intense marks, sucking gentle hickeys into the soft flesh. His touch, both possessive and tender, electrifies my sense, awakening a torrent of desire that courses through me. The intensity of his actions speaks volumes, conveying a depth of passion that words could never encapsulate.

Simultaneously, his hand, previously at the curve of my neck, journeys down my side, navigating the bend of my knee, coaxing it upwards. His touch is insistent, yet surprisingly gentle, guiding my leg to bend and part slightly, inviting and intimate. With a deliberate move, his hand slips beneath the silky fabric of the dress the contact sending a jolt of anticipation through me. His touch on my bare skin ignites a whirlwind of sensations—a mix of heat and tenderness, each caress leaving a scorching trail in its wake.

The silkiness of the dress offers no barriers to the warm h of his touch as his hand trails along the length of my thigh, massaging the skin and setting my nerves ablaze. The sensation is almost overwhelming, a tantalising blend of desire and anticipation, as his touch explores the uncharted territory of my skin.

Finally, he pulls his lips from my neck, and his eyes roam over my face and chest, capturing the rise and fall of my breath, a testament to the charged atmosphere between us. In that moment of heightened tension, I find myself mumbling almost incoherently, "Don't be in love with someone else.”

A guttural groan escapes Zoro, accompanied by a frustrated facepalm, as if my words cause him a mix of annoyance and exasperation. His demeanour shifts abruptly, and with a firm grip, he grabs my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his intense gaze. With deliberate slowness, he enunciates each word, his voice carrying a weight that leaves no room for doubt. "I am in love with no one else except you." His declaration, spoken with unwavering conviction, hangs in the charged air between us, resonating with a depth of emotion that pierces through the tumultuous emotions and uncertainties.

His eyes, searching mine for any trace of doubt or disbelief, hold an intensity that reflects the sincerity of his words. In that fleeting moment, enveloped by the gravity of his confession, the world around us seems to fade, leaving only the raw honesty and vulnerability in his declaration of love.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He nods once, “Let’s go back to the party.”

One Piece Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

747 notes · View notes

ahoycaptainautumn · 8 months

Text

Fated Mates Part 7

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

Your party moves from the large campsite into the town on your path to the Selunite Temples. Astarion and you search for a cure and find a tether between your minds that begs for more interesting games to be played between you two.

Breathes mingle in the hot air as tension wraps around Astarion and you, thick as rope. You could practically drink in the arousal surrounding the two of you. It coils and snaps in the air as if beckoning the both of you to take it further, to finish what was left undone back in that tavern room. A shaking hand snakes up and wraps around Astarions neck, curling into his soft silver hair. You pull him impossibly closer as your lips just barely brush over one anothers. His red eyes never leave yours as he watches you absolutely enchanted. It's as if the earth is swallowing him whole and his only salvation is to fall into you. Tadpoles or masters be damned, you would be his destruction. The very fibers of his being rewritten to etch your name for forever more. You lean in closer, nose brushing the side of his own. You hold your breath, daring him to take the next step. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. A flame broiling in your loins and licking its fire to each of your limbs. All you can think, all you can see, all you can feel is Astarion. Your thoughts are nothing if not primitive. Ever since you had drunk that elixir your only thoughts seemed wrapped in Astarion. Missing and aching for his presence the moment you two were apart. You would never admit to how desperate you are. How absolutely needy for him you are. Your other hand reaches up and clicks apart the buttons shielding Astarion’s naked flesh from your own. Your hand flows from his collarbone down, slipping down to his abdomen. He lets out a shuttered breath at your touch.

“Astarion.” You whisper into his lips. He lets out a groan and finally makes contact with your kiss. Your lips mold over one another as if made to perfectly slot over one each others. His arms roll under your body. He pushes his palms up to press your frame to his while his other hand cradles your head. You moan into the kiss as the flame in you grows hotter and hotter. He takes it as an invitation and dives into your mouth. His tongue intertwines with yours in a passionate dance. Though it only lasts for a moment before he whips his head back and away from you. You blink in surprise, already grabbing for him to return to you. You swear you won’t breathe if he stops touching you. You give out a needy whine as you paw at him. He ignores it and brings his fingers up to his lips as if to study them.

“The hells were you drinking before I found you?” He asks, clearly irritated. You rub your thighs together in need of friction and grab at his shoulders. He doesn’t budge at all and awaits your answer. You huff and cry.

“I don’t know! Some ambrosia or something an orc bartender had given me! Why does it matter? Keep kissing me!” You launch yourself up and towards him. He takes you by the upper arms to hold you still.

“Ambrosia?! Do you have any idea what that is?” His irritation only skyrocketing. You just shrug your shoulders, feeling sheepish that you hadn’t even thought to question it. You had wanted to forget, whatever concoction got you there would do.

“Gods (y/n)! That- It’s a lust potion! No wonder you’re throwing yourself all over me.” The hurt buried deep in the elf’s feelings could be heard in his last words. You struggled to find the right words to say to him. You knew deep down that this started way before you put your lips to that honeyed concoction. Hells, even before the night you shared a room. The moment your eyes had met his you felt as if there was some force driving you towards him. You kept lying to yourself that it was for the fact he knew your greatest enemy. That you had finally found that stepping stone to reach your goals. But under all the hurt you had been witness to and the hate of vampires you had grown to wield as a weapon, you found yourself enjoying his company. Enjoying him. The way you became comfortable around him nearly instantaneously. How you could banter with eachother as if you were old friends. That even though it was an enormously big oversight to trust him, you gave it willingly. But to say all that, to let your guard down, especially to someone that was vampire made, made your throat clam up. As if the words got lodged in your throat and you would choke before you could allow yourself to be vulnerable. Astarion watches the anguish and confusion morph on your face and he lets the embers of his rage die down. It wasn’t your fault for this. As much as he wanted to take you here and now, to complete this bond even if you had no idea of it, he wanted it done when you are of clear mind and body. He watches as a tear wells up in the corner of your eye and cascade down your cheek. He lifts a finger to wipe it from your face.

“Come to me when you are sober. When you make a choice and decide to cross that bridge.” He whispers into your skin as he gives a gentle kiss to your forehead. He braces himself against his knees and pushes off to stand. He turns and begins to make his way out of the tent. You latch onto his wrist without a thought.

“Wait! Where are you going?” You ask, frightful to have him leave your side. He gives a chuckle.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I was starving. Off to find dinner.” He explains. You tighten your grip on him.

“Who’s to say dinner isn’t right here?” You grin, lighting the mood. He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“As much as I love to hear you ask and beg for me, I won’t take when you are so clearly… inebriated.” He chooses his words carefully. You can’t help the groan of frustration. This is the time this ass of a vampire decides to be gentlemanly?

“I wish- I wish there was a way you could know what I’m saying is truthful. That this is me and not some elixir.” You grit your teeth. You slam your palm to your head in frustration and it’s then you feel it. A swimming in your mind. A pulsing ache right behind your eyes. Just as you feel it the bond of thought between you and Astarion through your tadpoles opens like a floodgate. Your want of his company, the desire for his bite and the truth in it goes from your mind to his. It flashes in Astarions mind like fireworks. Startled, you look up to Astarion for confirmation that that had truly just happened. He looks just as confused as you are. He goes to kneel next to you.

“Do it again!” He asks feverishly. You shake your head in confusion and lift your hands.

“I- I- I don’t know how I did that!” You stammer. His hands grab yours as if to cement yourself to him, to open up to him once more.

“Come on do whatever the hells you did that time.” He insists. You scowl at him.

“I told you I don’t bloody know what I did! I had slapped my forehead and then- poof!” You try to explain. Without even a second passing Astarion taps harshly on your forehead.

“Alright now do it!” He urges. You bite your teeth at him, rubbing your forehead at the red mark he created.

“I said I don’t-“ you begin but the rest of your words travel from your mind to his. Don’t know you damned idiot!

You learn to talk into my mind and it’s to insult me. Fitting. Astarion can’t help the grin plastered on his face as he responds back into your mind. You lightly punch his shoulder and laugh. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Well you went to all this trouble to beg me to bite you, may I?” He asks, his teeth already poses to strike.

“I did not beg!” You turn your head in offering to him. He only chuckles at your antics before his lips find your neck. His hand comes up to caress the side of your face. He gives a soft kiss into the nape of your neck. His tongue licks flat on your skin sending tingles up your spine. At your sharp intake of breath he strikes. His teeth burrow deep into you as he suckles on your blood. Just as before, you feel sharp ice flood your system. Shock fills your body and your nails dig into the pillows beneath you. Soon enough the icy feeling leaves your body and warmth and comfort takes its place. His body weighs onto yours and pushes you back into the pillows. His other arm wraps around your middle and pulls your body close. Your head swims and stars twinkle in your vision. You fall into his embrace and find only comfort and belonging.

The next morning you wake with a dull ache taking your body captive. You can feel a pulsing headache nothing to do with the tadpole and everything to do with drinking far too much the day before. Thankfully your memory is intact and you can't help but feel a bit of shame at how strongly you had come onto Astarion. But as they say, drunk actions are sober thoughts. You turn in your cocoon of pillows to see Astarion as he faces away from you. He is peacefully meditating, breathing slow and relaxed. You admire him in how vulnerable he looks. How soft he looks relaxed in the early morning sun flittering through the tent. Your eyes turn onto the scars lining his back. Without thinking you reach a hand out to trace the scaring circulating his back. On instinct Astarion flinches and draws away. You shoot your hand away and tumble out apologizes to him.

“Sorry! I just, well I was curious about your scars.” You try to remedy. Astarion wipes the deep mediation from his eyes. He turns to face you as he stretches his tired limbs.

“It’s a gift from my old master Cazador. A poem he carved into my skin in one night, with lots of revisions.” You silently ask for permission and after a moment he nods slightly. You gently take your hand and trace once again around the marks. Anger flames at the thought Cazador abusing and harming Astarion. He slaughters your family, abuses his spawns, sketches into their backs, he deserves more than death.

“I can’t wait to see what you give to him in return.” You can’t hide the venom in your words. Astarion chuckles and turns over towards you.

“You wouldn’t try to stop me?” He asks. You give him a confused look.

“I’d encourage it.” You reply.

“And to think, I thought you were the hero type.” You groan and roll your eyes.

“Not in that instance. Not if it’s harm to someone I care about.” His eyes perk up.

“Care? I think that elixir must still be in your system.” He may come off as joking but you get the sense that that is what he truly believes. You lift yourself up enough to rest your head on your hand.

“No, but I would love to show you all the ideas it gave me.” You give a devilish grin. Before Astarion can give some quick witted response you send images through the mind bond. You show him the thoughts that ran ragged through your mind last night. Of his hands tangled in your hair and pulling your head back for him to ravage your neck. Or of his skilled tongue following a path down your navel and into the dip of your hips. His hands squeezing and kneading your plush thighs. Images of bite marks and love bites trailing up your thigh and towards your most needy spot. The image of you bent across the wooden table in his tent with him filing you to the brim is the last image you get across before Astarion growls.

“You, my love, are playing a dangerous game.” His voice is hot with need, barely civil as his words come out nearly feral.

“Well it is my favorite game to play.” You smirk with a wink. Before you can pounce on one another there’s a loud crunch of boots outside the tent.

“Oi! Come on, places to be!” Karlach yells at you both from outside the tent. She quickly marches off you assumed to rally the others.

“Seems you’ll have to have those images keep you company blood sucker.” You jest as you get up. He gives a few tsks your way before he turns and opens a trunk to change. He tosses a few things aside, one among them is that gaudy smut novel with the overly romantic cover. You’re almost curious enough to reach for it to see what romantic novel Astarion would bother reading. But alas you hear Karlach once again yell for you to get moving. You make way towards your tent to get ready for the day.

You and the rest of your group had made it back on the road in record time. There would be some time before you hit the next town on your tour towards Selunite temple. You had been taking the time walking to try to sort out your feelings. To get your mind back on the task at hand, tadpoles then Cazador. You were deep in thought as Gale jogs up to you and keeps pace. You don’t notice his presence till he clears his throat. Startled, you look up at him.

“Oh Gale! Sorry, I wasn’t even paying attention.” You apologize.

“I noticed. I was just about to ask you what had you so wrapped up in thought.” He gives an easy smile, all ears. You wish you had someone to confess all your mixed feelings to. How these tadpoles had completely rearranged your life. How Cazador was now the closest to your revenge than he ever has been. Yet, you weren’t following that lead now that you needed a cure. How you think you actually developed feelings for a vampire, a species you swore to cut down. One you have hunted with efficiency for some time. And all it took was one flirty and murderous one to change your whole perspective. As much as you think Gale could understand to a degree, his fling with a goddess definitely holds a candle to your plight, you didn’t want everyone to know anymore of your business. So you go for the easy answer.

“Honestly I guess it’s just catching up to me how strange and time sensitive my life has become with these damned tadpoles. I thought my goals and road in life were clear cut. But now, I don’t know if I’ll get to fulfill those or I’ll wake a mind flayer. I just thought by now I would be getting closer to getting my family their revenge, not farther.” You sigh. It felt good to get some of the weight off your shoulders.

“You carry all this burden, all by yourself. Your tense, that much is easy to see even if you said nothing. I thought maybe, if it’s alright with you, I could add a bit of a magical touch?” He asks. You look over at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“This isn’t the part where you accidentally turn me into a toad or something, is it?” You ask deadpanned. Gale let’s out a hearty laugh.

“I promise, no toad making.” He gives out his pinky to you to intertwine in promise. You can’t help but laugh at his innocent actions and give him your pinky in return.

Your little “charade” with Gale was starting to turn rotten in Astarions stomach. He demanded himself to not be jealous. He wasn’t. Not in the slightest. He just so happen to find Gale extremely annoying at the current moment. Seducing you, befriending you, was his ploy not Gales. He can find another radiant and beautiful woman to try that on. Gale had his goddess, Astarion had his and he was intruding on her.

Gale focuses in on his magic and webs together The Weave of magic at his fingertips gently. You watch in awe as you walk a bit slower next to him. He takes the ball of purple lighted magic and drapes it over your shoulders. Instantly you feel a hum of warmth and comfort bleed into your shoulders and neck. You let out a sigh of relief, the tension in your shoulders subsiding as the magic winds into your tough muscles.

“Gods that actually feels amazing~ Gale.” You praise him as you nearly close your eyes in the enjoyment of the massaging.

“Maybe I’ll just be a masseuse after all this.” He jokes.

“I’ll be your most well paying customer.” You smile, relaxing into its touch.

Well now that was entirely too much. Astarion was all for sexual exploits. Gods know he’s done his fair share of whats in lots of different wheres. But this. This was different! He wasn’t exactly sure how it was different but the way his blood turned to ice he felt it was different. You should be paying him that attention. He should be the one to make you feel good. Not Gale. Just then, a sneak idea comes to Astarion. Keep his outer appearance nonchalant, he opens the channel between both of your minds. It doesn’t seem that you notice. Enjoying idle chit chat with Gale as the magic rolls off in purple puffs down your shoulders. He nearly can’t help the carnivorous smile that slips into his lips. Slowly, he feeds you images of you beneath him the night prior. Of you begging and whining for his touch. Images of his hands trailing down your sides raising every goosebump along its way. He can tell you take notice in the way you nearly trip. Your head whips around to look at him but he just focuses on his nails in a devil may care attitude.

You bit your lip nearly ready to yell at Astarion for the sinful images he sends your way. But as you look he acts coy. As if there isn’t a rising sexual tension growing between your minds. If he was going to act like it doesn't affect him, then you would do the same. You turn back round to Gale and ask him questions on his magic background. Gale is a mess of word vomit, excited to tell his tales to someone that will listen. Astarion immediately picks up on the game you are playing. Once again he creates images of pure carnal lust. Of him playing with your wet folds, slicking his fingers slowly mapping you out. His fingers dance around your clit as it sends shocks of need down your entire body. You can’t help but let out a soft choked moan in real life. You slap your hand over your mouth in shock. Astarion let’s out a low snicker at your sounds.

“You alright?” Gale asks. You give him your best smile, trying to hide the warmth spreading over you.

“Oh yeah yeah. Just you know, enjoying this massage and company.” Gale smiles at your answer as he clamps his hand over your shoulder. He gives it a squeeze.

“I enjoy your company too.” Astarion might actually bite Gale if says even one more word. If he touches you one more time he will murder this magician. Images fly out of Astarions mind to yours of him pressing into your shoulder blades with the heel of his palm. Your face down in the bedroll as he takes you from behind. Your arms flailing forward desperate for something to latch onto. He gives you no adjustment, no coddling, no slow movements. He fucks into you hard and fast, his other hand giving your ass a slap that leaves welts of his palm ingrained into your skin. Just as you feel the images combined ecstasies come forth, Astarion leans over and bites into your shoulder in the image.

You yelp, going frigid on the walkway. Everyone else stops too, looking around as if ready for battle.

“What is it, (y/n)?” Astarion asks, a smile that rivals the Cheshire Cat. You glare daggers at him. Though it is hard to be angry with the need and hunger crashing in your loins. Everyone looks to you for your answer.

“Oh just an annoying rock in my shoe, come on we are just about into town!” You hurry forward, as if to outrun the thoughts that had flooded into your mind. This town was much larger than the previous. There were lots of different sectors, underground dens, and temples all across the area. Once again you all decide to meet in the city square when dusk approaches so you could all go set camp together. The rest of the time spent was for everyone to go do what they wanted. Though it was an unvoiced agreement that the time should be spent looking into different avenues for a cure. You decided to look into the temples on the other side of town. There were a few churches within the city. A couple of temples scattered as well. But the temples a few miles from the city were what intrigued you. There was talk that there was old scripture and tomes hidden somewhere in the ruins of the temples. If you could find these ancient texts maybe there would be something in them to help you all. You made your way into the dilapidated ruins before you came to the mouth of the opening. Old wooden doors barded you from entering. The lock looked ancient and it was magically sealed from the use of magic or violence to break it. You were not skilled in lockpicking whatsoever. Most of your skills came from combat or magic. You stare at the door trying to render out an idea before a cold hand comes to rest on the top of your head. You don’t need to turn to know who it is.

“Here to play more games, blood sucker?” You ask. His hand leaves your head as he walks towards the door to inspect it.

“Just thought you could use my help, and company, little killer.” He responds. He reaches for his lockpicking kit he keeps on him at all times and goes to work. The lock is tricky, a lot more to it than the modern day locks. But after a few minutes you hear the familiar pop of a lock coming undone. You can’t help the shocked look you give him.

“I’m wounded you forget my many talents dear. There is far more than bedroom talents to me.” You roll your eyes at him.

“A talent I have yet to see.” You wave off backhandedly. You walk forward into the temple. The inside is much like the outside. Pillars toppled over, old candles with wax clinging to surfaces all over. Sigils and paintings are scattered across the walls. Depictions of epic fights and of families and lovers. Images of archaic weddings and celebrations. The place is covered in cobwebs with puddles of old rusty water in several places. The front door doesn’t give much light so you cast a fire spell onto all the candles nearby in a radius. Astarion saunters over to your side.

“A talent you are more than welcome to indulge in, just say the word.” He teases. The both of you walk through more of the rooms in the temple. Many times you have to use magic to move old statues or pillars out of your way. Or needing to clear a walkway of abandoned desks or bookcases.

“I tried to just the other night and I was turned away. Must not be that much talent if you're scared to share it.” You bite back. Sparks shoot up inside of Astarion at your words. People can say many things about him, blood sucker, murderer, psychopath, but heavens they could not say a bad lover!

“Maybe it’s that you aren’t ready to experience such euphoria.” Astarion strikes back at you. You busy yourself with undoing traps in a back room as he lockpicks a gate to an underground cellar. You light a ball of flame in your hand as you both walk down the spiral stone steps.

“Have you ever thought that maybe you aren’t ready to experience mine?” You ask. As you come to the bottom of the stone steps a door with a magical symbol guards the final room. You inspect the magic and recognize it from your studies in your fathers libraries. It’s quite old, but thankfully not unknown to you. You cast the spell it looks for and it opens it’s rickety doors to you. Inside is the library you searched for. Walls covered in bookshelves of long forgotten texts. A large stone desk built into the floor stands in the middle. Old wooden chairs with torn pillows sit on each side of it. There are candelabras and candles all over the room. You once again light them as you make your way inside. You cross the room over to the table to examine the sole book left there; opened as if someone was in the midst of reading before this place fell. Astarion walks over to you and places both hands on either side of you and onto the table. He closes the space between your bodies. Your back to his chest, shared breath and warmth. Your heart lurches as you wait for his response. He pulls his lips closer to your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“I would very, very, much like to experience you. Say the word, and you are mine.” He whispers. Once again that familiar all suffocating feeling returns. The tension rose once more. Your hands enclose over his own. You lean your head back onto his shoulder and look back and over at him. Your eyes meet and there is shared hunger in both of your eyes. You lick your lips before you answer him.

“Take me, Astarion.” You can barely let out. His grip tightens on your own. Carnal lust, and maybe something more, perfuming the halls of the forgotten Aphrodite temple.

Part six here

Part eight here

I promise actual smut the next chapter, I’ll stop edging y’all

#smut #reader insert #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bd3 #mates #balders gate 3 #fated mates #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion

654 notes · View notes

tfcaptions2 · 9 months

Text

He has no idea that it's happening to him, caught in the enchanting whirlwind of transformation that sweeps him away in its sensual embrace. In the heart of a bustling department store, amidst shelves adorned with alluring fragrances and shimmering bottles, our unsuspecting protagonist stands, blissfully ignorant of the extraordinary journey that has already set its course. An unassuming white man, his every feature cloaked in average simplicity, he holds in his hand a small metal bottle containing a sample of cologne. Little does he know that this innocuous vessel holds within it the magic of metamorphosis, a potent elixir that will mold him into something entirely new, something achingly desirable.

With a casual air, he unscrews the cap, a whisper of scent escaping to mingle with the air around him. The initial spritz of the cologne feels cool against his skin, a sensation that gradually ignites an electric tingling, unfurling beneath the surface like a dormant ember awakening into a blazing inferno. The change is subtle at first, imperceptible as it coils around his being, tendrils of enchantment sinking into his very core.

His reflection flickers in the mirror, and he blinks, perplexed. Was it just his imagination, or did his face appear slightly different? A closer look reveals the first whispers of transformation. His once smooth and mundane complexion takes on a warm, sun-kissed hue, a cascade of color washing over his skin like a painter's brush. It's as if the essence of Arabian sands and desert sunsets have infused him, reshaping his identity with every passing second.

The change surges forth, a symphony of sensations playing a bewitching melody upon his senses. He feels a prickling at his jawline, a sensation that intensifies into a pleasurable tingling. His hand instinctively reaches up to touch the source, only to discover that a shadow of stubble has emerged, dark and virile, igniting his cheeks with a flush of arousal. The stubble sprouts into a luxuriant carpet of facial hair, a beard that unfurls with a vigor that betrays its mere moments of existence. It grows dense and opulent, enveloping his jaw and chin in a thick, masculine embrace, the embodiment of rugged allure that beckons admirers with an irresistible promise.

His lips part in a dazed gasp, the thrill of metamorphosis pulsing through his veins like a wildfire. As the beard flourishes, his upper lip remains adorned with a dark, sensual shadow, a mustache that asserts its presence with an air of tantalizing mystery. The transformation casts a veil of exotic allure over him, the features of his face undergoing a gradual yet mesmerizing shift. His nose takes on a sculpted elegance, his cheekbones grow more pronounced, and his eyes deepen in color, a rich shade of coffee that speaks of depth and intensity.

But it's not just his facial features that succumb to the alluring dance of change. His body stirs with newfound vitality, a subtle ripple of transformation cascading through his muscles, coaxing them to awaken from their slumber. His shoulders broaden, a sinewy strength pulsating beneath his skin like hidden thunderstorms yearning for release. Each breath he takes seems to inflate his chest with a burgeoning virility, a masculinity that surges forth with unrestrained potency.

A low, sensual moan escapes his lips, his eyes darkening with a mixture of awe and arousal. His shirt, once a bland emblem of ordinariness, undergoes its own captivating transformation. It molds to his physique, hugging his torso with an affectionate embrace, revealing the swell of his newly sculpted chest and the tease of his furry forearms. The fabric shimmers and shifts, a tantalizing red hue replacing the mundane tones of before, and upon his head, a scarlet Under Armour hat materializes as if summoned by his very desires.

His lower half is not immune to the enchantment that envelopes him. His pants, once unremarkable, tighten and shape around his thighs, accentuating the powerful muscles that have taken root there. His socks and shoes undergo their own metamorphosis, the fabric of his socks hugging his calves with a newfound sensuality, while his shoes adopt a sleek yet sturdy design that complements his burgeoning strength.

And then, his eyes meet his own reflection once more, the culmination of the transformation evident in the confident smirk that graces his lips. The metamorphosis is complete, a metamorphosis that has turned an average man into a magnificent, virile Arab Adonis. His gaze sweeps over his hirsute body, the proud expanse of his muscular form commanding attention and admiration. With a flex of his newly empowered muscles, he revels in the surge of power that courses through him, a sensation of liberation and conquest that ignites his very being.

Unaware of the enchanting spell that has woven its magic around him, he saunters away from the mirror, his strides imbued with a newfound confidence and allure. The store's patrons cast appreciative glances his way, drawn to the undeniable magnetism that now radiates from every pore of his transformed being. As he disappears into the crowd, the echoes of his metamorphosis linger, a sensual and irresistible aura that leaves a trail of longing gazes and hushed whispers in its wake.

#male transformation #male transformation caption

387 notes · View notes

stuffedteen · 6 months

Text

A Bro-Tastic Saga

This is the story of Blaine, Carter, and Mason, three frat bros whose lives were forever changed by a mysterious and magical brew. Their tale began with a secret recipe, and the desire to be the kings of the frat house.

Blaine, the charismatic leader of the trio, had a thing for big guys. He had found a special brew of beer online that would turn Carter & Mason into the bros of his dreams. All he needed to do was to get each of them to drink one cup, and then the beer would take it from there...

"Guys," Blaine said, "I've got a special brew thats gonna take this party to the next level."

Carter and Mason exchanged puzzled looks. Mason spoke up, his voice tinged with curiosity, "What's the brew, Blaine?"

Blaine leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial, "We're gonna get so drunk off this beer bros! I've got this recipe from my uncle. It's a secret family formula. We'll call it 'Doughboys Beer."

The plan was set in motion. The party raged on, and Carter and Mason down their first cups of Doughboys. The frat house was filled with laughter, music, and shirtless frat bros. Little did anyone know that Blaine had laced the brew with a touch of magic.

Over time, the effects of Doughboys Beer became increasingly apparent. Carter and Mason began to pack on the pounds. Their once-toned bodies gave way to soft guts that seemed to grow by the minute.

Carter rubbed his expanding belly, letting out a satisfied burp, "Man, I've been eating like a horse lately."

Mason patted his own soft gut, "Yeah, me too. What's happening, guys?"

Blaine, feigning innocence, shrugged, "Must be all those late-night pizzas, dudes."

The transformation continued, their softness becoming more pronounced, but what truly fascinated the bros were the newfound desires they couldn't quite explain.

Carter looked at Mason, his voice tinged with an unfamiliar attraction, "You ever feel...different around Blaine?"

Mason nodded, "Yeah, dude. It's like, I can't take my eyes off him."

Blaine couldn't help but grin, his plan working even better than he had hoped, "Guess it's just my charm, guys."

Their infatuation with Blaine only grew as they continued to consume Doughboys Beer. The two bros became lazier, spending their days lounging on the couch, munching on snacks, and craving the magical brew that seemed to have them under its spell. All while obsessing over Blaine and his god-like fit body.

Carter looked at Mason, his voice dripping with desire, "Man, I can't get enough of this beer. It's like it's calling me."

Mason agreed, "You're right, dude. We need more Doughboys Beer."

Their desires had shifted, and their craving for Blaine and the magical brew consumed their thoughts.

Blaine, in the know about the beer's enchanting properties, decided to take advantage of the situation. He encouraged their growing desire, all while maintaining his own physique for them to worship. But he stayed well clear of consuming any of the special brew himself.

One night, as the three bros were hanging out at another rager, Carter and Mason decided to hatch a plan of their own. They couldn't resist the allure of the beer any longer, and it was time to introduce Blaine to the magical elixir he had created.

Carter and Mason exchanged knowing glances and shared a chuckle. Blaine was going to taste the very brew he had concocted and used to control them.

Mason slapped Blaine on the back and practically poured the cup into Blaine's mouth, "Hey, man, you've gotta try this beer. It's epic."

Carter chimed in, "It's like, it tastes so good, dude. It will change your life."

As the magical brew touched his lips, he felt a warmth spreading through his body, followed by an overwhelming sense of desire. His senses tingled with a newfound attraction, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from Carter and Mason.

Carter leaned in, his voice low and seductive, "You feelin' it, Blaine?"

Blaine nodded, "Yeah, guys, this is amazing."

Mason joined in, "We've got more. Let's party."

The three of them drank and laughed, their inhibitions vanishing with each sip. Blaine was now under the spell of the very brew he had created, and he couldn't resist the allure of his transformed bros.

As the night wore on, Blaine's body began to change, his once-toned physique giving way to a soft, doughy middle. His t-shirt stretched across his expanding waistline, and his once-defined abs were replaced by a burgeoning belly.

Carter and Mason watched with amusement, their desires growing stronger as they saw the changes in their once-fit leader. Blaine's attraction to them intensified, and he couldn't resist their allure. He was under their spell, just as they had once been under his.

Carter looked at Mason, his voice tinged with desire, "Man, I can't get enough of this beer. It's like it's calling me."

Mason agreed, "You're right, dude. We need more Doughboys Beer."

Their plan had worked. Blaine was now under the enchantment of the beer, and the power dynamic had shifted. He had become just as addicted to the magical brew as they were.

In the days that followed, Blaine, Carter, and Mason continued their life of indulgence, their desires and cravings entwined in a way they could never have imagined. The frat house parties were wilder than ever, and Doughboys Beer remained their secret, a source of their cravings and desires.

Blaine had unwittingly joined the ranks of the transformed, becoming just as addicted and infatuated with his two bros as they were with him. They had become a trio bound by their shared addiction.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, their indulgence knew no bounds. They reveled in their transformed physiques and the enchanting power of Doughboys Beer. Their desires grew stronger with each passing day, their cravings unrelenting.

Their once-toned bodies had become soft and doughy, their once-healthy habits replaced by a relentless pursuit of the magical brew. Blaine, Carter, and Mason had fallen completely under its spell, and the frat house was their kingdom of indulgence.

#fat #chubby #ex twink #exjock #ex jock

346 notes · View notes

carooosa · 5 months

Text

The Rose with Hidden Thorns

A/N This takes place before Enchanted Distractions

Summary: ADHD!Tav (reader) struggles with being a leader. They need to balance what they want and what the rest of the party wants. After taking some time alone for themselves, Tav is caught off guard by Astarion. They share some moments together, before Tav finds out who he really is...

Word count: 4k

Smut if you squint, slight angst at the end

One of the good things that came out of the tadpoles was your increased ability to focus. Remembering what happened last week, let alone yesterday, no longer caused mental strain. For the first time in decades, you were confident in yourself. You could finally think clearly. There was no reason to second guess yourself now that the cloud of uncertainty that followed you around seemed to dissipate.

Botany had been one of your many short-lived passions as a kid, and now out in the forest, each turn brought about new plants and herbs to identify. The catalog that lay dormant in the back of your mind was thrust to the forefront; excitement that was long forgotten making itself known once more.

Not only were you excited to grow your knowledge, but to actually put it to use. The nights you spent under the covers sneaking a few chapters or so of whichever botany book you could get your hands on were finally proving useful. Potions, grenades, elixirs, oils, and anything else that your party needed, you could make. Granted, it took some trial and error at first. The satisfaction of saving your group a few gold was well worth the wasted ingredients.

You couldn’t help it when you ran off to grab a bushel of mugglewort or a handful of weavemoss. Lae’zel was the first to remark on the frequent side paths you would lead the party down.

“T’cthk. There is no time for gathering when we should be hunting down the ghaik that plagued us with these tadpoles,” she said. Lae’zel was always impatient, but when Wyll mumbled approval and Shadowheart wearily nodded in agreement, you faltered.

Noticing your self-doubt, Karlach spoke up. “Aw come on guys, don’t be so hard on Tav. It’s not like they’re doing this for no reason. They make those potions for us so we can save some coin.”

You heard a scoff behind you and turned to face a disapproving Astarion. “Extra gold is useless if you’re a mind flayer, darling.” He grabbed the plant in your hand and grimaced as he took a sniff of it. “You could at least find something with a more pleasant aroma.”

You ignored his remarks, choosing not to get into a petty argument; lately, Astarion seemed to always have a quip or smart remark ready for you. “They’re right, Karlach. We don’t have time to be taking detours,” you say, snatching the daggerroot from Astarion’s hands. “Besides, I can always come back later if I want to.”

Karlach wasn’t satisfied with that answer, and to make it known she stormed to the front of the group and started pushing everyone forward. “If you’re gonna get your panties in a twist over taking too long, you better be ready to get your steps in.”

Karlach had taken it upon herself to act as an older sibling to you. You hadn’t asked, and you were certainly capable of managing things yourself. The silent allegiance was formed after you had convinced Wyll that Karlach wasn’t a devil, and that she wasn’t harming anyone. Although her support was unnecessary, it was appreciated, as being tasked to make difficult decisions as the impromptu leader weighed heavy on you.

You knew you weren’t everyone’s first choice of a leader, anyway. Hells, you weren’t even your first choice as a leader. Wyll seemed like the smartest answer, but neither Astarion nor Karlach felt comfortable with a monster and devil hunter commanding them around. Gale was the next logical option, however with the secrecy of his… condition… and the fact that if he died again he would destroy Faerun, he had been pushed to the back of the party.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel had volunteered at the exact same time, and it was clear amongst everyone that neither of them would be calling the shots. You suggested Karlach, and Astarion had made some comment about how she would blow at the first difficult decision. You’d suggested him then, instead; clearly this is what that manipulative vampire wanted. He smirked when you had said his name, but his eyes searched your face. He was looking for something, and you weren’t sure what. Before you could comment, he had taken you by surprise by saying that you would be the best choice.

“Darling, I do not need that stress. My face is flawless and I’d like to keep it that way. However, you,” he had always found ways to make digs at you, “look like the type who handles stress regularly. You were able to talk your way out of getting burnt to a crisp by a Zhentarim, while he was casting a fireball. You were able to walk into the goblin camp without causing any suspicion. You were able to somehow convince all of us to work together to get these damned tadpoles out of our heads.”

The rest of the group had agreed with his reasoning, and you were set in charge of the party. You tried to argue, but Astarion cut you off

“It’s already been decided. Besides, if you ever need help, I’m sure anyone here would be willing.” He took a step closer to you and lowered his voice to be just above a whisper, “I know I certainly would.” You weren’t sure if he had said that to flirt with you or threaten you, as the glint in his eyes could’ve gone either way.

What he had said about the others helping you had been a load of shit. In fact, everyone seemed to come to you for every little problem now. Gale needed an enchanted artifact to consume? It was up to you to find one. Wyll turned into a half-devil because he didn’t kill Karlach? You had to comfort both of them and promise to find a way to get him out of his pact. Lae’zel stood too close to Shadowheart? You were the one running in between them to stop the impending bloodbath. And yet there everyone was, annoyed that you took quick detours to find ingredients to help them spend less money on potions.

Now here you were, 2 nights later, trying to remember where you saw the herbs on the path taken earlier that day. You were mumbling to yourself as you passed the same dead tree for the 3rd time when you heard a twig snap behind you. You reached into your bag and grabbed the first thing you could to threaten your stalker, turning around to prepare for a fight.

Astarion stood in front of you with both hands up in the air like a thug who had just been caught red-handed. “A mushroom?” He raised an eyebrow while using one of his hands to push the fungus away from his face. “Not the most menacing of weapons, is it now?”

You pushed him away from you as you sighed in relief “Hells, Astarion, you scared me! It’s not nice to sneak up on someone, you know? What are you even doing out here this late?”

He tutted at your reprimanding. “I could ask you the same thing. You’ve been walking in a circle for the past 20 minutes.”

You shoved the mushroom into your bag and turned away from Astarion, continuing to search the brush for plants. “I told everyone I would stop taking detours, didn’t I?”

“So you’re out collecting mushrooms?”

“Not just mushrooms,” you corrected, “other ingredients, too.”

As you dirtied your hands in the brush, a silence fell over the both of you. You grabbed the last morsel of a mushroom and turned around to be faced with Astarion tapping his foot impatiently, his arms folded across his chest. “I haven’t seen you make any potions lately.”

You stare at him incredulously. “I know. I’m purposely not flaunting around the potions that I spend half my night gathering ingredients for and the other half making.”

Astarion laughed and his mouth curled into a devilish grin. “Who would’ve thought that the ever-so-kind and selfless Tav would do something for only their gain.”

A warm blush spread over your cheeks. “You still never told me why you followed me out here. Everyone needs to sleep if we’re going to have any hope of getting these tadpoles out.”

“Darling, are you forgetting that I’m an elf? We don’t ne-“

“Oh that’s right!” You interrupted, “Elves don’t sleep, they meditate. I read that in a book. Is it true that elves can relive exact memories?”

“That… depends.”

Oblivious to his uncomfortable demeanor, you ask more invasive questions. “Is it true that elves don’t grow facial hair? It looked like none of the wood elves in the grove had facial hair. I suppose it’s kinda ignorant of me to just assume all elves are the same. I mean, Halsin is super tall and elves are usually short.” You quickly blurt out an apology, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Besides I wouldn’t even call you short, you’re taller than me, although that’s not saying much,” your words start to tumble over each other as you ramble. You turn back around and bend over a rock to continue searching for ingredients, wincing as you remember you’ve already collected anything of use.

Astarion chuckles as he brings a hand to his forehead. “Yes, it is quite rude of you to assume all elves fit into the exact description you found in whatever children’s book you read.” He looks at you in amusement, “But sadly, no, I cannot grow facial hair.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad. You don’t have to worry about shaving.” With your mind focused on pretending to search, you don’t realize the words you’re saying until after they come out, “it must be nice not having to worry about pubic hair, either.”

You freeze as your mind catches up to your mouth.

Astarion takes a step towards you, positioning himself right behind you, settling his hands gently on your back as he leans down to your ear.

“Was that also in a book of yours?” His breath tickles the tip of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Noticing the way your body reacts, he drops his head down. His lips hover over your neck for a moment before he presses himself into you, causing you to let out a gasp. You feel his hardness push into your back as one of his hands begins to slowly caress your arm.

His behavior surprises you, and you try to think back to any signs of possible attraction. Some looks that linger for a second too long, a hand on the small of your back as he passes by, and the fact that lately he seems to always be next to you, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions. These gestures could very well mean nothing to him and you would be none the wiser.

Thinking back on what you know of him, you realize you don’t know much at all. He mentioned that he was a magistrate in Baldur’s Gate before the mind flayer abduction, but that was about it when it came to his past. Astarion would always change the subject whenever anyone asked him anything personal. Just like he had changed the subject earlier when you asked him a question.

While you were lost in your mind, he began to grind into you, the hand that was previously caressing your arm now gently groping your breast. He placed soft kisses on your neck, moving from the tip of your ear to the nook where your collarbone was. Your body pushed back against his absentmindedly, matching the slow rhythm of movement he had set.

It took him completely off guard when you spoke up. “You never answered my question: what are you doing out here?”

He quickly pushed off of you, “Gods, Tav! You’re still thinking about that?” You scrambled off of the rock and caught a glimpse of him adjusting his clothes. A sticky silence filled the air as you stood and studied Astarion. His face was turned away from yours, similar to how a child would act if they were trying to show defiance. The silence continued as it became clear neither of you would fold. You refused to let him get away with not answering you again.

To ensure there wouldn’t be any other distractions, you stared into the side of his face, repeating in your mind over and over, “What was he doing out here this late?” You weren’t sure how long you both stayed there; seconds, minutes, hours; but at one point Astarion quickly glanced and made eye contact with you before averting his eyes again. You watched as his features softened for a moment. That softness was swiftly hidden by a sly smirk as Astarion relented and turned towards you.

“If you really must know the truth, I was curious as to what you were up to.” Although he spoke with a concerned tone, his eyes were slightly glazed over.

“So you decided to sneak up on me and scare me?” This time you were the one who acted like a child, crossing your arms and letting out a huff.

Astarion let out that mischievous chuckle of his and took a step toward you. “That really wasn’t my intention, whether you believe it or not. I was simply worried about you.”

His words took you by surprise, a small gasp leaving your mouth. You tried to find the words to a smart reply, but instead stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

As if your reaction was what he wanted, the glint returned to his eyes. He closed the gap between the two of you, his movements precise and calculated. Astarion gently grasped your arms and unfolded them, his hands cupping both of yours.

“Is that really so hard to believe, darling? That I could be worried about you?”

You felt your tadpole squirm from behind your eye, causing you to look up at Astarion. He silently pleaded, and you relented, opening up your mind to whatever it was he was going to show you. You closed your eyes, the darkness fading into the previous morning.

You saw yourself from Astarion’s point of view. There was blood sprayed all over your armor from a skirmish with some gnolls. Although you had tried to hide the gaping wound on the left of your back, it was clear now that Astarion had noticed it.

After checking on the rest of your party, you watched as your body stumbled in to what you thought was a secluded corner. Your past self quickly pulled up your armor to apply a salve on the wound. In this vision, you could feel what Astarion felt as he watched you. Concern, yes, but there was something else there. Something feral that had awakened once you pulled up your armor. That feeling was pushed down, and just as he had done earlier in the day, Astarion stayed in place, watching you treat your wound from a distance.

Another vision pushed into your mind, this one unique and new; not a retelling of the past, but instead currently happening to you. You were out in the forest, taking off your clothes. As you lifted your blouse above your head, cold hands wrapped around your waist. You let out a shudder as needy lips worked their way up your back. The kissing stopped at your neck, and you turned your head to the side to get a view of who was with you. Before you could see the white curls and pointy ears of the man behind you, his scent overwhelmed you. You let out a choked gasp.

Astarion made eye contact with you, his eyes radiating that same feral feeling you must have felt in the previous vision. Without leaving you a chance to catch your breath, his lips crashed into yours. He turned your body to face his as his grip tightened on your waist. A low growl started in the back of his throat as he ravished your lips. Instinctively, your hands raised up to his head and grasped at his hair, trying to ground yourself as your pulse quickened.

The familiar feeling of a wiggle behind your eye snapped your mind back to whatever “reality” you were currently in. You felt Astarion trying to dig deeper into your mind, into your wants and desires, and without a second thought, you quickly yanked his head back, throwing you out of the vision.

As you steadied yourself, Astarion made his way behind you, similar to the vision he had forced into your head.

“Darling, let’s go back to camp, hm?” he said in a low, sultry voice.

You were tempted to agree, if for nothing else to at least get some much-needed rest. But if you went back now, there wouldn’t be enough ingredients to make a potion of greater healing, and after your fight with the gnolls earlier today, you were desperately needing one. “I won’t rest until I find that balsam I saw earlier.”

Astarion gave you a tight squeeze before pushing you away, “Gods, you really are persistent, aren’t you? I guess I have no choice but to aid in your search.”

You scoff, “You and I both know that you won’t be getting your hands dirty.”

The two of you spend the next two hours searching. Astarion is the one who finds the balsam, and you’re the one who digs it up. You make your way back to camp, talking about trivial, inconsequential things; anything you can think of to keep your mind off the visions Astarion showed you earlier.

Has he always looked at me with such cravings? Maybe I’m oblivious to any signals he’s given me, you ponder. The utter need you felt from Astarion as you stood in his shoes was almost unbearable. It was hard to breathe. You glance up at him beside you and see that stoic face he always reverts to. His hair looks like it’s glowing in the moonlight, his eyes sparkling like the stars in the sky.

You catch the faint flicker of the camp’s fire in his eyes’ reflection and you pick up your pace, not noticing the brief second that Astarion’s eyes caught yours. Your body aches from the exhaustion of the past few days, and you quickly drop your bag and kick off your shoes, not caring about the mess you’re making. I’ll deal with it in the morning, you think to yourself, as you pass out next to the fire.

You wake up with a jolt and push yourself up from your bedroll. In front of you is Astarion, his eyes swirling with fear. His mouth is opened into a snarl, and the moonlight catches on his teeth.

His fangs.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Astarion pleads with you to listen. He says that he’s a vampire spawn. As he continues to frantically explain himself, your body grows numb. Your mind wanders away as you question everything that happened mere hours before.

You sit all the way up from your bedroll, causing Astarion to stumble to his feet. While he’s regaining his balance, you mindlessly ask, “What were you actually doing out late, Astarion?” You don’t look him in the eyes when you question him.

He sighs. A moment passes before he answers, “I was out hunting. I heard a rustling and followed it. To be honest, I thought it was a mouse making that noise. It just so happened that what I heard was you, scrounging around the forest floor.” He lets out a nervous chuckle before continuing, “I was merely curious as to what you were doing. I had no intent to harm you. I promise.”

You don’t believe a word he says, but you’re too tired to question the authenticity of his story. If he wasn’t just ‘curious’ as to what you were doing and instead hunting yo—

You quickly push the thought down and remind yourself that you’re supposed to be a leader to this group, to Astarion. Leaders are strong and benevolent. You’ve always struggled when it came to strength, and lately, more and more blows have been hitting you. Difficult decisions are always on your shoulders, and no matter what you choose, someone is always let down.

You weren’t sure how to command a group of adventurers, but you knew you had to be selfless. And a selfless leader makes any sacrifices necessary for their companions.

“Ok.”

Astarion looks at you with an arched brow. “Okay? You’re not going to shove a stake through my heart?”

Refusing to meet his eyes, you bluntly say, “I’m not going to judge you for taking care of your needs. Everyone in this group needs sustenance to be strong enough to fight.” Your exhaustion is starting to catch up with you, and perhaps if you had more sleep you would have thought your next actions through. Against your better judgment, you tilt your head to the side and offer your neck. “Go ahead, but make it quick.”

Astarion takes a step back, surprised that you would be willing to give him your blood. You’ve also surprised yourself, but your mind is elsewhere as he positions himself on his knees in front of you. You shiver as he gently brushes away the hair from your neck. Without warning, a sharp pain shoots through your neck. You feel your blood drain as Astarion sinks his teeth in deeper, consuming your very life’s essence.

You begin to feel dizzy from the blood loss. Unable to stay present in this moment, you think of all the times any of your companions have helped you, and you realize they all have the same thing in common: they’re using you as protection. Lae’zel and Shadowheart are using you as protection against each other; Karlach is using you as a safety against Wyll. Gale is ensured magical items to consume, and Wyll can rest easy with your assurances of his freedom from Mizora.

You thought he was different, but even Astarion was using you for his benefit. For his place in this group. For his meals. Tears start to pour down your face and your body trembles from the heartache you feel.

Astarion pulls away from you and you finally look him in the eye. His eyes are blown out, practically completely black. There almost looks to be genuine concern on his face. Almost.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you? Well, more than the obvious, of course I hurt you, I can go get a potion,” he rambles, your blood dripping from the side of his mouth.

Barely above a whisper, you stare him directly in the eye as you say, “I thought someone actually cared about me for me, not for what I could provide them.”

Taken aback, Astarion stares at you, his expression unreadable. He quietly gets up and starts to walk into the forest before stopping. “This was a gift, you know. I won’t forget this.”

As you watch him slither into the darkness, your exhaustion comes back. Your body, mind, and blood are all drained. Sleep quickly consumes you, your mind an endless void allowing you no respite from your sorrows.

When you awake, the rest of your party is already packed up and ready to continue on the path forward. You quickly ready yourself, not noticing the neat bundles that the plants from the previous night were tied into, and prepare for the long trek ahead.

Thank you to @socialinadequacybeingsuchamust for helping me with spell checking/grammar/pushing the story in the right direction! And thank you to the many beta readers on @oharahive's discord!

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #bg3 shadowheart #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 karlach #bg3 gale #bg3 wyll #fluff #smut if you squint #angst

274 notes · View notes

harfanfare · 11 months

Text

Rollo Flamm x Reader || Rhythm

Warnings: Understated jealousy (?), Reader can’t dance (wants to, though), provisioning of unrequired love, female reader.

The girl that dances atop the stage is really pretty.

It’s not you, and with some kind of regret, you concede you’ve never properly learned to dance.

The girl is more beautiful than the starry night above the City of Flowers because she feels like a dream. Stars will be tomorrow too, but her? No one knows, so all eyes are on her, to balm each’s heart with her sight.

Her steps are graceful and the way she moves is enchanting. It’s not an easy choreography either - with so many jumps and twirls and turns - but she makes it seem so because a smile never leaves her face. The fabric of her dress follows her faithfully, and you imagine she will look incredible in every photo taken of her.

“She’s so… beautiful,” someone next to you breathes with awe.

You believe Rollo thinks so too.

Even if the thought of never being looked on like that stings, you can only blame yourself as he didn’t want to come here at all. When you suggested checking out the show that is being held in a Topsy-Turvy Event Hall, Rollo scolded you for distracting yourself. It might be a Friday evening when most of the students are already headed to the dormitory, but the work of student council members is never done. Before the weekend, at least.

Your whingeing has been guerdoned: Rollo agreed on taking a break. He was hesitant while doing so, and almost annoyed at the cheery smiles that appeared instantly on three faces, yours, the vice president’s and a school treasurer’s. The papers and cups of cold tea were left instantly, and in the next few minutes, all four of you were heading down the staircase.

…

A square is crowded every season with tourists, so neither you nor Rollo is surprised that the two other students got separated from you before even reaching the main stage. You are thankful for their attentiveness because it allows you to be alone with Rollo.

“They are selling enchanted drinks again!” You exclaim, pointing to a stall with indigo macrame hung around a tent. Some attractions were opened at certain seasons a year, and you remember the elixirs being a hit last year.

“It looks like so,” Rollo states flatly. “I wonder why people are so fixated on this kind of never-lasting things.”

Knowing Rollo is a man of harsh words, you brush off his comment.

Blue potion with edible glitter — you are sure it’s edible glitter because most of the useful mixtures are rather lustreless — catches your eye. It looks like a piece of starry sky tucked into a glass bottle. It’s also supposed to help you with your studies if you drink it, so it’s even more magical.

“Would you like to try one? This one helps you focus… But, yeah, I guess you already can do that perfectly,” you pick up the next vial. “Oh, after drinking the yellow one, you should be able to sing more professionally! And the green one is for rhythm… I would need that one. Yet, the most interesting one here is-”

- a love potion.

Even the vial is heart-shaped. The mixture inside is either pink or purple, you can’t really define it because of the amount of bubbles that constantly stir the mixture. You might not be the best alchemy student ever, but even you know that that potion has some enchanting aroma that might bind your senses.

Maybe that potion is your only chance ever to get with Rollo. Your heart is heavy at the thought of enchanting him to love you.

“I have no intention of buying anything,” Rollo’s curt voice slings you from your thoughts. He takes vials from your hands and puts them back, any moment ready to push them out of his mind. “Anything but croissants. I can treat you to one of those.”

…And that’s how you get free food, dear students.

“Will you? Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You would love to hug him, Rollo is… Rollo probably wouldn’t appreciate this kind of gratitude in the middle of the street. Or wherever. It’s hard to imagine Rollo being happy about a hug as he seems unused to physical contact, yet that might be a reason why you should try to open him up.

For a last moment you think about the enchanted concoctions, but Rollo turns around and you need to catch up to not get separated from him.

Way to his favourite bakery Rollo knows by heart. He guides you through the crowd and it’s easy to follow him as he stands taller than most people, the distance being even larger when you count his hat. He glanced over his shoulder to check if you were still beside him after you get out of the most crowded area.

“We’re here,” Rollo announces as if you hadn’t been accompanying him to the bakery whenever you had a chance. He strides to the counter, where several types of croissants under a glass cover are creating a delicious exhibition. “Choose whatever you like.”

It's a very tempting offer, and you decide to take it once you glue yourself to the glass of a counter.

“I…” You start, pointing at two specific desserts. Two croissants with your favourite fillings are too delicious to pick between them. “Can I get two? I will treat you something in return, once I'll have money on me.”

“You’ll get a stomachache,” he says curtly but slides his card to a lady behind a counter that picks up another baking for himself, halfway dipped in chocolate and topped with cut-dried strawberries. “Be careful. They’ve been just taken out of the oven, so you’d better don’t burn yourself.

“Thanks.”

You let yourself bite into the device, as you take another turn, this time the way leading into the main square. There is a grand scene that is always used for music performances.

There is one being held, a solo.

You glance at the dancer, and they look around the crowd. You think there are your two missing clubmates, and beckon Rollo over.

“Hey, there are—”

…

Your surprise silences you.

Rollo stays planted on the ground, eyes on the dancing girl with something like awe. You know that look. You caught a glimpse of it many times on the surface of the glass in student consul’s showcases; your face, so desperately stretching in a soft smile, not to look suspicious.

For the first time, you didn't like the idea of love at first sight.

…

You know where it’s time to step out. Many negotiations you held with people on behalf of students of NBC sensitised you to their expectations and what you should do.

You smile weakly, before gently tapping Rollo on his arm. “I… will get going.”

But Rollo, amazingly, has already shaken off from mysterious enchantment. If you could only do so as easily, permanently. “Are you sick?” He asks, and when you avoid his eyes, his tone voice drops half a tone. “What happened?”

“Nothing, it’s… Can… I… just go?”

“What happened?” Rollo repeats. His eyes scan you, the first time quickly, and when he doesn’t find anything visible, he gets more alarmed, actually looking stiff. “Did you actually burn yourself? I told you to be careful.”

You don’t know what to tell him but start with a measurement that doesn’t bring him any relief.

“It’s not that, Rollo. I…”

“Do tell.” He insists, although if you said a word, you know he wouldn’t question you any more about this. But he would find out in some other way, and he might think you don’t trust him enough - and this implication you really want to avoid - and… “Tell me.”

…And you want to believe that he’s worried for you.

You stare at the ground, and clasp your hands behind your back once you notice their subtle shaking. Why are you reacting this way? Ahh… “I just don’t enjoy dancing. I think I will just return to school and finish organizing the documents…”

“You’ve always liked to see people dance though.”

So he has noticed.

“I don’t have a talent to dance myself.”

“You just need to learn,” he says, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard him. And as you’ve been listening to his voice o lot, you think you might’ve imagined it. Rollo glances at his watch and urges you to come with him. “It’s almost time to ring the bell. Let’s go. I will help you.”

…

You don’t like climbing the bell tower, and going up hundreds of steps isn’t something easy even with Rollo as your motivation. It’s the anxiety that keeps you going.

“I didn't buy the enchantment, though,” you break the silence, and Rollo looks over his shoulder. He is one step in front of you, and he probably slowed his pace to let you catch up to him easily. He’s a master of climbing stairs and ladders after all. “To dance. The bell won’t do anything if… I don’t have any magic on me, no?”

“Don't depend on these kinds of things,” he grumbles. “If you do, you will never achieve anything. For example, if you drank the potion, of course, you'd know how to dance. But just for tonight.”

You question his motivational quote. “But isn't the magic helpful sometimes?”

“It makes one fully depend on it.”

And the conversation ends here because you’ve reached the top platform. Rollo opens the trapdoor and holds it for you. As you step out, you’re immediately hit with a breeze of cold air, but it’s more kind of refreshing than freezing.

Once the trapdoor is closed, Rollo awaits, frozen for a clock-measured minute and three seconds.

And then he rings the bell. It takes much force to move it, and you are almost sure Rollo doesn’t even boost his strength with magic. But, what’s unexpected, this one time he uses magic to repeat the movements of the bell and have it ring on its own.

DING- DONG.

He leaves it to ring at the same tempo and turns to you. The magical earplugs in your ears only moderately muffle the sound of the bell. No music from the Topsy-Turvy Event Hall reaches you anymore. You can only hear the rings clearly, and wouldn't hear Rollo if he said anything.

He doesn't even try to, and without even a shred of a smile, he takes your hand in his.

DING- DONG.

His right hand wraps around your waist, and the fingers of the left one intertwine with yours. He stands taller than you, mighty, righteous. His gaze lingers on you as if he judges you.

It’s never a fair judgement, because the slightly offbeat of his heart drives his reason senseless.

He takes the first step to the back, and you follow along.

DING- DONG.

Rollo's movements are fluid and graceful, yet precise and purposeful. He leads you with ease, his body guiding yours. Waltz is a dance that emphasises the partnership, but with you not knowing the steps, it feels to you like some sort of majestic tango.

You’re overpowered within the first seconds of dance.

DING- DONG.

Step, step, DING, turn, step, turn, DONG.

You know your cheeks are flushed, and you blame the height and cold wind for it. Maybe it is a tiring dance, and you believe it’s acceptable to be this tired yet happy if you are dancing for all of eternity. It feels like the bell started to strike the omnipresent tempo a lifetime ago.

Rollo knows when your waltz-tango should end. He stops the chime with a fluid movement of his hand, magic stopping the well-kept rhythm from a bell.

BA-DUM, BA-DUM.

Your heart maintains the tempo. Even if each beat is strong and loud, you worry about how it will come to a halt at any second.

“I’m surprised,” he starts, sounding unsurprised but kind…-ish, “that you aren’t in a dance-related club yet.”

You cock your head to the side. “Is this a… sarcasm?”

“No. I think that musical-related things would suit you better. You could dance on that grand stage we approached earlier.”

“Like that girl?”

Rollo frowns. “What girl?”

…He doesn’t remember? How could anyone forget for a second about a person one has fallen for? You couldn’t. You can’t. You’re dumbfounded.

“A dancer. On a stage. Today.” Rollo looks more confused with each suggestion. “She was dancing to a… fast music in a flowy dress?”

“Ah,” finally, recognition sparkles in his eyes. A wave of relief is followed by anxiety, but Rollo shrugs your both overwhelms off, with a flick of his hand. “Yes, like her or… even better. The piece she danced to would fit you if you only embrace your passion. I think your performance would be more dreamy.”

You chuckle.

“If I would do that, what would you do without me in the student council club?” By this slight teasing, Rollo stiffens a little. You place your hand on your chest. “But as your right hand, you can’t get rid of me so easily.”

You swear you see him smiling subtly, and it’s no trick of light.

“As my right hand, you have the power to do whatever you want.”

“Then I want to stay.”

“Hm,” Rollo ponders. As you notice his gaze, you feel as if he’s contemplating which future holds the best fate for you. He lowers his eyelids, sighing slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you smile. “But if I hold any power like you say, I would like to use it to have you dance with me again.”

“Strange request,” he says curtly but doesn’t deny your request. His follow-up question makes your chest fill with warmth. “Do you know any dances? Except for waltz,” he says as if you could call your ‘waltz’ anything other than pretending to know how to dance.

“Macarena?” You suggest and he looks at you sceptically. In response, you flash him a bashful smile. “No?”

He sighs but takes your hands in his.

“Let me teach you, then,” he says, slowly. “Let’s start with a proper greeting,” but his greeting isn’t proper, because he doesn’t look at you. Because he avoids your gaze, you can have a shameless view on his red face, that must match the temperature with his quickly warming up hands. You always thought Rollo’s hands were cold, until this moment. “An elegant bow…”

He bows and you lift the brim of your skirt in response, trying to copy the fluidity of the curtsy.

He brings your hand up so carefully as if it is made from the thinnest glass, and presses his lips to your knuckles. So cliche, so old-fashioned, but chivalry isn’t dead as it fills you with energy, surprise and some embarrassment that makes you want to live this moment forever. “And a kiss.”

“Now I’m charmed,” You laugh softly, a smile on your face, yet you were mentally prepared to faint. You wonder if doctors would detect you lovesick if your heart actually stopped. “What’s after that?”

Rollo glances up at you, his eyes brighter than ever. He brings you closer to him.

“Let’s talk about rhythm.”

#I finished my last exam today!! They didn't go as well as I expected #but hey! now I will finally have time to write!! I've been dreaming about this for a long long time haha #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #rollo flamm #twst rollo #twst rollo x reader #rollo x reader #rollo flamm x reader #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamme

461 notes · View notes

enchantedbeverages · 6 months

Text

"Discover a wider selection of enchanting brews in our shop right here and explore a realm of coffee that transcends the ordinary."

________

🌙✨ Witch's Brew: Iced Moon Coffee Enchantment

REQUIRED TOOLS: A glass jar with a lid (for containing the magic), generous spoonfuls of ground coffee (to awaken the spirits), a trusty jug (to hold the elixir), and cold water (nature's potion base).

STEP 1: Initiate the ritual by bestowing your glass jar with a sacrificial offering of ground coffee. Let the cold water cascade, infusing it with intentions as though whispering secrets to the universe. Seal the jar's fate, guarding its secrets under a lid. Allow it to revel in the moon's glow, for it shall soak up lunar energy on a windowsill or beneath the night sky.

STEP 2: At the break of dawn, usher the jar into the heart of the fridge, where it shall meditate in cool solitude. With the precision of a seasoned witch, transfer the elixir to a jug, ensuring the slumbering coffee grains remain undisturbed. Sweeten the potion with sugar or milk, for even the most bewitched brews need a dash of indulgence. Summon a cadre of ice imps to join the revelry, ensuring a frosty enchantment.

Sip slowly, for within this elixir lies the very essence of lunar energy. Let it course through your veins, awakening the dormant magic within.

199 notes · View notes

casper-spills · 6 months

Text

✧ ℌ𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔖𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩: 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲? ✧

01. Green witch

The Green Witch embraces nature by drawing on the energies from the earth and of untamed things. They commune with the land, with stones and gems and they reley on plants, flowers and herbs. They call to nature for guidance and respects every living being and they have a strong belief that humans must give back to world and protect it. They tend to be animal/environmental activists and they will go the extra mile to spread awareness.

The Green Witch makes their own ritual tools from found objects in nature and they make sure these are ethically sourced materials. They might also work with Animal Guides and Plant Spirits. The forest is the Green Witch's sacred temple and they often spend time hiking or visiting parks and gardens.

Books I recommend:

The Green Witch ~ Arin Murphy-Hiscock

Encyclopaedia of Magical Herbs ~ Scott Cunningham

Occult Botany ~ Paul Sedir

The Treadwell's Book of Plant Magic ~ Christina Oakley Harrington

Wortcunning ~ Nigel G. Pearson

02. Crystal Witch

Crystal Witches focus their magick on healing and manifesting. Crystals are known for their healing energies due to their ability to raise one's own vibration. Crystals emit this constant vibration, that when met with a lower vibration, has the ability to raise, in turn, providing healing qualities through an energetic level, which can therefore fast track our own physical healing.

Crystal Witches may also be drawn to rocks and stones alike and generally appreciate the gift of nature. They may also be attracted to the study of geology and often work with chakras/practice chakra meditation.

Books I recommend:

The Power of Crystal Healing ~ Emma Lucy Knowles

The Zenned Out Guide to Understanding Crystals ~ Cassie Uhl

The Crystal Workshop ~ Azalea Lee

Crystals for Witches ~ Eliza Mabelle

03. Kitchen Witch

The Kitchen Witch’s potion is a soup and they’re magical wand is a trusty wooden spoon. Cooking becomes a sacred art for the Kitchen Witch. A Kitchen Witch may not often dedicate a specific time and resources to ceremony, instead they work intuitively rather than ritually to find the magic in everyday life.

Kitchen Witches personalise their space with great intention and care. They instantly know when a space resonates with them or not. They often cook with whole, organic foods and they may also grow their own food. They also tend to enchant ingrediants before using them in a dish and they might sometimes make dishes to treat illnesses.

Books I recommend:

Potions, Elixirs & Brews ~ Anais Alexandre

The Wicca Cookbook ~ Jamie Wood & Tara Seefeldt

Wicca in the Kitchen ~ Scott Cunningham

The Magick of Food ~ Gwion Raven

`04. Sea Witch

A sea witch is a practitioner of witchcraft whose spiritual focus and magical practices are closely tied to the sea and its elements. They use the potent energy of the ocean as a force to drive spellcraft, cleanse the soul and renew the spirit. Sea Witches forge a deep bond with the sea and its inhabitants, working with its energy to manifest their intentions and achieve their goals.

Sea Witches are naturally sensitive and empathetic. The ocean is their sacred space and often times they might live near the ocean or are very drawn to it. They are also very drawn to stroms and enjoy the rain. They might study oceanic mythology and sea animals. They also often collect seashells, pebbles or other beach treasures and may use them in their craft.

Books I recommend:

Sea Witch's Companion ~ Levannah Morgan

Sea Magic ~ Sandra Kynes

Water Witchcraft ~ Annwyn Avalon

Mermaids ~ Skye Alexander

05. Divination Witch

The Divination Witch focuses primarily on divination practices such as tarot & oracle, pendulum, scrying, runes, tea leaf reading, meditation, and connecting to your inner guides/higher being. To them, it’s most important to incorporate these divination practices to their everyday life, or at least in ceremonial rituals.

A Divination Witch may draw power from the earthly elements, mediation, or with the help of seasonal changes that open portals and lower the veil between the physical and spiritual worlds. For those highly in-tuned with their intuition, have the ability to hear, see, or sense what others can’t, find themselves as an empath, and have the uncanny ability to predict the future.

Books I recommend:

The Book of Divination ~ Michael Johnstone

I Ching or Book of Changes ~ C.G. Jung & Richard Wilhelm

Tarot Card Meanings ~ Brigit Esselmont

Chakra Healing ~ Margarita Alcantara

06. Lunar/Cosmic Witch

A Lunar Witch has a fascination and connection with the skies, stars, moon and planets are unparalleled. With the fundamental belief that what happens above in the cosmos is a direct correlation to what happens on Earth, Cosmic Witches focus their study on astrological transits, moon phases, and intertwining that with their own natal birth charts. A strong belief is that as we are born, we are given a blueprint, a snapshot of the skies, that presents past, present and future forecasts of not only ourselves as an individual, but as a collective, sometimes generational viewpoint too.

They draw their power from the Moon and perform certain spells and rituals depending on the phase of the moon.

Books I recommend:

Moon Magic ~ Aurora Kane

Moon Spells ~ Diane Ahlquist

Moon Magic ~ Diane Ahlquist

Witchs Moon ~ Edain McCoy

✧ 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 100 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔰! ℌ𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔶 ℌ𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔫! ✧

Special thanks to @rainychibikko @googiekook @attymi @miraclekay97 @julyourwitch @honeytarotmind @honnuey @notakitsune @mercurialstime @artscapismsworld

#tarotblr #witchblr #witch community #pac reading #tarot community #divination community #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card #tarot witch #witch #witches #witchcraft #100 followers #halloween special #casper spills

248 notes · View notes