dripping candle wax

There’s a hole where I kicked in the cabinet
and my mother says I’m sick.
I keep a full bottle of my happy pills by my bedside
in case I reach out and take it.
There is food rotting,
I can’t keep my room clean for more than a week
and I can’t remember the last time I changed my sheets.
The thing is, I can make things pretty,
disguise them with allegories, metaphors and use similes.
I can say I am writing in the sky, a love note, a joyful goodbye,
but I am ruining the flesh I wear.
The truth is I messed up my liver with one too many tries,
I live a life knowing I am destined to die at the hands of suicide.
As hard as it is to say,
the truth sprayed with a sparkle of light
the people I let down,
the fires I ignite.
I am a burning candle dripping wax,
God forgive my withering flame.
Heathens- [smutandahalf]

A Scruffy Hoes Production

Author: smutandahalf

Rating: NSFW 18+

Words: 3599

Warning: This is darker than what I usually write. It doesn’t have any triggers but I just wanted you guys to know it’s different from my usual stuff.

A/N: Happy Halloween! Trick or Treat? That’s for you to decide..

Originally posted by genjjishimada

     There is something very wrong with Stiles Stilinski, something strange and dark. I glance over at him, sitting at his desk with his head pressed into his hands and his eyes clenched closed. I turn slightly looking around curious if anyone else has seemed to pick up on it. Something is wrong and not a single other person seems to notice, a cold trickle slides down my spine and I quirk my head at him curiously. How strange that he seems so invisible to them. Brushed to the side by his best friend who seems to jump in terror of his own shadow, invisible to the girl who has been clinging to his arms for weeks who has always seemed to be balancing precariously on the line between wild child and wild animal, and overlooked by his father who seems to be too focused on figuring out what is going on in this god forsaken town. Yes, something is very wrong with Stiles Stilinski, and yet no one seems to notice but me.

          The bell rings, and he’s out of his desk and through the door faster than I can blink. I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I gather my things, moving slowly as I deliberate on what I should do next. With a certain level of blind curiosity I decide that from this day on if no one else is going to notice him then I’ll be sure that I do. The unseen can always see the invisible.

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Percival Rex: Prologue

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

The cruelest part of his imprisonment was that he was not restrained.

He could roam his own home freely, Grindelwald didn’t live there, and as such he could destroy it as his temper lashed out, as his desperation grew, and Grindelwald could come in, gleefully surveying the physical evidence of his prisoner’s frustration, the destruction wrought upon Percival Graves’ expensive flat and all the personal items therein.

Now I lay me down to sleep.

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accidental cuts like gills on my fingertip because I’m
careless, stupid, every time I wash my hands I need a new band aid, I’m still learning how to patch myself back up when I take a hit or throw one,
do you know i can’t look at blood without feeling dizzy?
it dripped like melted candle wax down my hand and my mom says “run it under water it’s not too deep” but I’m thinking of all the times it was too deep back when it wasn’t an accident and my heart is somewhere under my tongue because flashbacks of three months ago are always too much and
you said my scars made you uncomfortable like babe,
they made me uncomfortable too and they’re gone now but so are you and so are the memories but
small things bring them back like
slicing open my fingertip on the edge of an open can and
trying to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth and
trying to pretend nothing like this has ever happened to me before.
—  it’s fine though it’s fine– lily rain

SUMMON A STORM SPELL.

Incense (if incense isn’t an option you can do without), a white, grey or black candle, water (preferably from a storm or rain), salt, a bowl/small jar

Optional to make the spell stronger: Chili powder, ginger, snake skin, blood, jasmine, pictures of a storm.

(Optional) carve lightning bolts into your candles

Light your candles and focus on a clear sky turning grey

Light the incense and focus an winds blowing

Pour your rain water in the bowl and focus on it the water falling from the sky.

Take your salt and put three pinches into the water and picture the salt being the ocean water sweep up by a storm.

Hoover your hand over the water and picture that same grey sky, picture lighting and thunder. Picture the rain all falling down at once.

Take your candle and drip wax into your bowl, the wax should float on top, alow the wax to build up and focus on the clouds building up. As you do so say “this is the clouds that cover our skys” three times (or until you feel like its enough)

Take your incense and blow the smoke into the bowl and say “this is the wind that blows on our land” three times. Picture wind blowing as hard as you can, (you can picture a tornado if you’d like)

Sprinkle more rain water on top of the wax and say “this is the rain that falls from our sky and coats our crops” as many times as you feel like.

Now take your candle and put it out in the bowl (by wetting the wick) listen to the sizzle and say “this is the thunder and lightning that will grace our sky”

Focus every drop of energy you can squeeze out leaving your body and entering the bowl.  

When the spell is done toss the water outside, you can keep the wax for future storm spells if you’d like but you can toss it too.

This is a potent ass spell, you should feel really drained and tired afterwards. Personally whenever I do this spell I spend the rest of the day passed the fuck out. 

so beautiful (M)

Seokjin x Reader
Warning: this fic does not display the vanilla, soft Seokjin some believe him to be :)

*A/N: A story to teach ya’ll the dominance that is KIm Seokjin (y’all gon’ learn today, children)*


The lights flicker dimly, a line of purposefully murky bulbs to set an aesthetically pleasing mood for the summer night party. Seokjin only notices them when your attention is elsewhere, speaking to your professor. The series of events leading up to this moment sprouts the beginnings of a revelation in Seokjin’s mind: he’s quite oblivious.

In fact, the only thing he is utterly and completely aware of is your beauty.

He would whisper the words daily like it was apart of his morning, afternoon, and evening routine: …so beautiful…

What he never knew he failed to see was how much others didn’t fail to see the beauty he saw, as well.

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So, what do you actually do as an agnostic secular witch?

(here’s and draft of expert from the zine I’m working on about my personal practice of witchcraft)

I’ve joked that my personal practice of witchcraft looks like a cottage or hearth witch got set loose in a punk house of a Philosophy major drop-out who read too many Discworld books.

However, that statement doesn’t mean much to you if you don’t know what a cottage or hearth witch is, some aspects of Philosophy, or the glory of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld witches’ concept of “headology”.

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3

Charm bottle for courage, luck, success and protection.

Herbs 🌿
~pepper
~rosemary
~nutmeg
~cloves

Essential oils💧
~sandalwood
~rose
~lemon
~lavender

Seal with a white or black candle by dripping wax over the rim or burn candle atop the bottle. I drew a rune of peace and happiness but you could draw a rune of your choice.

I made this for a fellow witchy friend and I hope he’ll like it 💙

archiveofourown.org
Drunk on the Taste of Your Lips. - fearless_seas - American History RPF [Archive of Our Own]
The night before John Andre's execution, he finds solace in learning of Benjamin Tallmadge's broken heart.
By Organization for Transformative Works

Relationships: Nathan Hale (1755-1776)/Benjamin Tallmadge

Series: Part 2 of the Early American History | Stories They Won’t Tell

Words: 6,188

______________________

October 1st, 1780.

______________________

         Benjamin Tallmadge did not see the drawing until the prisoner lifted it up to him from where he sat. The prisoner set the charcoal stick down on the table, the ash leaving the creases of his fingerprints and smudges across the paper. He wouldn’t admit he recognized who it was at first. Their was a horse with a mane of blonde, and somehow although there was not color to the art, Benjamin recognized the light shading. Every hair in place, and his eyes caught on the gentleman riding the mare. The man’s hands were tied behind his back and strands of rope hung off under the rawing of his wrists. As he stood, under his collar he began to sweat, not raising a finger to loosen the buttons around his neck. Ben shuddered, mind hammering to the notice of the familiar facial features. The same as the prisoner he was guarding at the desk.

         John Andre let out a chuckle, “Quite a comical parade, is it not?”. The second guard at his right, Lieutenant-Colonel Alexander Hamilton, did not smile in reply, and neither did Ben. Silence perpetrated the room. A stranger fear pierced through him as if the cutting of a knife, the state of tension between love of natural beauty and the consternation of natural meaningless or absurdity. It was not surprising when the guilty verdict rang out across the courtroom, and it was not surprising when there was a pang of guilt that riveted throughout his chest. Tomorrow was the day, his life will hang as an unfinished sentence with a dismal comma sliced after the words. He could be thirty-one next year, he gambled with dice, on what mattered most. He lost.

        Out of the corner of his view, the edges of Hamilton’s rose lips were screwed up, tight with pity. Ben’s ear twitched and he diverted his secret glance, the constriction in his shoulder building and he shifted footing. He could feel his eyes water and he blinked rapidly to mask; what use would it be? Would his tears somehow change the jury’s verdict? Would his pain somehow steal from the Andre’s death? He’ll rendezvous with death, at some disputed barricade. The silhouette of life’s shattered dreams, broken hearts and tearful streams. Ben was always too sensitive, overthinking every little piece; at least that’s what he was once told.

         He once wondered why he didn’t look as any of his four brothers did. His mother always told him that there were no nightmares underneath his bed, they were all inside his head. Somehow, with every bed time story, the wisps of his mother’s resemblance to himself told him stories of beautiful girls he would one day marry. Her lips failed to mention to him about boys with sunshine trapped in their hair, ice in their eyes and laugh that seemed to stop time itself and crack the empyrean. He would trade every one of his joyous memories for one last moment with that boy.

         Nathan Hale.

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anonymous asked:

Hi~~ Can you do kink headcanons for STARISH as well? ^o^

STARISH Kink Headcanons

Otoya Ittoki 

  • Over stimulation - He loves the way your body convulses and squirms under his body while you are completely at his mercy, flashing you his famous “innocent” smile.
  • Voyuer- He enjoys watching you pleasure yourself with a slacked jaw - especially watching your fingers dip in and out of your slick opening. 

Masato Hijirikawa

  • Semen - He has a thing for cumming on your face. He thinks you look like a glazed over porcelain doll and loves the way it drips down your chin and cheeks.
  • Knife play - He often uses his katana to make small cuts on your body, leaving your body looking like a masterpiece covered in small cuts.

Tokiya Ichinose

  • High heels - When you wear heels around him, he cannot keep his eyes off your legs and thighs. He often bends you over and fucks you with the heels on.
  • Blindfold - Loves to blindfold you when you are both intimate. He especially loves the reactions he recieves from every single touch.

Cecil Aijima

  • Edging - Just when you are squeezing tightly around his cock and about to release, he will pull out of you leaving you a whimpering needy mess. He will do this over and over before you finally have your release.
  • He loves when you call him “My King” or “Magesty” while he is pouding into you. He needs to hear you say this before your release.

Syo Kurusu

  • This boy is a boob man - The way your breasts bounce when you are riding him drives him insane. You both often end up in missionary so he can have a perfect view of your breasts and body jiggling from his thrusting. 
  • Cosplay - Syo loves to fuck you in cosplay, preferribly ones with short skirts and cleavafe showing. He ,ight not even bother taking the clothes off when he fucks you.

Natsuki Shinomiya

  • slight BDSM -  He can be very submissive to you and loves when you take control. He will not be able to hide his loud moans and begs for more.
  • Latex - He loves when you dominate him while wearing latex. His eyes will study every crevasse on your body, which often leads him to actually cumming on the latex you are wearing. 

Ren Jinguji

  • Hot wax - He loves to drip candle wax onto your shivering body, Often making trails from your breasts to your thighs, earning him whimpers and moans.
  • Aphrodisiacs - Often feeds you cherries or chocolate dipped strawberries as foreplay then after he loves to taste the sweet fruit on your lips 

Using a book light has made nocturnal spell casting outdoors a lot easier. No more flashlight. No more nearly dripping candle wax onto the grimoire. No more nearly lighting it and/or myself on fire in an effort to read whatever I failed to memorize. No more lighting extra candles just for light then hoping the neighbors don’t notice. This is what I call practical magic! 

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH THE SIGNS

Aries: Waking up at the crack of dawn, being so excited you can’t sleep, watching a rated R movie for the first time, motorcycles in the middle of the night, sunrises, going up on a roller coaster.

Taurus: Bakeries, quintessential country homes, black lights, hookah pens, growing your own veggies and herbs, pinky promises, best friend necklaces, lie detectors, being drunk in your lover’s arms, goodbyes.

Gemini: Retro cartoons, mismatched socks, laughing so hard you can’t finish your own joke, triple-dog-dares, staring contests, Twister, when it rains but the sun is still out, trying to cure hiccups.

Cancer: Ice cream, cashmere blankets, the crash of waves, palm readings, big blue eyes, warmth, the sound of laugher, healing crystals, never letting go, looking for seashells, sea glass.

Leo: Falling asleep in the sun, being at the bottom of the pool, sighs, adrenaline, stage lights, broken glass, gold and silver, the smell of new clothes, popsicles, jelly shoes.

Virgo: The smell of hand sanitizer, french manicures, acetone, white walls, bubble wrap, wooden furniture, small plants, perfect French braids, words tattooed in Chinese, the beach at night, achieving Feng Shui.

Libra: Metallic surfaces, curves on a woman, weddings, receiving a bouquet of flowers, edible fruit arrangements, New York Fashion Week, girl’s night outs, colorful cocktails with cute parasols, lounging poolside.

Scorpio: Midnight, tarot cards, horror movies, primal love, power outages, dripping candle wax, playing an instrument alone, TV glitches, dying flowers, deer running through the woods, red wine, cinnamon buns.

Sagittarius: Biting your nails, needing to catch your breath, old Disney TV shows, relay races, going down a roller coaster, when the air plane first takes off, watching the waves from a cruise balcony, waterslides.

Capricorn: Aquariums, sitting in the back of math class, farmer’s markets, concerts with your best friend, meaningful jewelry, apology texts, working backstage, drunken conversations, Menthol cigarettes, snowy days.

Aquarius: Disappearances, Area 51, galaxies, conspiracy theories, black coffee, pets, parasailing, hangliding, monuments, rainforests, snowflake photography, hot stone massages, acupuncture, Fiji Water.

Pisces: Marianas Trench, matching tattoos, jazz music, traces of glitter from your lover, prom night, watching the stars, concerts, crying of joy, falling in love, psychic abilities, sunsets, white sheets.

A Spell Jar To Ease Depression/Anxiety etc.

I promised you all a “real” depression spell and here it is!!


NEVER REPLACE ANY MEDICATION WITH HERBS OR SPELLS OR IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE DEPRESSION, ANXIETY OR ANYTHING SIMILAR SEEK PROFESSIONAL HELP!!! Please :3

Okay, so, now that is over here is my protection and happiness spell jar designed to take the edge off of your depression and anxiety!!

What you need:
⭐️A piece of paper 
⭐️A pen or pencil 
⭐️A protection sigil 
⭐️A small piece of your hair or nail (not 100% needed) 
⭐️A little bottle or a sachet 
⭐️Salt (protection) 
⭐️Sage (protection) 
⭐️Hawthorn leaves and twigs ground up as fine as you can (protection)
⭐️Bay leaves (protection and banishing negativity. 
⭐️Thyme (protection) 
⭐️Cumin seeds ( wards negative energies) 
⭐️Green tea (de-stressing) 
⭐️Rose petals (love and calming effect) 
⭐️Cinnamon (healing and happiness) 
⭐️Chamomile ( calling effect) 
⭐️Coltsfoot ( calming and loving effect) 
⭐️Orange ( happiness) 
⭐️ A black candle
(If you don’t have some of these herbs you are more than welcome to change them to something similar and this was designed for myself in mind so make it your own if you want to or feel free to keep it the same!)

What you need to do:


🌙Step One🌙 
Write down your Sigil on a small piece of paper and even your name if you are uncomfortable using your own hair and such in a spell. For those who are okay with it fold up the piece of paper or roll it up and tie it into place with your hair depending on the length, if you have short hair just place it in middle of the paper and fold it up as small as you can.


🌙Step Two🌙 
Light your candle for the heated wax!


🌙Step Three🌙 
There are two ways you can fill the bottle. 
1) you can layer the herbs directly into the bottle and think of the intent ( to protect from negative thoughts and to aid in happiness) 
2) put all of the herbs into a bowl or a little plastic pot and stir clock wise thinking of the intent ( to protect from negative thoughts and to aid in happiness) you can use a funnel if you have one or make one out of paper and pour it it into the bottle. If you are using a sachet you can just use the second option and pour the herbs into the bag and you are nearly done! Skip step four and go onto five.


🌙Step Four🌙 
Sealing your bottle! I did rather good for my first attempt at sealing with wax so I am giving myself a round of applause 👏👏👏👏. Make sure the cork is pushed all the way down so the contents don’t decide to come tumbling out all over your beautiful candle ruining the candle forever *cries*. Also please please PLEASE remember to blow out the candle! Please for the love of nyx! I don’t want to feel responsible for anyone burning themselves. Now, you have done that you can now dip your bottle cork end into the melted candle wax. For mine I used my black candle which is cedar wood and myrrh scented. Leave it stood up on a piece of paper and be careful not to drip candle wax on your fingers!


🌙Step Five🌙 
Now the last step is to leave it in sunlight to charge and cleanse! You can do this as often as you like!! You can carry this around with you in your bag or purse!
Let me know if you decide to make it let me know the effects you find it has on you everyone is different!

Blessed be ~Quinn

Siren Song - 8

For the remainder of the Charms lesson, Draco and Y/N didn’t speak, make eye contact, or interact in any way. Instead, Y/N focused intently on repairing her lilac and gold filigree teapot. Using reparo, she managed to fix her porcelain second quickest in the class. Finishing only behind Hermione, who was indeed still in possession of her wand, Y/N was pleased with her own command of the spell.

The way she figured it, Draco could keep her wand until the end of class. She didn’t need it yet.

Not wanting to tarnish her reputation with her Charms professor, especially after Flitwick had already scolded her for using her magic against Draco, she swiftly formulated a plan to take her wand back after class. Y/N would simply wait until they were out of the classroom and she’d attempt to discretely accio it back. Easy, she hoped.

She wasn’t about to risk getting into further trouble in class, not because of him. He was simply not worth it she decided.

When Flitwick dismissed class, Y/N scanned the room for Blaise. They had Potions together next and he was going to show her how to get there.

Professor Flitwick, however, had no knowledge of, and thus no regard for Y/N’s intentions. He approached the Slytherin student as she was collecting her bag from the chair.

“Ms. L/N.”

“Yes, Professor?”

“I’d like to continue working with you on developing your wandless magic. Perhaps pick up where your Ilvermorny instructor left off. Would this be something you’d be interested in?”

Y/N smiled, “Absolutely. I’m definitely interested in that.” A perfectionist through and through, she genuinely wanted to hone her craft. She took pride in the fact that her magical abilities were distinct from her peers, although she was careful not to intentionally brag about it.

“From what I have seen today, you have a particular gift with charms.”

“Thank you. I’ve always loved Charms class and just charms in general.” She spoke honestly.

“I can see that, and you have a real knack for it, it seems. I have a book you might find interesting, and you may borrow it if you like.”

An avid reader, Y/N replied, “I would, sir, thank you.”

“Give me just one moment, and I’ll grab it for you.” Flitwick turned his back on his student, walked to the front of the classroom, and began cycling through the titles of a stack of books taller than himself.

As she waited for Flitwick, Y/N noticed Blaise waiting next to the door with a tall brunette boy she guessed to be Theo. Not sure of how long Flitwick would take, she motioned for them to go ahead and head on without her.

She directed her attention back to her professor who was carefully pulling a dingy salmon colored book from the middle of the stack. Flitwick walked back to Y/N and handed her the book. The pages were gilded and its title read Charmed, Naturally: A Guide for Abandoning the Wand.

“It contains techniques and tips on learning to channel your magic without your wand. You might find some of the advice pertinent to you.”

“Thank you, Professor. I can’t wait to look through it.” She smiled, appreciating his generosity.

“Ms. L/N, just make sure you bring your wand to class next time, just in case. And I hope you have a great day.”

“You too, Professor Flitwick. Thank you.” She turned and exited the classroom.  

As the door behind Y/N shut, a voice spoke up from her right, “That was pretty impressive, you know.” Hermione offered a small smile to the Slytherin girl. “Not just about the wandless magic, which if I might add, I’ve never seen anyone our age do, but also what you did with Malfoy. I didn’t want to say anything in there, but did you see his face? I don’t think he quite expected that.” The brunette’s smile broke into a large grin. She had been waiting for Y/N to exit the classroom so the pair could continue talking.

“I honestly wasn’t expecting it either. I lost it when I saw that he had my wand. Did you see that? He had my wand literally up his sleeve.” She shook her head in annoyance. “He must have taken it out of my bag or something. I knew I had it with me earlier!” She paused, briefly in thought. “But that’s not even what irritates me the most… he was just going to let me get in trouble with Flitwick for something he did, for something that was his fault. ” Y/N exhaled a frustrated sigh.  

“That’s Draco Malfoy for you. A coward who cares about no one but himself.” The Gryffindor’s speech turned hard and unapologetic.

“Yeah, I seem to get that impression. Last night at dinner he told me I wasn’t aloud to sit near him because… “ Y/N hoped Hermione was more openminded than some of her Slytherin compatriots, “because I think the whole ‘blood status matters’ argument is ridiculous. And apparently he cares very deeply about blood purity.” She punctuated the sentence with a roll of her eyes.

Hermione’s eyes, however, momentarily flashed dark; she knew firsthand of Malfoy’s cruel treatment towards muggle borns. “I couldn’t agree with you more. It’s honestly barbaric to think that your blood purity determines your capability as a witch or wizard. It’s insulting. So, are you muggle born?”

“No, but I hope you won’t hold that against me.” Y/N smiled, wanting to change the conversation away from Draco Malfoy and blood purity.

“Not at all.”

“Perfect. Because I’ve got a favor to ask of you.”

“Alright, what would the favor be?” Hermione’s voice was now riddled with trepidation.

“Could you possibly help me find my way to the Potions classroom? I was told that Slytherins have Potions with Gryffindors after Charms. I know I’m headed back down to the dungeon, but would you mind if I tagged along with you? If you’re headed that way… ”

Hermione chuckled lightly, “Why do you think I waited for you? Navigating this castle, especially as a new student, can be tricky.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of surprised no one gave me a map of the castle. Ilvermorny passes out maps to first years so they don’t get lost. But maybe it’s Hogwarts way of encouraging new students to talk to people.” Y/N smiled at the brunette.

Truth be told, in spite of the warnings about Gryffindors, Y/N was happy to have Hermione’s company. From what little time she had spent with her in Charms and in the hallway, the intuitive Slytherin felt like Hermione was a decent person. At least she seemed more amiable and accepting than her Slytherin roommates.

Hermione and Y/N twisted through the castle’s dungeon passages before arriving at the Potions classroom. Y/N pushed open the heavy door, and the girls entered the chilly room.

Stepping just over the room’s threshold and then stopping, Y/N was struck by how different this classroom felt from the rest of Hogwarts. The initial word her mind impressed upon the room was somber. The air was still, stagnant, and to Y/N, seemed almost sepulchral.

Whereas the Charms classroom was airy and inviting (with massive windows filtering in dusty sunlight onto warm wooden floors), the Potions room was dim and slightly oppressive. Light, an enemy to the room, fought through a singular, small window and Y/N couldn’t distinguish if its source was natural or magical. Pallid candles that dripped melting wax dotted the room in a feeble attempt to provide more illumination. Candlelight flickered against the stones walls and low, vaulted dome ceilings.

Blackwood shelves, which lined three quarters of the room’s walls, contained hundreds of glass jars of varying sizes. The contents of the jars, marked by labels written in scrawling black ink, contained: dried plants of all designs and colors, pickled animal parts preserved in (yellow, green, and brown) brine, incandescent, iridescent, shimmery bug wings, dried and shriveled beans, herbs, coarse and fine powders, multi-colored liquids, and numerous other ingredients ready to be plucked for the cauldron at a moments notice.

Hermione interrupted Y/N’s cataloguing of the potion ingredients, “Professor Snape assigns us seats. I’d wait to find a seat until he gives you one. Or you could end up taking someone else’s seat, and I don’t think he’d be too happy with that.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She smiled at Hermione as the Gryffindor found her seat.

Over the next few minutes, the Potions classroom began to fill with students locating their spots. Y/N wondered who she would sit next to and hoped she wouldn’t be forced to sit alone. At the back of the classroom she noticed an empty table where no one had chanced to sit yet.

“Ms. L/N,” Professor Snape — a monochromatic image of black hair, sallow skin, and black robes — appeared from the shadows of the room.  Had he been standing there all along?

Snape continued and drew the attention of the rest of his students, “We are going to create a Girding Potion today. Are you familiar with it?” He spoke to everyone, yet he addressed the question directly to Y/N.

Y/N, who wasn’t expecting to be interrogated before even finding a seat, hesitated a moment, “A Girding Potion, Professor?”

“Yes, Ms. L/N, a Girding Potion. Are you familiar with it?” Snape leered at the girl, his patience waning by the second.

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never made it.”

“And could you enlighten me to its purpose?” Towards the front of the classroom, Hermione’s hand shot straight up in the air.

Y/N articulated, “A Girding Potion is for endurance. It’s like a boost for your stamina, I believe.”

Snape’s face partially softened towards the Slytherin at her correct answer. “Ms. L/N is correct. Five points to Slytherin.”

Snape paced the length of the room as he spoke. “We will be making the Girding Potion today. It is indeed known for bolstering endurance, and a single dosage can last up to two weeks. Known to provide its user with a considerable boost of fortitude, I caution any of you thinking about drinking this potion in large quantities. More than two vials at a time can have detrimental effects.

You will find the list of ingredients and directions on the board, as always. You will be creating this potion individually, but you may discuss the directions with your partner. I will be circling the room providing guidance so none of you burn down,” he stared at Neville Longbottom, “or blow up,” he moved his gaze to Seamus Finnegan, “my classroom.”

Snape looked over his students’ faces, anticipating questions. When none arose, he walked to the back of the room and spoke, “You may begin. You have until the end of class.”

“Ms. L/N,” Snape now stood ten paces in front of Y/N, “you will be working with Mr. Malfoy.” In creeping horror, she realized her professor was standing next to a table with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. Was this really happening? Of all the people Snape could have chosen, did it have to be him?

Also shocked by Snape’s decision, Draco’s eyes widened and his mouth raced to catch up with his thoughts about his new Potions partner, “But Professor, don’t you think that—“

Snape cut him short, “You see, Ms. L/N, I’ve been generous and let these three,” he rapped on the Slytherin boys’ table, “work together. We had an odd number of students, and now we don’t. That is why Mr. Malfoy,” Snape now turned to Draco, “will sit with you and be your Potions partner.”

“Professor, are you sure?“ Draco, protesting, was desperate for Snape to change his mind. With a slew of reasons popping into his head, Draco knew sitting next to Y/N would be a complicated distraction. “I’m sure there is someone else who would —“

“Do not challenge me, Mr. Malfoy. Your grades are exceptional in my class, and with exception comes privilege. You will help Ms. L/N, is that clear?” Snape’s tone was dry and unyielding.

“Yes, Professor.” Those words were bitter in Draco’s mouth and he had to fight the urge to keep arguing with Snape. He knew he had lost this battle.

Y/N and Draco’s belongings (bags, cauldrons, quills, wands) appeared at the once empty table at the back of the room. The Slytherins took their spots in their new seats.

“Thank you, Professor.” Y/N managed to utter before Snape turned and walked away.

The moment Snape was out of earshot, Y/N rounded on the blonde next to her and demanded, “Give me back my wand. Right now.” Her voice was firm, but calm.

Draco, not to be intimidated by a girl much smaller than he was, took a step towards Y/N and closed the distance between the pair considerably. He was still fuming that she had drenched him with water in front of everyone; Draco was use to embarrassing others, not the other way around.  He didn’t handle humiliation well, especially from a blood traitor new girl. There was no way he was going to make this easy for her. “And why would I want to do that?” He taunted her.

“Because it’s not yours. Now give it back to me.”

“Demanding, aren’t we? You’re not even going to say pretty please? Now that’s rude.” Draco sneered at Y/N.

Y/N, not backing down, folded her arms across her chest and stared hard at the boy in front at her. “Give. Me. My. Wand. Or —”

“Or what? What are you going to do? Conjure some more water to drop over my head? Good luck, you’ll earn detention with Snape. He won’t be easy with you like Flitwick was.”

Unfortunately, Y/N believed he was probably telling the truth. She got the impression that her Potions professor wouldn’t tolerate such behavior without substantial punishment. “Maybe I’ll just tell Snape the truth… that you took my wand from me and won’t return it.”

Draco challenged her, “Go ahead, tattle. Do it. Snape won’t believe you. I’m his favorite student. He’ll listen to me any day over you.” Draco was confident in this fact. “Besides, he doesn’t allow wands out anyway. But go ahead, see what happens.”

Y/N was growing irritated. “Seriously? What is wrong with you? Do you think holding my wand hostage is a game? Is it fun for you?”

“Did you think it was fun dropping a ball of water over my head?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied cheekily without hesitation. “But you deserved it.”

Draco took another step closer to her, “Then I think this is great fun. And you deserve it.” The corners of his mouth turned up maliciously. His confidence swelled and he felt like he had regained control over her. Draco knew he had the upper hand against Y/N. “Let’s make a deal, shall we?”  

“How about we skip the deal and you just give me my wand back.” She wanted none of his bullshit bargaining.

“No no no. Where’s the fun in that? You had your fun with me, now it’s my turn.” He paused for a moment, caught up in a thought. “How about this: if you make a better Girding Potion than me, you can have your wand back.”

She narrowed her eyes at Draco and weighed her odds. “Okay. Deal. But, if I win, if my potion is better, not only do I get my wand back, but you don’t ever again get to tell me where I can and can’t sit. Ever.”

Was she really taking this challenge? Draco hadn’t expected her to concede, let demand something else from him if she was victorious. His arrogance got the best of him, though, and Draco accepted, “Fine. But what do I get if I win?”

“What do you want from me?”

Draco could think of a good many things he wanted from Y/N, none of which he particularly wanted to make public to her. His mind raced, he pondered, “How about…” he stalled, then settled firmly on his answer. “A kiss.” His eyes darted to her lips for a half a second.

Y/N wasn’t sure what Draco was going to come up with, but she definitely didn’t think it would be that. He was handsome, but he had been an ass to her. Shocked and caught off guard, Y/N scoffed, “Absolutely not. I’m not kissing you. Choose something else.”      

“Did I say that I wanted you to kiss me? Don’t flatter yourself, L/N.” His voice was a knife, sharp and cutting, and he stressed her last name as if just saying the syllables gave him displeasure. “I would never kiss you.” He knew this was a lie.

“You’ll kiss whoever I want you to kiss, whenever I want you to do it. No house is off limits. I can choose any student I want.” He reveled smugly in his cunningness; he had a plan.

Although Y/N’s better logic warned her to weigh her options more carefully, her pride betrayed her reluctance. She couldn’t attest to how dexterous Draco was at potion making, but she was sure of her own skill. Competitive by nature, Y/N badly wanted to beat him and wipe the smirk off his face.

She was use to being underestimated and used this to her advantage, “Fine, Malfoy. It’s a deal.”

Y/N extended her hand to Draco to seal their pact. Draco took her hand in his. Their handshake, which was more like a gentle squeeze, lasted a few awkward seconds longer than either party had anticipated.  

“Alright then,” Draco chided, “you’re on.”

top album aesthetics
  • twenty one pilots: candle with dripping wax. creaking floorboards. staring at the mirror with dead eyes. cold lonely mornings. driving away from a friends house. keeping small things in glass jars. sunlight streaming into only one part of the room. trying without support. foggy days.
  • regional at best: questions from little kids. muddy grass. admiring strangers. the first hit from fresh air. stargazing. singing in front of friends for the first time. being sad with people u trust.
  • vessel: sitting at a desk in a dark room. beautiful dead flowers. post concert depression. heavy breathing after dancing in ur room alone. being loved. when u realized u made it. cloudy skies and pale sunlight.
  • blurryface: asking for help after relapsing. worn in boots. being alone and not liking it. making fun of the people on the tv with ur friends. being in love
Dominating Him When You’re Jealous (M) (KBTBB Version)
  • Featuring: Eisuke Ichinomiya, Soryu Oh, Ota Kisaki, Mamoru Kishi and Shuichi Hishikura from Kissed By The Baddest Bidder
  • Warnings: Mature

Eisuke
A common thing to see around Eisuke, were groupies: forever swarming around Eisuke like moths to a flame. You weren’t exactly thrilled about their presence but it wasn’t until that particular moment when their very existence infuriated you. Watching as a particularly bold groupie brought her lips to his ear and slid her hand down his front, resting teasingly on his belt made you see red.
But you didn’t act on your anger immediately.
No, you waited, lying on Eisuke’s bed, and let your anger boil inside you until Eisuke returned home. Candles lit and the lighting dimmed, the atmosphere didn’t exactly scream ‘I’m mad’ but your intentions were devious.
“You’re still awake?” Eisuke chuckled when he finally walked into his bedroom. “What a good girl, waiting for me like that.” He shrugged off his blazer and only then seemed to notice the candles and your position on the bed. Eyebrow arching, he undressed slowly, savouring the sensation of your eyes following his every movement.
When he was only in his black boxers, he joined you on the bed, immediately going to get on top of you but you shoved him, pushing him back so hard that he almost slammed his head back against the headboard.
“What the hell are y-” Eisuke began to growl, his expression irritated, but you pressed a finger to his lips, positioned yourself over the bulge in his boxers and slowly began to grind.
“I want to make something, very clear.” You whispered, staring down at the perplexed Eisuke. You had never taken control before, knowing Eisuke’s need for dominance made you think he wouldn’t like it. But tonight, he didn’t have a choice. Reaching for a candle that had nearly burnt out completely, you smiled innocently at him. As you reached for the candle, Eisuke made quick work of both of your underwear and positioned his growing erection so that when you straddled him again, he slid into you.
Not fully wet enough to take him painlessly inside, you were gasping at the sensation of him pushing inside you, your body shook and you fought to gain control of your hands so that when you slowly reached out and dripped the melted candle wax onto his chest, your movements were steady.
Hissing, Eisuke’s eyes snapped open and glared at you, but a forceful hand on his shoulder kept him down.
“Stay still.” You urged, moving your wrist as you poured the wax across his chest. The discomfort on his face was evident, but with the slow thrust of your hips, the pain only added to his pleasure, as made clear from his eyes rolling back into his head and the string of obscenities leaving his thick lips. Slowly pouring out the wax, Eisuke looked down at his chest in curiosity and smirked through the slight burning pain.
“Feeling a little jealous are we?” He asked, his voice hoarse, he moved his hands to travel up your sides as you put the candle back in its original position.
“No.” You denied with a small smile. “Just making sure that you remember who you belong to.” You teased, using his words back at him. Chuckling, Eisuke grabbed your hips and encouraged your movements against him, forcing you to ride him faster. He liked it when you submitted yourself to him but he had to admit, seeing you writhing on top of him as you dictated your own pleasure was pretty sexy too.
It was only after you’d finished, when you were lying in the crook of his arm, his fingers trailing lazily up and down your spine, that you peeled off the dried candle wax letters you had poured onto his chest. Giggling slightly, you relished in the red imprint you had branded him with, a single world marring his otherwise perfect skin.
“Mine.”

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