objective: to make it someone can’t talk about you, too you, or at all depending on what you want. This can be with a real physical poppet, but it can also be done as a quick visualization in your head. It has been effective for me done both ways.
Get a poppet to represent the person you are binding. It’s better to make it yourself and fill it with things that represent/symbolize that person to make it more personal to them.
Put red thread on a sewing needle and start sewing the mouth of a doll. Chant, “Open lips say too much. So i seal your mouth; I bind it shut.”
Tie off the thread at the end of the mouth. Hide the poppet away somewhere it won’t be bothered or messed with.
To remove the binding cut the thread from the poppet’s mouth.
As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Tags are at the bottom.
The One Where Everybody Finds Out
“Oh, Jesus,” Dean moans, looking down at you. Christ, you’re fucking perfect, on all fours, those pink lips sealed around his dick. His knees dig into the mattress as he rolls his hips forward. He wants to commit this image to memory, it’s so fucking sexy.
“Wait,” he manages to rasp out. Reaching across the bed, he snatches his phone off the nightstand. Switching to camera mode, he asks, “This okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” you murmur, your mouth full of cock. Dean presses the record button and watches you through the screen, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you slide up and down the length of his cock.
“Fuck…oh, god…ungh,” Dean pants out. He nearly drops the phone when you slide one hand up his thigh and fondle his balls. You watch him watching you, it’s such a fucking turn on. “(Y/N)…oh god…shit, babe, that feels so…ah….ungh…” Dean groans as he finds release, spurting thick ropes of cum into your mouth.
You slide your mouth off his dick and grin up at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He’s still filming you, so you jiggle your breasts a little, giving him a show.
He giggles before tossing the phone aside. “Added to the spank bank,” he teases. “Now, it’s my turn,” he says growls before pushing you back and positioning his head between your thighs.
icarus burned fast,
but not fast enough for the gods.
(apollo, later, screaming
YOU COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING YOU COULD HAVE SAVED HIM BUT YOU JUST STOOD THERE)
they had time to think, to deliberate,
as icarus fell in slow motion;
“if we save him he’ll become arrogant,
‘the first man to fly,’ he’ll say.
no man should fly.”
“but it could bring forth inventors,
a genius to help the humans-”
“they will come to it in their own time.
it is still too early now.”
artemis kept her lips sealed, knowing.
(apollo, later, accusing
WHY DID YOU SAY NOTHING WITH YOUR HELP THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN OUTNUMBERED YOU MURDERED HIM)
“let him fall.”
and the slow motion stopped.
and time sped up
and icarus slapped the oceans surface,
still burning, barely a ripple
disturbing the mirror-stillness.
(apollo, later, sobbing
IT’S MY FAULT I WANTED HIM TOO MUCH I KILLED HIM IT WAS ME IT WAS ME IT WAS ME)
Summary: Reader is an actress on SPN and is friends with benefits with Jensen and Danneel. This is pure porn.
Word Count: 2000
Warnings: Smut, threesome
A/N: My second RPF! Not tagging anyone because I don’t have an RPF tag list yet. Hope you all enjoy! XOXO
Your guest star spot on Supernatural was always going to change your life. You had known that from the second you got the offer. The role was for seven episodes, and you knew exactly what that meant. Exposure. Possibly becoming friends with the cast outside of work, which had been a dream of yours for a long time. Maybe being invited to conventions.
What you had never expected (because who would expect this?) was to be here right now, in Jensen Ackles’ trailer, with his wife’s head between your legs.
“Ready for the worst before the damage’s done”
“Welcome to the inner workings of my mind… So dark and foul I can’t disguise” “Keep my eyes open, my lips sealed, my heart closed" “
Didn’t know getting lost in the blue meant I wound up losing you”
“Came to make a connection, force myself in a dimension Lost sight of myself” “Maybe I’ll find something real, not a fantasy so divine… Let myself down each time” “How could it be what I wanted to see? My reality could never live up to the fantasy in me”
MUSLIMS!! There are BLACK Muslims. They’re part of your ummah, yet you ignore their struggles. You criticize people when they don’t speak about Syria, Palestine, Burma, etc. Yet when the murder of your ummah is happening so close to home your lips are sealed?
An ache in my lungs. The rotting infatuation behind my teeth.
The loss of love at the base of my heart.
Love is fickle love is non existent in this life I live.
My knees tremble for it I
arch my neck and sigh for it.
I wish and long and scream behind sealed lips.
My hand is empty, too small without another to warm it.
I used to cup my palms around my own soul, a purple white flame that flickered and burnt those too weak to remove it from my grip
now it burns in my chest, alongside the ice in my veins the
cold behind my eyes. No, not the heat of tears but just a heaviness of longing. A glacier in my mouth.
A fire in my breast.
She dances away with another, with others, dragging me in her wake.
She places her hands on my shoulders and pushes me into myself, into vibrant darkness that sparks with
My skin crawls, writhes, aches for more than this. I flinch away because if I do not my traitorous heart would take control and force me closer
Can she not feel the searing heat in my breath, in my skin as she holds me, a hand on my wrist
my spine. The forest fire in my lungs.
She touches and taps and breathes against me.
All while keeping me at arms length.
She’s smiling, laughing, twines her hands through my hair, drags nails down the column of my neck, my throat, chills erupting and giving me away
I bare it for her willingly, my weakness flayed wide open.
She holds my ribs in her hands my heart strings between her teeth.
Oh I would do anything for her, let her do anything just to remain in the embrace of her laughter, the thrill of her entire being. Even if I am never able to touch or hold
Or embrace her
I suffer silently. Heavily.
This love is going to burn me up, if this longing doesn’t freeze me first.
as she reads
a teasing little thought
about her mind
of her hidden hope
to find true love
that was confined
her sweetest dream
she dared not speak
continued to play
a foolish game
this illusion on replay
to finally feel
the succulent seal
upon on her lips
the most pure
and rare bliss
that always seemed
if only once
to not have to
read it from a book
or envy the strangers
while she look
upon true love’s
just one chance
to be embraced
to perfectly blend
as their brokenness
each shattered piece
desperate to be one
in the arms of a man
how to touch her
a man who
had taken time
the enigma that she was
to explore the intricate maze
each complexity confined
in her body
willing to console
the past that occurred
yet still stirred
and only lover
who looked upon her
with a clarity complete
not simply for the beauty
she outwardly displayed
but her luminous soul
that she relinquished
and with love
to join his own
within this dream
Sometimes, there’s a part of me that wonders
how much harm could be done
in a postscript sealed with our lips.
You’d taste like what could’ve been, I think,
the way you once tasted
like what could be.
Sometimes, there’s a voice in me that whispers
your name in the way I used to,
treading in tiptoes,
speaking in echoes
of what once was;
there’s no harm in leaving fragments of me
on old roads,
nestled in the ghosts
of our footsteps.
When Bellamy is seven, he feels his
soulmate for the first time.
Octavia is too busy crying, his
mother isn’t there, and he nearly misses it, how his knee starts stinging out
of nowhere, light pain that almost feels like a butterfly kiss.
He doesn’t know it then because
soulmates are rare and most people are just happy to find someone they can call
their own, with or without the universe’s interference.
But Bellamy reads a lot, so much
that the old Miss Sinclair told him that he’s going to read his weight in books,
and therefore, he knows things.
He knows about soulmates and how no
science could ever explain them and by the time the second wave of pain comes,
he is pressing his lips sealed. Even though there are tears in the corners of
his eyes, he is happy.
Yes, indeed, Bellamy Blake is a
very, very happy child.
Request: This is probably a weird request but! A
Bucky fic based on/inspired by the Carly Rae Jepsen song “All That.”
Feel like it would be a great smut/fluff/angst song for Bucky. I would try to
write it myself but I suck and your writing is awesome! No worries if you don’t
want to write this though, it’s all good.
Draco struggled with many secrets, but his relationship with Harry was the hardest thing to keep quiet.
“You alright Draco?” Pansy nudged him, “ You’ve been really spacey lately, do you feel alright?” Draco quickly turned to Pansy, his face bright red. “No, I just, um, i’m nervous for, the quidditch match!” “Alright…” Pansy resumed talking to Blaise. “It’s not just me, right? He’s acting super weird!” Pansy whispered, “Yeah, he’s never listening to me.” Blaise said cooly. “I’m gonna figure out what it is” Pansy said, looking at Draco, who was staring at the Gryffindor table.
“Harry, their onto us!” Draco paced by Potter’s bed, “Draco, maybe it’s time we tell people, what harm will it do, people have probably guessed it already.” Harry pulled Draco next to him, “But what if-” Harry sealed his lips on Draco’s. “Shut up and kiss me.” Harry whispered, “I don’t care what they say.” He pushed him on the bed, kissing him harder. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him closer. Harry ripped Draco’s shirt off, trailing his hands over his body.
“Your perfect, you know that, right?” Harry whispered, “As long as I have you, I don’t give a shit what anybody says.” Harry brushed the hair out of Draco’s eyes, cupping his face in his hands. “I love you so much.” Harry leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips.
The next day, they walked into the Great Hall holding hands, and nobody was surprised.