I'll snatch ur soul

19|| chaos incarnate •Formerly a Victorian ghost, now just vibing •If found, return to the nearest dramatic monologue.

[certifiedsoulstealer]

SOUL ✴️ STEALER

Thinking of starting writing in here instead of just fantasizing.

First fanfic it's already up

YELLOWJACKETS masterlink

THE SECOND COMING , PART 2,

PART 3

( I'll think of some rules and who I'll be writing for later, this was kind of rushed. )

[certifiedsoulstealer]

Unnamed phone calls give me anxiety, I can do anything that doesn't require a phone call. ( If you know you know )

[certifiedsoulstealer]

URGENT HELP SAVE THE LIFE OF MY CHILD.

Dear humanity,

Please Help Me – My Son May Die at Any Moment.

I'm Amal, a mother of three children, living under the weight of the genocide taking place in Gaza. 🍉

Here’s my story, and I’m reaching out with a hopeful heart 💔✨, hoping someone will feel what my family and I are going through.

My son is suffering from a severe and life-threatening injury after being shot by Israeli drones. He urgently needs medical treatment outside Gaza.

Time is running out, and we are facing a critical situation. I am asking for your generosity to help us save him either through a donation or by sharing this urgent plea with others

I beg you, i kiss your feet, to help my son. My son may die at any moment.

I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too 🥺

Mohammed deserves to live a happy and healthy life, just like every other child on this earth.

So I humbly ask you to donate even a little or at least reblog this appeal.

Please Donate now:👇

https://www.gofundme.com/f/join-us-in-our-struggle-save-our-family-from-war-in-gaza

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

Please donate, and if you can't repost

[daffsforstag]

Me looking at icons of Mari on Pinterest like old photos of my late husband who went off to war and didn’t come home.

[certifiedsoulstealer]

Me with Lottie

[certifiedsoulstealer]

THE SECOND COMING

( last part ) and possibly an epilogue of Shauna's pov

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

Warnings: emotional manipulation, references to trauma, age gap, cult behavior, smoking hot woman.

Reader is 25

They started watching me the way you watch something that might move when your back is turned.

Natalie was the first to say it, low and offhanded to Taissa like the fire would eat her words before they reached me.

“She looks just like her,” she said.

“Not just,” Taissa replied. “It’s in her voice. Her posture. The way she waits before she speaks.”

I wasn’t meant to hear it. But I did.

And it wasn’t the first time I’d been told I moved like a ghost someone forgot to bury.

Lottie began appearing in places before I arrived.

As though she knew my path before I took a step.

She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t need to.

She offered things:

A bowl of tea that smelled like rain and something dead in the soil.

A flower crown, left at the foot of my bed, still damp with morning.

A journal I hadn’t opened, until I saw what was already written inside:

“She’s come back to us.”

I asked her what it meant.

Lottie only smiled, like she’d said too much in another life and learned better this time.

“You were born after,” she murmured, “but the wilderness knew you before. It moves through you like it moved through her.”

She didn’t say who she meant.

My mother.

Or the girl my mother used to be, the one she starved out of herself to survive.

They started calling me Little Shauna when they thought I couldn’t hear.

Even Van, whose grief had softened into something like glass, looked at me too long.

“I keep forgetting,” she said once, “that it’s not her. That it’s you.”

Some nights I’d catch my own reflection and wonder too.

Was I just her shape, walking around with different memories?

Or was I something the forest remembered better than she did?

My mother barely looked at me. Even when we sat close enough for our knees to touch.

I asked her once—soft, so the ache wouldn’t spill over—

“Do you hate me?”

She didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t know what you are,” she said finally.

“You mean I’m not yours?”

She flinched like the fire had spit at her.

“You’re too mine,” she whispered.

She wouldn’t look at me. “You weren’t supposed to carry it,” she said. “That hunger. That silence. You weren’t supposed to feel it the way I did.”

“But I do,” I said. “You knew I did. You just didn’t want to admit it.”

Her silence was heavier than any scream.

I found the letter by accident.

Tucked away in Lottie’s drawer, between dried herbs and dead flower petals.

It was my name in my mother’s handwriting.

A page smudged with meaning.

She frightens me. Not because she’s cruel, but because she’s free. I think she hears it. The wilderness. The wanting. Maybe more clearly than any of us ever did. I can’t love that in her—not without breaking. But I know you can.

I held the paper like a blade careful not to make myself bleed.

She hadn’t saved me.

She hadn’t protected me.

She’d surrendered me to to what, I still don't know

At dawn, I stood at the edge of the woods.

The air hummed. Still and waiting.

Lottie came without a word. She stood beside me like she belonged to the same silence.

“I read it,” I said.

“I know,” she answered.

“She gave me away.”

“No,” Lottie said. “She gave you back.”

“To what?”

“To whatever was already waiting.”

I looked out past the trees, the shadows shifting like they recognized me.

“She couldn’t love the version of me that looked too much like the girl she left behind,” I said.

“She loved her,” Lottie murmured. “But love doesn’t always survive the return.”

We stood there in the soft hush before morning.

“I’m not her,” I said. “I’m not my mother.”

“No,” Lottie said, her voice full of something not quite joy. “You’re what she could’ve become if the wilderness had been allowed to keep her.”

And maybe… maybe it still could.

Later that night, I opened the journal again.

Below the words She’s come back to us, someone had added more.

“Or maybe she never left.”

I stared at it until the ink blurred.

I closed the journal.

And I didn’t sleep.

[nothoughtsonlyvan]

Me clocking into read Van Palmer fics on tumblr.com every night

[certifiedsoulstealer]

You spying on me?

[certifiedsoulstealer]

THE SECOND COMING

PART 1 , PART 2, PART 3

Warnings: emotional manipulation, references to trauma, age gap, cult behavior, smoking hot woman.

Reader is 25.

A/N: thy mortals have spoken and they want MORE, you shall get part 2 now and part 3 some time soon. Hope you like it.

After the staring, Lottie clapped her hands gently and gestured toward a barefoot man with a too-white smile and a man-bun that looked like it had never seen the inside of a shampoo bottle.

“Silas will show you around,” Lottie said to me. “Make sure she… settles in.”

Shauna stepped between us. “She’s not here for whatever this is.”

Lottie didn't say anything just tilted her head, Serene and nudges man-bun guy to show me around.

Silas was as weird as I expected—and then some.

He walked like the ground whispered to him, pointed out “energy vortexes” in piles of rocks, and claimed the bees had “communal dreams.” I let him ramble. It was that or confront the way Lottie's eyes had felt like warm hands on my throat.

“That’s the river where we cleanse doubt,” Silas said, gesturing toward a sad trickle of water. “Last week, someone saw a crow weep there.”

I blinked. “Maybe it stubbed its toe.”

He blinked back. “Crows don’t have toes.”

“Yes, they do. What kind of cult doesn’t believe in bird anatomy?”

He gave me a nervous laugh, like I was either the funniest person he’d ever met or capable of arson. Possibly both.

“Lottie said you’d be… spirited.”

“Oh? What else did she say?” I asked, only half-mocking.

He hesitated. “She dreams in voices.”

“ That's not real. That's schizophrenia with branding.”

He looked horrified. I grinned. Balance restored.

“I’m going to steal something from her cabin later,” I added casually, just to watch him panic.

He gasped like I’d threatened the Pope. I kept walking.

I didn’t see the others until nightfall, just staying in some isolated spot near the river.

I wandered out after sunset, wearing one of Shauna’s old flannels just to keep warm. My hair was messy, my shoe's muddy.

I followed the sound of voices and firelight until I came to a clearing. A bonfire crackled in the center, and gathered around it like a page torn out of a cursed storybook were the others.

Natalie, Taissa, Van, Misty, Lottie

And my mother, sitting like she wanted to disappear.

They didn’t notice me at first. I hovered behind Shauna, half-hidden by the shadows, I don't have it in me to interrupt they look like they are having a hear felt moment.

I was about to leave until Misty turned. Her gaze landed on me, and her entire body froze.

“Uh… Shauna?” she said, voice small and weirdly reverent.

Shauna turned. Then everyone else followed.

And suddenly, the campfire was silent.

Every Yellowjacket stared at me like they were seeing something they weren’t sure was real.

Natalie’s cigarette dropped into the dirt.

Van muttered, “Holy shit.”

Taissa looked like she’d seen this exact moment in a nightmare.

But Lottie… Lottie stood.

She rose slowly, reverently, like I was the second coming of something long buried.

Her hands lifted slightly, like she wanted to touch me.

“She’s come back to us,” she whispered.

And no one not a single person knew if she meant me.

Or the past.

I stayed.

I went to the morning grounding sessions.

At first, it was for entertainment. I liked seeing Silas explain “the bees’ collective pain.” I liked watching Natalie roll her eyes and Misty ask why the fire pit wasn’t “OSHA compliant.” I liked watching my mother squirm.

But I couldn’t stop watching Lottie.

She never seemed fully awake. She spoke like she was translating something only she could hear. And every time she looked at me, I felt like she knew what I’d done before I did it.

She started giving me things.

A necklace carved from antler bone.

A flower crown woven so tightly I couldn’t find where it started.

A leather-bound journal with only one line inside: She’s come back to us.

I cornered her one evening in the greenhouse, surrounded by plants that looked like they were eavesdropping.

“What does it mean?” I asked her. “The journal. The looks. All of it. What do you think I am?”

Lottie stepped closer, her voice barely above a breath.

“You were born after,” she murmured, “but the wilderness knew you before. It moves through you like it moved through her.”

I frowned. “Who the fuck is 'Her'…?”

She just smiled.

And walked away.

[certifiedsoulstealer]

THE SECOND COMING

Part 1, PART 2, PART 3

Warnings: emotional manipulation, references to trauma, age gap, cult behavior, smoking hot woman.

(Reader is 25 not a minor, don't be creepy.)

The drive to the wellness retreat is uncomfortably silent. I'm sitting in the passenger seat of my mom's car, the trees blur like the remnants of past memory's. It's the first time I've seen her so visibly shaken.

I don't know why I'm going to Lottie's retreat with my mom but i know enough to not ask her any questions. " This isn't a vacation, " she said before i got in the car " don't do anything and just stay beside me, please. "

As soon as I stepped out of the car someone greets us, Serene, glowing and unsettlingly calm. Lottie Matthews. Her arm's spread like she's welcoming an old friend...or new believers. But it's not my mother she's focused on, no... It's me.

Her gaze lingers. Fixated. Like she's seeing something holy. Her steps slow the short grass beneath her feet silent" you look so much like your mother. " Lottie breaths, looking at me like I'm the new coming of Jesus, ' you look like your mother ' I hate those words, i hate them with every fiber of my being, dong get me wrong I love my mother, of course i do, but being the child of Shauna Shipman didn't allow space to be my own person and having to achieve more then Shauna Shipman was hard and frustrating.

I felt a hand brushing a stray hair from my face taking me out of my train of thought, it was Lottie " it's pleased " who the fuck it's ' it ', as I'm about to ask my mom went stiff and harshly taking her hand from my face and gets in her face, " she's not a part of this Lottie, she's only here because I need to keep an eye on her. "

Seemingly uneffected from my mother's harsh demeanor Lottie smile's softly almost dream like and never breaking eye contact, " That's were you are wrong. "

Should I continue? I thought it's better to start writing the shit I imagine.

[certifiedsoulstealer]

Pinterest knows

[certifiedsoulstealer]

I started watching Once upon a time, a week ago and tell me why Henry is the most annoying kid to ever live ? Like I get it good and all but damn that's the woman that raised you, you little shit and the fact that everyone is treating Regina like that when she is truly trying to change is infuriating.

[certifiedsoulstealer]

Give Regina Mills a break pls it breaks my heart.

[certifiedsoulstealer]

Does anyone know some websites to download YouTube videos without paying I'm doing edits on TikTok and some mf websites have subscriptions like 8€ a month and other websites just download the most shit quality vids ever known to men so if anyone knows I would really appreciate it.

Btw this is the kind of edits I do

( different user on TikTok)

[yoursicklilbaby]

Just Like Honey. 6

Agatha x Rio x non-binary Reader Part 6 | Sorry, Daddy Part 1 | Wanna Join, Rock’n’rolla Part 2 | I Said Now Part 3 | Fuck Like a Witch Part 4 | Coven Three Part 5 | Mommy, We're Fucked Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: NSFW 18+ smut! top!Rio, bottom!Agatha, Mommy, Daddy kink, spanking, fingering, submission, dominance, brat, fighting, power bottom, degradation, pet names, dirty talk, a bit chocking, cuckold, aftercare

*** They got married ages ago, and by ages you’d mean literal ages. You didn’t know how exactly they met each other—just a vague picture in your mind of what could be described as a fictional Salem witches sanctuary. Perhaps, you were too indulged in pleasing them as a pet instead of asking questions; a sex whore, being horny all the time, like never before in your life. It drove you insane, but beneath the surface you realized it was something deeper, as they treated you like someone special. They just never expressed it verbally, and you wished you could know for sure.

For the first time, you tended to rush into their beautiful house every weekend, where you’d have long talks or movie nights eventually turning into incredible threesomes. Over time, they would take you to exhibitions with Rio dancing (and showing off, as a given) or treat you to wine and dine, spoiling you with exquisite restaurants.

Needless to say, you had a dream life, and this peculiar relationship was one of a kind; it kept you curious, on fire, and craving their love and attention. As was said before, they made you feel special—a pet who was attached at the hip, balancing their own union.

Of course, you knew that it was crucial to set ground rules at some point, as you had never been in a throuple before, but they were so chill about everything, just talking to each other silently from time to time and glancing at you with their signature appreciation smirks; basically, everything seemed to be in perfect sync.

Time went by, you started seeing each other more frequently, but with Rio working in theater and doing her ‘tantra’ thing, let alone going out with her dancing gang, eventually you were spending more time with Agatha. She was heavily flirting with you, lavishing you with alluring praise and sharing with you her dark little secrets, yet it still fell short. With your newly acquired immense empathy, you felt she had much more to share and many untold stories remained.

Agatha demanded you call her ‘Mommy’ regardless of the situation, and you got used to that very quickly. Yet, you loved to be a bit bratty and fool around just to see her losing her temper and being this close to punishing you.

Though she never actually did anything more than a subtle petting. Well, she would ask for a massage dozens of times, but that was it. There was some kind of agreement between her and Rio, and even without saying it out loud, you could hazard a guess that you’d better not cross the line and interfere.

You just deferred to Agatha and tried not to worry as she wasn’t saying anything and appeared nonchalant. She’d never had sex with you at home without Rio, but with you being blinded by her primal sexuality, it was easy to cross the line.

Since she had this exhibition management, she occasionally graced her staff with her presence, and as you showed a lot of interest, she would take you with her. You were captivated by Agatha, and observing her in her usual environment, bossing around and sparkling with her elegant control… it goes without saying that your loyalty and principles went up in smoke.

Agatha was a badass, yet controversial witch—she did cross that line, and now it seemed to have been a little too late. Meaning setting the the ground rules, obviously.

‘Well, well, well,’ Rio entered Jenny Holzer’ room radiating green light around her and full-scale rage, looking formidable and stunning, as ever.

‘Rio, wait—’ you were about to interfere, but she was livid with anger and blasted you with something strong that you were pressed to the wall and couldn’t move properly. Shocker, it didn't even hurt. Uh, almost.

‘Y/N fucked me,’ Agatha was going on the offensive with upturned face, glowing with pride and steadfast demeanor, ‘so what?’

‘You never knew how to share, Agatha. But that’s not the only problem.’

‘Hm?’ Agatha looked cocky and arrogant but you could tell, she freaked out as well.

‘I hate it when you lie to me, darling,’ Rio moved closer to her wife to stay just a couple of inches from her. The weight of silence was enhancing the drama of this moment, and you had no idea how to behave, so you froze and tried not to make it worse.

‘What if I did it on purpose, darling?’ Agatha chuckled; it was hardly clear, if she was just teasing Rio or their banter was supposed to turn into an epic witch fight.

‘Then you'll still be punished,’ Rio pressed her whole body against Agatha and kissed her roughly on the lips, grabbing her by the throat.

‘Fuck you!’ Agatha hissed. The blood stain was dripping from her lip.

‘You love it, don’t you?’ Rio smirked and wrapped her hands around Agatha’s face.

Agatha just let out a low intimidating growl and jumped on Rio, knocking her to the floor.

‘Duh,’ Rio laughed in a squeezed voice, ‘when the cat’s away, the mice will play.’ In a few seconds she was freed from Agatha’s grasp and rolled over to get back on her feet.

It all happened so fast that you hadn’t even noticed Agatha spinning purple bolts with her hands. When she was about to blast them you finally put yourself together and screamed:

‘Guys, stop!’

The women turned around and stared at you with concerned cat-like looks.

‘Please,’ you cried, ‘it’s my fault.’

‘Aren't you giving yourself too much credit, pet?’ Agatha was stern, but you could sense that she was worried about you.

‘It’s not a place for a fight anyway, you put so much effort to build it…’

‘You’re right, baby hag,’ Rio glanced at you and grinned. ‘We need more space for that, don’t we, sweetheart?’

You had no idea how on earth Agatha had the nerve to be so rude with Rio at that moment. Their marriage arrangements were dark and full of secrets, but now it was pretty much clear for you, that you and Agatha fucking behind Rio’s back could be considered as some sort of cheating.

The Green Lady approached you and lend you a hand, helping you to stand up.

‘Sorry, baby,’ she chuckled, ‘too much again?’

You nodded sheepishly with your face turning red. It was badly awkward and you sensed your own culpability, yet something inside you was stirring up trouble, as the whole situation there was turning you on instead.

‘Rio, I’m sorry, if only I could—’

‘Keep your tongue in your mouth, you little slut?’ She looked furious, but so damn hot right now. ‘Fucking my wife behind my back, like I cannot guess foul play.’

‘I can do things to you, pet, you know?’ She pierced you with her eyes as dark as a moonless night; her graceful figure was still shrouded in green mist, and she looked like what the original green witch should have looked like. You just stared at her with a bated breath and anticipation.

Agatha snapped her fingers breaking the silence. ‘I guess we’re not finished here, are we?’

‘So desperate, my love,’ Rio grinned looking at her wife. ‘I just cannot decide what’s better, kicking your ass in a battle or literally spank you like a naughty whore?’ she squinted thoughtfully and pouted her lips.

‘Oh please,’ Agatha rolled her eyes. ‘Like you never had fun with your ballet sluts!’

‘Wow!’ Rio seemed to be genuinely surprised by the twist. ‘So this is some sort of a competition?’

‘You tell me.’

‘I’d say I wanna kick your ass instead,’ Rio chuckled moving closer to Agatha, and you could feel the electricity of their tension in the air.

At this point it was hard to tell, what was really going on in Agatha’s head—was it a ‘revenge’ or was she just messing around to distract Rio from her own fuck-up. You knew she was concerned about Rio, but never thought that it was in that way. However, if you had been a part of it, it would be really unfortunate, cause with all your being you could feel now that Rio was loyal and you knew that for sure with all your witchy senses.

Agatha, please…Rio would never.

Can you hear me? Mommy…Why wouldn’t you stop this?

You tried to reach Agatha’s mind but it was pointless as she made headway in blocking it completely.

‘Oh c’mon, you bitches!’ 

You couldn’t take it anymore—you rushed over to the women and stood in-between them.

‘Rio, we screwed and we’re sorry! And Agatha, Rio never cheated on you, and I…’ you nervously spit it out really fast, ‘I love you both. Let’s take five.’

The witches stood flabbergasted for quite a while, acknowledging everything you had just said.

‘Are you really sorry, baby?’ Rio looked Agatha in the eye.

‘Well…the fuck was so good, that probably not whole-heartedly.’

Agatha smirked with her head held high, slowly melting and releasing her purple steam. Very slowly.

‘So spanking it is,’ Rio said with a deadpan, though you noticed that her face slightly contorted as she tried to suppress a laugh.

‘We love you, too, little one,’ she chuckled, ‘but that purple lady is a tough cookie. It took her a few decades to tell me that.’ 

Saying that, Rio tilted her head to kiss you. You responded with great passion and love, snuggling against her, tangling in her hair and breathing in her delicate earthy scent. Finally.

‘Okay, hons, let’s go home and set some…ground rules if you wish,’ Agatha hesitantly muttered, distracting you from a delightful kiss.

‘Spanking first, my love,’ Rio grinned and gave her wife a brief butt pinch.

The neon ‘teasing people sexually’ signflashed green, purple and pink as the three of you walked out of the lounge.

***

‘Well, that went well,’ you breathed out, when you finally arrived at their place and Rio disappeared into the shower.

You were sitting in the living room before the fireplace, and Agatha studied you intently, narrowing her eyes as if checking you for some hidden, secret information.

‘What?’ You felt a little self-conscious after your recent revelation.

‘Nothing,’ she chuckled, ‘you did great by the way.’

You worked hard to keep your lips from smiling too widely.

‘I meant what I said.’

‘I know, honey.’

‘What do you think about the rules?’

‘I’d definitely want to have you anytime.’

‘That’s not how the rules work,’ you laughed.

‘I know!’ Agatha snorted, yet still looking a little annoyed. Nonetheless, you were delighted to catch a glimpse of her smile.

‘Babes, don’t know about you, but I’m so invigorated,’ Rio came out of the bathroom wearing a tiny black satin neglige. You’d almost forgotten how sexy and statuesque she looked in it: the fabric matched her swarthy skin, that was glowing after her evening beauty ritual, and those perfectly taut dancer’s legs…it was hard to take your eyes off such beauty. Fortunately, you didn’t have to.

She stepped closer to Agatha and sat on her lap, seductively revealing her breasts that were peeking out of her nightgown. Agatha parted her lips in lustful hunger; and when she was about to touch the tits, Rio stopped her short and jumped back as a graceful oriental cat.

‘Nope,’ she chuckled and pointed a finger at her wife, ‘you’re naughty little baby, so desperate for me.’ 

Agatha gasped and put the tip of her finger in her mouth, nervously biting it—she was completely enamored with Rio, as if they had just met. Besides, the fact that Rio was older yet looked younger than Agatha was another turn-on for you.

‘Get down on your knees,’ she ordered. Agatha obviously wavered, but obeyed nonetheless.

‘Crawl to me.’

The woman moved slowly across the carpet, still wearing the same dress you fucked her in less than a couple of hours ago.

Leaning back in your armchair, you watched them with your wet cunt, being this close to running your hand down your pants to touch yourself.

When Agatha crawled over to Rio, she stood by her side, gazing up at her. She resembled a wolf being tamed by some supernatural force; she was a fierce witch who, despite her wild nature, yielded to Rio's power and willingly submitted to her.

‘Take this,’ Rio brushed Agatha’s lips and softly slapped her cheek; 

Agatha dutifully opened her mouth and started sucking on her wife’s fingers. 

‘Good girl,’ Rio praised her, piercing the woman with the devilish gaze.

You couldn’t bare this and eagerly started touching your clit, trying not to make a sound and distract them.

‘Y/N fucked you so well, huh?’ 

Agatha nodded, choking on her fingers.

‘And yet you want more. Want me to fuck you now, don’t you?’ The words bounced off each other, and Rio's voice sounded so harsh and imperious that it was almost frightening.

‘Greedy little whore,’ Rio pulled her fingers out and caressed Agatha’s hair, treating her like a combat dog obeying her mistress only. The woman just let out a weak helpless moan and tilted her head to lick Rio’s palm.

The green witch sat down on the couch and ushered Agatha to her side, patting her thighs. 

‘Come over here and give me your ass.’

As Agatha laid on her belly, Rio started gradually stroking her body, preparing it for a spanking session, gliding her fingers under Agatha’s dress and revealing the pale pinkish skin of her buttocks.

‘You’ve done a good job, baby hag,’ Rio looked at you with a quirky smile, pulling Agatha’s panties off and throwing them away over her shoulder, ‘these are completely ruined.’ Eventually she noticed your mischief and winked at you without saying anything; and you just whined and continued jerking quietly, turned on by the fact that you got caught.

And god, you'd never seen Agatha in that role before—subdued to someone, so helpless and obedient; she definitely never lost her royalty look, though it was unspeakably satisfying to watch her sprawled out on Rio's lap, lying in wait for her punishment.

‘Look what we’ve got here,’ Rio slid her fingers inside Agatha’s folds provoking her to groan louder, ‘the fucked cunt, embarrassingly wet.’

‘How about this?’ She gave Agatha the first spanking and followed it up by stroking her flushed buttock. Then she slapped her a few more times, alternating with petting and a very gentle tickling.

‘You’re okay, sweetheart?’  

‘Give me more,’ Agatha roared, wriggling under her wife's insistent touch.

‘So horny, look at you,’ she spanked harder, and you could make out rose marks blushing on Agatha’s cheeks.

‘More…please, my love,’ Agatha arched her back, frantically rubbing her clit against Rio’s lap.

Rio grinned contentedly, pleased that her wife was so impatient and malleable. ‘I want to see your face,’ she grabbed Agatha's hair rather painfully and yanked her up, making the woman whimper.

‘Don’t be so dramatic, you delicate flower,’ she chuckled, ‘I’m being gentle.’

‘Fuck you,’ Agatha hissed, lifting herself up on her hands to kiss Rio.

‘That’s so much better,’ the evil witch returned the kiss, making it long and deep—she was practically consuming Agatha and feasting on her soul as well.

‘Oh darling, we’re so not finished here,’ Rio said parting from the kiss, ‘get back, I won’t repeat myself.’ Agatha adjusted her thick hair, that was sticking to her sweaty flushed face and lied down, softly moaning with anticipation. Such a whimsical queen she was. 

‘Jolly good, baby, I love it when you're well behaved,’ Rio slapped her ass once more, and this one was hard, hence Agatha twitched and found the perfect spot to rub her pussy. Meanwhile, you were slowing down, warming your clit, working your fingers in a circular motion, trying not to cum too soon.

As Agatha started moving her hips more aggressively, Rio groped her pussy and slapped it just a little, but strong enough to make her woman shudder and cry in depraved agony. 

‘I know your dirty little secret, Agatha,’ she sharply whispered to her ear, ‘but don’t be rude and let our pet watch the show a little longer.’

This is when Agatha glanced at you and noticed your languid eyes staring at her side—your shuttered gasps were treacherously giving away that you were pretty close to your orgasm. 

She locked her eyes on you and didn’t look away, being smacked over and over by her super hot and sinister wife. The picture was hypnotizing, and despite the fact that you were confused and even a little bit embarrassed by Agatha’s strong gaze, you mustered all your courage to keep touching yourself and working your way to bring it home. You had to admit, that you still felt some guilt about what happened—you two had been together in this boat—and you wished you could share the punishment with Agatha. Truth be told, for many reasons.

‘Yes, baby, give it to me, that damn fuckable ass of yours,’ Rio said loudly in a commanding strict tone, she almost growled reveling in her superiority.

‘Give it to Daddy.’

Agatha was shaken, wiggling under Rio’s quite hard spanking, rubbing my elbows, perhaps to the point of bruising. She was suffering, you could tell it by her reddened face and heavy groans, yet she never looked away, watching you all the time, and that animalistic sight made you aroused and frightened at the same time. You’d guess it was a matter of time when the hour of reckoning would come. But now you were hooked on her gaze, watching her being punished, jerking off your clit in slow-motion.

‘You know the pay off when you lie to me again,’ Rio was escalating; she alternately spanked her wife's ass, pulled her hair and finger-fucked her pussy at this time.

‘You understood now, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Agatha was at her last gasp already.

‘Say it properly, sweetheart.’

‘Yes…Daddy,’ she husked.

Insane. 

Watching Agatha submit to Rio, brought you to a new level of severe turn-on and you were on the verge of cumming. You couldn’t believe, she just said that. But she did say that.

Daddy…oh fuck.

‘Good, good girl,’ Rio slapped her again and then increased the thrusts, ultimately helping her weary, exhausted wife in reaching her climax. ‘I love your ass so much, spanking you, fucking you like a dirty whore that you are.’

Rio showed remarkable skill, playing with Agatha’s body roughly, zealously, and determinedly, using a harsh voice and letting out roaring growls, savoring her immersive performance.

‘Fuck me Daddy, fuck me please!’ Agatha rolled her eyes and screamed in a lower voice, beyond her capacity to hold back.

‘That’s what I wanna hear,’ Rio wouldn’t stop, rushing with familiar fervor and craziness.

‘You’ve been a bad girl, Agatha.’

‘Yes, Daddy…’

‘Having fun with our pet all alone, thinking I wouldn’t know.’

‘Sorry, Daddy,’ Agatha whined and squeezed the sofa cover, pressing her clit against Rio as hard as she could.

A delicious mussed lock of her hair fell over her face, and the sight of her soft ass bouncing up and down with such effort made you sob; and with the last jerks you finally came, unable to hold it any longer. You covered your mouth with your hand, hoping to muffle your filthy shrieks, but it was pointless.

‘You unfaithful wife,’ Rio delivered the last thrusts into Agatha's cunt and leaned down to grab her neck with her sharp teeth.

‘Let me cum, please!’ Agatha let out a violent cry in a hoarse voice.

‘Should I?’ she slowed down for a fleeting moment.

‘Daddy, please…’

‘You’re lucky I cannot hold a grudge for long.’ Rio slapped Agatha one last time and did a few intense thrusts into her pussy; then she bent over and sharply husked against her ear:

‘Be a good girl, cum for Daddy now.’ 

She held her unfaithful wife tightly, feeling every muscle in Agatha’s body shudder as she shrieked in orgasm.

Agatha was growling so outrageously loud, that another waves of arousal blasted your core. You were horny and overstimulated, craving for mercy, yet those women would never ever ever stop driving you wild, keeping you under their spell.

At last, satisfied Rio helped Agatha to sit down and caressed her, carefully wiping the tears in the corner of her woman’s eyes.

‘Congratulations, my love, you’ve made it,’ Rio kissed Agatha’s face, stroking her flushed cheeks and adjusting her hair.

‘Sorry I don’t have a ribbon for you to run through.’

‘You crazy bitch,’ Agatha came to her senses and struggled to return to her normal behavior.

‘And you’re a rude and arrogant slut,’ Rio lightly poked the tip of her nose with her finger, ‘I love you, Agatha.’

‘I love you, too,’ Agatha smiled exhaustedly and gave her wife a wet savory kiss, then turned and gazed at your side.

‘I love you, too, rock’n’rolla,’ she winked.

In the blink of an eye, she rose and flicked her hair back with her trademark gesture before making her way to the bathroom on shaky legs as if nothing had happened.

‘Well, that’s Agatha Harkness for you, baby hag.’

***

[certifiedsoulstealer]

Our favorite is back praise thy goddesses

[dirtyvulture]

Pandora's Box

Tomb Raider!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Enchantress!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha has spent years hunting the elusive Pandora’s Box, which many say doesn’t even exist. What happens when she not only finds it, but accidentally unleashes the sinister force hiding within?

Word count: 1736

AN: The people have asked, so I have delivered. Thanks to the anons for inspiring this one. Enjoy! :)

Image courtesy of @natromilf 

“Shit!”

The curse word echoes in the chamber, making Natasha feel like for once she’s not alone. She jumps back, barely in time for the ground beneath her feet to crumble and fall away into the dark abyss. She doesn’t even hear them land, surmising she must be several hundred feet above sea level now. Her path lit by the heavy but powerful headlamp strapped to her forehead, she moves more cautiously now.

“Latvia? Really, Nat?”

“It’s a beautiful country,” she defends, pushing Clint’s legs off the desk where he had his boots resting on her world map. “Besides, Slorenia doesn’t exist anymore. But historians say Latvia is one of the countries that absorbed it after the war in 1624.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little too obvious to search Slorenia or Latvia or whatever the hell it’s called now?” Clint asks. “Surely someone else has already gone looking there.”

“But I haven’t,” Natasha says. While her ego did go to her head sometimes, there was no denying she was one of the greatest archeologists and explorers of the modern day. With her years of research and experience, and a kickass team to support her, few ancient mysteries had stumped her yet.

But this one–the Pandora’s Box, as it was known in the archeological community, had sent Natasha spiraling for years. While the name was inspired from the Greek myth, there was discourse between scholars on how much of the story was rooted in reality. Natasha was deeply fascinated by its rich and dark history, and despite the protests from her team that she was chasing a fairytale, she continued to search for clues and leads.

She was determined to prove its existence and uncover the story behind it. If anyone was qualified to do that, she was.

The cave is humid and wet, but the air is heavy and fresh, as if there were not many living creatures to inhale it. Natasha feels more at ease as she hikes through the cave, marching along at a steady pace and keeping away from the edge of the narrow path that borders a cliffside. 

She’s unsure how deep the cave goes, or if she’ll even find what she’s looking for, but she’s certain she isn’t here by accident. Her teammate Steve had found an obscure news article dating a few years back of three Lativian teenagers who went exploring an unmarked cave, but were spooked out by a woman’s voice begging them to “set her free.” A team of police ventured in, but the cave was simply too large to conduct a proper search in a reasonable amount of time. No woman was ever reported being found in the cave since.

Natasha halts when her beam of light reveals a stone bridge, with a near ten-foot gap in the center. There’s no other way forward besides going back, and she doesn’t want to waste time with that. She tightens the straps of her backpack and practices taking a few large steps, then jumping off her right foot, bunching the muscles in her calf and thigh. 

She has one chance. 

A regular person would just turn back, or maybe use a rope to cross the gap. But not Natasha. She kept herself in superior physical shape for these adventures and had full confidence in her abilities. She goes up to where the bridge ends, peering over the edge for fun, and her stomach flips at the height of the drop. 

She can’t see the bottom.

Adrenaline pumps into her muscles and she mentally steels herself for the jump. She counts back six steps from the edge, taking a deep, calming breath, then runs full-tilt towards the gap. On the sixth step, she launches herself over the abyss, aiming to grab the exposed rebar jutting out like gnarled teeth on the other side. Her gloves protect her hands from scraping, but she stops with more impact than she anticipated and the rebar slips right through her right hand.

Her bodyweight tries to drag her down into the abyss, but she refuses to let it win. Staying calm, she finds a new hold amongst the rubble, shoving at it aggressively before she trusts it to hold her. With both hands now properly anchored, she slowly eases herself up and crawls onto the remains of the bridge, her heart pounding so hard against her chest she can see the visible thumping.

She drinks a few sips of water from her pack before she feels oriented enough to continue, more motivated than ever. 

“It can’t actually exist,” Steve says, sipping from a glass of Coke while Natasha and Clint nurse beers. “I mean, we’re talking about witchcraft. Supernatural stuff. There has never been scientific evidence for it, anywhere in the history of the world.”

“This could be the first then,” Clint says. He was always more of a believer than Steve was, but that was why Natasha liked working with them both. 

Steve shakes his head. “What makes this mystery so different from the others?” He directs his question to Natasha. “You’ve spent years looking for Pandora’s Box. I’ve seen you pass over cases in just a few months because you don’t think it’s worth pursuing. What makes this one different?”

Natasha stares into her beer as the white foam melts away. She wants to give him an articulate answer, but the truth is, she doesn’t really know. She was a second-year student in college when she was first introduced to Pandora’s Box, and had been intrigued ever since. Did it hold the solution to world peace, or was it just another instrument of destruction?

Natasha’s legs are heavy from the effort of an additional hour-long hike since she jumped across the gap in the bridge. She stops only to refuel with some protein bars and more water. She doesn’t know how much longer she should go on for until it’s time to turn back. As much as she’d like to, she can’t explore this cave forever. 

She comes to a fork in the path and contemplates her decision. The right path is open, and leads around a bend she can’t see after a hundred feet. The left path is covered by a rock ceiling barely above her own height.

“Go left.”

Natasha obeys the voice in her head without further hesitation. 

“They called her the Enchantress,” Clint reads from the textbook. “That much scholars can agree on. Everything else is pretty much up for debate. Some say that she could fly, move objects with her mind, or even tell other people what to do.” 

“All nonsense,” Steve dismisses. “No human being can do any of those things.”

“They never said she was human,” Natasha points out.

“Then what else could she be?” Steve asks. “A god? A witch?”

“An enchantress,” Clint repeats, slapping his hand on the textbook for emphasis.

“No such thing,” Steve insists. “She was just some poor kid who got killed in the war, and then the locals made up stories about her to scare invaders. And future historians, because no one can seem to agree on what really happened or where she ended up.”

Natasha clicks her tongue; she hates it when Steve simplifies the facts, even if they are accurate. But that isn’t the whole truth and they both know it. Natasha wants to learn who the “Enchantress” really was and if there was any justification to the horrors that made up her life.   

The narrow path suddenly widens into a large, circular room. In the center, is a pedestal, conveniently highlighted by a ray of sunlight pouring in through a hole in the ceiling. Natasha feels her stomach clench when she eyes a box atop the pedestal, barely bigger than a laptop, wrapped in rusting chains and intricate carvings. She tries approaching with caution, but the pull of curiosity is too great and she rushes to the pedestal for a closer look. The box is made of wood, the chains metal, and the engravings are painted over with gold.  

Natasha has enough sense to survey the room for any hidden doors, windows, or even people, before she touches the box, but she seems to be alone. She picks up the box delicately, wondering if the transfer of its weight will set off a trap. 

Nothing happens.

Tucking it against her chest, Natasha notes it’s not as heavy as she thought it would be, but the significance of what it might hold weighs like a metric ton on her mind. She steps away from the pedestal, and feels a tile depress under her foot.

A volley of rusty arrows shoot out of the wall from either side of her. A sharp pain radiates from her left thigh and her leg buckles. She throws her arms out to brace her fall and watches with immediate regret as the box tumbles to the floor faster than she can catch it. 

The box lands on a corner and Natasha hears the wood crack. The chains might as well have been for show at the way they disintegrate and the lid flies open. A blinding light white fills the room and Natasha curls into a ball on the ground, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Enchantress.” Natasha hears a soft whisper, so faint she thinks she’s imagined it. She’s too scared to open her eyes and curls up tighter. 

“Pretty little thing,” the voice says, with a slight accent she can’t place. “Thank you.”

Natasha swears a hand, solid and hot, presses against her cheek for a moment, leaving her skin burning. Then the white light extinguishes as suddenly as it appeared. She hesitantly cracks one eye open, then the other.

She’s still alone in the dark, damp room. Blood soaks her pant leg where the arrow tore through her flesh. The box lays open, empty, next to her. She touches her cheek, which is flushed with heat but she’s unsure if it’s from her own blood flow pounding beneath her skin.

The silence feels never-ending as she sits there, staring at the box. She can’t believe she dropped it, but more so that it was completely empty. Or was it? Natasha knows something is wrong, an unexplainable shift in her gut that she can’t interpret in the moment.

She quickly bandages her leg, then reaches for the box, closing it up pointlessly and limping out of the cave.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Just wrote something short to test the waters, so let me know if you'd like me to continue :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[certifiedsoulstealer]

MOREEEE, I NEED MORE

[dirtyvulture]

IT'S COMING IT'S COMING

[certifiedsoulstealer]

[dirtyvulture]

Pandora's Box

Tomb Raider!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Enchantress!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha has spent years hunting the elusive Pandora’s Box, which many say doesn’t even exist. What happens when she not only finds it, but accidentally unleashes the sinister force hiding within?

Word count: 1736

AN: The people have asked, so I have delivered. Thanks to the anons for inspiring this one. Enjoy! :)

Image courtesy of @natromilf 

“Shit!”

The curse word echoes in the chamber, making Natasha feel like for once she’s not alone. She jumps back, barely in time for the ground beneath her feet to crumble and fall away into the dark abyss. She doesn’t even hear them land, surmising she must be several hundred feet above sea level now. Her path lit by the heavy but powerful headlamp strapped to her forehead, she moves more cautiously now.

“Latvia? Really, Nat?”

“It’s a beautiful country,” she defends, pushing Clint’s legs off the desk where he had his boots resting on her world map. “Besides, Slorenia doesn’t exist anymore. But historians say Latvia is one of the countries that absorbed it after the war in 1624.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little too obvious to search Slorenia or Latvia or whatever the hell it’s called now?” Clint asks. “Surely someone else has already gone looking there.”

“But I haven’t,” Natasha says. While her ego did go to her head sometimes, there was no denying she was one of the greatest archeologists and explorers of the modern day. With her years of research and experience, and a kickass team to support her, few ancient mysteries had stumped her yet.

But this one–the Pandora’s Box, as it was known in the archeological community, had sent Natasha spiraling for years. While the name was inspired from the Greek myth, there was discourse between scholars on how much of the story was rooted in reality. Natasha was deeply fascinated by its rich and dark history, and despite the protests from her team that she was chasing a fairytale, she continued to search for clues and leads.

She was determined to prove its existence and uncover the story behind it. If anyone was qualified to do that, she was.

The cave is humid and wet, but the air is heavy and fresh, as if there were not many living creatures to inhale it. Natasha feels more at ease as she hikes through the cave, marching along at a steady pace and keeping away from the edge of the narrow path that borders a cliffside. 

She’s unsure how deep the cave goes, or if she’ll even find what she’s looking for, but she’s certain she isn’t here by accident. Her teammate Steve had found an obscure news article dating a few years back of three Lativian teenagers who went exploring an unmarked cave, but were spooked out by a woman’s voice begging them to “set her free.” A team of police ventured in, but the cave was simply too large to conduct a proper search in a reasonable amount of time. No woman was ever reported being found in the cave since.

Natasha halts when her beam of light reveals a stone bridge, with a near ten-foot gap in the center. There’s no other way forward besides going back, and she doesn’t want to waste time with that. She tightens the straps of her backpack and practices taking a few large steps, then jumping off her right foot, bunching the muscles in her calf and thigh. 

She has one chance. 

A regular person would just turn back, or maybe use a rope to cross the gap. But not Natasha. She kept herself in superior physical shape for these adventures and had full confidence in her abilities. She goes up to where the bridge ends, peering over the edge for fun, and her stomach flips at the height of the drop. 

She can’t see the bottom.

Adrenaline pumps into her muscles and she mentally steels herself for the jump. She counts back six steps from the edge, taking a deep, calming breath, then runs full-tilt towards the gap. On the sixth step, she launches herself over the abyss, aiming to grab the exposed rebar jutting out like gnarled teeth on the other side. Her gloves protect her hands from scraping, but she stops with more impact than she anticipated and the rebar slips right through her right hand.

Her bodyweight tries to drag her down into the abyss, but she refuses to let it win. Staying calm, she finds a new hold amongst the rubble, shoving at it aggressively before she trusts it to hold her. With both hands now properly anchored, she slowly eases herself up and crawls onto the remains of the bridge, her heart pounding so hard against her chest she can see the visible thumping.

She drinks a few sips of water from her pack before she feels oriented enough to continue, more motivated than ever. 

“It can’t actually exist,” Steve says, sipping from a glass of Coke while Natasha and Clint nurse beers. “I mean, we’re talking about witchcraft. Supernatural stuff. There has never been scientific evidence for it, anywhere in the history of the world.”

“This could be the first then,” Clint says. He was always more of a believer than Steve was, but that was why Natasha liked working with them both. 

Steve shakes his head. “What makes this mystery so different from the others?” He directs his question to Natasha. “You’ve spent years looking for Pandora’s Box. I’ve seen you pass over cases in just a few months because you don’t think it’s worth pursuing. What makes this one different?”

Natasha stares into her beer as the white foam melts away. She wants to give him an articulate answer, but the truth is, she doesn’t really know. She was a second-year student in college when she was first introduced to Pandora’s Box, and had been intrigued ever since. Did it hold the solution to world peace, or was it just another instrument of destruction?

Natasha’s legs are heavy from the effort of an additional hour-long hike since she jumped across the gap in the bridge. She stops only to refuel with some protein bars and more water. She doesn’t know how much longer she should go on for until it’s time to turn back. As much as she’d like to, she can’t explore this cave forever. 

She comes to a fork in the path and contemplates her decision. The right path is open, and leads around a bend she can’t see after a hundred feet. The left path is covered by a rock ceiling barely above her own height.

“Go left.”

Natasha obeys the voice in her head without further hesitation. 

“They called her the Enchantress,” Clint reads from the textbook. “That much scholars can agree on. Everything else is pretty much up for debate. Some say that she could fly, move objects with her mind, or even tell other people what to do.” 

“All nonsense,” Steve dismisses. “No human being can do any of those things.”

“They never said she was human,” Natasha points out.

“Then what else could she be?” Steve asks. “A god? A witch?”

“An enchantress,” Clint repeats, slapping his hand on the textbook for emphasis.

“No such thing,” Steve insists. “She was just some poor kid who got killed in the war, and then the locals made up stories about her to scare invaders. And future historians, because no one can seem to agree on what really happened or where she ended up.”

Natasha clicks her tongue; she hates it when Steve simplifies the facts, even if they are accurate. But that isn’t the whole truth and they both know it. Natasha wants to learn who the “Enchantress” really was and if there was any justification to the horrors that made up her life.   

The narrow path suddenly widens into a large, circular room. In the center, is a pedestal, conveniently highlighted by a ray of sunlight pouring in through a hole in the ceiling. Natasha feels her stomach clench when she eyes a box atop the pedestal, barely bigger than a laptop, wrapped in rusting chains and intricate carvings. She tries approaching with caution, but the pull of curiosity is too great and she rushes to the pedestal for a closer look. The box is made of wood, the chains metal, and the engravings are painted over with gold.  

Natasha has enough sense to survey the room for any hidden doors, windows, or even people, before she touches the box, but she seems to be alone. She picks up the box delicately, wondering if the transfer of its weight will set off a trap. 

Nothing happens.

Tucking it against her chest, Natasha notes it’s not as heavy as she thought it would be, but the significance of what it might hold weighs like a metric ton on her mind. She steps away from the pedestal, and feels a tile depress under her foot.

A volley of rusty arrows shoot out of the wall from either side of her. A sharp pain radiates from her left thigh and her leg buckles. She throws her arms out to brace her fall and watches with immediate regret as the box tumbles to the floor faster than she can catch it. 

The box lands on a corner and Natasha hears the wood crack. The chains might as well have been for show at the way they disintegrate and the lid flies open. A blinding light white fills the room and Natasha curls into a ball on the ground, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Enchantress.” Natasha hears a soft whisper, so faint she thinks she’s imagined it. She’s too scared to open her eyes and curls up tighter. 

“Pretty little thing,” the voice says, with a slight accent she can’t place. “Thank you.”

Natasha swears a hand, solid and hot, presses against her cheek for a moment, leaving her skin burning. Then the white light extinguishes as suddenly as it appeared. She hesitantly cracks one eye open, then the other.

She’s still alone in the dark, damp room. Blood soaks her pant leg where the arrow tore through her flesh. The box lays open, empty, next to her. She touches her cheek, which is flushed with heat but she’s unsure if it’s from her own blood flow pounding beneath her skin.

The silence feels never-ending as she sits there, staring at the box. She can’t believe she dropped it, but more so that it was completely empty. Or was it? Natasha knows something is wrong, an unexplainable shift in her gut that she can’t interpret in the moment.

She quickly bandages her leg, then reaches for the box, closing it up pointlessly and limping out of the cave.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Just wrote something short to test the waters, so let me know if you'd like me to continue :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[certifiedsoulstealer]

MOREEEE, I NEED MORE

[certifiedsoulstealer]

My religion

[certifiedsoulstealer]

Studying marketing makes me want to smoke every 5 minutes tomorrow I have an exam and only remember one question