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1-800-hwahui · 1 year

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romance at mistletoe inn

member | seungcheol x reader genre | smut, some fluff word count | ~4,600 warnings | reader has a vagina and breasts, unprotected sex, very very soft dom!cheol, sub!reader, wap reader, monster cock cheol, like seriously his dick is BIG, size kink (it comes with the territory wbk), strength kink (?), oral (m receiving), oral (reader receiving), grinding, deepthroating, motorboating, praise, slight manhandling, creampie (they don't talk about reader taking birth control so PLEASE do not be like them irl), cursing, cheol is Whipped, they hold hands :(, teeny bit of aftercare oops sorry, reader's mom accidentally cockblocks, please ignore that the plot actually makes Zero sense this is just pure sex atp notes | this is a nsfw sequel to a sfw fic on my main writing blog @junkissed called mistletoe inn! however, this can be read as a stand alone, you don't have to have read the other part to know what's going on here. for the heathen @onlymingyus. i hope you enjoy. p.s. thanks to @duhnova @heartkyeom for making me insane while i wrote this. i know i say this every time but this time i mean it when i say this is definitely the filthiest thing i have ever written - 💒 june

a knock on cheol’s door brings him out of the book he’s reading. it’s late in the evening and it hasn’t stopped snowing all day, leaving everyone at the inn snowed in. at least for the next day or so until the city snow plow comes around. he slides a bookmark into the pages and sets it on his nightstand, grinning as he walks towards the door.

as it usually is every winter, the inn is practically empty, except for one guest. it’s a small town, and people don’t come to stay unless they’re visiting friends or family.

cheol’s really enjoyed talking with you the last few days. he’s learned that you came to surprise your parents, but they’d actually left town without telling you to spend their christmas in hawaii, leaving you alone in a city where you don’t know anyone.

he doesn’t mind being your friend for the week you’re here– in fact, he loves it. you’re great company, and after a little not-so-subtle prying he’s also learned you’re single. with your work less than an hour away by plane, the distance isn’t bad, and if he’s been reading the situation right, he’s hoping you might feel the same. it’s been too long since he’s taken a break, since he’s traveled out of the little town he’s lived in all his life. maybe it’s time to pass the inn along to someone else in his family. but for now, one step at a time.

of course, it’s you standing on the other side of the door. he can’t help the way his face lights up when he sees you. “hey, what’s up?”

you smile back shyly. “just bored. are… are you busy?”

he grins. “not anymore.”

“do you maybe, wanna, come to my room?” you ask. “i made cocoa.”

“of course i would,” he says, shutting his door with a quiet squeak.

fifteen minutes later the cocoa is long forgotten as you desperately press your lips against seungcheol’s, hands roaming everywhere across each others’ bodies.

you’re suddenly very grateful that you packed your nice pair of panties for a trip that was supposed to be for visiting your parents. and you’re also very grateful that you wore them tonight, just in case.

the muscles in his shoulders flex as he yanks his shirt up and off with one swift movement. you watch, until his hands are back on you, whining as he pulls on the hem of your sweater. you giggle and lift your arms so he can help you tug it over your head.

“can i?” he breathes, reaching for your bra, his gaze fixated on your chest.

you nod, and strong arms wrap around you, carefully unhooking your bra behind your back. you hold the fabric in place with your hands as his fingers tenderly slip the straps down your shoulders.

when you finally let go, allowing the material to fall to the floor, seungcheol inhales sharply. “god, you’re so beautiful,” he rasps.

he looks up at you for permission, and you smile. hands still clasped behind your back, he pulls you over to the chair by the couch, sitting down so his face is level with your chest.

his hands glide over your skin, pushing your breasts together and shoving his face in between them with a groan that reverberates in your ribcage. you moan and he lets go, hands skating down your sides to rest at your hips as he leaves wet kisses along the curve of your boobs.

your fingers find his head, weaving up through his hair. he shakes his head back and forth and his hands grab at your ass, roughly kneading the skin. his mouth moves to one of your nipples, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly.

his lips leave your breast with a pop, half-lidded eyes looking almost drunk with pleasure. you shimmy out of your pants, throwing them out of the way but keeping your panties on.

cheol’s eyes widen and his hands fumble to remove his own jeans, shaking as he slides them down his muscular legs.

you sink down onto your knees, settling between his legs. he groans when you look up at him with wide eyes, tentative hands resting on his thighs. god, his thighs… just one is probably bigger than your entire head.

your fingers dance at the band of his underwear, nervously toying with the elastic but not going any further yet. he’s only half-hard beneath the fabric, but you can already tell he’s big, way bigger than you’re used to.

you must’ve paused for too long, because he reaches down to cup your cheek, bringing your gaze back up to his. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asks gently, his voice breathy and low.

your cheeks heat up, not used to hearing that pet name on his lips. “um, you’re just, uh… big,” you squeak out, a little embarrassed to admit to him.

his expression softens, relieved that he hasn’t done anything to hurt you (yet). “you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, his tone lightening a bit.

immediately you shake your head, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. “i want to,” you say sincerely. “just– don’t know if i can.”

he smiles like you’ve just told him he won the lottery– and with you, he might as well have. “we’ll go slow,” he promises.

you exhale and gently tug at his underwear, finally releasing his cock. it’s big, like you expected, and covered in pretty veins. you wrap your hand around him, but he’s so big, your thumb and index finger aren’t even close to touching. so you add your other hand, completely gripping him, and he moans at the sight of his cock resting in your tiny hands.

you’re just about to put your lips around his tip when you hear your ringtone go off. you whine in annoyance at being interrupted and move your head away from him, taking your hands off of his cock and laying them on his thighs.

“who is it?” you ask, nodding up at your phone on the table next to seungcheol.

he groans at the loss, but leans over to check your phone for you. “uh, it’s ‘mom’?”

you whine and reach out your hand. “give it here.”

“baby, please,” he grumbles, handing it down to you.

“i’ll be quick,” you whisper before accepting the call. he pouts and leans his head back against the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling.

“hi mom,” you say into the phone, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intend.

“hi sweetie! how’s your trip going so far? sorry again that we missed you,” she starts, and you know you’re in for a long phone call. the woman could talk for hours, days even, and now is definitely not the time.

when you look up, seungcheol is staring at you again, a mischievous grin on his face. he puts a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet, then hooks his arms under you to help you stand. his hands slide to your hips, guiding and pulling you down onto his lap.

“mom, i’m– a little busy right now,” you choke out, trying your damn hardest to keep your voice steady with cheol’s hands on you.

“oh?” the surprise is evident in your mother’s voice. “i thought you didn’t have any plans? did you find something fun to do? you better not be working on work, i told you you’ve been needing a vacation for way too long! your boss can have whatever it is in the new year, you–”

cheol grips you tightly, rolling your hips against his dick, and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. he looks up at you, wordlessly asking if you want him to stop.

you squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. as much as it mortifies you fooling around while you’re literally on the phone with your own mother, the thrill of being caught only turns you on even more.

“no, mom, i’m not working, but i am– busy,” you interrupt.

“well, do you want me to call back in a bit?” you can hear the frown in her voice, the tone she gets when she knows you’re lying.

“no!” you cry out as your clit rubs against the head of seungcheol’s cock, giving you a jolt of pleasure. “i–mean, i’ll call you later. when i’m done,” you recover, hoping to god she hasn’t noticed anything off about you.

“sweetie… are you at the gym?” she questions, and you breathe a sigh of relief that it doesn’t seem like she’s caught on to what you’re really doing. “i’m so proud of you, honey, i know you’ve been trying to do that more lately! well, i’ll leave you be then. have a good workout!”

well, you will be having a workout today… just not the kind she’s thinking of.

“th-thanks,” you stutter. suddenly cheol thrusts hard against you, and the movement makes you lose your balance and fall forward a little. you catch yourself on him, your hand flat against his firm chest. “bye, mom.”

“bye, sweetie! have fun!”

he shoots you a satisfied smirk and you sit back as you fumble to hang up as fast as you can, tossing your phone on the carpet behind you and climbing back down onto your knees.

you finally wrap your lips around him, fingernails gripping his thighs as you struggle to take him in your mouth. not only is he long, but he’s girthy, and you have to stretch your mouth open wide to fit him in. even then, you can’t fit all of him, so you put both hands back around the base of his cock where your mouth can’t reach and you begin slowly bobbing up and down, swirling your tongue around him.

his hips buck up roughly into your mouth and instantly tears prick at your eyes. “sorry,” he moans, but you just shake your head and keep going. he grips down hard on the armrests of the chair to stop himself from moving.

you can feel him hitting the back of your throat with every move and you know your mouth is gonna hurt like a bitch later, but the almost melodic sound of his moans is enough to make you want to have his dick in your mouth forever. knowing that it’s you making him feel like this could give you enough energy to suck him off for days on end.

your abdomen throbs with neglect, but the weight of his cock in your mouth is too good to stop. if you didn’t literally need both hands to fit all the way around him, you would’ve already started touching yourself, but both your hands are… occupied elsewhere.

desperate for any kind of stimulation, you press your thighs together, shifting to rub them against each other. at the angle you’re kneeling you can feel the thin fabric of your panties pressing against your pussy, and you buck your hips, trying to get the lace to give you what you want.

but it’s nowhere near enough, and seungcheol notices when you whine frustratedly around his cock, eyes squeezed shut and hands shaking. he grips your head carefully, pulling you off of him with a groan.

you look up at him with watery eyes and he takes in the sight, your mascara smeared and running down your cheeks and your eyes red and wet from choking around him for so long.

“can i eat you out? please?” he practically begs, breathing heavily.

“o-okay,” you rasp, the words coming out hoarse.

his eyebrows furrow as he catches his breath. he’d tried so hard not to go rough on you, to stop himself from fucking your throat. it’s only your first time with him, and he really, really hopes it won’t be the last, so he’s mentally kicking himself for losing control.

you see his worried expression, so you cough, trying to clear your throat. “i’m fine,” you reassure him, voice a little less coarse than before but still more than he would’ve liked.

“are you sure?” he asks cautiously.

“mhm. please,” you whimper.

he smiles and wraps his arms around you, helping you stand. your knees crack and he looks concerned again, but you shake your head. “just sore from kneeling. don’t worry.”

you give him a reassuring look, and he finally relents. suddenly he lifts you with terrifying ease, carrying you across the room to toss you onto the bed like nothing.

he climbs on top of you, his face hovering over your lower half.

“you gonna give me a few, baby?” he asks, his tone saccharine sweet. “gotta prep you enough.”

you croak out a yes, watching his movements with vigilance as his calloused fingertips play with the delicate hem of your panties, teasing.

but he doesn’t move any further, just stares up at you through his eyelashes, and you assume he’s waiting for you to say something.

“p-please?” you sniffle, thinking maybe he wants you to beg him for it. and he does, and you would, but you both know that’s for another time.

he presses a light kiss to your cunt over the fabric, moaning into your skin. “god, you’re so good for me, baby. gonna give you everything you want.”

as much as he wants to rip your pretty little underwear off your body and eat you out like his last meal, he knows he has to start slow, give you both a chance to get used to what the other likes instead of jumping straight into the deep end.

so he keeps his eyes locked with yours as he slips the lacy fabric down your hips, carefully so as not to tear them by accident.

you’re embarrassingly wet from nothing at all, your panties completely soaked through. a thin string of your arousal connects from your cunt to the fabric, and he groans lowly, watching it break.

his gentleness is unbelievably hot, and you can’t deny that him being so deliberate with taking them off makes you want to let him rip them off of you in a heartbeat. so what if they’re your favorite pair? you’d buy ten pairs to replace them if you have to.

you lift your legs, helping him slide your panties off so he can toss them away. he settles back down and tenderly pries your thighs apart, setting each leg to the side and leaving you wide open for him. he stares at your pussy for a moment, glistening with wetness. his intense, focused attention on you makes you gush, your muscles clenching around nothing as he watches enraptured. using two fingers he spreads your folds apart, exposing your dripping hole to his fervent gaze.

“cheol,” you mewl out his name in desperation.

“‘m right here, baby,” he says, his eyes flicking up to your face for a second to make sure you’re okay. you nod, silently begging him to continue. he cups your pussy, and the feeling of sheer size as his massive hand envelopes you is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

automatically your hips buck into his hand, grinding against his palm as you toss your head back and forth against the pillows, grateful to finally feel some relief.

he coos and you throw your arm over your face in embarrassment at his reaction, sheepish about being so desperate for a man you only met a couple of days ago. but his response isn’t to tease you or degrade you, but to admire you. so needy, so beautiful. and for right now, all his.

his hand still cupped against you, he slowly slips his ring and middle finger into your hole, letting out a pleased hum when you immediately clench around him.

“so wet for me, baby,” he sighs, gently curling his fingers inside you but otherwise keeping them still to let you adjust. “you’re so fucking sexy.”

you whimper, and he removes his fingers, seeing you’re ready for him to give you what he promised. even after being inside you for only a few seconds his fingers are soaked, completely coated in your juices. he looks up at you to see if you’re still comfortable with everything he’s doing, and when you open your mouth without hesitating even for a second, he thinks he might cum on the spot.

“so well behaved,” he praises, pushing his fingers into your waiting mouth. you close your lips around them eagerly, sucking yourself off of him in earnest.

you sigh when he pulls them out again, moving back down to sit between your still-open legs. he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of both your thighs before pushing his face into your waiting pussy.

when his mouth first makes contact with your cunt, you let out a high whine, back arching off the bed in pleasure. his lips completely surround your swollen clit, and your hand flies down to his head, gripping his hair as your hips writhe against his face.

his tongue is everywhere, gliding over every inch of you, licking and sucking and working you towards your orgasm impossibly fast. you can feel your clit throbbing in his mouth, and your breath hitches when he grazes his teeth over it, making you jolt.

his hands loop around your hips, spreading the skin and forcing you open so he has better access to your cunt.

heat pools in your stomach and you feel the familiar burn start to build in between your legs. “co-coming,” you gasp. “cheol, i’m–”

he groans into your cunt in response, sending waves throughout your body.

you sneak a glance down at him. his eyes are squeezed shut as he devours you, fucking you with his tongue with the most blissful look on his face, as if there isn’t anywhere in the world he would rather be right now than with his face buried in your pussy and your thighs trembling around his head.

the sight alone is enough to send you over the edge, muscles contracting and fingers grabbing desperately at the sheets to ground you as you stumble into your orgasm.

your whines stick in your throat as you gasp for breath, vision going white as you cum harder than you ever have in your life. no vibrator on earth could compare to the way seungcheol feels between your legs— and you’ve got quite the collection of toys back at home.

he keeps sucking, carrying you through your orgasm until you flop back on the bed, thoroughly exhausted. he finally pulls off of you for just a second, catching his own breath.

“god, can’t wait to get my cock in you,” he murmurs before diving back in, barely giving you time to recover before he’s building you back up for another.

you sob out his name as his tongue slips inside your hole and back out, dragging up and down your folds and spreading your juices everywhere. you can feel it dripping down your thighs and onto the comforter below.

“coming, coming, please, cheol, please, i–” you pant, struggling for words.

instinctively your legs snap shut around his head, trying to hold him in place, but he easily pries them apart again as you hurtle towards another orgasm. you cum on his tongue, again, sobbing his name like it’s the only word you know.

when he finally decides you’re ready to take his cock, you’re nothing short of a mess. pretty face smeared with makeup and tears, pretty cunt smeared with cum and saliva. he sits back on his heels, admiring how you look. your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving as you gasp for air, and he thinks he hasn’t seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

“you okay, baby?” he hums, massaging your thigh.

a weak “yes” is all you can manage. he runs a hand over your skin soothingly, this time giving you plenty of time to recover.

when you’ve finally caught your breath enough to sit up, he’s still watching you cautiously.

“all right?” he asks, and you nod. “if you’re done, we don’t have to keep going…” he starts, but you stop him, shaking your head.

“i told you before, i want to,” you say, taking his hand and lacing your fingers with his.

he smiles, and you lay back down, pulling him on top of you. he adjusts back in between your legs, positioning himself at the entrance of your pussy. he drags his cock through your folds, collecting what’s left of his frantic makeout session from earlier and spreading it over his length, using it as lubrication.

still holding your hand, he starts to press into you, just barely the tip. you gasp as he keeps going, carefully pushing inch after inch into your tight hole.

you squeeze his hand and he freezes, not even halfway inside yet. “okay?” he murmurs, rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“yeah, just– one second, please,” you stutter, breathing hard.

he wants to kiss you, so badly, but he can’t bend over without moving and hurting you. so he settles for bringing your entwined hands to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

the new feeling subsides, the pain of being split open beginning to lessen as you adjust to his size.

“you can… keep going,” you exhale softly.

he nods and starts to push in again, stuffing you full. it takes a while, but when finally he bottoms out, you both let out moans: him at the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him, and you at the feeling of being so full in the best ways.

after staying still to give you more time to adjust, he begins to pick up the pace, starting slowly and gradually building up until he’s pounding into you.

your back slides up and down the bed, each thrust sending you closer and closer to the wall above your head. attentive as ever, cheol notices, and stills his hips for just a second so he can grab your waist with both hands and yank you down away from the headboard. you yelp and clutch at his back, holding on for dear life as he continues pounding into you.

the bed squeaks with each thrust, and for a split second you worry about breaking the bedframe and having to pay for the damage. but then seungcheol is brushing your hair out of your face and cradling your head between his forearms, and all the thoughts in your head disappear when he stares into your eyes, your faces inches apart.

“can i– kiss you?” he groans, his eyelashes fluttering.

“please, ch-cheol,” you gasp. your hands claw at his shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

he leans down, closing the distance between you and pressing his lips to yours, somehow too gentle and too rough at the same time. your senses seem to explode, so much happening at once, and you move your hands up to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and tug, pushing him to kiss you deeper.

he moans into you, a deep, rumbling sound you feel all the way in the pit of your stomach. his thrusts get rougher and rougher, and you know he’s getting close. he pulls his lips off of you with a gasp. “whe–where do you want me to–”

“inside,” you plead, your voice coming out throaty. “please, cheol, inside, please–”

he cuts you off and captures your lips again, moaning into your mouth. his hips continue to rut into you desperately and you can only hold on, coming closer and closer to your own orgasm.

you can feel him throb deep in your abdomen, the tip of his cock kissing your walls with each snap of his hips. he shifts slightly and suddenly he’s fucking you like you’ve never felt before. the new angle has you seeing stars, and you clench around him, letting out a choked sob as you come undone on his cock.

your hoarse voice crying out his name over and over again while you quiver in his arms is too much for him, and with a guttural moan he lets go, his own orgasm washing over him and flooding your insides with his cum.

his hips begin to slow, rocking into you with a lazy rhythm as you both come down from your highs. his arms still surround either side of your head, and he moves his wrist to brush your hair out of your face. your hair is sticky with sweat and your eyes are puffy from crying, your mouth hanging open slightly as you struggle to catch your breath.

cheol lays on top of you, resting his head on your chest but careful not to put his full weight on you, letting you cockwarm him for a while. you’re both exhausted and you just lay there together, basking in the afterglow of pleasure.

but as much as you never want the moment to end, you can feel his cum leaking out of you, and you know you probably look like a horrible mess. you whine and push weakly at his shoulders, making him sit up quickly in concern.

“could you… in my bag,” you mumble, pointing a shaky hand towards your cosmetic bag. “m-makeup wipes.”

he slides off of you, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead before crossing the room to grab them for you. you stay laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“here,” cheol says softly, handing you the wipes. you give him a faint smile and prop yourself up on your elbows. you wince when you sit back on your tailbone, sore from how hard seungcheol had fucked you.

he sits at the edge of the bed and gives you an apologetic pout, knowing it’s mostly his fault. “do you… need anything?” he asks shyly, not sure what you need him to do.

“stay?” you ask, voice small. “gonna have to shower, and i’ll– um, need help,” you finish. there’s no chance you’ll be able to walk straight for at least the next few hours, let alone stand in the shower by yourself.

he smiles and puts a hand on your thigh, rubbing at the bruises that have started to form there. “i’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

you scrub at your face, getting the last of the mascara off your cheeks before tossing the dirtied wipe into the trash can by the nightstand.

with a bit of effort, you manage to throw your legs over the side of the bed, sitting at the edge. you glance behind you at the bed covered in both of your fluids, and you wince, knowing most of it is your fault. “sorry about the sheets,” you whisper, resisting the urge to hide your face in embarrassment.

“baby, we’ll wash them,” he smiles. “don’t worry about it.”

“okay,” you say quietly. you look over to cheol, still sitting beside you, and reach out with both hands for him to help you up.

he jumps up, taking your hands and tugging you to your feet. your legs wobble when you stand, and he slides his arm around your waist to support you as he helps walk you to the bathroom.

you flop down onto the toilet while seungcheol starts the shower, and you have to hold back a laugh at the sight. the buff, sexy innkeeper, butt-ass naked in your bathroom, leaning over the edge of the tub to test the water temperature and make sure it’s not too hot for you.

you know you’re only here for a week, but you could really get used to this.

taglist | @shuatm @yeosayang @noniestars @dkakapizzaboy @enhacolor @kimy3na @candidupped @berrryshortcake @tinkerbell460 @haraethx @iheartyeonnnnn @mxnghao8

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zozo-01 · 1 month

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"maybe god does love you enough to save you. maybe they were god all along."

This fic is part of the 'Hot Boi Summer Springback' Event ran by the Skyside Discord and organized by the lovely @angelicaether!! Thank you Aether and everyone else for participating in the event and you can read all of their fics on this master list here!!

For this I heard one line from Sam about how he wanted Darlin' ever since he's met them, and of course I had to fucking run with it!! Mix in a little religious trauma and boom!! Fic has been made. :) Thank you to @lovelylonerliterature for being my beta reader and @autisticempathydaemon, @cashandprizes and @horrorscoupes for being my IRL Sam Collinses, hehehe. (Also Lo, the other religious trauma fic is coming. >:3)

CW: Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Guilt, sam was raised southern baptist and it shows, darlin isn't catholic but they were also raised religiously, Self-Hatred, sam hates himself for being a vampire , Mentioned Alexis (Redacted ASMR), Mentioned Quinn (Redacted ASMR), only by names and action, Blood Mention, Blood Drinking, Disordered Eating, he is a vampire after all and he hates it, Mentioned Character Death, Referenced Character Death, Mentions of Minor Injuries, darlin is involved so of course there are injuries, sam is going through an existential crisis while darlin is just there teehee

click here for the ao3 link!!!

There were two types of blood to Samuel Collins. The ones he could barely tolerate and the ones he downright detested. It took a while for some of the former to graduate into the latter, but he doubted that he would ever be the kind of vampire that would savour the taste of blood. It was fuel, barely even food to him.

He chugged another blood bag, following it with a sip of his bourbon. The alcohol burned down the tangy aftertaste, making it slightly easier to digest it. For the first time in a decade, he found himself in an intense hunger, almost as bad as his bloodlust. He couldn't figure out what it was. He didn't feel extra stress, nor was he exerting his magic all that much. Whatever the case was, the result was him downing more blood than he did during his newborn years.

He sighed, staring at the empty bag and cup in his hands. He would wonder what he did to deserve all of this, but he's known the answer since he was younger and brighter. Throwing the bag into the trash, he poured himself a full glass of his bourbon and flopped onto his couch. Sam took a swing, hoping to get rid of the residual blood clinging to his throat.

He hated himself for the fact that he needed blood to survive, he was a healer for God's sake. Yet he hated himself for hating himself in the first place, stuck in a vicious cycle that would never end. There was nothing wrong with drinking blood, it's the same principle of humans eating meat. Sometimes, the lion has to eat the gazelle in order to survive. The circle of life. But Sam couldn't help but feel disgusted, filth finding its way from heart and tainting his body.

Guilt ate him alive, his old prejudices coming back to haunt him. He's met wonderful vampires, both before and after his turning. And he would never think of Vincent as a monster. But he couldn't help the little thoughts in his head that the fact that he was a vampire was wrong. He was just a monster, a feeder and a leech. (It's funny how his father's voice haunted him to this day.)

Sam never understood the difference between drinking the supposed blood of Christ and this, one was deemed holy and the other made him a heathen. If he drank blood from a holy source, then would his sins be washed away? Was there a chance that if he swallowed his pride and walked to the altar with a chalice in hand, would God, the Forgiving, forgive him?

The vampire forsaken God long after he was forsaken. It didn't stop Sam from making small prayers when times got rough, despite the fact that He wouldn't hear him. Some habits die hard, he knows that all too well.

He wondered how long it would take for him to make peace with his new lease on life. There was no chance of trying to go vegan, he'd exhausted every avenue of research in that direction. Meaning this was it. There was nothing more he could do to save his damned soul. He loathes Alexis a little more each day he goes without the sun kissing his skin like it used to.

Daddy always said that he was a dirty sinner at heart, his soul was stained from birth. It made sense that his physical body would match his sinning core. Alexis was just God's punishment for the monster that he was. Maybe if he spent more time on his hands and knees, he would have escaped his fate.

(That didn't explain them though. There was no way that He would send them his way. If Alexis was his punishment, then they were his salvation. Yet the only reason he could conceive as to why they came into his life was to punish him harder, teach him a lesson he's spent his life internalizing. He'd only pray that they won't get caught up in his hellish flames.)

It took two cups of bourbon and a whole lot of water for Sam to finally stop gagging at the blood. Funny how when he was younger, he would lick his bloody lips as a showing of strength and pride. He felt powerful when he consumed his blood. Now look at him, disdain was all that was left of the broken man sitting on the couch.

Time travel was the only answer to his problem, going back to the past to tell his younger self that Alexis wasn't worth it. The fun and wild thrill she gave wasn't worth the utter agony that would come his way. At the very least, he would tell himself to make it clearer to her that he didn't feel the same. But he didn't, and he got exactly what he deserved.

There's no use living in the past, he told himself out loud. What's done is done and all he could do was make do with the hand life has dealt him. Staring out the window, the millions of stars stared back at him with judgment. Fuck them, who gave them the right to cast their holy gaze to him. Not when they stood high up on their throne in heaven. They had no idea how hard it was to stay pure down on Earth. Lucky bastards must be thrilled to watch him suffer for their entertainment.

(Doesn't that sound familiar? I'm talking about you.)

His residual anger was enough to burn the forest surrounding his forced home, but he had to get it under control. There was time to rage and lament to the world, but tonight wasn't it, not when they would be coming by shortly.

The partnership he had with Darlin' was tentative, despite him already saving their sorry ass. Both of them were still trying to feel the other out, ready to pounce if the other showed signs of traitorous actions. Beyond that, he could tell that Darlin' was a good person with their heart in the right place. A bit of a bleeding heart, something he didn't expect at all, but it was a welcome surprise. If they met in different circumstances, then things may have been different.

If they had been born earlier, or him later, then they may have caught each other on the D.A.M.N. Campus. He'd stare at them, hopelessly enamoured with the shifter that stood maybe a few feet away. How could he not, they were absolutely beautiful. Prettier than the songbirds that would fly by or the sun's light that formed a halo on their head. His buddies would laugh at him, dying that the Samuel Collins, fuckboy extraordinaire, fell in love. But hell must have frozen over, for he was a fool just for them.

He would saunter towards them, his flirty tone immediately dismantled by their smile. Yet his awkwardness would endear them for some reason and they would let him court them, something no one thought he was capable of.

He would lead them back to his house, laying them on his bed and showing them how much he loved them-

Sam's mouth dried up and his fangs started to ache at the thought of their body under him. Goddamn it, he needed another damn blood bag. Trudging back to the kitchen, he drained another bag, not bothering with a cup as he drank straight from the bourbon bottle to wash down the taste.

This was getting ridiculous. Absolutely, fucking stupid. He couldn't turn into a fucking newborn every time he thought about them. He shouldn't even be thinking about them like that. It was wrong, and indecent, and robbed them of autonomy. He felt like an abomination for even daring to fantasize about them. He was nothing but a sinner and he couldn't taint their light.

That didn't stop his fangs from elongating at the thought of their blood anyway. He couldn't help it. They were just so damn bright and wonderful, he had no choice but to forget his own immoral heart. When bathing in the rays around Darlin', there was nothing to focus on but them. Their enchanting laugh and crude jokes burrowed their way deep into Sam's heart, and they wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

And their blood, don't even get him started. Unfortunately for his lust and hunger (he doesn't want to call it love right now), he's had the chance to smell their blood quite often. From large gaping wounds that he would heal to that stupid blood-soaked jacket that Darlin' refused to let go, he's sure he knows their scent as well as the priest knows his congregation. Something about how shifters have more magic in their blood compared to other empowered people, but he knew that wasn't the reason.

It was just because it was Darlin' and that they were incredible and wonderful. It was no secret that they were a vampire magnet, catching all of their attention whenever the two went out. His own blood would curl and rage would flow through his veins, jealousy taking reign of his wicked heart. But he couldn't blame any of them. Most vampires look for salvation in the people they bite, hoping the magic in their blood will be enough to save them.

But they had more potent blood, even more than the average shifter. It had to have been a blessing for them, their magic so powerful and their blood being a reflection of that. He could tell from the moment they bled all over their couch, and it made every vampire obsessed with having the taste of their blood. Their blood smelled like the blizzards they faced and he wondered if it tasted as cold as they smelled. Or maybe their blood was as warm as their sunshine self.

Clearly, he wasn't any better than the vampires who'd grab them and bare their fangs to force their blood into their mouths. He was utterly disgusting.

Sam watched the clock on top of the fireplace. (He stared at the judging eyes looking back at him.) They should be here sometime soon, knowing they'd arrive five minutes early because they're just so damn respectful of his time. It would be easier to hate, or at the very least control his fondness for them if they were a little terrible. They were an asshole and a little shit, but awful? Never in a million years.

He had to find a way to curb his craving for them, out of respect for them and to remind himself that he didn't deserve good things. How he got addicted to a drug before he took it was beyond him. But they were absolutely magical so he wouldn't put it past the realm of possibility.

Exactly when he expected, he heard their motorcycle park itself in front of the porch. The roaring engine woke the butterflies in his stomach, having to stop himself from zipping around the house in excitement.

A few relaxing breaths later, Sam deemed himself ready to face Darlin'. His bloodlust was in control and his heart calmed down from the earthquake it was. He stood in front of the door, waiting for Darlin' to finally knock on the door and bless him with their parents.

An eternity later, soft knocks filled the air and his cheeks started to hurt with a smile. Of course, he gave a couple of seconds before he opened the door, not wanting to look desperate for opening the door immediately.

Eyes meeting theirs, Sam lost his breath for a few minutes. The stars he cursed earlier shone brightly in their eyes, galaxies swirling into a beautiful kaleidoscope of divine essences. His heart picked up again, giving up on controlling it and instead hoping that Darlin' can't hear the pounding in his chest.

(Momentary silence filled his brain when tranced by their gaze. He doesn't know how the fuck they did it. The voices that filled his head, of the father he abandoned and the women who condemned him, all went quiet with their smile. Only their sweet voice and unintentional sweeter words remained in his brain. Rosaries were nothing but decorative garbage to him, but they were able to silence the demons in his head. Who needs a cross when their protection was all a man needs?)

A hand waving in front of his face tore him from his thoughts. "Hello? Earth to the Cowboy? Anyone home?" they joked with him, but there was that twinge of concern in their voice. Too caring for his wicked heart.

"Yeah, everythin's good here, darlin'," he reassured, nodding while moving to the side to let the wolf in. He had to hold his breath when they walked by him, their sweet scent entering his nose and driving himself. Had he been a weaker man, he would have pinned them right where they stood, but he'd had enough experience beating himself for his desires.

Sam went into the kitchen to get some water for them, knowing that it's probably been a while since they drank a cup of water. The way they chugged down the water was all the indication he needed.

With water in their body, Darlin' got to the root of why they were there. Quinn had been sending some of his lackeys after them, to stalk and intimidate them to go back to him. So far, their efforts hadn't amounted to anything, just some poor bastards who were promised a bump in pay if they were able to bring them to him. But recently, Quinn had been sending stronger mercenaries their way. Nothing they couldn't handle, but the escalation was definitely concerning, for who knew what his next steps would be.

If his mother was here, she would have told Sam to send Darlin' off with a rosary and prayer. That would be enough to keep evil spirits away, himself included. Unfortunately for him, they would balk at the idea of having something to protect them, which was the only thing that was stopping him from becoming their bodyguard.

He had more selfish intentions though, the rotten thing he was. If he spends more time with Darlin', then he can silence the voices permanently. Their heavenly light could cast out the darkness entrenched in his heart.

Once they were finished venting about this recent development, they slumped in their seat, exhausted from their constant vigilance. Truly, they didn't deserve any hardships in life. They were too good to deserve anything like this. Blessed with a kind heart and strong resolve, why would it dare be wasted on a desolate place such as this?

God loves you, but not enough to save you.

"I didn't know you were religious," their questioning tone brought him out of his thoughts. He found it silly that they would ask a question like that until he saw what they were looking at.

It was an old crucifix on top of his fireplace, golden in colour and with various coloured gems. On it were the eyes that have been judging him since he left Mont Blanc. It had been a gift from his mother before he ran away, her way of blessing him on his journey. But it served more as a reminder of how far he's fallen from the golden boy he was all those years back.

The eyes of Jesus bore into his soul, asking him what was the point of him dying for his sins if he still turned out to be a heathen.

Hand waving in front of his face, he remembered that Darlin' was in the room with him. The heat from the crucifix's eyes died down, maybe wondering if they would deal their final blow to him.

"Yeah- um, my momma gave it to me 'fore I left home," he started to explain, finding any way to skirt this conversation and meaningfully answer their question. "She was a Southern Baptist at heart, thought a cross could save a life." He smirked at that sentiment, clearly it didn't do anything to save him. He didn't give himself any chances.

Their gaze was transfixed on the crucifix to the point where they didn't even look back to face him. Maybe it was a similar likeness that was calling out to each other? Who could know with that one.

"It's beautiful," their hazed voice filled the room. He looked back at the crucifix, not finding anything notable about it. It was just a wooden thing with a dead man on it. Nothing holy to worship, just a sign of empty promises made toward forgiveness.

If anything, the wolf in front of them was more worthy of worship and prayer, because he knew that any pact made with them would be worth it. Why pray to the dead when the living is so much better?

A genuine curiosity about their interest made him ask the question, "you religious growin' up too?" They never gave off the vibe of being God-fearing, but some people hide it better than others. Or learn how to not shove it down peoples' throats.

"I was, not Catholic though," they answered while finally turning back to face him. "Wasn't Southern Baptist either," they added with a chuckle. His wolf was filled with interesting little factoids. He couldn't imagine his Darlin' on their knees praying, but they always had a hopeful outlook that it was hard not to think they didn't believe in the divine. He hummed in acknowledgement, going back and sitting silently next to them.

"If you don't mind me asking…" their voice trailed in hesitation, a tell-tale sign that they were looking for permission to continue speaking. He nodded, giving them the OK to finish their question. Their eyes went back to the crucifix with a questioning look in their eye. "Why keep it around if you're not super religious?"

Sam understood it was a valid question to ask, even if he had a complicated answer to it. Was he supposed to tell Darlin' that he kept the cross around as his failure? That if he shut up and lived the life of pain that his parents laid out for him, then he wouldn't have ended up as the monster he was now. He hated himself and there was no one better than God to keep judging him.

"Well…" he stalled, trying to find a suitable answer. "I keep it as a reminder of where I came from," he started, only to scoff. "And where I don't want to go back to." He'd rather go through his accident again than go back to that hellscape. "'Sides, it's nothin' but a piece of wood. Ain't nothin' magical to it."

There was a contemplative look on their face, finding a way to choose their next words without touching on any sensitive subjects. Their narrowed eyes could burn a hole in the floor they were staring at and he could only wonder about the thoughts firing off in their head. (Really, he wondered if they ever thought of him with this level of intensity.)

"Do you believe in God?" they asked with a quiet tone. Now that was a question that he didn't expect from them.

"I just told ya I was raised religious," he snarked, "I don't know what you're tryin' to say."

They rolled their eyes, flicking his arm in protest of the teasing. "You're such an asshole, leech," they laughed it off and Sam was sure that was the sound of the seven trumpets. What a beautiful way to die.

They went quiet again, their eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "You don't have to be religious to believe in God, ya know."

"Oh yeah? What 'bout you Darlin'? Do you believe in God?" he asked in retaliation, interested in what their answer would be. Part of him hoped that they didn't, that he was right in putting his faith in what he could see.

"I do," they said bluntly. It wasn't the answer he was hoping for, but he kept quiet to let them keep talking. "I was raised with the whole 'what's written with you is meant for you'. Basically, what God wants to happen will happen." They rest their head on Sam's shoulder and his arm instinctively wrapped around them. "I know most people don't like that idea, 'cuz it robs them of autonomy. But I don't know, I've always found it comforting. No matter how much bad shit happens to me, it won't be more than I can bear."

"And if it is too much for you to handle?" he questioned gently.

"Then God would write some comfort for me," they giggled. "I know it's stupid, but it's the little things that get me through the day." They yawned and made themselves comfortable on his shoulder. Sam could feel his heart pounding. "You still haven't answered my question."

He took one last look at Darlin', with their pretty face trying to fight off the exhaustion that caught up to them. He couldn't stop staring at their eyes. Sweet and forgiving, they were the eyes he wished would look at them whenever he went to church. They were what God's gaze was supposed to be, free from the hate and judgement he suffered from the congregation. Maybe if they were guiding him from the start, then none of this would have happened. They wouldn't allow any bad things to happen to him.

(Then again, if he was never turned then he wouldn't have met Darlin'. Or at least they would meet in a drastically different context. He wouldn't have the chance to fall in love with them. So maybe Darlin' was right that there was a light at the end of the tunnel for everyone. He just can't believe that he deserved that respite.)

Contemplation be damned, there was no point in thinking about the question when he already knew the answer. "Yeah, suppose I still believe in God, just found it on my own terms." They didn't need to know that they were the only God that he believed in. His mind already started building the shrines in their honour, wondering if they would ever be enough to share his love for them.

It was much easier than saying the words 'I love you'. He may never have the courage (or the right) to say those words.

"I'm glad… that you could tell me…" their voice teemed with yawns and sleep. He chuckled, of course Darlin' would push back on precious sleep in order to listen to his response. That simple action did more for him than any divine being he was forced to worship.

Gently as he could, knowing that Darlin' was a light sleeper, he picked them up and brought them to his spare bedroom. As much as he so wanted to bring them to his bed, that was a big step that neither of them were ready for. Hell, they haven't even hinted that it was something they would be interested in, and his heart wouldn't survive precious Darlin' sleeping in his bed. But it was ok, he would wait an eternity to be with them.

Sam watched them as they slept, eyeing the little details that they hid in their waking moments. Like how their eyebrows were so expressive, or the way their lip scar would stretch with their smile.

This was so very wrong. Watching them sleep, observing them so carefully, he was being a fucking creep for this. But he couldn't help but not look away. Darlin' was so reserved in their waking moments, and he wanted to see them at their most vulnerable. Even if he was tainting them with his corruption, leave him be! He deserves to be a remorseless, selfish thing once in a while. They were so endearing in their sleeping state, and he promised to always protect them in all of their glory. From their sweet eyes and beautiful body and split lip-

There was blood dripping from their face.

His mouth watered before the intoxicating scent hit his nose. Sam froze where he stood, torn between the want to lick the blood of his face and the need to leave. His heart versus his conscience. He had fed only an hour ago and of course, their blood was enough to make him starve again. His shaky hands wiped the blood from their face and then quickly cleaned it off with a napkin in his pocket, not even giving himself the chance to taste it.

He ran out of the room, locking the door behind him to keep them safe from him. His chest heaved with panic, heart racing a marathon. It wasn't fair that Darlin's blood had this much of an effect on them, but it wasn't their fault either. This was Sam's problem to deal with, and he'd be damned if he made his Darlin' feel guilty over something they had no control over.

Calming himself to a reasonable point, he made his way back to the kitchen. Sam opened up the damn fridge to grab another damn blood bag and a bottle of bourbon, sliding onto the floor and chugging it all over again. If only he was normal, then he would just slip into bed and cuddle his wolf, and not run out at the sight of something as simple as blood.

At this point, he's sure that Darlin' would never want him. They've told him little bits and pieces about their relationship with Quinn, and how absolutely vile he was to them. From biting them without their consent to pressuring them into taking care of him, it's no wonder that they would be a little hesitant to jump into another relationship with a vampire. He had his own gripes with Alexis. But Sam was coming to the awful realisation that he was more like Quinn than he thought.

Shame and disgust filled his throat once again. It wasn't fair that Darlin' was stuck with monster after monster, they deserved so much better than him. Yet he couldn't help the jealous bile that filled his mouth at the thought of Darlin' with another person. What an awful predicament.

He gazed back at the crucifix with judging eyes. Only they weren't as harsh this time. Still judging as ever, but this time there was a hint of… was it encouragement? That wasn't the right term, but it was as if they were nudging him on a certain path. If he was truly willing to repent and walk the path of salvation, then somehow Darlin' would be a part of that journey.

He let out a wistful laugh, finding it impossible that Darlin' would ever want to waste their time 'fixing' him. But there was a corner of his heart, one where a sliver of light made its presence known.

Maybe God does love you enough to save you. Maybe they were God all along.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fanfic #redacted sam #redacted darlin #IM GOING BACK TO MY ROOTS #TO MY FAVE COUPLE!!!!#hot boi summer springback #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

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l3viat8an · 9 months

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I have nsfw analytical thoughts about levi dyck so yeah, for those who wish to read/listed, Nsfw twin dick analysis following:

Due to some research on my own part i have some things to say about possible Levi dick theory: firstly, if he has more than one dick, there is absolutely no way to quietly or secretly have sex unless his room is sound proofed and we know it isn't t because everyone can hear him yell all the time. I say this because the two dicks in question, no matter the size or shape (tested this theory on multiple things including tentacles) it creates a gap that allows a significant amount of air to be shoved in an out of MC. Im afab so i have only tested the i tended entry for this >_>

That being said, said gap not only is going to allow for "air noises" it also means any cum or eggs or what ever else scenario is happening, is going to be thrusted out n several directions upon entry thrust.

The other thing i noticed, if it is tentacle like, it requires a lot more lube for some reason? Dunno y or where tf its going but it gets used up quicker.

The next bit i know from having kids: even if ur like me and like having ur cervix hit with the dyck, having it opened HURTS LIKE A BITCH. A nurse checked regularly to see how open it was and her shoving fingers n it hurt, none the less if you're re putting some penile protrusions in there to lay eggs. Thats gunna hurt so bad. Even when numbed. I took all the meds they would give me and it still hurt. This from someone with a high pain tolerance.

(Do with this what you heathens reading this will, to each their own.)

On the egg thing; while oviposition is cool, this also implies that Levi is trans. Even if he's also adding sperm to inseminate, that would mean he's hermaphroditic and you the reader are just a holding cell. So yeah, egg levi says trans rights no matter what 👍

The only species on earth where the male is the female position baby wise are sea horses and sea dragons, neither of which lay eggs. The female lays them and the male carries them in a pouch to give birth later.

For mc to then birth what ever kind of egg levi has to give, that egg is going to need to be soft shelled to get past the super tight cervix and through the curved birth canal. The egg could harden after the fact like a snake, but that might pose some higher risk to MC as that kind of egg usually has some glue like substance its laid with and if that hardens inside a human MC they might have medical issues to follow; and should those eggs not be of the soft shell variety, MC needs a cesarean [c-section] to remove them so they don't shatter upon contraction or push.

This all assuming they're a size that is smaller than a human baby that can be pushed out to begin with. As with egg laying creatures they are born the size that can fit in the egg and just grown normally unlike human babies that r born and then continue to develop before growing. Its a minor difference but kinda important.

I won’t lie- I’ve used a tentacle toy before the lube is so true helpshdj but never two- like wow- I bow to you anon 🙇🏼‍♀️

‘n the whole ’cervix fucking’ is fun to read but like irl not really my thing, and I don’t even want to imagine the pain of having it opened 😭 fanfics are amazing!!!but I could never jshsjsj

Honestly I love the idea of Levi being hermaphroditic- (so many ideas)

Also this is all gonna be super helpful for more ‘realistic’-ish writing!!! Omfg- thank you!!

#I don’t even have much to say tbh-#I’m just taking notes 🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️#tw monsterfucking #< lil bit so just in case!!#smut #obey me levi smut #levi <333 #ro rambles

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beevean · 6 months

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Is it just me or does the way NFCV treat Nosaac being Muslim, not really different than how irl Islamophobic Christians see Muslims as just devil-worshipping satanists? I don't think it really matters that his use of dark magic is framed as cool with God somehow actually, when it's also effectively just "yes, the islamic god Baphomet is out to get you for being Christian" as a trope anyways. Maybe I'm mis-remembering/misreading something, but it's really been bothering me.

It's very suspicious, yes. And I can tell you it was unintentional, because they chose the literally worst character to make Black and Muslim but they didn't care because they only wanted to "fix the stupid character".

Isaac reveres a vampire who wants to exterminate mankind. Isaac agrees with the notion that humans are inherently cruel and poisonous and the world would be better without them. Isaac has expressed a lack of concern for his own life: he assumed that he would eventually be killed by Dracula, and wanted to lay down his life for his sake. Isaac has studied dark magic that allows him to extract souls from Hell and put them into dead bodies to turn them into man-eating monsters. Isaac says, quite literally, that he wants a "pure" world. Isaac uses Mohammed's words (allegedly - Muslim people have told me that the quote about the doors of Hell rattling in the wind is fake) to justify his mission of turning every human possible into an abomination.

How did anybody not put two and two together and realize that he looks like the parody of a jihadist? my man wants to purify the world from "evil" people in the name of Mohammed and is ready to die for his cause, give me a fucking break!

Isaac, of all characters, should have not been made Black or Muslim! His whole deal is that he worships the equivalent of Satan! He's servile to the point of self-nullification! Bruh! Hector and Isaac are both heathens and do not follow any God, because by creating cursed life they go against any kind of religion known to man! It's not just the Christian God who would have issues with this! (and making him a Black man serving a white master and declaring he wants to die for him, well it's kind of ehhhhh. I don't like raceswapping, but if you really wanted to do that, Hector was literally right there. Maybe that would have convinced Ellis to give him some dignity :V)

In theory, in a vacuum, an hypocritical Muslim anti-villain who believes himself to be a good devoted Muslim while in reality he's sinning left and right could work just as well as your classic hypocritical Christian priest. But we're not to the point where we could do that, not after 20 years of intense Islamophobia that equated Islam with terrorism, not without an immense amount of care. And Isaac did not get this kind of care. He's Muslim only in S3, at his worst point: in S2 he flagellates because of his past as a slave, which then became "I do it because I'm a Sufi", and by S4, the season where he wakes up Enlightened™, his scenes are all about how he enjoys having agency and how he wants to live. I think he only says "God is good" once. Also he doesn't really regret his past sins, he just decides to do things for his own sake.

It doesn't help that Isaac is framed not as an hypocrite, but as the cool, tragic villain. He's smart, he's wise, he's justified in being a misanthrope, he's justified in killing people who don't want his demon army to pass through. We are meant to ohh and ahh at his Enlightment™ while quietly ignoring how he, unlike Hector, chose time and time and time again the path of death and cruelty being fully aware of what it would entail.

#anti netflixvania #if people who know more about islam want to add their two cents please feel free!

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dotjretion · 8 months

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heathens will see a tree irl and be like holy shit yggdrasil reference

#paganism #this isnt even a joke making fun of paganism im literally pagan lmao

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disenchantedif · 1 year

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Ah yes.....Luis and Francesca.....the names of the most heathen like creatures walking the earth. (no offense to my irl luis and francs)

Luis and Francesca watch your backs 😡🔪

#answered asks

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odinsblog · 1 year

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I'm really feeling some kinda way (ngl, a lil bit salty) at the people disparaging Rihanna's Super Bowl performance as low energy?? Like, sis was a whole ass 12 months pregnant and performing on platforms suspended dozens of feet in the air ... and "lackluster" is the adjective some of you class-A heathens, haters and rejects decided to use?? Really?

I could almost be heated over it, but I know she did her thing and is now probably chilling and enjoying her life, her husband, children and her billions

Nah, you know what? I fuckm hate people who stan for famous people so hard you'd think they're best friends irl or something.

If you didn't like the performance, that's your business. Do you, however that might be done.

But I really dO gotta say, I've seen other Super Bowl performers lazily phone it in and not have their performances criticized nearly as much. I could go on and say how it's funny that it's usually Black women who get overly criticized, but I won't get into that rn.

It was a damn good medley, rife full of all the little things that make Rihanna, Rihanna (pausing to do her makeup with her own brand? Iconic. And lmao, she still can't wink to save her damn life), and after watching it, I realized I had no idea just how much Rihanna has contributed to our music over the last two decades.

I enjoyed tf outta the performance. It was a nice stroll down my adolescent memory lane

#a post about me #odin rants #kinda sorta #a soft rant #rihanna #super bowl #super bowl 57

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neon-junkie · 13 days

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This going to sound insane but I need to tell someone, since I can't trust anyone irl to keep this quiet but, I just spent the last thirty six hours writing myself the most self indulgent, filth-filled Quinlan Vos x reader fic that I never intend to post but instead keep for my own personal enjoyment.

It's 23,000 words and over 33 Google Docs pages if I don't include paragraph spacing. I know, as a fellow heathen, you might want to know that your confidence in writing hot smut has given me the courage to write my own hot smut, even if it's only for me to read and get heart palpitations from.

I have NEVER even ATTEMPTED to write smut until 36 hours ago and now, here I am, telling my favorite author on Tumblr that I finally did it. I did it for me and because I think you'd be proud to know you helped someone in their journey to writing smut and safely exploring their own interests. Thanks, Neon, you're a mother effing legend!

GOD DAMN!!!!!

wait so- 23k words in 36 hours?!!!! are you okay?!!!!! that's INSANE. i hope you had a well-needed break after bashing that one out lol. wowee!!!

i'm always going to recommend this, but share it!! i mean, if you want to. a lot of my fics are self-indulgent, written specifically to my taste, but that's the thing - if you want a specific fic, you're going to have to write it yourself! and props to you for doing that!!!

im so chuffed you did that for yourself. what a treat!! thank you for using me as your inspiration, i really appreciate it <3

#ask #love

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gefdreamsofthesea · 1 year

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The Andersons Do Not Get Enough Shit For Their Bullshit: My Thoughts on Feri.

First of all in case this post breaches containment, a little about myself. I'm Gef, I'm a thirty-something white cis disabled Canadian lesbian. I have a BA in Religion and Culture from Wilfrid Laurier University and an MLIS from the University of Western Ontario (I think it changed its name since I graduated). I also have minors in Medieval Studies and Women's Studies but they don't give you pieces of paper for those. My spiritual journey looks something like Catholic - New Ager - eclectic Wiccan-ish - Dianic-ish (the TERFy kind) - Heathen - Vanatru - now I kind of just read about witchy stuff, goddess-y stuff, and I collect divination decks. This isn't the first I've heard of Feri, but this is the first time I've sat down and read up on it.

I would just like to take a moment to recap what I've read so that everyone is on the same page:

Heart of the Initiate: Feri Lessons

Fifty Years in the Feri Tradition

Evolutionary Witchcraft by T. Thorn Coyle

The Wikipedia pages for Feri and Victor Anderson

A couple articles on feritradition.com

I read The Spiral Dance ages ago and am currently rereading it but am not including it here.

I think that's all the basics covered, let's get to the meat of the discussion.

I'll start with what I found appealing about the tradition. Both the founders and initiates stress that Feri is an ecstatic tradition, not a "fertility religion" like Wicca. It is a tradition of the poet, of being in your body, of dancing with the gods. It's also pretty explicitly queer (but see below): God Herself catches Her own reflection in a mirror and makes love to Herself, creating all the other deities in the pantheon. Coyle in particular talks about the Gods and Guardians (think like the Guardians of the Watchtowers in Wicca) as being genderfluid. The tradition practices ritual possession where the genders of the deity and their host don't matter.

Regarding Evolutionary Witchcraft specifically. I found the exercises (which involve a lot of breathing and awareness) to be useful and I think they would be of use to any witch. I also love the way she speaks of the Earth element in particular, as I think a lot of Pagan books are like "Oh Earth is money and other boring mundane stuff" whereas she talks about Earth as money but also as safety, security, the place where you incubate things (like in a cave), and the tomb. Despite my issues, I think I would recommend it.

Having said all that, I feel like the Andersons do not get enough shit for their bullshit.

Based on his students accounts, Victor sounds like a bit of an asshole at best. He's described as "a taskmaster" and that "One could ask for clarification, but to even hint that one disagreed with him, or worse yet, to contradict him, would result in an immediate and permanent order to leave," which is maybe just me but I wouldn't want to study under a teacher who didn't allow for disagreements or questioning, that's a cult leader thing. His wife Cora comes across as a yes (wo)man "my husband is a great shaman and an expert on x, y, and z." Now honestly I feel like people should hype up their spouses, but this is a constant throughout their writings.

Honestly though, I didn't get the chance to know them personally. Maybe they were awesome people irl. I'm just going off what I've read, but even if they were both very nice people, I still have some major issues.

One of these issues are the Andersons' claims about their own religion. Feri dates back to the Stone Age (uh huh), Feri's origins are in Africa (sure). Victor claimed to be a kahuna and an expert on Vodou. Apparently, once Victor read something he thought was true, he decided it had always been true. I should note here that near as I can tell, his source for info on Hawaiian religion is that Huna book by that white guy writing about what he thought Native Hawaiians believed. I've heard people justify this by being like "oh well Victor was being poetic and not literal" but that doesn't change the fact that it's straight up bullshit. Poetic lies are still lies. So yeah you'll often hear "Feri draws from a variety of traditions" but I'd say in some cases it's less "influenced by" and more "appropriated from" (I do feel the need to mention that some initiates have moved away from, say, using Hawaiian terms for their concepts).

I mentioned the deities in passing but Feri has its own pantheon. Most of the deity names are Welsh and many deities go by several names or are seen as similar to named deities in many cultures (the Blue God, for instance, being compared to Krishna) and they also have secret names that only initiates know. One important aspect of the Blue God is the Peacock God, at first I was going to include him under the section on appropriation, but Feri practitioners have apparently been in contact with actual Yazidis who have given their blessing re: Feri worship of Melek Taus but I'd prefer to hear it directly from the Yazidi that they are cool with it.

Okay so way back at the beginning I mentioned Feri was very queer but I really should amend that to say "unless you're asexual" because oh boy sex is inescapable in this tradition. It's implied that sexual activity between initiator and initiate is a thing that happens but there's an alternative ritual called the Intentions of the Heart where you do (non-sexual) ritual things and then "your first act of sexual intercourse" post-ritual is your initiation. The foundation of Feri practice is the Iron pentacle, where "sex" is at the top. There is also the Pearl pentacle, seen as the "higher energy" version of Iron, where sex becomes love. In Evolutionary Witchcraft, Coyle makes a few unfortunate statements about the relationship of sex to love that imply you cannot have love without sex. I don't really see a lot of room for asexual practitioners in this system, which is a shame because I know of some wonderful queer initiates of this tradition. I would be interested in an initiate's view on this because I know queer practitioners have talked about using an amethyst pentacle, for instance. I should note however, that Coyle states that not everyone needs or wants initiation as it involves marriage to the deities and responsibilities to the tradition, but as I said the tools and techniques she talks about are fine to use.

I did actually like Evolutionary Witchcraft so even if the tradition is not for me, I do what I usually do: take the bits I find useful and leave the rest.

#feri tradition #feri #witchcraft

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