#fic: The Witching Hour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flordeamatista · 7 months

Text

THE MAGICIAN

pairing: mafia!lloyd hansen x reader x mafia!nick fowler

concept: Ecstasy and intense burn fuse together like mirrors falling from the sky.

word count: 2k

warnings: mirror sex + chase kink + double penetration (vaginal and anal), soft dubcon to be safe, mature themes,unprotected sex, nickname ──(Princess, Sunshine) (flashing gif ── glitching gif)

lovely beta: @writing-for-marvel & @lunarbuck

THE WITCHING HOUR ──── KINKTOBER'23

masterlist

A gentle breeze of cold, wet air won't make your fears disappear.

Rain continued to pour down, the icy drops searing your skin as you stepped into the abandoned carnival. Gunfire and lightning lit up the sky, a vivid warning that he lurked around every corner.

Your stomach twisted with terror as you pushed open the carnival gates. Your face was soaked in raindrops, and you felt fear rising from your bones. The cold air reminded you that you were alone and fighting for every moment.

With a charcoal sky in the background, the fairground rides spun and creaked, their colors competing with the smoke from gunshots echoing among them. The thrill rides became a roar of chaos as everyone screamed in response to each gunshot.

In the darkness above, fluffy clouds were tinted black, interrupted only by flickering flames that licked up like tongues of fire, illuminating the whole scene in an eerie carnival glow.

A thick, chaotic energy descended over the scene, overwhelming the sense of tension and stillness. It was clear that his anger had reached a boiling point.

It was all your fault.

His face was contorted in rage as he surveyed his domain, stomping around and smashing anything that dared cross his path.

During his shooting spree, your name was shouted.

Two paths lay before you - one led to safety through the House of Mirrors, and the other led to certain death.

The faint red light shining from ahead made your stomach churn with fear. Darkness filled the air with dread and suffering. While explosions echoed in the distance, you remained indecisive.

Tightly clenching your hands, you took a deep breath before reluctantly stepping forward.

Stepping through the entrance, you removed your jacket. Your senses were overwhelmed by his words running through your mind. Reflections gleamed off the walls as if you were trapped in a time warp. There was a shakiness in your breathing. A wall of mirrors reflected each other in an endless regression of images.

Suddenly, your nose was filled with the unmistakable aromas of a man before his rough hands snatched your waist and pulled you back towards his chest.

You fell to your knees. His rough hand covered your mouth while he pulled his gun from its holster at his waistband, keeping it cool against your neck. Moving your body left, you tried to squirm away from his gun. When his hands reached your shoulders, he squeezed them and pushed you back down.

“Shhh… Sunshine. What are you doing here?” The gun barrel pressed into your throat as he straddled you, crushing you beneath his full weight. Whistling escaped his lips, but when he took the gun away from your neck, only emptiness followed. His eyes were on your rear end as he groped away from your neck and down to give you a squeeze. “I'm here to help us." He pushed himself off you and offered you his hand, forcing you to look at him directly through his crystal blue eyes.

Your tears streamed down your face, and you squeezed your eyelids shut. It was exhausting running from him, maybe this was all you had left.

However, you would meet his enemy, and you didn’t not know whether that would be a victory or a defeat.

"Us?” you spat out. It was clear to you who was holding you down, and you also knew that he didn’t play by the rules.

“Yes, Sunshine, because you have things I want from you. And you need me desperately."

Through your lashes, you saw his eyes scan over your body as he wound his gun from your lips to your breasts.

The voice of this man is familiar to you, one who is labeled as a narcissistic sociopath and who is incapable of empathy for anyone except himself. Your plans were at the center of his fucked up plan for you.

Glistening demonic blue eyes just gave you a hint at what he wanted.

“Leave me alone, Lloyd! You're no better than him," you shouted.

The darkening of his eyes and the calloused grip of his hands told you just how angry he was. Then he ran his fingers delicately along your blouse’s lacing until they rested on your breasts.

Pulling you close, he tied your arms behind your body. He held you tight in place as you gasped in shock and stepped back. Lloyd pulled his gun from his back pocket as he leaned forward to kiss you. His grip was firm as his lips pressed against yours, and you could feel his tenacious body bear down on you, making you shiver. In fear, you struggled to loosen his grip, but he only tightened it more.

"That's fine," he growled with a mocking smirk. "We can do it that way too."

Your wrists were bound behind your back, the rope digging into your skin. Lloyd had spun you around and pushed you up against the cold mirror glass. You could feel every muscle in his body as he pressed against yours. He made every inch of himself felt, from his thick cock to the smirk on his lips. It was an out-of-body experience, being touched all over by someone else's hands while they did it for their own pleasure.

Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, Lloyd moved it towards your face and filled your nostrils with a pungent smell. Once you were feeling lightheaded from the dizzying scent, he whispered, "I've got you, Sunshine," into your ear before sweeping you up and carrying you into the depths of the house of mirrors.

The air was filled with gloomy lust.

You sat on a chair in nothing but your underwear. The walls of the room were lined with mirrors containing an image of yourself so you could see every angle of how you ended up here.

The man behind it all was Mafia King, Lloyd Hansen; he seemed to have total control over any situation at all times, even when he was losing.

Lloyd placed his hand on your shoulder as he leaned down.

“I know what you want," you said in a soft voice, "but I'm not going to give it to you no matter how hard you try."

Slowly, his hand maneuvered down the front of your underwear to gently touch your clit.

"You like this, don't you? I heard you had him under your spell, so let me have a taste, Sunshine."

You refused to break, spitting on him as he smiled unbothered by your defiance.

"My cock will surely break you, Sunshine. But the worst punishment will be sharing you with him since you decided to cross into neutral territory," he said sinisterly.

On cue, Nick Fowler appeared in the frame of the mirror, clapping as if watching a play. "Ah," Lloyd murmured, "he's here."

“Hello, Princess. Looks like you got yourself into an even bigger mess with two mafia men.”

Taking Lloyd's knife from his back pocket and untying the rope, Nick walked alongside the chair and forced you to stand up. He grabbed your throat firmly and locked his piercing blue gaze on you.

Slowly, Lloyd's hands rubbed the inside of your thighs while pushing them further apart. He weighed your response as he smirked at you.

The only thing you could do was whine and try to keep your eyes open.

A buzz of anticipation filled your body.

"Shh, Princess," whispered Nick. "Take a look in the mirror. See what he is doing to you."

The smirk on Lloyd’s face appeared as he placed his two fingers on either side of your swelling lips. You don’t tell him to stop.

Sensual and delicate to the touch.

Nick's fingertips gently massaged each of your breasts, savouring the softness and firmness. When he heard you moaning, he gently squeezed your nipples until they hardened between his forefinger and thumb.

Slowly, Lloyd inserted a finger inside you, followed by another, causing your hips to rock forward.

For them, finding the information they needed took only seconds. You, on the other hand, enjoyed them taking their sweet time devouring every part of your body.

"Fuck, you're soaking wet, and we've only just begun." Fear gripped you as your head was clouded in fog. You could feel Lloyd's rough hands against your neck. You could feel your pussy becoming wet just by the simple touch.

Your nose was filled with the scent of sweat and whiskey. Lloyd smoothed his other hand over your spine as if it were a stream of water flowing down it.

“Remember, Princess, we are on neutral territory and that means you have to deal with both of us.” Nick’s voice was firm but distant as it echoed off the mirrors.

Nick’s warm breath tickled your neck as he slowly eased himself inside you, inch by inch. His moans of pleasure filled the room as you were engulfed by his hard, thick cock. Every time Nick thrust into you, he took you to new levels of pleasure.

You felt Lloyd's chest pressing against your back as Nick moved faster and faster, increasing in intensity until you finally screamed out in pleasure.

“Let me fuck this ass. Maybe she’ll tell us with two dicks in her holes." Lloyd began blowing air on your back while he moaned about what he wanted to do with you as Nick thrust in and out. "Let's get you warmed up"

That's how this is gonna feel, baby, so strong that it'll make you alive.

“Open her up for me, Nick”

Nick's hands glided down your body, cupping either side of your ass. His fingers pried apart your cheeks. Gentle but assertive pressure let you know he was readying you for Lloyd.

Lloyd's eyes smiled into yours as his tip tested the waters. You felt a slight burn as he inched inside your tightness. “Kitten, oh, Kitten,” he murmured, coaxing you along.

Nick pulled away slightly and demanded that you look at him. He captured your gaze with his own, and the intensity in the double mirror reflection was almost too much to take in.

The sensation of being filled by both men triggered moans and gasps to erupt from deep within you.

“Look at you taking us in,” Lloyd said reassuringly as his hand moved back and forth on your spine. He delivered a sharp slap to your ass, sending shivers racing through your body.

His lips left a trail of heat down your neck, teasingly stroking the sensitive area that instantly made your body hum. One hand rubbed circles around your clit while the other teased and tugged at it. You sank further into their embrace as both men pressed deeper into you, and the sensations swirled through your body. Their groans and cries pushed against your body's walls until finally, they reached an explosive release.

You clenched around the two dangerous men, and they spilled their cum in you as they fought over pleasure and pain.

Ecstasy and intense burn fuse together like mirrors falling from the sky.

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the-angst-chronicles-fanworks · 2 months

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The Wolf and The Witch

Part 1/?

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood. He’d been warned from the time he was a child, back before the wolf, that it was home to its namesake. And not just any witch, a dangerous one. One that had killed an entire hunting party, unprompted, with the flick of a finger. None who have entered those woods since have ever returned.

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood, but he doesn’t have a choice. Robin is slumped over his back, hands clenched tightly in his fur, clinging desperately to consciousness. He can feel her blood, warm and sticky, matting the fur of his back. His own gait is slowed, every step jolting the silver teeth digging into his right hind leg and sending sharp pain shooting through him. He’s not sure how much longer he can run, and he can hear them - the bloodthirsty cries of the townsfolk dead set on his murder.

They had been found out. So many cycles of living in this town, living among its residents as a friend and neighbour, and still they’ve all turned on him. Of all the times for it to happen, too. It was the moon he had agreed to make Robin a wolf. She had already been weakened from the wolf taking hold when they had been attacked, the silver already a weakness but her body not yet given over to the strength of the wolf.

Steve wishes he could take her to Nancy, knows Nancy would help despite everything, but the townspeople have blocked them off, funneled him in his blind panic. His only hope is to lose them is the wood, but even then he might lose Robin to his own fumbling medical knowledge.

But first, he has to get away from their pursuers. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Steve enters the Witchwood.

————————————————————————

Eddie is no stranger to people trying to do him harm. It’s been a constant in his life from the time he was a child, long before his gifts had awakened. And one that had- well. It’s been a constant of his life, sure as the cycle of the moon and sun. So he notices the prickle of someone entering the woods, but he gives it no regard. It happens a few times a year, that someone gets it into their heads that they will be the one to kill “The Witch of the Woods”. None ever even make it to him, losing themselves in the enchanted trees.

These trees are older than him, and their magic is their own. They like him and welcome him among them, but otherwise are hostile to outsiders. In the beginning, he had tried to help those who became lost in the woods, but those days have long since passed. Despite what his uncle says about his soft heart, Eddie’s become bitter and jaded and he no longer pays any mind to those who venture into the woods.

But this time, something is different. Eddie feels the disturbance of someone crossing into the forest, feels the shift of magic as the forest warps around them, and it’s… different. The ways and paths of the trees are second nature to him, he can tell by the shimmer of magic against his skin which paths have been revealed and which hidden away and this…

The forest is being lenient, gentle. The interlopers are shown the ways to peaceful places, soft and danger-free. Eddie can recall only a few times that the forest has been kind to intruders, and it has almost exclusively been to children.

So he’s more than curious already when he feels the buzz of more people crossing the boundary into the woods. A lot more. And Eddie realizes that this hunt is not for him.

The trees are not so kind this time, opening its twists and turns like a maze, a trap for anyone foolish enough not to turn back immediately. They don’t, of course. They never do. Eddie pays them no mind, drawn instead by curiosity to the two that are being pursued.

He steps between the trees, slipping into a space that’s folded away between reality, picking his way with ease through paths that are there and paths that are not until he emerges at the edge of a small clearing, moonlit and mossy. Theres a tiny spring-fed pond and there, limping toward it, is a wolf. It’s huge, the size of a small bear, with a strong frame and thick russet fur.

It notices him at the same time as he notices it, and it’s massive head swings to face him, teeth already bared in a snarl. It’s hackles raise, and it turns fully, squaring up, a threatening growl rumbling across the little clearing to him.

Eddie steps back, already gathering his power until it glows around him with dark energy, because this is no normal wolf. Even without the size and the silver trap clamped around its leg giving it away, he can see it in its eyes, feel in its presence that this is something more.

He recalls his childhood, the warning tales at his mother’s knee. He remebers later, freshly chased out of town and taken in by his uncle, watching as the old man leafed through his ancient book and warned Eddie that he wasn’t the only dangerous thing in the wilds. Eddie has no doubt that he’s come across one of those dangerous things now. He looks at the wolf and knows exactly what he’s seeing.

A werewolf.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #fantasy au #werewolf Steve #Eddie’s not really a witch he doesn’t practice witchcraft in any real way #that’s just what the people call him #I’d say he’s more of a sorcerer with a sprinkle of Druid #I’m still calling this the wolf and the witch because they both start with w lol #this was supposed to be a one and done ficlet but it kind of became something else and now I want to continue #magic Eddie #werewolf Robin #she was just bitten like a couple of hours ago poor robs TToTT #it’s important that you know Eddie’s magic is black or dark red and his eyes go black when he really uses it #both Eddie and Steve (and now Robin ) have elongated lifespans #Nancy is Steve’s ex and she knows that he’s a wolf #she doesn’t exactly like it but she’s working on that with herself and she would still protect him with everything she has #writing #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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sprout-fics · 1 year

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i absolutely love your könig drabbles, i can’t help but keep rereading them over and over- hes just so mysterious 🤤

if you’re feeling in the mood to write for him some more- i’ve got a cute little trope. though i LOVE könig saving the reader every chance he gets, id like to get the chance to see her save his ass for once. maybe while he’s distracted with something/someone else, someone comes up from behind and the reader shoots their ass or sum. idrk how missions in cod work- never played it, but i wouldn’t want the person to be from either of their teams (don’t want to kill her own team + doesn’t make sense for his ally to hurt him)

If you don’t like that idea, any scenario of her saving him and he be like “SO U DO LIKE ME!!!” would make my year honestly

+ no pressure to write it ofc !

Wolverine

König x 'Maus' Reader

(Part 5 of "Little Mouse" Series)

Word Count: 1.5k Rating: Teen and up Tags: Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Dark König, Reluctant allies, Lying to your team on behalf of your enemy boyfriend, Sniper! Reader, Female Reader Warnings: Mentions of human trafficking A/N: Just a small chapter/scene to tide everyone over before a longer next chapter!

You see the AQ fighter before he does.

Price has you on the backburner this mission- relegated to suppressive fire only as the rest of the team infiltrates the AQ warehouse where the cell is supposedly hiding human trafficking victims. It’s a clean house job. Get in, get out, lead the hostages to safety. Out of all the missions the 141 has done together, this is fairly tame.

So you perch from your spot atop a building 2 blocks away that overlooks the warehouse, exposed arms being baked by the Crimean sun, sweat beading along your neck. Here, high in the sky, you can see every move, every flutter, every step. Your finger taps along your weapon, and with every heartbeat you feel your blood thrum like a familiar staccato in your chest.

Yet the second you set up your sniper nest you had felt it, a prickle of awareness at the back of your senses. Like eyes watching you from the dark, it had bored along your back, creeping up your spine and setting goosebumps trilling across your flesh. Like a fox in a twilight grove, the wind ripples across your nape, and it carries the scent of something all too familiar, something forbidden, dangerous. You know the sensation well enough by now, know exactly what it means.

You aren’t alone.

You tell Price as much. You don’t have any evidence to go off of, but you trust your instincts. They’ve yet to fail you, and neither has he. You trust your captain wholeheartedly, his years of leadership and experience weighing down across his scarred shoulders and burdening him with the gravity that comes with duty.

So you listen when his voice echoes softly in the comms, concealed from the hostiles that lurk just beyond in the courtyard.

“Eyes open.” He tells you sternly, voice muted into his mic. “The second you see anything off you RV with us, clear?”

Clear.

You’re instructed to stay where you are, to not betray your position and be the perfectly little still mouse you are, not moving a single muscle. So you do, tracing the group as they make their way through the back gate of the warehouse single file, weapons ready.

Under his instruction you down the three fighters standing near the entryway, their bodies slumping limply to the ground but caught and dragged off before their comrades are any the wiser.

You watch as Price and the others rally behind a door leading inside, faces grim and eyes sparking with determination.

Then, movement.

About a hundred feet away where they can’t see. A flash of gray and green in the dying afternoon sun, his massive form carefully concealed behind a corner. Watching, observing, but not interfering.

It’s him.

König.

By the time you switch your comms back on though the group has breached the warehouse, and your radio is filled with barked orders and rapid gunfire that drowns out your voice when you attempt to speak.

“Price? Price, how copy?”

The captain doesn’t respond.

All the while König creeps closer, staying in the slanted shadows of the building. Form coiled, he seems for all the world like a wolverine, muscles rippling and claws outstretched. The metal of his bracers flicker like fangs in the sun, bared and dripping threats. The static of your radio feels for all the world like a grinding growl that echoes deep into your own chest, a warning that’s come far too late.

They don’t know he’s there.

Your voice shakes now as you try to contact the boys, but the radio crackles with echoing gunfire and the static aftershock of a frag grenade. You can hear the screams of the hostages now, rising and pitching high to the wind. Gaz barks rapidly in Arabic, and his voice overlaps your wavering tone that they don’t seem to hear.

So instead you level your scope at him, at this man who is your enemy despite the fact he’s saved your life more times than you care to remember. There, in the crosshairs, you see the details of him, of his hood streaked with bleach tears, the whites of his eyes behind the coal dark stain, the planes of his shoulders as he turns away from you. He’s armed, just with a knife that glints in the dying light.

You’ve seen it before, seen it drip red onto the cracked, dry earth as one of his comrades gurgled wetly at his feet, dead by his hand. He had tried to hurt you, but it had not been you that had killed him. Even now you can remember that hood, the fabric shifting as he had turned for you- reached out to where your hand hovered over your radio.

Don’t.

He hadn’t hurt you, and yet-

It would only take a single shot.

All this time you’ve been chasing each other. He’s tried to kill the others, nearly succeeded in killing Gaz. He’s pursued you, only to let you go. It’s a dangerous, imbalanced game of cat and mouse where he stalks your nighttime dreams, only to appear in daylight with stunning clarity. He’s taken you, has rescued you, has watched you from the shadows, has touched you, let his hand feel your racing heartbeat. He’s your enemy. He’s your fascination. He could kill you. He’s saved you.

He could be dead by your hand if you just…

You blink, and there’s movement behind him.

An AQ fighter who limps from a side door, escaping the chaos inside. Smoke trails after him, evidence of one of Soap’s thrown grenades. He turns as he coughs and splutters, clutching a wound on his thigh. Then he spots König, and in his hand you see the flash of a muzzle.

König stops, begins to turn.

The man takes aim with trembling hands.

You fire.

The round forces the air from your lungs, shot as you sucked in a gasp and hissing as it escapes. Like a crack of thunder it rings out against the sky, deafening the world and leaving an unsettled stillness in its wake. Almost instantly the head of the AQ fighter erupts in a grotesque spume of red, and his body tilts backwards, off balance, before he slumps at König’s feet.

He stills.

It takes König a moment to register what just happened. You can see his head tilt down to the fighter’s corpse, entire body drawn taut like a bow as he watches scarlet pool at his boots. Yet faster than you anticipated his eyes flash, turn to seek you like a homing missile, eyes wide and searching. They settle on you, perched one hundred meters away at the top of an empty building, stomach flat against the rooftop where rubble digs into your skin.

You look past your scope to where he stands, hands clenched at his sides, eyes bright, shoulder stiff and coiled. He doesn’t move from where he stands, doesn’t even flinch.

You could kill him.

He’s wide open.

Yet then König tilts his head at you, blinking slowly like a lazy cat in the sun. It’s as if he realizes exactly where he is, how a single pull of the trigger could end him where he stands. A sensible soldier would dive for cover, would raise his own weapon and fire back to buy time for an escape.

König does neither.

Instead he raises the hand not holding his blade to his face, lets his fingers graze his chin before lowering his open palm in front of him. It feels like a gesture, an entreaty, one offered to you with something akin to reverence. You recognize the hand signal instantly.

Thank you.

You blink, lips parting in wonder, and all at once the air in your chest feels too warm, too light, unfurling like a delicate, pale thing with soft downy wings.

“Rookie.” Price barks in your ear, and you flinch at his sudden voice. “How are we looking? ready for ex-fil?”

You pause, hand hovering over your comms. König sees the gesture from where he stands, all the way below. Even though he pauses for a moment, he eventually locks eyes with you, nods once-

And vanishes back into the shadows.

“Rookie, how copy?”

“Clear.” You tell your captain, even if you don’t believe your own voice, shaking as it is. “One straggler on the south side of the building, eliminated. Your route is clear.”

“Copy that.”

Yet then Price pauses, the comms crackling with wordless chatter beyond him as Gaz and the others sort the hostages, until at last his voice resumes.

“Did you see him?”

The warm air in your chest feels caught, stifled. Yet when you look all you see is shadows, and even the aftereffect seems to have evaporated, as if he was never there at all.

“No.” You reply softly, and the lie tastes sour on your lips.

Tag List (Please reply to this post if you'd like to be tagged in future works for this series!)

@fatedeniedhope @gio-gio007 @glassgulls @sednonamoris @ohgraywardens @greatlydelirious @guyfierriii @wanderingisobel @nijiluvbot @deceiverofgodss @xasement @zwiiicnziiix @bloodyknucklesforme @kkinky @imkumichan @fluidthoughts @secre-flower @sandinthemachine @starlitnotes @00mogars @adorephina @cowanonofficial @dhns-stuff @kgbtardis @kaitlynisinfinite @thisperspective @darlingcyare @rk1v35 @classickook @beeslythebee @the-queerpoet-collecter @artbythedarkside @deepdreamerbouquet-world

#könig x reader #König #könig imagine #könig x you #cod mw22 #my writing #my fic #fic: little mouse #drabble #This can be read after the most recent chapter if you're looking for a chronological timeline!#Most recent chapter is 'the witching hour' for reference :)

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lunarharp · 3 months

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"Found out" set in kind of a made-up chapter where the girls are in trouble, or something.

#witch hat tag #orufrey #i hate having a strong cinematic image in your mind for months..working hours on it..& at the end looking you have to be like “Sure. :/"#i'm especially unsatisfied with the beginning and the end and how i can't get eyebrows to work as i want #but i dont care any more... this is probably the comic that has given me the most trouble ever i just dont care #i barely even care whatsoever if anyone even sees this..Ugh..but at least i can move on to the next era now #i'm just annoyed i cant get out good enough my image of qifrey flinching bc he thinks oru will hit him but then he is not hit #i feel like sensei will do something along these lines. i want to see what she will do.#there are also other variations i have in my mind. i just want to know #i just don't want it to happen with qifrey on his deathbed or something. but it possibly will. I DONT EVEN KNOW.#i have another very cinematic image in my mind for something sort of along those lines which i will do soon. it never ends...#btw after this is probably my fics. yeah.... i think it has to be my fics. jasmine sort of goes along these lines #i need that space for dialogue. look - i'm a writer. this is HARD for me. so i am really glad i had the space and freedom of words #to process all the feelings. but i tried to get something out in a quick visual space too. <- me defending myself to myself at cai court #anyway going along the lines of 'Jasmine' - they talk this out and argue and cry and oru pushes the hat at him and tells him #why not just erase every memory i have of you then. That would be easier for us all wouldn't it?#they kiss and sob and kiss and lie outside in the flowers for many hours in that one. and then there's 'Deep End' where it turns out #way way way way more time and words is needed for this actually and that's upsetting for everyone.#the destruction of the hat is certainly another path to take. Can you make this work without that hat going up in flames?#something you have always had and have been clinging to will have to be destroyed. You have to lose something now. This is the crux qifrey #I CANT GET IT OUT IN ONE COMIC!!! I CANT DRAW IT OUT!!!! I NEEDED THOSE FICS!!!! PRAISE WORDS!!!! whatever im going to have dinner now

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magalidragon · 6 months

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wolf and flame | a witchy Jonerys Orgasmic October 2023 fic | day 7: witching hour

Here we go, I managed to get it in just before Halloween! This is for @snowxstormworld Jonerys Orgasmic October 2023, day 7: witching hour! Enjoy!

He reached into his cloak and removed a heavy piece of parchment, pushing it towards her with his gloved hand. She took it, flipping it open and staring at the ruins inked into the weathered pages. It was a map. A map she had been looking for, for ages. Her violet eyes flicked up to meet his piercing blue ones. “You found it?” she murmured. “In a way,” he answered vaguely. She opened her mouth to speak when her nose wrinkled, an odd scent permeating through the smoke, sweat, and ale-scented smog of the pub. It was a scent she had only smelled once in her life. The worst day of it. Wolf Her lips curled in a snarl; in the Stormlands, Drogon screeched, turning northward immediately to be at her side. The fire sang in her blood and she turned her fingers up, curling them, drawing the candle flames near to her. Except…this had something to it. It was cloaked. The wolf was trying to hide. She cocked her head, her violet eyes almost black, staring at Davis. “There’s a wolf here.” Davos smirked. “I hear there’s one in the Kingswood. The local children tell stories. They don’t go there.” “Wolves can’t survive long out of the North.” They were her mortal enemies. The ones who helped murder her family. She scanned the pub, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, until she paused, her gaze landing on a black cloaked figure standing at the bar. She narrowed her eyes, tapping her fingers on the table, fire burning through her skin, dancing from fingertip to fingertip. The person at the bar was magical, but she couldn't put her finger on why. The figure turned, glancing her direction, and for a brief second, she saw a pale face, dark beard, and piercing set of gray eyes before the figure disappeared into a throng of people who had just entered the pub. She sat straighter, one hand disappearing the map into her cloak, the other flicking her hood further over her silver hair; she had been here too long. There were some who were beginning to notice. This might be neutral territory for the likes of her, but Targaryens did not survive long in Westeros and it was best she get a move on. Davos tapped his fingers to his lips, smiling vaguely. "You might want to canvass the Kingswood, search for this mysterious wolf. The children refer to him as the Big Bad Wolf." "Well they're children, they're stupid." He shrugged, as if to give her that point. She didn’t like the fact that the wolf scent had been so powerful, but also so fleeting. She also didn’t like the fact she couldn’t tell what sort of magic the black-cloaked figure held. It probably didn’t matter; this city was a transit point for anyone seeking access to the greater part of Westeros. She nodded to Davos, standing swiftly in one move. “Davos.” He smiled again. “Search the Kingswood. You might find…something useful.”

#jonerys #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #snowxstormworld #jonerys orgasmic October 2023 #day 7: witching hour #I managed to finish on time sort of yayyy

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sugxrslushy · 2 years

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ᴅᴀʏ ɪɪ || ᴛʜɪɢʜ ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ

🩸ᴀ/ɴ: requested by @pebbsie my dear <33 going back to my roots and writing soft stuff bc I can't go without it haha! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it

🩸ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ: NSFW MINORS DNI//Shanks x fem!reader//warnings: thigh riding, wet dreams, not proofread bc I'm insanely lazy

His hands mapped out your body, strong and sturdy as they explored every inch of skin he could get his greedy hands on. His touch felt like bursts of sunshine, leaving your skin buzzing and warm with each touch to soft flesh. Everything looked hazy, blurring at the edges but the bright red hair that stood out like a lighthouse amidst the fogginess put you at ease.

Pleasure sparked in your lower belly, making your toes curl and every part of you feel like a million degrees. It was so hard to focus on the already blurry shapes crowding you, each sharp move making bursts of light flash in your eyes as his cock dragged along your insides. You were nearly burning alive with lust, wanting so much more by the minute.

You reach out to grab at something, pull his hips against yours or tangle your fingers in those red locks but find nothing… the haziness fading away into a subtle light streaming into the room. The dream disappearing like wisps of smoke that you couldn’t catch in your hands. The sounds, the moans and groans aren’t nearly as loud as the silence in your cabin as you slowly find your bearings.

Nothing more than a wet dream, you realized as you rubbed your legs together, noticing the sticky wetness between them.

“Enjoying yourself?” A sound startles you, warmth blooming across your cheeks and you whip around to find where it came from. The look on Shanks face is downright smug, the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he peers at you through thick lashes. You gnaw at your lip, embarrassment flooding through you as you realize all those noises may have not just been part of your dreams.

You open and close your mouth, a fish out of water without a word to say. You blink sleep from your bleary eyes just to check you’re still not dreaming. His strong arm slips around your waist before a word can be uttered, the red haired man situating you onto his lap as he melts back against the sheets.

“G-good morning,” you finally whisper, ending the sentence with a light yawn. You giggle and a smile blooms across his face, rough hands massaging your hip lightly. You couldn’t help but notice the little sparks in your core as you shuffled in his lap, clothed cunt rubbing against his thigh.

“Well good morning to you too.” His voice is thick with sleep, raspy but sweet on your ears. You both find comfort is the quietness of the morning, admiring each other until Shanks shifts his leg and those little sparks are back again. You choke on a gasp that doesn’t go unnoticed, a sparkle in Shanks eye as the hand kneading your hip drags you down against his leg. “Don’t let me interrupt what you were doing earlier.” He hums.

Pushing down embarrassment to chase that pleasure you wanted so much, you gently chew on your lip and roll your hips, another gasp erupting from you as warmth spreads through your belly. Shanks gives you a lazy smile and slowly begins to bounce his leg in tandem with your grinding.

It feels so good, each drag of your hips against his strong leg fills you up with a sticky warmth that reaches your fingertips, the drag of your clit against him has you gasping in sensitivity. Your dripping, the wet dream and the stimulation leaving your panties soaked and you continue to jackrabbit your hips desperately. Every part of you seems to be stirring back to life, the jolts of pleasure making you feel so much more awake as your heart hammers in your chest.

“Just like that sweetheart.” He groans, half lidded eyes drinking in your ecstasy and making that feeling deep in your gut catch on fire. Digging your nails into his chest and leaving crescent marks, you push yourself back on his leg firmly and cry out at the sweet feeling rushing through you. “S’ good, gonna come for me? Be all sweet and cry out my name?”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as you can feel your pussy fluttering around nothing. Your stomach twists, the thought of him stuffing you full of his cock afterwards fills you with excitement but you can’t stop your hips, humping desperately against him to finally grasp at your sweet release.

With a hard grind, your clit dragging along the soft fabric of your panties and Shanks encouragement swirling in your head, you can feel yourself coming undone. A cry catching in your throat as you spasm in his lap, head thrown back as the cry spills from your lips and you slowly rock your hips against him to relish in the aftershocks coursing down your spine.

Shanks hand still continues to massage your thigh, having grown tired from your non stop rocking once you come down from your high. Peeking through your half lidded eyes, Shanks beams up at you with a wide smile. “You’re such a treasure to wake up to.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fic #red hair shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x you #[🦇].witching hour

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ja3honey · 3 months

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I know I'm on a hiatus, but i suddenly got an idea about a vampire x witch trope. But idk who would fit it? Like which member would be the perfect vampire to my witchy reader, hehe.

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umber-cinders · 7 months

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🔞🚨Attoye Kinktober Fic Snippet ❥ 🔞🚨

Incubus!Attuma x Witch!Okoye - Monsterfucking Category

I may be 5 foot irl, but my writing is 6'6", if you know what I mean. So longer snippets for my oneshots are required. So just enjoy the 600 word appetizer because there's more to come when it drops later 😂💕 Join us for Attoye Kintober at @theattoyearchive for more, we'd love to have you visit ❣

Updating this snippet post with the full fic link!:

#Attoye #attuma x okoye #attuma of talokan #general okoye #M'BakuxOC #Black Panther #Black Panther Wakanda Forever #BPWF #My Fics #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #Attoye Kinktober #Attuma #Okoye #How fitting that I'm posting this damn near at witching hour #TheAttoyeArchive

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lotusqueens · 1 year

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Leigh Bardugo, Ruin and Rising

Korol Rezni. Roëd Drüsje.

The King of Scars and the red witch.

They had become a symbol of hope for their torn and drowning county and a scary story for young Drüskelle boys to shudder at.

Nikolai sometimes wondered what it felt like for Vera: to be hated and feared by the country she loved so dearly. If Ravka was the drowning man Nikolai planned to drag to shore with his last breath, then Fjerda was her’s. Despite all her words and her determination, he knew Vera would die for her country. Even if it was at Fjerda’s own hands.

#made a quick edit for them since i'm back in my grishaverse brainrot #oc: vera alekson #ship: vera x nikolai #fic: witching hour #fanfic universe: the 'wichting hour' universe #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #Grishaverse #grishaverse fanfic #shadow and bone oc #grishaverse oc #my edits #my fics #my ocs

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lyrebirdswrites · 9 months

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I wrote this fic for a skfs zine last year and I'm excited to finally share it! Enjoy <3

sukufushi · witchcraft au · familiar summoning

jjk · 3k words · T · oneshot

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukufushi #fushiguro megumi #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #lyrebirdsfic #fic: witching hour

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inkburnt · 8 months

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The Witching Hour

Chapter 2: Beast of a Hundred Feet

Fandom: Devil May Cry Mature // Gen // In-progress // Chapters: 2/? // Words: 20,284 Characters: V, Griffon, Shadow, Nightmare, original characters Warning(s): Graphic depictions of violence Additional tags: V is not part of Vergil, V’s name is Vitale, witch V, canon divergence, post-Devil May Cry 5, canon-typical violence, sorcery, witchcraft, clairvoyance, magic, magical bullshit, childhood trauma, referenced loss of parent(s), friendship, bonding, many boss battles, elements of Norse mythology, musical elements, very slight Girl vs. Boy but it’s not harmful, tentatively tagging with, rivalry, there are tones of misandry but mainly coming from the antagonist, which is to be expected since she’s cracked and Evil AU info // Series on AO3

Months following the fall of the Qliphoth, a childhood villain reappears in V’s life and descends upon both him and a city still licking its wounds. Armed with dark sorcery and a menagerie of resurrected boss-level demons, she wreaks her own brand of havoc as she goes on the warpath. Meanwhile, another sorcerer interferes with questionable motives, all as V and his familiars find opportunities for growth—and a chance for V to tie loose ends and make final amends.

(Updates slowly, on Sundays or Mondays.)

Masterlist

#devil may cry #dmc fanfiction #dmc5 #dmc5 v #dmc v #v dmc5 #v dmc #V is not Vergil #universe: Vita Vitale #fic: The Witching Hour #Finally we have a c t i o n

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flordeamatista · 7 months

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THE DEVIL

pairing: dbf!andy barber x reader

concept: The lure of temptation, seduction, and lust he offered filled your head ecstatically.

word count: 1k

warnings: sex tape + corruption kink + pussy slapping, nicknames: (Angel)

a/n: The devil card depicts intense sexual desire and physical attraction.The Devil is the gateway into the future kinks.

THE WITCHING HOUR ──── KINKTOBER'23

masterlist

The lure of temptation, seduction, and lust he offered filled your head ecstatically.

Your wings were scattered at your feet as you stood rigidly in his home office.

His radiant blue eyes met yours with a languid gaze, making you feel heat prickling beneath your skin. He swept his eyes up and down your body, and his hands slowly moved over your curves. “I wonder if your parents are looking for you,” lifting you onto his lap with one arm while the other braces against your chest.

A hand slapped your pussy as it dug through your naked form, exploring every inch of it.

"The party gets drunk downstairs, but my touch will make your pussy drunk here." When your head fell back against him, his hot breath heated up in your ear. He grinned into your neck while biting your skin. “So desperate to be touched, aren’t you?”

You closed your eyes and wondered if it was all a dream or if reality had tricked you. The Halloween party had already begun earlier that evening, and you’re almost naked on his lap, wearing only your angelic halo.

Your body vibrates in anticipation as you sit on the devil’s lap, with your once pure angel wings lying on the ground.

An inferno looms to consume you whole when the spark within you ignites.

Your heart surrenders to his touch, allowing yourself to be influenced by the promise of pleasure and the unknown.

There is an electrifying quality of being around him, but it is also terrifying; you know it is dangerous territory, but you can’t help feeling drawn in by his dark charisma. His midnight blue eyes promise a night of sensuality and debauchery beyond your wildest dreams.

You’re helpless as he whispers softly and tastefully, and you’re beckoned into the unknown by his sinful dirge.

A tingling sensation runs down your spine when you catch sight of his gaze.

There is something dangerous about your attraction to him, and what will happen if you comply with him?

While you appear angelic, his aura is testing you into darkness.

A knowing smirk curls his lips as he stares at you as if he knows exactly who you are and what you want.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and swiped it until the camera was on.

His right hand was poised over the phone while his left touched your body. He spoke low and velvet-smooth, saying, “I want this recorded proof that even angels can moan for devils.” Taking your lips in a passionate kiss, he traced circles across your skin, generating sweltering heat.

With a smile, he roars like a devouring demon, and his firm contours blend perfectly with my angelic features.

When you both pulled apart, you saw his eyes blazing with desire. With each slap of his palm, a fire ignited within you, threatening to burn out of control.

“Show me how the devil can make pretty angels moan. Aren't you my pretty angel?.”

Deep, slow breaths push warmth into the air.

“You like that, don’t you?” His warm slaps glide across your clitoris, and he holds the phone close to your pussy.

As he taps your clit each time, pain and pleasure wash over you simultaneously. You need his fingers in your clit for him to release the orgasm and touch, so a slap does not suffice.

It feels like he might slip his fingers inside, but he slaps it away, leaving the breeze to cool the air.

In a warm embrace, his finger traces shapes around your pussy. A gentle tickle alternates with a firm slap that makes your hips jerk. Every time you shudder, you are slapped harder.

You muffle a small moan against your palm as your body burns and your eyes tighten.

His dark and menacing voice whispers in your ear. The phone moves closer to your face. You feel your body quiver as he punctuates the words with more intense pussy slaps. “Such a good angel.”

There were no words between you as you walked forward and kissed the fiery.

Every step brought profound relief that swallowed light and sound.

The only force you could understand was a burning desire to be with him, but you could neither understand nor resist it.

There is no escaping the devil when the night is dark and your heart is led by him.

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akaanonymouth · 7 months

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It's been a wonderful, whirlwind time of gorgeous theatre and even gorgeous-er company since I got back to London (car accidents and awful flatmate notwithstanding!) and having just got home from one of those gorgeous plays and gorgeous people, oh! 👀 is that some writing and editing that I see coming from my very own thoughts and fingers? Gasp!

#i started this a few years ago and just tied myself in knots over the simplicity of it and thought i'd ruined it #but it's the one that's calling me at this somewhere witching hour #maybe i won't get much done but a sentence is a sentence and a bit of editing is better than no editing right #feeling inspired and like i need to just...do something before i shrivel into inconsequentiality and mundanity career and writing wise #my fic #berena fanfic #me stuff

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lightdancer1 · 1 month

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The last of my three Buffyverse ideas:

I've had these on the back burner for a decade and waited until the Buffy comics were done to avoid having to constantly reinvent the wheel to do the full thing, but it all started with the old-model 'Wish to resurrect Tara Maclay' fics that are the worst part of shipping culture making the ship overshadow the people involved.

These five stories can essentially be said to be 'the last five seasons of Buffy if Tara Maclay came back in Season 8 and got to deal with the death of magic and the magic concentration camps like everyone else did.' They are both a reconstruction and a deconstruction of elements of the Buffyverse idea of soulmates, of a lot of tropes in Tara x Willow fanfics, and simply put an excuse to write Tara Maclay and Willow having their own badass adventures separately and then together and not do the racist thing of throwing the obnoxious Latina under the bus while the obnoxious demon gets a pass because she's played by a white woman.

Also featuring my idea that absent pesky actor contracts the First Evil very much did appear as Tara and that this would be a complicating extra shadow over all the other trauma, and that without the ultimate longer-term effects of the Twilight War.

The irony, too, is that in this case all of Willow's actions in Seasons 8 and 9 ultimately stem from loving Tara enough to want people to remember the actual human and to give her time to adjust to being alive again on the one hand, and loving Kennedy enough to not simply discard her for not being Tara because their dynamic, while vastly different, very much does have its own recommendations.

Also going to feature, along with my series rewrite, the idea that the world of Buffy had at least a bit in common with that of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen in that Dracula is not the only classic literary character to have been real (and not just the Cthulhu Mythos ala the Order of Dagon and Yog-Sothoth, aka Dawn Summers). One of them also has some support from the earlier episodes of the show and that one episode with the formula, as the Mk. I model makes its reappearance and with it the full-blown effects.

#buffy fanfic #the witching hour #tara x willow #willow x kennedy #buffy continuation fic #I really don't like how a lot of 'resurrect Tara' fics make Willow shallow enough to drop Kennedy like a hot potato #and Tara in turn either a doormat or basically a fixed point in time who forgets all their other existing issues #they would have lasted five minutes of that and then had actual life stuff happening again #these fics also make her into a 'reward' for Willow when that was the exact kind of familial trauma she grew up in to begin with #so in short Tara and her own issues get to exist #and Willow and hers get to #and both get actual complete healing arcs before their future getting back together does happen #I am also going to enjoy writing Angel getting repeatedly whacked in the nuts

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