#scribbled scripture

[mattastr0phic]

Doodle dump cause I miss that yummy texture brush from my ipad

[kahvedebiyat]

[korepersephone]

Ti prego.. GUARDAMI!

Sono solo un'amica... un’amica nel momento del bisogno.

Mi dico che va bene così, che mi accontenterò di essere la persona su cui può contare nei momenti difficili, la presenza silenziosa che è sempre pronta a dare senza chiedere nulla in cambio. Ma la verità è che dentro di me un grido si fa largo. E quel grido è un'inquietante domanda che non trova risposta: Perché non mi vede?

Perché sembra che ogni volta io non sia mai più di un’ombra nella sua vita, un’ombra che esiste solo quando è necessario. Sono quella che è lì, sempre pronta ad ascoltare, a consolare, a sostenere. Ma ogni volta che mi guardo nello specchio, vedo una persona che sta perdendo se stessa in questo ruolo che mi sono costruita. Eppure, non posso fare a meno di sperare che un giorno cambi qualcosa. Mi chiedo, ogni volta che lo guardo negli occhi, se arriverà un momento in cui finalmente mi vedrà davvero. Se capirà che tutto ciò che desidero è che si accorga di me, non come amica, ma come qualcosa di più, qualcosa che ha bisogno di essere visto.

Posso davvero continuare a dargli solo amicizia quando dentro di me esplode una voglia irrefrenabile di essere qualcosa di più per lui? Posso continuare a rinunciare alla mia stessa felicità solo per stare vicino a lui, anche se so che ogni volta che lo faccio mi allontano un po' di più da quella che sono realmente?

E mi chiedo, lo farò mai? Mi vedrà mai? O continuerà a guardarmi come la ragazza che c'è sempre, ma che non può mai essere altro, una figura di contorno nella sua vita? Io voglio essere più di questo. Voglio che mi veda, che capisca. Voglio che, per un attimo, veda oltre l'amicizia, oltre quella facciata che abbiamo costruito. Voglio che si accorga di come i miei occhi cerchino i suoi, di come il mio cuore batta più forte ogni volta che mi parla, che mi sfiora con le sue parole.

Ti prego, guardami!

Non mi importa quanto tu possa essere distratto, quanto tu possa essere preso da te stesso, dalle tue cose.

Apri gli occhi, e guarda me!

Sono proprio qui, davanti a te. Non sono solo una spalla su cui appoggiarti. Non sono solo quella che ti ascolta. Sono una persona, con i suoi sogni, le sue emozioni, con una voglia che non riesco più a nascondere.

Sono qui. E ti prego, smettila di ignorarmi. Guarda quello che c'è oltre la mia maschera di amica. Guarda chi sono davvero. Perché non posso più fingere di essere solo un'amica… non quando il mio cuore ha bisogno di più.

[passerinesoncaffeine]

Sometimes. You read a fic so fucking good that you wish to be a medival monk so you could make illuminated manuscripts of it to pass onto generations after. And also so I could just live rent free in a monastery and do this all day.

[sixeyesonathiel]

shy girls suck the best!

fratjo x nerd!reader, fluff & smut, m receiving, overstimulation, whimpering toru. 3.5k wc, 18+ only, MDNI.

satoru gojo is experienced.

he’s cocky for a reason. he’s made girls scream his name more times than he can count, and he knows exactly how to make someone fold in under five minutes—ten if he’s playing nice. he’s all confidence, charm, and unearned a’s from professors who don’t want to deal with his antics. his reputation precedes him in every room, and he walks like the world’s already bent over backwards just to please him.

everything about him screams untouchable, and he’s used to people treating him that way. he wears his varsity jacket like armor, a walking billboard of fratboy glory, all swagger and smirks and lazy confidence that makes people gravitate toward him like he’s got his own gravity field.

but then there’s you.

the shy girl in glasses, always scribbling in your notebook with an absurdly cute pen, whispering apologies when you bump into people, hiding in the back row of class like you owe the world an explanation just for existing. you don’t talk unless spoken to, don’t make eye contact, and definitely don’t give satoru the attention he’s used to. it’s not that you’re cold—it’s that you seem like you live in your own quiet little world, and satoru’s never wanted to be invited somewhere so badly.

and maybe what undoes him first is that he sees you before you see him. you’re already there, present in the corners of his attention before he understands why he’s looking. he notices you one day during lecture, tucking your hair behind your ear as you underline a sentence three times with an intense little frown. it doesn’t seem like much. but something in him clicks.

at first it’s curiosity. then amusement. then it festers into irritation—because why the fuck aren’t you reacting to him like everyone else?—and then fascination. and then something deeper that coils in his chest and makes his throat tight every time he sees you. he tries not to care. he wants not to care. but you’re already rooting yourself in places inside him he didn’t know were hollow.

satoru notices you because you don’t notice him. not the way everyone else does. you don’t flutter your lashes when he smirks. you don’t laugh at his jokes like they’re scripture. you don’t even flinch when he calls you “baby” out of nowhere—just blink at him like he’s an equation you don’t understand. it bruises his ego. and for some unholy reason, he loves it.

the problem is, you’re not immune to him at all. you’re just hiding it better than anyone ever has.

because what he doesn’t know is—you’ve always had a crush on him. from the very first time he walked into class, sleepy-eyed and bright-smiled, wearing that damn jacket like it belonged on a movie screen. you just figured he’d never notice someone like you. so you admired from afar. watched him flirt with others, watched the way he filled a room with laughter, memorized the cadence of his voice like it was part of your playlist.

your crush was harmless. private. something you never expected to act on. you played it safe. after all, guys like satoru gojo don’t fall for quiet girls with awkward posture and color-coded notes.

but maybe that’s what draws him in��the absence of performance. the quiet genuine way you exist. no theatrics. no games. just you, completely unaware that you’ve started haunting his every thought.

it starts small.

he catches himself watching the way your hands move. the way your nose scrunches when you’re deep in thought. the way you roll your pen between your fingers when you're anxious. it becomes a loop, a soft little addiction. he remembers details he shouldn’t. what color post-its you use. your preferred snack during study sessions. your favorite seat in the library. you don’t change. he just tunes in.

and then, one day, he realizes he’s rearranging his life around yours.

he starts showing up everywhere you are. loiters in the library, conveniently always around during your shifts at the campus café, makes excuses to sit next to you in class. offers to carry your books, asks you about calculus even though he already passed it. satoru gojo, golden boy of his frat, reducing himself to extra tutoring just to see you smile. it’s humiliating in theory, but it feels like worship in practice.

and it’s not just your smile. it’s the way you get passionate when you talk about obscure theories. the way you light up when you don’t think anyone’s watching. the way you stammer when he gets too close, but don’t pull away.

you don’t feed his ego. you feed something softer. quieter. something he didn’t think he had in him. he tells himself it’s because you’re innocent. because you’re shy and sweet and you deserve to be treated right.

he wants to be good for you. slow, patient, gentle. he holds doors open. he listens. he lets you rant about your thesis for forty-five uninterrupted minutes and actually understands it. he even looks up the books you reference, reads them just to impress you. he takes an annotated copy of your favorite book. he starts writing your name in the corners of his notebook like some love-struck high schooler. you haunt him in the best way.

and then—you kiss him.

it’s after a late-night study session. the campus is quiet. the lights in the library flicker like they’re caught between timelines. your voice shakes when you say “thank you for walking me back.” you pause, fidget with the strap of your bag. and then, like you’ve been gearing up for battle, you rise onto your toes and kiss him.

it’s chaste. hesitant. warm. like you're afraid he'll vanish if you lean in too much.

you pull back like you’ve done something wrong, but satoru’s frozen, staring at you like he’s just been baptized. you’re blushing so hard he can feel the heat radiating off your skin.

“you… sure?” he whispers, voice ragged, leaning in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

you nod, barely audible: “i’ve read… a lot. i think… i wanna try. with you.”

and he short circuits.

he thought he’d lead. thought he’d ease you into it, kiss your forehead, hold your hand like a gentleman. but then your hands are on his chest, pushing up under his shirt—the varsity jacket creaking as it shifts on his shoulders, the cotton brushing your fingertips. your eyes are searching his like you’re looking for confirmation that he’s real. you study every reaction like a research project. when he shivers, you smile, barely-there, and go back to tracing the line of his abs with trembling fingertips.

it’s not even mischief.

it’s curiosity. slow-burning, chest-aching, and barely held together by your own hesitation. the sort of yearning that tastes like nervous giggles and the edge of something terrifyingly new. you pause between touches like you're checking your hypothesis, calculating the way his muscles tense under your fingers. each brush of your skin feels like a question he's too dazed to answer properly.

“does that… feel good?” you whisper, lips barely moving, as though you’re scared to break the spell.

“f-fuck—yes, baby, yeah,” he gasps, throwing his head back, one hand clutching the edge of the couch like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

your lips trail down his throat, each kiss a trembling prayer, following a path only you can see. his skin is fever-hot, tasting of mint and salt, boyish charm unraveling under your mouth. when you press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone, his pulse jumps, a twitch rippling beneath your lips. his breath catches, a sharp stutter that makes his chest lurch, and his hands hover, fingers flexing like he’s afraid touching you will break the spell.

satoru gojo—fratboy, golden boy, untouchable—is quiet. too quiet. his eyes are hazy, pupils wide and unfocused, lips parted like words have abandoned him. his varsity jacket is bunched at his elbows, leather creaking, shirt rucked up to his ribs, abs clenching under your trembling fingers. he could take charge, flip this with a smirk—he’s done it countless times, effortless and expert. but now? he just watches, reverent, like you’re a deity he’s too awestruck to approach.

he’s known mouths. polished ones with perfect rhythm, greedy ones that took without giving, bold ones that knew every angle. but yours? it’s hesitant, new, like you’re crossing a threshold you’re not sure you’re worthy of. the way you look at him—eyes flickering behind slipping glasses, wide with awe—shouldn’t hit this hard. shouldn’t feel this fucking intense. but your fingers, shaking as they tug at his waistband, send a jolt through him that makes his vision spark.

satoru’s hand grazes your cheek, a trembling brush of knuckles. “baby… keep going. please.”

you nod, glasses sliding, your breath hitching as your fingers slip under his jeans, easing them down. your eyes flick up, catching his—flushed, jaw tight, his whole body fighting to stay still. it hits you like a blade: he’s done this a thousand times, fucked girls who knew every trick, but you’ve got him like this. trembling. aching. satoru gojo, invincible, unraveling because of you.

guilt stabs your chest, sharp and fleeting. you shouldn’t have him like this, shouldn’t be the reason his hands clutch the couch like it’s his only anchor. he’s always cocky, untouchable, the center of every orbit. now he’s breaking, and it’s your fault—your lips, your touch, your fault. but the guilt only fans the heat in your core, makes your thighs press together as you lean closer, your breath ghosting over his skin.

satoru is used to being wanted. but not like this. not with this aching, earnest hunger that makes his chest tighten.

you press shaky, open-mouthed kisses to his hip, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin. spit gathers at the corner of your mouth, a slick trail left behind as you suck softly at the sensitive skin just above his cock. he jolts, hips jerking before he catches himself, a low curse slipping free, his hands clenching until his knuckles bleach. the sound he makes—fuck, it’s a choked gasp, raw and ragged, like you’ve torn it from his core.

you shift lower, hands sliding up his thighs, fingers digging into the taut muscle. your kisses grow bolder, sloppier, your tongue dragging along the crease where his thigh meets his groin, leaving a glistening streak of drool that catches the dim light.

he tastes like heat and need, and the way his skin trembles under your mouth makes your own pulse hammer. you pause, lips hovering over his cock, spit pooling on your tongue, and glance up—his head is thrown back, throat bobbing as he swallows, a groan clawing its way out of him.

“holy shit—baby, you—fuck,” satoru gasps, eyes snapping open, blown wide as his hand grips the couch, fabric groaning under his fist.

you take him in your mouth, lips wrapping around the tip, soft and slick with spit that drips down his length. your tongue swirls, slow and deliberate, tracing the ridge as drool spills from the corners of your mouth, coating him in a wet sheen.

he’s hot, heavy against your tongue, and you hum—a low, vibrating sound that pulls a whimper from his throat. your fingers curl around the base, stroking in time with the bob of your head, slick with the spit that pools at his base, making your grip slippery. you suck, gentle at first, then harder, lips stretching around him as spit slicks your chin, a glistening trail dripping onto his thighs.

he’s panting, desperate, each breath a ragged plea. his abs flex, thighs trembling under your palms, and he’s biting back whimpers, trying not to overwhelm you. that restraint—fuck, it’s gorgeous, the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes flutter shut like he’s fighting to stay grounded. he doesn’t push, doesn’t guide, just moans your name like it’s a prayer, raw and broken. “that’s it, baby—fuck—just like that—your mouth’s so fucking perfect—”

the satoru gojo is unraveling, and it’s because of you. the way you glance up, glasses fogging, eyes glassy with effort, lips shiny and stretched around him, spit dripping down your chin in messy strings. the way your tongue flicks, catching the sensitive spot under the head, makes his hips buck, a choked sob escaping.

your hand slides lower, fingers brushing his balls, tentative but deliberate, slick with the drool that’s pooled at his base. you cup them, rolling gently, and his whole body seizes, a string of curses spilling out as his hand fists the couch tighter, the fabric creaking under the strain.

he’s had every fantasy, every trick, but this—your mouth, slow and reverent, full of wonder, messy with spit that coats him like a second skin—hits like a fucking freight train. it’s too much, too good. he wants to last, to let you explore, but you’re too fucking intent.

you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, tongue swirling in tight, wet circles, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth as you take him deeper, throat tightening around him. he chokes, hips jerking as his control frays. “gonna—baby, gonna cum, wait, fuck—”

you don’t stop. your lips slide further, tongue flattening, taking him as deep as you can. it’s filthy—spit drips down your chin in thick strings, pooling on his thighs, your glasses fogging as breaths puff through your nose. you’re focused, watching his every twitch, adjusting when he gasps, slowing when he whimpers, like you’re mapping him.

his hand grips the couch, knuckles white, and he breaks with a sound that’s barely human—a shattered cry as he spills, hot and pulsing against your tongue.

you try to swallow it all, but it’s overwhelming—cum mixes with the spit already coating your lips, spilling past them in a slick, messy rush, dripping down your chin, onto his thighs, and pooling on the couch. you pull back, gasping, wiping your mouth with trembling fingers, but the slickness clings, smearing across your skin as your eyes stay wide behind crooked glasses. he’s trembling, chest heaving, shirt clinging to sweat-slick skin, pupils blown like he’s seen the divine.

you should stop.

you fucking should.

he’s wrecked, twitching, fucked out beyond reason. but the ache in your chest—the sharp, flickering guilt of breaking him—only makes you hungrier. you lick your lips, tasting the salty mix of him, and your thighs press together, a soft whimper escaping as you lean in again, spit still clinging to your chin.

“just once more?” you whisper, voice barely audible, like you’re afraid the words will burn you.

his eyes flutter open, unfocused, dazed. he groans, raw and low. “baby… you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

but he doesn’t stop you. doesn’t even try.

you start again, slower, your mouth softer but hungrier, lips wrapping around him with a reverence that makes him twitch instantly. he’s sensitive, still pulsing, and the second your tongue grazes him, he whines—a high, broken sound that makes your stomach twist. you suck lightly, lips gliding along his length, spit pooling at the base and dripping onto his thighs in slow, glistening trails. 

satoru buries his face in a cushion, muffling a sob. “s-sensitive—fuck, it’s too much—”

his thighs tremble under your hands, hips jerking as you kiss the tip, tongue darting out to lap at the bead of cum still leaking from him, your spit mixing with it in a slick, glossy sheen. you linger, savoring the taste, the way it coats your tongue in a sticky film, and he whimpers again, louder, his hand flying to his mouth to bite his knuckles.

your fingers slide to his balls again, rolling them gently, slick with the drool and cum that’s dripped down, making your touch slippery and warm. he arches, a desperate, “please—fuck—please—” spilling from his lips like he’s begging for mercy but craving more.

you don’t rush. your tongue traces every inch, slow and deliberate, swirling around the head before dipping lower, dragging along the vein with a wet, sloppy kiss that leaves a trail of spit in its wake. your breath is hot, teasing, each exhale making him twitch, and you pause to suck at the base, lips lingering as your tongue flicks out, tasting the musk of him through the sticky mess. his hand finds your hair, fingers threading loosely, not pushing, just holding—like he needs to feel you’re real.

you grow bolder, hungrier, your lips tightening as you take him deeper, throat fluttering around him, spit bubbling up and spilling over, coating his cock in a thick, glossy layer. you hum, low and vibrating, and he chokes, a wet, pathetic whimper breaking free.

your hand strokes the base, slick with spit and cum, fingers sliding in the mess, and you slide a finger lower, brushing the sensitive skin behind his balls, now slippery with the drool that’s dripped down. he jolts, a high, keening sound tearing from his throat, his hips bucking as his whole body trembles.

“baby—god—please—fuck, i can’t—” satoru’s voice cracks, raw and whining, as you suck harder, tongue swirling in relentless, wet circles, spit and cum mixing in a frothy mess that drips onto the couch. every noise is desperate—gasps, whimpers, sobs that he tries to muffle but can’t. his body arches, twitching like he’s unraveling at the seams, and you feel it: the moment he breaks again.

he cums with a wail, sudden and violent, hips jerking as he spills into your mouth. it’s messier, hotter, a flood of cum and spit that overwhelms you, spilling out in thick, sticky ropes that coat your lips, your chin, your glasses, dripping onto his thighs and pooling in the creases of his skin.

you swallow what you can, lips still wrapped around him, tongue lapping at the oversensitive tip through the slick mess until he’s twitching, a broken, “n-no more—please—” escaping as he clutches the cushion.

time slips. minutes? hours? you’re tugging his shirt, pulling him closer like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. ten minutes later, he’s gripping the sheets, praying, fucked senseless by every move you make. you flinch when he whines too loud, hands flying to your mouth, eyes wide with guilt—but then you lean in again, bolder, hungrier, chasing every twitch, every broken gasp of your name.

he’s never felt so cherished and so destroyed at the same time.

every touch is careful, but determined. you’re hesitant but thorough, like you’ve read the same passage in a smutty fanfiction a hundred times and are finally getting the chance to test it out. and the worst part? you’re good at it. really good.

your mouth, your hands, the way you watch his face for every twitch of pleasure—it’s enough to make him lose all sense of pride. the way you keep glancing at his reactions, as if adjusting your technique in real time, is insane. terrifying. he’s never been studied so hard. he likes it. he needs it. he’s suffering in the best way.

he’s never had to hold back like this. never had to breathe through it. never felt this fucking sensitive. he’s gripping the cushions like a man possessed. he’s whispering your name like a prayer. he’s not even sure he’s still speaking coherent sentences. you’ve wrecked him. utterly and entirely.

you pull back, panting, your hands shaking as you adjust your glasses, eyes glassy and wide. your lips are swollen, chin wet with a glistening mix of spit and cum, and you lick them, tasting him again, a soft moan slipping free as your thighs press together.

satoru is ruined—sprawled on the couch, shirt clinging to his chest, chest heaving like he’s fought a war. his hand is still in your hair, loose, trembling, and he’s staring at you like you’re a fucking goddess.

“thought you were the innocent one,” he chokes out, breathless, watching you nibble your lip and adjust your glasses with shaking fingers.

“i still am,” you murmur, face tucked into his shoulder. “kind of.”

he huffs out a laugh, dazed and wrecked. he can feel your heartbeat against his ribs. he doesn’t want to move. his hands are still trembling from how hard he tried to keep it together for you—and yet, you’re the one who took the lead. you’re the one who made him forget how to function. you kiss the edge of his jaw, soft and uncertain, and it undoes him more than anything else.

satoru gojo, campus heartthrob, ruined by a shy nerd girl who reads too much smut on her kindle late at night under the covers. who probably has a secret ao3 account and bookmarked folders. who looks like a timid schoolgirl but fucks like she’s been studying him like a midterm exam. and passed with extra credit. honors. valedictorian. summa cum laude of making him lose his damn mind.

he’s never been so obsessed.

and you? you’re already pressing your forehead to his chest, voice small, eyes wide with want and something raw and messy and needy as you look up at him.

“can we… try again? i think i missed a step.”

he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh, cry, or propose.

he’s never been more in love. and all he knows is he’s done for.

[ayojujube]

which one's your favvvvvv

the wall i face while I work

[yappacadaver]

wait

girl he was building his first mark while he was still married???

[reveriebae]

When the Dream Ends, You Begin

pairing(s) : poem writer! Wooyoung x reader

word count : 4877

summary : He dreamed of her—tied in silk, dripping with sin, whispering his name like a curse. Then he met her. And nothing has been soft since.

genre : smut

warning(s) : Explicit smut, surreal dream-to-reality tension, bondage (soft & rough), orgasm control, oral (m & f receiving), overstimulation, name calling (Angel), light dom/sub themes, desperate begging, possessiveness, obsession, cumplay, marking, slightly feral!Wooyoung, praise & worship kink, unholy levels of filthy poetic language (kinda). Let me know if I missed anything!

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut 🪐

He’d only meant to nap for a minute. A break from the manuscript he’d been struggling with for weeks—the one with the heroine he couldn’t quite figure out.

But somehow, somewhere between the ink-stained pages and the weight of exhaustion, you slipped in. And once you did, there was no room for anything else.

It started with your voice—soft, sultry, curling around his ears like velvet. Then your touch, gentle at first, ghosting along his jawline, down his chest, leaving sparks in its wake. His breath hitched. The dream blurred, pulsed. You weren’t just some figment—you were here. Realer than anything he’d ever written.

Wooyoung lay sprawled across a couch that didn’t belong in his apartment, shirt undone, flushed to the tips of his ears. And you? You were straddling his lap, body bare and glowing in golden light like you were made of the damn sun itself. Every part of you was warm, soft, perfect.

His fingers trembled as they dug into your thighs. “Fuck,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You're not even real, are you?”

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “Maybe not. But I feel real, don’t I?”

God, you did. You moved against him and he choked, head falling back. Your hips rolled slow, a taunting rhythm that made his cock throb beneath you. Every brush of your slick heat had him unraveling, desperate.

“Shit—Angel, you’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, hands clutching your waist like lifelines. “You feel so fucking good. Too good.”

You smiled, eyes half-lidded, voice honeyed with mischief. “But you like it. You want me to ruin you, don't you?”

He nodded without shame. “I want everything. Every fucking inch of you.”

You gave it to him—grinding down harder, your moans melting into his skin like sin. And Wooyoung—sweet, sinful Wooyoung—just took it all, praising every inch of you with breathless desperation.

“Look at you. So fucking perfect,” he panted. “Made just for me, huh? You feel like a dream because you're mine.”

Your nails raked down his chest as he bucked up, chasing the high he couldn’t believe was his. Your name fell from his lips like scripture—over and over, until he was almost delirious with need.

He came hard, jaw clenched, hands trembling, voice cracking as he gasped your name like it was his salvation.

And then—

He woke up.

Sheets tangled. Sweat slick on his skin. Cock still twitching, soaked in his release.

But his hand reached out, searching the empty space beside him.

“Fuck... I need to write this down,” he muttered, breathless.

Because now you weren’t just a character.

You were his obsession.

The dream didn’t fade.

Not like the others.

Wooyoung had tried to shake it off—wake up, shower, drown himself in coffee and deadlines. But it clung to him. Like your phantom touch was etched into his skin, like your moans were trapped in his ears, like your voice—that voice—was scribbled into the margins of his mind.

“Made just for me…”

God. His fingers tightened around his pen every time he remembered how you’d said it, how you’d felt. His notebook was filled with messy sentences, scratched-out lines, and fragments that didn’t make sense to anyone but him.

"She rode him like a symphony—soft, loud, and breaking him open in every beat."

"Angel. That’s what he called her. Not her name. Just the way she felt."

He didn’t know why he called you that. Angel. It had spilled from his mouth like instinct—like he’d said it a hundred times before.

But the weirdest part? You felt… familiar.

Not just in the way dreams sometimes make strangers feel known. No. It was deeper. Like he’d seen you before. Like he knew you. Maybe your laugh. The curve of your lips. The way you said his name—not Wooyoung, but Baby, like it belonged to you.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t place you.

You weren’t a girl he’d dated. Not anyone he’d seen recently. But the memory of your weight on his lap, the honey warmth of your skin, the fire in your eyes—it was seared into him. Every night he lay awake wondering, stroking himself slowly as flashes of that dream played like sin in his head.

He whispered Angel into his pillow, cheeks flushed, pulse pounding.

And then one night, three days after the dream, he caught himself doodling again in the margins of his journal.

A quick sketch—just lips parted, eyes half-lidded, sweat-damp collarbones. And then he blinked.

No. He had seen you before.

He couldn’t place the name. But the way you felt—your presence—it mirrored someone from the edges of his life. A girl he’d met briefly. Maybe just once. Maybe more. But now?

You were everywhere.

Every poem he wrote tasted like you. Every night he touched himself, it was your voice in his head. His hands weren’t enough. They never would be.

Because Angel had ruined him.

And he had no idea who you were.

---

It was supposed to be a quiet evening.

Wooyoung had agreed to speak at this writing workshop mostly out of guilt—his editor’s friend ran it, and he hadn’t been out in days. Maybe the fresh air would help. Maybe reading something out loud would get him out of his head.

But the second he walked into the room, he knew he was fucked.

You were already there.

Sitting in the middle row, notebook in hand, legs crossed just the way he remembered them—like the dream had taken a snapshot from this exact moment. Your head was tilted, brows slightly furrowed, and your lips—those damn lips—were caught between your teeth like you were thinking too hard.

No. No no no. It can’t be her.

His heart stuttered. Palms suddenly too warm. He blinked once. Twice. But you didn’t disappear. You were real, down to the little necklace nestled at your collarbones. The same skin he’d kissed in that dream, the same thighs he’d gripped while you rode him raw. His cock twitched—right there in the middle of the goddamn workshop.

He sat down two rows behind you, trying to breathe.

Your voice echoed in his head. Not your real voice, not yet, but the way it had sounded in his dreams—dripping with need, whispering filth in his ear like poetry.

"You want me to ruin you, don't you?"

God, he did. Again and again until his name was hoarse in your throat.

But now? You were here. And he didn’t even know your name.

They called for introductions, but Wooyoung barely registered the others. He was staring at the back of your head, imagining your hair fisted in his hands, your moans muffled by his neck, your nails dragging down his spine.

Focus, he told himself.

But then you spoke.

Soft, confident, thoughtful. You talked about writing romance. About vulnerability. About how the right words could make someone feel everything. His eyes fluttered shut for a second. That voice. That fucking voice.

He could smell your skin again. Taste your sweat. Feel your heat grinding down onto him. His throat went dry.

He didn’t even hear your name.

Just one word pulsed in his brain: Angel.

That’s what you were in his dream. That’s what you still were.

He swallowed hard, knuckles white around his pen. And as the group laughed at something you said, his cock throbbed in his jeans like a threat.

He wasn’t going to survive this.

You were real. You were here. And Wooyoung had already come thinking about you three times since Tuesday.

The workshop ended in a blur of applause and chatter.

Wooyoung didn’t remember what he said when it was his turn to speak. His mouth moved, sure, and people nodded, but his thoughts were a mess of dream-slick memories and the real you sitting just meters away—breathing, smiling, existing.

He watched you tuck your pen behind your ear and slide your notebook into your bag. Watched your fingers—slim, delicate, the same ones that had clawed at his chest in that filthy, glorious dream.

His pulse drummed in his ears.

Just say something, he thought. A line. A joke. Anything.

He stood up, took two steps forward—and froze when you turned.

Your eyes met.

You blinked, slow and curious, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips. Like you felt something too. Recognition. Or maybe heat.

His mouth opened.

You tilted your head, brows raised, waiting.

But his brain short-circuited. Because how the fuck do you tell a girl, “Hi, I’ve been jacking off to you ever since you starred in the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had, and now I’m spiraling”?

So he panicked.

Cleared his throat. Nodded. Said, “Nice… talk.”

Nice talk? NICE FUCKING TALK?!

You gave a polite little smile and turned back to your bag.

He wanted to die.

He turned on his heel, muttering curses under his breath as he walked toward the exit, heart pounding with shame, humiliation, and a still very inconvenient hard-on.

But just as he reached the door, he heard your voice behind him—smooth, calm, just a little amused.

“Hey. Wait.”

He stopped like you’d yanked his leash.

You walked up beside him, cocking your head slightly. “You okay? You looked like you’d seen a ghost in there.”

He laughed—more like choked. “Something like that.”

Then you smiled. Slow. Knowing.

And in one goddamn moment, everything snapped into place.

“I know you,” you said quietly. “Kind of. Not really. But… have we met before?”

His breath caught. His skin lit up.

Because there it was—that same curious tilt, that same gentle dominance from the dream. Like you were the one with control now.

You stepped a little closer, eyes locked on his. “Or maybe you just look like someone I’ve been dreaming about lately.”

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched. Blood rushed south, hard and fast.

You leaned in, just enough for him to feel your breath on his neck.

“Tell me,” you whispered. “Have you been dreaming about me too, baby?”

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

But the way his hands curled into fists, the way his throat moved as he swallowed hard, and the way his eyes flicked to your lips like a sinner to the flame—told you everything.

He didn’t sleep that night.

Not because of the dream this time.

Because of you.

Because of the way you’d looked at him right before you walked away—like you knew. Like you’d already had him once, and you were just waiting for him to admit it.

Wooyoung replayed it all in his head. Your voice. Your scent. The way you leaned in so close his skin still tingled where your breath had touched it.

“Have you been dreaming about me too, baby?”

Fuck.

He didn’t even know your name. But now he was addicted.

—

You met again the next evening.

Same writing workshop. Same room. Different energy.

You wore something simple—black top, a skirt that swayed when you walked—but it may as well have been fucking weaponized. He felt it every time you crossed your legs. Every time you licked the tip of your pen. Every time you didn’t look at him, like you knew he was staring.

And he was.

He couldn’t help it. He was wired tight, strung up, achingly aware of your every move. He hadn’t written a single thing since last night, but his hands twitched with the memory of how your body had moved in his dream.

The way you’d whispered filth while grinding against him like you owned him.

And now here you were again, two seats away, scribbling neatly while his brain fell apart.

“Class dismissed,” the host called. People stood, gathered their bags.

You stayed seated. So did he.

For a moment, silence stretched between you.

Then, softly, you said, “Walk me to my car?”

He didn’t trust his voice. Just nodded and followed you out, heart punching his ribs.

Outside, the air was cool. Your steps slow. The parking lot was mostly empty—just a few flickering lamplights and the faint hum of city noise.

You stopped beside your car, turned, leaned back against the door—and looked up at him.

He stood a foot away, hands jammed in his pockets, trying not to look at your lips.

But you smiled.

“Still not gonna ask my name?”

He smirked, voice low. “You sure you want me to know it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He took a step closer. “Because if I know your name, I’ll never stop using it.”

Your breath hitched—just slightly.

Then, softly: “Maybe I want to hear it from your mouth.”

Wooyoung’s throat worked.

“Then tell me.”

You leaned in just enough, the tip of your shoe brushing his. Your voice dropped, sultry and dangerous.

“Or maybe you’ll just keep calling me Angel... like you did in your dream.”

He froze.

Eyes locked on yours. Caught. Breathless.

You whispered, “Told you I’ve been dreaming too.”

He stepped in now, close, his chest almost touching yours.

Low. Hoarse. Desperate.

“Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

You tilted your chin, lips barely parted. “Why would I ever stop you?”

His eyes flicked down.

To your mouth.

To your throat.

To the way your chest rose like you were bracing for impact.

And then he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, voice like smoke.

“Next time, Angel… I’m not waking up.”

It happened the next night.

Your texts had been short. No need for flirting. No teasing. Just your address and one line:

“Don’t be late, baby.”

He wasn’t.

Wooyoung knocked once before you opened the door, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt that definitely wasn’t yours—black, wrinkled, probably stolen from a past hookup, but tonight it belonged to him.

Because the second he stepped inside, your hands were already on his chest, dragging him in, pulling him down.

No small talk.

No hesitation.

Just mouths crashing together in that desperate, hungry way that says I’ve already had you in my mind a hundred fucking times.

He groaned when your lips parted for him—finally—and his hands dropped to your waist, gripping hard, like he still didn’t believe this was real. Like he needed to memorize every curve before you vanished again.

“God, you’re—” he started, but you cut him off with your teeth at his throat.

“Dream about this, baby?” you whispered, tongue dragging slow up his jaw. “Or do I feel even better than you imagined?”

He choked on a laugh, breathless. “Worse. So much fucking worse.”

You smiled, smug, and pushed him toward the couch.

He let you.

Let you shove him down and climb on top, knees bracketing his thighs, fingers already working at the buttons of his shirt like you had a damn mission.

And you did.

Because Wooyoung wasn’t allowed to lead this time. No—you were the dream now. You were the one who had haunted him for days, and now you were going to remind him exactly why.

“You kept calling me Angel,” you murmured, slipping his shirt off his shoulders, nails dragging over warm skin. “Sounded so sweet for someone who came in his sleep.”

He flushed, lips parting, hips twitching beneath you.

“You knew?”

You smirked. “You moaned in your sleep after that first workshop. In the back of the room.”

His face went scarlet.

You leaned in, nose brushing his. “Wanna hear what it sounded like?”

Then you moaned—soft, breathy, filthy. “Angel, fuck, don’t stop—”

He grabbed your hips with a growl, thrusting up against you through denim and heat.

“God, you’re evil,” he rasped.

“I’m everything you begged for.”

And then you rocked your hips—slow, deliberate, dragging your center against the bulge in his jeans. His head dropped back with a curse, fingers digging into your thighs like a man possessed.

He’d imagined you like this a thousand ways.

But reality?

You were hotter, slicker, meaner.

You moved like you knew he’d melt for you—and he did. Beneath your fingers. Beneath your hips. Beneath your fucking voice.

“You’re gonna let me ride you just like in your dream,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “Only this time, I’m not leaving when you wake up.”

His breath hitched.

And then you kissed him again—slower now. Deeper. Tongue sweeping his like a promise.

And just before you pulled back to strip his pants away, you whispered:

“Good boys don’t come until I say so.”

He whimpered.

He whimpered.

And you smiled like you were home.

You didn’t let him touch.

Not yet.

You straddled him on the couch, body warm and lithe above him, but when his hands reached for your waist, you tsked softly and leaned in, your breath ghosting over his lips.

“Nuh-uh, baby,” you whispered, tone sweet and laced with danger. “You’ve already touched me in your sleep. Now you wait.”

His brow furrowed. Breath shaky. “Wait for what?”

You smiled.

Then you pulled silk from your back pocket—long, black, smooth as sin—and held it up between two fingers.

“For me to say you can.”

Wooyoung stared. Chest heaving. Cock hard and twitching in his jeans.

Then he swallowed.

Nodded.

You made quick work of it—pushing his shirt the rest of the way off, guiding his arms up along the backrest of the couch, and tying his wrists tight. Not painful. Just enough that when he instinctively pulled, the knot held.

Helpless.

Yours.

“Comfortable?” you asked, running your fingers down his stomach—slow, teasing, cruel.

He let out a shaky breath. “No.”

You leaned in and licked his bottom lip.

“Good.”

Then you unbuttoned his jeans.

Slowly.

Unzipped him with two fingers, one knuckle dragging lightly over the bulge beneath his boxers. He shuddered—hips jerking, throat dry.

“Fuck—please—”

You looked up at him through your lashes. “You begging already, baby?”

“I’ve been begging since Tuesday,” he panted.

God, he was so pretty like this. Chest rising fast, lip bitten raw, arms pinned and useless while you made a mess of him.

You slipped your hand beneath the waistband—fingers wrapping around his cock—and he gasped, head falling back, wrists tugging instinctively.

But he couldn’t move.

Couldn’t stop you.

Couldn’t touch you back.

He was completely, deliciously at your mercy.

And you were merciless.

“You keep dreaming about me like this?” you murmured, pumping him slow and tight.

He whimpered.

“Wanna hear it,” you whispered against his jaw. “Tell me what I did to you. Tell me how I made you come.”

He was shaking.

“You—you were riding me,” he gasped. “Hard. Hands on my chest. You kept—kept talking, saying all this filthy shit—fuck—and you kept clenching around me like you wanted to ruin me—”

You cut him off with a wicked kiss, deep and hungry, and just as his hips bucked to chase your fist—you let go.

He cried out—needy, feral.

“No—please, I—I was so close—”

You wiped the glistening tip of his cock with your thumb and brought it to your mouth. Sucked slowly. Deliberately. Eyes locked on his as he moaned.

“Next time,” you whispered, straddling him again, grinding your bare heat over the wet head of his cock through your panties, “you’ll beg with your tongue.”

He groaned, wrists pulling hard at the silk.

“But first,” you said, rolling your hips slow and deep, “I’m going to ride you tied and helpless, just like you wanted.”

Then you hooked your fingers into your panties and slid them off, tossing them aside like an afterthought.

And when you sank down on him in one, perfect stroke, hot and wet and tight—

Wooyoung’s head snapped back with a broken sound.

You were his dream.

But this was real.

And you were going to ruin him completely.

You didn’t ride him to please him.

You rode him like you wanted to end him.

Slow at first—grinding, teasing, dragging yourself up until only the tip of his cock remained inside, then slamming back down so hard the breath left his lungs in a shuddering gasp.

Wooyoung’s hands were clenched in tight fists, wrists yanking at the silk, every nerve in his body on fire.

His head dropped forward, sweat clinging to his skin, jaw slack as he watched you move—breasts bouncing beneath your shirt, your cunt milking him like it had a mind of its own.

“Angel—fuck—Angel—please—” he choked out, thighs trembling.

You didn’t slow.

Didn’t stop.

You leaned in, mouth grazing his ear, voice like sex and smoke.

“Keep begging.”

He whimpered. Obeyed instantly.

“Please let me come, please—I need it—need you so bad, I’m gonna fucking lose it—”

You clenched around him hard.

He cried out.

“Not yet, baby,” you purred. “Not until I say.”

And then you sped up.

Your pace turned brutal—punishing—riding him so rough the couch creaked beneath you, slick sounds of skin and desperation filling the room. His cock throbbed inside you, twitching, straining, desperate for release.

But you were relentless.

One hand gripped his throat lightly—just enough to make his pupils blow wide, dizzy with the pressure—and your other hand slid down to where your bodies met, rubbing your clit fast and filthy as you moaned right into his ear.

“Feel how wet you make me, baby?” you whispered, grinding down hard. “Your cock fits so perfectly—like you were made to be fucked and left aching for me.”

“Fuck—fuck—” he gasped, thighs shaking violently. “I can’t—I’m gonna—I’m—”

You pulled back. Looked him dead in the eyes.

And said, low and wicked:

“Don’t.”

He screamed.

Not loud. Not angry.

Just this raw, wrecked little sob as he tried—tried—to hold it in, his whole body trembling beneath you like he was on the edge of death and heaven at the same time.

He was crying now—just a little.

Silent tears, eyes blown wide, cock twitching with the kind of ache that bordered on insanity.

And you loved it.

You soaked in it.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” you whispered, brushing your lips over his tear-streaked cheek. “All broken. All mine.”

He nodded—fast, desperate, unable to speak.

You rocked your hips deeper, clenching hard, and finally—finally—whispered:

“Come for me, baby.”

The moment those words hit him, Wooyoung snapped.

His whole body arched, a wrecked cry ripping from his throat as his cock pulsed hard inside you, cum spilling hot and helpless, thick ropes shooting so deep you swore you could feel it in your throat.

You kept riding.

Soft now. Slow. Making him feel every twitch, every spill, every whimper that followed.

“Look at you,” you murmured, kissing the corner of his lips. “Dreamt of me for days just to end up begging and crying while I used you.”

He was wrecked.

Hair sticking to his forehead, lashes wet, mouth open like he couldn’t remember how to breathe.

But his voice—soft and hoarse—came out like prayer.

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He was still trembling when you untied him—arms sore, chest heaving, face flushed and damp from sweat and tears. His cock was twitching even after he came, twitching inside you, because you were still seated there, still milking him gently, cruelly, like you wanted to pull a second orgasm straight from his soul.

“Fuck,” he panted, blinking up at you with wet lashes. “You—you’re not real.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips over his cheek, your hand sliding into his hair.

“I’m very real, baby.”

Then you licked his ear.

And whispered—

“Now show me how much you missed touching me.”

That’s all it took.

Wooyoung snapped.

His arms flew around you, flipping you down onto the couch with a growl so low it sounded almost feral. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding beneath your shirt, tearing the damn thing off with zero patience.

“Fucking evil,” he hissed, mouth crashing onto yours, tongue filthy and demanding. “You broke me.”

You grinned against his lips. “You begged for it.”

“I’ll make you beg.”

And then he slammed into you again—no warning, no gentleness, just raw, ravenous need. You gasped, legs flying up to wrap around his waist, nails digging into his back as he fucked into you like he wanted to carve his name into your body.

“Think you’re the only one who can ruin someone?” he growled, hand sliding between your thighs to rub your clit hard and fast. “You think I didn’t dream about making you cry for me?”

“Fuck—Wooyoung—”

He grinned.

“That’s right, baby. Say my name now.”

He pinned your wrists above your head—tight—body moving like a man possessed. His hips snapped in fast, deep, almost brutal, and your body arched up into him with every thrust, a mess of sweat and moans and filthy, wet, slapping sounds.

“You’re not leaving this couch,” he growled. “Not until I’ve filled you again.”

“Please—”

“That’s right, Angel,” he groaned, thrusting so deep your breath caught. “Beg me now. Beg me to come. Beg me to stuff you so full it leaks down your thighs.”

You were shaking.

Mind blank. Legs trembling. Body hypersensitive from earlier.

And he kept going.

Faster. Deeper.

Rutting into you like he was trying to brand your soul.

“Gonna fuck you so full you’ll still be dripping tomorrow,” he panted. “Wanna see it—wanna watch it leak out of that tight pussy while you’re sitting in my lap, looking so pretty and ruined and mine.”

You broke.

Back arched, thighs clamping around his waist as your orgasm hit like a fucking bomb, exploding through your body in white-hot waves, your moans turning to sobs as you clenched around him—

And that was all he needed.

With a growl, Wooyoung buried himself inside you, cock twitching violently as he came again—hot, thick, endless—filling you up until it was dripping down your ass onto the couch, until you both collapsed, bodies shaking, breath ragged.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t move.

Just slumped over you, face buried in your neck, whispering your name like a broken prayer.

“…fuck, Angel.”

“…I’m gonna marry you.”

---

You woke to heat.

Gentle at first. Soft.

Like a dream.

Warm lips pressing to your inner thigh, slow fingers dragging up the curve of your hip. You blinked blearily, brain still wrapped in fog, only to find Wooyoung kneeling between your legs, bare chest glistening, eyes locked onto your cunt like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

He looked wrecked. Unshaven. Smudged with sweat and sleep and lust.

“Baby—what are you—”

He didn’t answer.

Just slid your legs apart and buried his face between them.

Your gasp turned into a moan—then a whimper—as his tongue dragged over your folds, slow and wet and deliberate. He licked like he loved it. Like worship. Like penance. Like he wanted to spend the rest of his life tongue-deep in your pussy just to say thank you for ruining him.

“You taste like me,” he murmured hoarsely, lips glistening. “Fucking perfect.”

His hands pressed your thighs open wider, holding you down as he sucked your clit into his mouth—hard. You cried out, hips jolting, legs trying to close from overstimulation, but he held firm.

“Don’t run,” he whispered darkly. “You took my control last night, Angel. I’m taking my time now.”

And fuck, did he.

He made a mess of you—tongue working you open, fucking into you slow and deep, licking through the cum he left inside you like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. You were dripping. Squirming. Begging.

And he didn’t stop until your thighs were shaking and you were grabbing fistfuls of his hair, pulling him tighter into you as you came on his tongue with a shattered sob.

When you collapsed, limp and panting, he kissed the inside of your thigh one last time and crawled up beside you, arms pulling you into the warmth of his chest.

“Next time,” he whispered against your temple, “I’m tying you up.”

You laughed weakly. “Greedy bastard.”

He kissed your hair. “Yours.”

And with his arms around you, legs tangled, your skin still sticky with sweat and sex and sweet aftershocks—you finally drifted off again.

No dreams this time.

Because reality was so much better.

"She sat on him like sin— like velvet and venom, soft thighs and a wicked smile, the kind of woman gods built temples for and then burned to the ground.

He begged with his mouth full. Cried with her fingers in his hair. Came with her name on his tongue and guilt nowhere in sight.

She wasn’t a dream anymore. She was destruction dressed in skin. His ruin. His muse.

And he’d let her break him again. Gladly. Willingly. Over and over until his bones remembered how her name felt in the dark."

[norrisradio]

SOME KIND OF FAITH

LINE BY LINE ᝰ.ᐟ "I'm not a religious person but I do sometimes thing God made you for me." - sally rooney, normal people

ᝰ PAIRING: oscar piastri x reader | ᝰ WC: 1.6K ᝰ GENRE: fluff, angst, some religious themes, oscar yearns, mentions of australia 2025 ᝰ INCOMING RADIO: welcome to the first installment of line by line! super excited to bring all of your favorite quotes to life ꨄ︎ requested by anon!

send me an ask for my line by line event!

Oscar’s never been a religious man.

Not when his mum made him sit through Sunday mass as a boy in Melbourne, his little legs kicking the pew out of boredom. Not when the chaplain at boarding school passed around wafers that stuck to the roof of his mouth like paper. He was never moved by sermons or scripture.

But something shifted the first time he met you.

It was raining sideways the day you arrived—one of those rare cold weeks where the wind curled under the doors and the air smelled like damp textbooks and wet leaves. You’d transferred mid-term, shoes still caked with mud from wherever you were before. The hallway buzzed with whispers as you trailed the headmaster to your new dorm, expression unreadable and hair sticking to your cheeks.

Oscar was fifteen and mostly quiet. He liked things with order—lap times, smooth apexes, knowing exactly when to downshift. But you were chaos in sneakers. You rolled your eyes at the dress code and laughed too loud in the library. You asked him what he was always scribbling in the back of his notebook, and he lied, said it was maths. You caught a glimpse of a gear diagram and raised a brow. “That’s not maths. That’s obsession.”

He didn’t argue. You didn’t press. And that was the beginning.

Friendship came slow and steady, like watching frost melt in sunlight. One day he was ignoring you in Chemistry, the next you were shoulder to shoulder on the floor of the common room, arguing about whether Interstellar was overrated. You slipped into his life so easily he didn’t realize you were already a part of it until months had passed and your shampoo lived in his shower caddy. Until you were stealing his hoodies and he wasn’t asking for them back.

Now, years later, you’re still here. Not next to him, but close enough. Close enough to send voice notes that ramble and laugh and drift off like you're thinking aloud just for him. Close enough that his hands still remember the weight of your wrist during three-legged races at school carnivals, the smell of bonfire smoke in your hair when you fell asleep on his shoulder on that one frigid field trip.

He thinks about those things more often than he admits.

Oscar’s never been a religious man.

But he finds himself praying in traffic. To red lights that hold long enough for your voice to stretch across the Bluetooth. To quiet corners of hotel rooms, where the only thing he wants is to hear you laugh like the world hasn't chewed at your edges. To whatever force keeps you picking up his calls, even when you're half-asleep or halfway through dinner with someone who isn’t him.

He never says what he really means. Not directly.

And lately, he’s started to feel it again—that creeping, silent thing lodged in his ribs. That ache that doesn't quite have a name. Especially when you call him at 11:47 p.m., voice groggy and slow.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you say.

Oscar is thousands of miles away, in a hotel bed that smells faintly of bleach and stale air. He stares at the ceiling and closes his eyes like maybe, just maybe, you’ll appear there.

He doesn’t ask why you called him of all people. He just listens.

Sometimes you talk about your day. Sometimes about nothing at all. Tonight, it’s a story about some guy who tried to get your number at a conference—a guy who ordered for you without asking and called your job “cute.” You laugh about it, but Oscar hears the edge in your voice.

“Sounds... promising,” he says, but it comes out stiff. Like swallowing a stone.

You don’t notice. Or maybe you do and let him get away with it. You’ve always been kind like that.

There’s a pause. Not awkward. Just quiet.

You breathe into the receiver.

And not for the first time, he wonders if God is cruel — to make someone like you for him, and then keep you just out of reach.

He thinks it when you hum without realizing. When you say his name like it's a safe place. When your silences are the only kind that don't make him restless.

He never says it. Of course not. He just tells you to get some sleep, soft and low.

And when you do—when your breathing evens out and your side of the line goes still—he doesn’t hang up.

Just lies there in the dark. Listening.

As if you might stir. As if you'll whisper his name in your sleep. As if prayers ever worked for people like him.

Oscar’s never been a religious man.

But he starts bargaining with the sky the moment the rain begins to fall Sunday morning.

The plan had been simple. Seamless. Like the clean arc of a lap executed perfectly: maiden pole, win, you in the paddock. His home crowd thundering in his ears, champagne dripping from his suit, and you waiting for him at the barrier with that look that always melted him down to the screws.

It was supposed to mean something. He’d visualized it all week—crossing the line, holding your gaze as the national anthem played, telling you what he’s been holding in his chest for years, letting it spill finally, finally, now that he had something to give.

But the rain – the rain. 

It’s light at first, mist curling along the halo, soft enough to ignore. But it thickens during lap 40, silver threading through the clouds like a warning. He feels it in his chest before it even begins—the wrongness of it. The crack in the air.

Still, he clings to the plan.

You’d said yes to the race two months ago. Your first in person since uni. You’d booked flights around conference dates, rerouted your thesis schedule. You’d smiled when you said it, too—"Wouldn’t miss your home GP for anything, Oz."

And he had smiled back, because the timing felt divine. Like something had shifted in the universe just enough to make room for both of you again. He’d even practiced what he would say in the driver room after.

But then the rain came.

One corner. That’s all it took.

The rears locked just enough. The front twitched. The car was gone. Onto the grass, the gravel biting like teeth. Cheers turned to gasps. Gasps turned to the hiss of radio static and his own voice, low and stunned: “I’m off.”

He clawed it back. Ninth. Eight places from where he’d started. Every lap was a punishment he bore alone, helmet fogging, tyres screaming, the track never quite drying, never giving him what he needed.

And then there was media. Cameras, microphones, a parade of tight smiles and repeated questions—Walk us through the mistake. What were you feeling in that moment? Do you think you let the fans down?

He repeated the same phrases like rosary beads: "The rain caught us out." "It was my fault." "I should’ve handled it better."

Every word was a cut. Every smile, a lie.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do when he sees you. For a moment, he considers disappearing. Ducking the debrief. Flying straight back to Monaco. Avoiding the sting of it, the shame. He rehearsed a podium speech. Not this.

By the time he makes it to his driver room, his race suit feels like a wet second skin. His shoulders ache. He wants to disappear into the floor. He wants the world to stop spinning long enough for him to catch his breath.

He doesn’t expect you to be there.

But you are. Sitting quietly, back against the wall, a bottle of water balanced on your knee. You look up as he enters, eyes catching his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like the universe hadn’t just tried to drag him under and failed.

You don’t say anything at first. Just look at him like he matters. Like he didn’t just choke in front of his whole country. Like he isn’t unraveling by the seams.

And then you whisper it.

Soft. Gentle. “Oscar.”

And it breaks him. That’s all it takes.

And the way you say his name—

It feels like absolution.

He crosses the room in three steps, falls into you like gravity was always leading him here. You catch him like you knew how. Like you’d been waiting.

He doesn’t mean to say it. Not like this. Not in a rain-soaked race suit, with his hands still shaking and his throat dry from lies. But it slips out anyway, cracked and quiet into the fabric of your jacket.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I love you.”

You freeze.

Oscar’s never been a religious man. But he knows faith when he sees it. And he sees it now, in the way you hold him tighter, in the way your lips brush the shell of his ear like gospel.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. And he’s not sure what you’ll say. But you just touch his cheek, thumb running over the smear of dried rain and sweat.

“I thought you knew,” you say softly. “I’ve loved you since boarding school.”

He exhales, shaky. Half-laugh, half-relief.

The fluorescent lights above buzz. Somewhere outside, the sound of an engine roars as the next session begins. But here, in this small driver room filled with silence and sweat and grace, time feels suspended.

Oscar presses his forehead to yours.

And maybe Oscar’s never been a religious man.

But if this is what absolution feels like— Your arms around him, his name said like it means something, your heartbeat steady under his cheek— Then maybe he’s starting to believe.

[faustiancatboy]

ah the joys of losing your tumblr account /jt

you can call us francis ; generally unhinged collector of media, specially fixated on faustian bargains and the devil in your details

not much of a blog person but you can tell a lot about us based on what gets reblogged.

⚠️

find us on ao3 at unholy_apothecary

#commentary tag <- where we usually stick anything that deals with society / its schisms. Blanket notice posts tagged with it may contain triggering shit or things of a sensitive nature

#waltz for the stars <- web weaving and poetry

#fever pitch <- writing tag :] and also an rks joke

PLEASE ASK US THINGS THE LETTERBOX IS THERE FOR A REASON <3

[holway-g1rl]

Assuming Navidson Actually Left intact, who knows if he left with his soul¹

navidson: YIKES! this "house" seems to be growing! if this doesnt stop soon, i might have to "leaf"!

johnny truant:

[jeonginsleftcheek]

68656c70206d65

pairing: han jisung x gn!reader

genre: smut, fantasy/adventure, sci-fi

word count: 10.2k

warnings: fighting scenes, violence in general, use of weapons, decapitation

nsfw warnings: monster cock, oral (f and m receiving), dream(?) fucking/somnophilia, multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, pain/stretch kink, creampies, hair pulling, bulge kink, mating press, breeding kink, degradation, anal, fingering, double penetration

a/n: my second spooktober fic! reader is gn but has female anatomy. (a cookie for whoever knows what the title means hehe)

~ divider by @k1ssyoursister

~ Masterlist

The bell on the door rings as you enter the video game store, your heavy boots squeaking on the almost pristine floor.

The unmistakable smell of plastic cases tickles your nose, filling you up with nostalgia as you glance at the various video games displayed on the shelves.

Your friend appears from the back, throwing popcorn into their mouth as they carry a comic book and the bag of snacks in their other hand.

"Ooooh y/n! I was beginning to wonder when you were gonna show up."- Alex says, their eyes lighting up as soon as they see you.

"What do you mean, you literally called me like a thousand times and kept screaming at me to come see something!"- you huff and Alex chuckles.

"Sorry I made you get up from doing nothing."- they roll their eyes and you smack their arm.

"I was beta testing Aaron's new game. So, yes I was doing something actually."- you frown.

"Alright, alright you're a busy bee. Listen. Come here."- Alex motions with their fingers for you to lean in closer.

You roll your eyes playfully and lean in.

"I have an unpublished game for you to play. Well, not just unpublished, I don't even actually know where it came from. But it looks intriguing. I know you're obsessed with all this mysterious shit so I saved it for you."- Alex talks quietly before rounding the counter and looking somewhere under the cash register.

"Mysterious game, you say? Are you sure you didn't make it yourself and now you're trying to get me to play your shitty game?"

"Pfft if I ever make a game it'll be worth of triple A status."- Alex huffs and you laugh as they give you the completely black case.

"Right."- you eye the case, turning it front and back but there's nothing drawn or written on it.

You open the case and a strikingly red cd sits inside it, looking brand new even though the packaging looks used and a bit destroyed.

"Hm. I'll give it a shot and let you know. There's no name or anything? How do you even know it's a game?"

"I put it in my PS. Scared the fuck out of me. Not my thing."- Alex shakes their head, shivering.

"You're making it sound more appealing to me."- you say and Alex pffts.

"Enjoy playing, you sick fuck."- they grin with an eyebrow wiggle and you laugh before saying your byes and leaving the shop, excited to play a new game.

As soon as you arrive home, you don't waste any time, excitedly putting the cd into your ps as you grab your joystick and sit in front of the tv, getting comfy on the floor.

To set the mood right, you didn't even turn on the lights after entering your home, bumping into your furniture as you hurried to finally start playing.

As soon as the game opens, a red screen appears, hurting your eyes for a moment as you hear beeps coming out of your speakers, something is being said in Morse code, you know that much but you can't understand it.

The beeping coupled with the red screen is already creepy and you squirm in anticipation before a black screen replaces the red one, now there are red letters floating up from the bottom of the screen to the top.

"What the fuck?"- you squint, trying to read it before a deep voice scares you for a second as it starts reading the scripture written in some weird scribbles you have never seen before.

You don't even know what the demonic sounding voice is reading and you don't care, for all you know it could be a made up language for the game and you're just too eager to get into the gameplay.

When the voice finally quiets down and the letters disappear from the screen, the main menu screen opens up, showing a ps1 style aesthetic of the game with the title being some weird scribbles that you can't read either.

The only thing you can read is the three options beneath the title that say: PLAY, PLAY NOW, PLAY FOREVER.

"Interesting."- you say out loud and decide to click on the first one that says "PLAY".

Red letters saying "There's no escape." flash quickly on the screen and you have to chuckle at the amount of effort these people put into the intro of the game.

You're finally in, the style of the game being third person and the cameras have fixed angles, reminding you of games your older siblings played when you were a child.

Your pixelated character seems to be a young guy, his black hair slightly curled, he's wearing all black clothes, sporting a knife in his right hand and a zippo in his left.

"Alright, let's see."- you purse your lips as you take control of the character and start walking through the winding dark corridor, the only source of light being the lighter in his hand.

There are creepy pictures framed all over the walls, people with disfigured faces and monsters of all sorts lurking as their eyes seemingly follow your character.

You come up to a door and open it with a click, revealing a library with endless shelves of books and a few doors on the opposite wall of your character.

There are torches placed strategically around the room, illuminating every single shelf as you explore.

You can see there are some books missing so you know you're about to have to search for them, maybe place them by color or solve a puzzle as you keep walking around.

Your character steps on a creaky floorboard and for a second, the sound seems to be inside your room.

Your head quickly snaps around as you squint in the dark.

Come on y/n, don't be paranoid.

You shake it off and keep playing.

Finding all the books that were thrown around wasn't hard and after going back and forth, putting them back in their designated places, you hear a door click.

You walk your character to the first door on the right and it opens, leading you to a completely black room.

"Enter the void?"

You chuckle and click yes.

Nothing happens for a moment, until you start feeling something weird, like you're being pulled towards the screen and you gasp as your joystick flies out of your hand violently.

It's like your body is being dragged into the tv and you can't even make sense of what's happening as you try to grab onto your carpet but to no avail; you're sucked into the screen and you end up falling right on your butt.

When you open your eyes, you seem to be out in some kind of weird field, a few torches stuck into the reddish earth here and there, some curious creatures in hoods, darkness where their faces should be stand not too far away from you, their blackened bony fingers reaching out towards a fire that crackles in front of them.

"Finally!"- you hear a voice yell out excitedly and you turn to your left, gasping when you see your character, no longer pixelated, but looking normal like everything else around you, like this is the real world.

"What-"

"Come on, we need to hurry, it's coming soon!"- the character says, reaching his hand out to you.

You're about to protest but you can see that even the weird faceless creatures have abandoned the warmth of the fire as they search for shelter.

The character leads you to a cave nearby, running for his life and dragging you behind him as you gasp for air; having been out of shape for some time obviously didn't do you any good and as you started thinking about how you should exercise more, the guy snaps his fingers in front of your face.

"Hello, do you hear me?"- he asks, his eyes big as he stares at you curiously.

"What is happening?"- you ask.

"You got sucked into the game. Just like I did."- he says. "I've been trying to beat it for who knows how long and now with the two of us here, we might actually manage! There are levels you really can't pass without having a helping hand and the creatures that exist here are not exactly friendly."- he explains.

"Great. Just what I needed before the weekend. You know, I was supposed to stay at home for two days and catch up on my favorite shows? I was supposed to eat take out! And play games! But inside the comfort of my home! Not for real!"- you frown, throwing your hands up annoyingly.

"You think I wanna be here?"- the guy whined. "I wanna go home to my bed too. I would give anything to eat the most nasty ass greasy hamburger. And fries, oh fries."- he licks his lips, his eyes closing and his eyebrows sad. "Also, you're taking the news well. You're literally stuck in a cursed game."

"Listen, nothing shocks me anymore?"- you shake your head. "Just tell me what is happening right now and what the fuck is that sound outside?"

"See for yourself."- he says and you peek outside to see fireballs raining from the sky, but no, not from the sky, there is a dragon flying around spitting them out directly onto the faceless creatures, smiting them as they try to run.

"Great."- you frown. "What now?"

"I don't have any weapons except this."- the character pulls out a knife. "We have to wait for it to leave."

"There should be more weapons, I mean it is a game. As you level up, you need to get more powerful shit. Also why is the first level a literal dragon spitting fire and you only have a knife? You can't bring a dragon to a knife fight."- you cross your arms on your chest and the somewhat cute character chuckles.

"Tell that to whoever developed this game."- he sits down on the floor, patting the place next to him so you join him.

"I'm Jisung by the way."

"Y/n."- you shake his hand and he exhales with a smile.

"It is good to have another human here with me. I have hope now."- he declares.

"I bet you do. But how did you end up in here anyways?"

"Probably the same as you, played the game and got sucked in."- he purses his lips in thought. "Never got pass level four though. There's a door there that needs to be opened by holding two levers at the same time, but on the other end of the room. I can't possibly stretch that much."- Jisung chuckles.

"You're awfully cheerful for someone stuck in a game and being a loser that can't even get over level 4."- you smirk.

"Hey now, don't be like that!"- he gives you a nervous chuckle. "I just need another hand to progress to level 5. It was designed that way."

"Alright, I'm just teasing, don't get your panties in a bunch."

"Who says I'm even wearing any?"- Jisung smirks as he leans towards you and you lean away with a scoff.

"Too much, too soon."- you stand up. "Is there anything I can use as a weapon here?"- you ask as you start searching around.

"Not that I know of."- Jisung shrugs and with that, it finally becomes quiet outside.

"Can we go out?"- you ask, peeking your head only a little.

"Yeah, let's go finish level one."- Jisung nods with a smile.

As you step forward, you almost slip and fall as a literal sword appears in front of you, laying on the ground, shiny and sharp, all ready to use.

"Woah, so cool!"- you exclaim, grabbing it and chuckling as you start swinging it around.

"Damn, careful with that thing!"- Jisung lets out an 'eek' sound as he leans away from you almost decapitating his poor head.

"I actually have skills!"- you say, making a few quick moves before the tip of your blade ends up slightly pressed against Jisung's neck.

"Please use that on the enemies."- he whimpers and you chuckle as you retract the sword away from him.

"Let's go kill some monsters."- you say as you leave the cave and Jisung scrambles behind you, thinking you must be completely out of your mind.

The faceless creatures that were standing by the fire harmlessly were now charging at you but somehow you knew every trick with the heavy sword, like you've been wielding it your whole life.

You easily decapitate them, no blood coming out as you do, after all they were just ones and zeroes, they disintegrate into thin air after you kill them.

Jisung admires your agility as he uses the knife, having to come up with a strategy as he himself had to fight all these creatures alone mutiple times. He would stealth around them and get them in the back of their neck, the blade sinking into their flesh and killing them with little effort.

You're actually having fun doing this, usually you're cooped up in your house, nothing really interesting happens as you work from home and then play games or watch tv.

You had always wished you could fall into another world, live another life where you can do new and adventurous things like absolutely killing the shit out of some annoying creatures.

Jisung and you easily get rid of all the enemies in the field, both breathing hard and looking at each other after you're done.

"Good teamwork!"- he lifts his hand up and you high five him with a proud smile on your face.

"Gosh, that was so fun!"- you marvel in your victory as Jisung shakes his head with a smile.

"We're not done yet, there will be more."- he says as he starts walking. "Follow me, y/n!"

You follow behind him as you walk towards a valley full of dips and hills, a few trees growing around, placed at random and just then you notice how this world is devoid of details and usual textures that the real world has.

You know you're supposed to be walking on some kind of reddish sand but there's no texture to it.

It's the weirdest thing ever.

"Watch out!"- Jisung calls out to you, snapping you out of your thoughts as you look up and see the faceless monsters approaching the two of you quickly.

"Shit!"- you exclaim as you see a swarm of them scurrying towards you. "How are there so many?! How did you manage to kill them when you were all alone?!"- you yell out as you start expertly swinging your sword again, heads rolling left and right.

"I didn't!"- Jisung yells back. "More of them are spawning since you dropped in here!"

"Fuckers!"- you yell out and start killing them with even more vigor.

Jisung wonders if you have anger issues because you seem to be handling the slaughter oddly well.

He does his part, killing as many of the creatures as he could.

"Wow, this'll definitely get me in shape."- you say as you lean your hands on your bended knees.

"You must be crazy."- Jisung chuckles.

"Maybe I am. Why, are you afraid?"- you smirk.

"No, I'm thrilled."- he winks at you and it's your turn to chuckle before you keep on progressing further.

"Hey, how come I'm not thirsty or hungry?"- you ask as the two of you continue walking, the surroundings becoming darker as you near a forest.

"I've no idea but I haven't been thirsty or hungry here either. Ugh, maybe we're dead?"- Jisung shrugs with a slight pout, his chubby cheeks making him look like a cute pufferfish.

"Wow. Great conclusion. We might actually be dead, like how do you even know that when we win the game, we get back into the real world?"

"I just assumed it. When you win, you get a reward and wouldn't that be a reward? Being here sucks. Yeah, sure it's fun for the first few rounds but it becomes burdensome to keep repeating the same levels over and over again."- Jisung sighs.

"That's when you didn't have me. But, I'm here now and we're gonna get further than level four, my friend."- you say with a smirk.

"You seem really excited about this."- he notes with a snicker.

"My dream came true. I got sucked into a different world! I've always wanted to experience that!"

"You really are crazy."- he shakes his head.

"Still thrilled about it?"- you ask, lifting up your eyebrow, the smirk still painted on your face.

"Sure am."- Jisung nods as you finally come up to a forest.

"We have to be stealthy here."- he adds.

"Okay, I'm ready."- you nod, already lifting up your sword.

"Don't be too hasty, y/n."- he warns and you roll your eyes playfully at him.

Jisung picks up a lantern that was waiting on the side and the two of you venture into the dark forest.

It's dark and thick enough to be creepy, making goosebumps rise on your skin but in your mind, you're in no real danger since you have your sword, plus this is a video game, not real life, right?

"The creatures here are quiet because they float around so keep your eyes peeled."- Jisung whispers, his eyes wide as he scans the surroundings.

"You got it."- you wink with a thumbs up before gripping your weapon.

Nothing happens for a few more moments until you accidentally step on a twig, snapping it in half and creating sound in the otherwise quiet enviroment.

This attracts the ghastly creatures, pale as the moon with sharp teeth and completely white eyes, as they float towards the two of you with their hands stretched out menacingly.

You waste no time and start swinging your sword, cutting the enemies into pieces like they were made of nothing.

Jisung on the other hand, is having a little trouble killing them with only his knife.

He grunts as he jumps and stabs the enemies wherever he can reach.

You help him out a little but another swarm of the creatures approaches and Jisung puts his lantern down, grabbing a thick branch, dual wielding it with the knife as he tries his best.

You feel more and more exhilirated as the enemies keep dropping down to the ground and then disappearing out of existence entirely.

"Ouch!"- you hear Jisung on your left and you quickly turn around, seeing him clutching at his arm.

"Shit!"- you yell out as you manage to kill the last creature that was floating above Jisung, ready to pounce on him any moment.

"Are you okay?!"- you hurry to Jisung and he removes his hand to reveal a cut on his arm.

"Woah, we can get hurt here?"- you gasp.

"Yeah, but there are healing stations. There's one not to far away from here, in level 3, just before the garden level."- he says.

"Okay, lead the way."- you nod and the two of you quickly continue.

You have to fight the creepy creatures a few more times before you actually make it out of the forest, barely making it out alive as you finally see a worn out barn in front of you, the doors are pulled off of the hinges and there are holes in the walls everywhere; but right now even that looks like a five star hotel to you.

As you come closer, you can see that the wooden planks again have no real texture just like most of the things in this world, reminding you again that this is not reality and that somehow you have ended up as an entity made up of ones and zeroes.

"Is this it?"- you ask.

"Yes."- Jisung nods as he leads you inside.

There are all sorts of tools like hammers and axes scattered around, all can be used as weapons.

"Should I grab one of these axes? It looks sharp enough to me."- Jisung picks it up and observes it.

"Haven't you been here before?"- you ask.

"I have, but there were no tools here then. I think new stuff and enemies keep spawning because now there are two protagonists in the game."- Jisung taps his chin.

"Weird."- you squint your eyes but ultimately shrug as you look for disinfectant and bandages in the drawers.

You rummage through them and finally find it in the third drawer.

"Should've gone bottom up with this."- you mutter to yourself as Jisung sits down and sighs.

"Tired?"- you ask as you make your way to him.

"Yeah, I think whoever made this, gave us some kind of stamina bar."

"So we're supposed to feel tired? But not hungry or thirsty?"

"I guess so. I mean as I said I do crave food mentally. Like I keep thinking about- OUCH!"- he yells out when you press the cloth with the disinfectant on his wound.

"A little warning would be nice."- he says and you chuckle at him.

"Don't be a baby. There are things that hurt more than this does."- you say before grabbing a bandage.

"True but that was unexpected."- he pouts and you can't help but chuckling again.

"There. All done."- you nod as you look at his arm.

"Thank you."- Jisung smiles. "I think I'm gonna sleep now."

"I'm too excited to sleep."- you retort.

"Oh, are you now? Then you can keep watch."- he says and you chuckle. "Just wake me up when you feel like sleeping and we can change shifts then."

"Okay."- you nod with a smile and Jisung gets comfy on a pillow he made from his jacket.

While he sleeps, you decide to explore the barn, not finding anything too unusual in it, you look around it too, turning up blank yet again so you just go back to sitting next to Jisung's sleeping body.

To your disappointment, no enemies attack while you're on guard duty and you end up picking on your pants in boredom and thinking about who made the game, how did they manage to suck in whole living people, how come only Jisung and you are not npcs, what actually happens when the game ends.

Those were some of the questions swimming in your mind, none of them having a definite answer or a satisfying conclusion.

You yawn and realize that you actually are tired so you gently shake Jisung awake.

"What? Who's there?"- he panics immediately as he sits up.

"Calm down."- you snicker. "I just wanna sleep, my dude."

"Oh, right. Ugh..."- he rubs his eyes. "Okay, I'll keep us safe then."- he nods and you exchange places with him.

"Sleep well, y/n."- you hear Jisung say before you drift off into dreamland.

-

Curious eyes peer down at you.

There's something unsettling in the way they look, emotionless, not blinking, yellow eyes just staring, boring into yours as if they're trying to suck your soul in.

A wide smile appears, revealing long sharp teeth, the pointy ends dipped in red blood as a long tongue licks at them hungrily.

Sharp claws rasp gently against your cheek.

You're so pretty.

You're so human.

So edible.

-

You wake up after a nightmare, a creature so freaky with sharp teeth and long claws was about to eat you whole but you managed to open your eyes before it got what it wanted.

You sat up so quickly that it scared Jisung, making him jolt where he sat beside you.

"Woah, hey. You okay?"- he asks, concern written on his face.

"Just had a nightmare."- you swallow.

"About?"- he asks.

"A monster was about to eat me. It had sharp teeth and claws. And creepy yellow eyes."

"Oh. I had dreams about that monster too. I think he may live somewhere around here. Or she, whatever. Maybe it's a boss we have to fight."- Jisung concludes.

"Could be. It tried to eat me."- you say and he chuckles.

"Maybe it's hungry."- he says and you nod.

"Not gonna let it get me. If it is a boss I will make sure to fight well."- you say and Jisung gives you another high five, his hand holding yours for a moment.

"I will fight beside you."- he promises before the two of you decide to continue.

The forest leads into a pitch black cave, and as unsettling as it feels to be surrounded by thick walls on all sides with the earthy smell and the humid air around you, you still always thought caves were cool and wanted to explore one and your mind hadn't changed even in these circumstances.

Now you had the chance, the two of you making your way through narrow passages, having to turn your bodies sideways at times.

"What kind of monsters live here?"- you ask quietly as you walk through another, more wide passage where Jisung and you can walk side by side, your shoulders brushing occasionally.

"Some creepy crawly creatures. They look slimy and shit. They crawl really quickly so again you have to be vigilant."

"Okay, I'm gonna be very vigilant."- you chuckle and Jisung shakes his head.

"You're taking this as if it's a joke."- Jisung says incredulously as you enter a bigger room, the ceiling stretching up forever and the room itself branching into a few different paths to choose from.

"It's a game. Not a joke but also not reality."- you state and before Jisung can answer, the freaky creatures with glowing white skin start crawling out of holes and from the ceiling, their claws rasping against the stones.

"Ew!"- you make a disgusted face before you start killing them like it's nobody's business.

Jisung has little time to admire your unrelenting passion as he himself gets into the fighting, successfully slaughtering the repulsive beings.

In the heat of the moment as you concentrate on swinging your sword at a certain angle, your foot slips on a stone and before you can steady yourself, you start falling, your sword clattering next to you as your body hits the wet floor with a thud.

Jisung gasps as he looks at you, one of the creatures slams down from the ceiling, their hands planted on either sides of your head as their mouth opens, sharp teeth ready to bite into your flesh.

"Y/n!"- Jisung yells as he turns towards you but one of the creatures jumps on his back and as he struggles with it, you try to struggle with the one on top of you.

But their skin is smooth and slimy, making it slip between your fingers no matter how you try to grab them.

Just as you think you're about to meet your demise, in a blink of an eye, you hear a spine crack and you turn to see Jisung has managed to grab the creature and crack it against the sharp stones.

You swear in your half-hazy state that you can see a yellow glint in his eyes.

The creature above you is about to wrap their hands around your neck but Jisung appears next to you, grabbing the creature and stabbing it with his knife as it wails in pain.

You can no longer keep your eyes open.

The creature with yellow eyes appears in your dream again.

But this time there is something oddly warm and comforting about it as it leans in closer to you, its head between your legs.

Just then you register that you're completely naked and aroused, your pussy is swollen and dripping with arousal as the creature looks at you hungrily, ready to devour you as its face stretches into a wide smile, displaying all the bloodied teeth inside its mouth.

"Oh!"- you exclaim as you try to move but quickly realize that you're tied down.

The creature's long wet tongue licks at your inner thighs, making you gasp as it slithers up towards your clenching hole. It presses against your pussy, licking at your wetness, collecting it and savoring the taste and you whimper as your legs tremble.

You've never felt this aroused in your life as the creature pushes your pussy lips open with the wet raspy muscle, its claws digging painfully into the supple flesh of your thighs.

The long tongue is as thick and long as an average length cock and you whimper loudly as it starts fucking you open.

You've never felt so much pleasure as the tongue expertly finds your sweet spot rubbing it and prodding at it, torturing you as your juices drip and slide down your ass.

"M-more!"- you manage to moan out and the creature speeds up with a smirk, its yellow eyes staring at you without ever blinking.

The thought of being at the mercy of a monster, its sharp teeth so close to your most sensitive part, its tongue filling up your little hole has you clenching around it tightly as you moan continuously before finally creaming around the relentless muscle.

The creature laps at you before lifting their body up, revealing that they're completely naked too, and you gasp as your eyes see their dick, big and heavy, with ridges on it, the head leaking pre-cum.

"Not yet."- the demonic voice sounds as you lick your lips at the sight of the monster's red and hard member.

You wake up in sweat, quickly realizing that you had a wet dream as you feel the sticky substance pooling on your panties.

"Fuck!"- you whisper-yell and Jisung appears on your side, sitting down on the mattress you were just sleeping on.

"Y/n? Are you okay?"- he asks, his big sweet eyes almost looking innocent as he peers at you.

"I don't know. Had a weird dream."

"Was it the monster again?"- he asks. "The one with the yellow eyes?"

"Yeah, it was. How do you know?"

"Because any time I fall asleep, he's in my dreams too."- Jisung sighs.

"Yeah but this dream... It was um- arousing."- your face turns red as Jisung's eyes widen.

"Oh. It was?"- he licks his lips, seemingly scooting closer to you.

"Yes."- you search his eyes for a moment.

"I had a few dreams like that too. I- um... had dreams that the monster was fucking me."- Jisung admits almost shyly. "Would get me horny like nothing else for some reason."

"Oh yeah? I felt like that too."- you say.

"Now? Do you feel like that now?"- he asks almost desperately, his lips hovering near yours.

"Mhm."- you nod, the arousal taking over you as your pussy throbs, clenching around nothing whilst you lean into Jisung.

"Where are we though?"- you ask, your lips almost against his.

"In the garden shed. Level 4. We're safe here."- he whispers, his bottom lip brushing against yours for a second.

"Just how long have you been here, Jisung?"- you whisper back as you press your lips on his, your hand touching his, running up his arm slowly to the back of his neck as you hold him.

"Too long."- he whimpers against you, touch deprived as he seeks out your lips.

You give into the kisses, being hungry for touch yourself, and weirdly aroused from the dream earlier your lips keep dancing together more passionately, tongues licking at each other desperately in no time.

Jisung grabs at your waist as you hold his face, both of you moaning into each other.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you pull his head back, making him moan loudly as your lips attach to his neck immediately.

He tastes sweet for some reason, as you kiss and lick at his smooth skin, your teeth sinking into the flesh, sucking and marking him.

Jisung is a whiny mess, his hands are impatient as he grabs your breasts, massaging them and playing with them.

Your hands are equally as impatient as his, as you let one of yours run down to the obvious bulge in his pants.

"Fuck, you're big!"- you squeeze his hard cock through his pants and Jisung whimpers, biting on your lip and holding it between his teeth before releasing it.

"Yeah? You like that?"- he smirks, his fingers pinching your sensitive nipples, happy that you didn't wear a bra under your shirt.

"Love it. Wanna suck."- you whimper against his lips as you keep leaving little kisses on them, kissing the corners of his mouth too.

Jisung moans as you palm him, his cock twitching under your touch.

"Do what you want with it."- he moans.

You unbutton and unzip him instantly, pulling his pants down with his boxers, not wanting to waste any more time.

Your hand presses on his chest as you push him to sit against the wall.

His cock is heavy, leaking with pre-cum and twitching just because you're looking at him hungrily.

He spreads his legs and you lean down, your tongue catching the precum and licking at the head, prodding at him and enjoying his taste as you swallow.

"Oh fuck!"- Jisung whimpers as he looks down at you, on your hands and knees, your pretty lips stretching around his head.

"Yeah, just like that baby."- his hand rests on your head as he pushes you down to take more.

Your eyes flutter as you keep swallowing his cock and he gasps in wonder and arousal when you manage to push it all in, the tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag deliciously around him, your wide eyes watering.

"Fuck, you're so good!"- Jisung whimpers as you start bobbing your head up and down madly like it was the only thing you were made to do.

Jisung trembles like a leaf, his fingers digging into the back of your neck as he grips your hair harshly.

Your eyes roll back as you keep sucking on him, ignoring the way it makes you gag, letting your nose touch his navel anytime you swallow his entire length.

Your pussy leaks with arousal as you rub your thighs together, wanting nothing more than to be plugged up with that huge cock of his.

You pull off with a pop, your eyes glazed over and matching his as he stares at you.

"I need you to fuck me now."- you breathe hard.

"Strip and get on all fours for me then."- he smirks, getting rid of his shirt.

You whine as you pull at your clothes impatiently, desperate to feel Jisung deep inside you.

Your clothes ends up somewhere on the floor, together with his as you lean down on your hands and knees, lifting your ass up and spreading your legs for him.

"Wow, so wet."- his fingers run through your folds as you drip down your inner thighs. "You want me to prep you?"

"No, just put it in already."- you wiggle your ass desperately.

"What a cockslut."- Jisung smirks behind you, his palm making impact with your ass.

"Need it."- you whimper as he presses the tip on your pussy, gathering your wetness with it.

"You'll get it, don't worry."- he says and with one swift move of his hips, he buries his cock deep inside you, the stretch brings you a stinging pain that you adore.

"Ah, so big! Fuck me, please!"- you whine and Jisung grips your hips, fucking into you quickly, your wetness making him slip in and out easily as his heavy balls keep smacking against you.

Every thrust brings you both pain and pleasure and your nails dig into the mattress as you keep begging for more, harder, deeper, faster.

Jisung loses control over himself at your desperate begging, and he starts pounding into you relentlessly, his cock throbbing inside your warmness, hungry to feel you more, to bury himself as deep as he can.

"Pull my hair!"- you whine and Jisung complies, gathering your hair to create a makeshift ponytail, he grips it in his hand and pulls your head back harshly as he pistons his hips into you.

You moan loudly, scratching at the mattress, as the sounds of his hips smacking your ass fill up the room.

"I'm gonna cum!"- you whine and Jisung groans behind you as he feels you clench around him before you squirt all over him.

"Ah! Can I cum inside? Please let me cum inside."- he moans desperately, the feeling of your pussy becoming even more wet and tight after you came drives him crazy.

"Yes, fill me up!"- you push your ass back into him and he groans deeply, gripping your hair and pulling your head back again as his cock twitches before he fills up your insides with his hot cum.

Both of you breathe heavily for a moment before Jisung slowly pulls out of you and you roll on your back, looking up at him.

The sight of his messy hair and sweat covered body has you twitching again as you feel his hot cum slowly ooze out of you.

"Mm."- you whine as you put your hand between your legs and start playing with his cum, pushing it back into your pussy with your fingers.

"My, my, you are freaky."- Jisung exhales with a smirk.

"You've no idea."- you smirk back as you sit up.

"What are you-" - Jisung starts when you lean towards his cock.

"Wanna clean you up."- you bat your eyelashes at him and before he can even answer, you swallow his softened cock and give it a few licks, licking up both his and your cum before swallowing it.

"Ah! Y/n!"- he whines as you lean back and release him, your tongue darting out to lick your lips.

"Wow."- you both chuckle.

"That was really hot."- Jisung looks at you with sparkly eyes.

"Mhm."- you nod. "Let's wash up and continue though."- you add as you start getting up.

Jisung pouts at the lack of cuddles but nonetheless, he follows you albeit reluctantly.

"Can I at least get one more kiss before we leave?"- he asks after the two of you got done washing up and you snicker.

"Sure. We can fuck later again if you want."- you giggle against his lips.

"I'd never say no to that."- he smirks and kisses you, more gentle and sweet than before and you wrap your arms around him, your body pressing against his.

The warm and comforting feeling the monster in your dream gave you permeates between your bodies.

You quite like the feeling.

-

"You failed to tell me that the garden spawns more enemies than any other level!"- you yell out as both you and Jisung keep slaughtering the creepy zombie girls appearing from the bushes.

Their shrieks shake your eardrums and pierce through your brain, somehow making you feel exhausted the more you try to fight them.

"This never happened before, I swear! Please believe me, y/n!"- Jisung yells back desperately, his eyes wide as he swings his axe, the blade getting stuck into one of the zombie's heads.

"They just keep coming, Jisung! We can't possibly stay here and keep fighting with them, we need to think!"- you yell as one of the zombies almost gets you but you manage to dodge and cut her head right off her shoulders.

"Give me a moment!"- Jisung struggles with a zombie who manages to grip his axe and throw it aside but he's quick as he pulls out his knife and stabs the zombie in her head.

"We don't have a moment!"- you point at another group of zombies approaching you, their shrieks becoming louder and louder.

"Fuck! Ugh- let's burn down the garden!"- Jisung says.

"Quickly, do it quickly!"- you say as you keep fighting.

Jisung manages to pull his zippo out and light some dry branches and leaves on fire as you keep fighting the creatures attacking you, keeping your comrade safe while he tries to burn the place down.

"Let's get to that door! You go pull the right lever and I will pull the left!"- Jisung points at the levers quickly.

"Alright!"- you yell as the fire starts to spread, both of you run towards the big heavy doors.

The fire creates a barrier between you and the zombies as the two of you skip over to the levers, pulling the heavy handles down at the count of three.

The doors creak open, the sound loud over the crackling of fire and both of you run through the door, not even looking what you're running into.

The heavy doors close behind you as if they feel that you've come inside and suddenly it becomes completely quiet.

Your hand searches for Jisung's in the darkness, as the two of you breathe heavily.

Fingers entwined as you scoot closer to each other, both of you jolt when the torches perched on the walls start burning, lighting up the big long corridor you just walked into.

"Where are we now?"- you ask.

"I have no idea. Remember, I've never been further than this big door."- Jisung lifts his finger as he turns and both of your lips hang open in shock.

"Where's the door?!"- you squeal.

"It's fucking gone!"- he gasps, squeezing your hand.

"Woah, things are really getting freaky!"- you exclaim.

"Why are you smiling about it?"- Jisung shakes his head, his eyes wide, a peculiar smile on his face.

"I love freaky shit."

"I gathered that but how freaky are we talking?"

"Very freaky."- you nod as you start making your way down the corridor.

"I'll keep that in mind."- he smirks, his hand is still in yours as you walk cautiously towards the next room, which finally reveals where you are.

"We're in the castle!"- Jisung gasps. "The one we could see down from level one!"

"Does this mean we're close to the end? If so, there's probably a boss fight coming up soon. We need to find some weapons. And also get some rest."- you say as you scan the room.

"I agree. Let's see what's over there."- Jisung points at the door on the right and miraculously, it turns out to be the safe room.

Looking around, you notice a weapon upgrade station, a health kit, and some other tools, but what catches your attention the most is the glowing scroll that's literally floating in air next to the bed.

"What is that?"- you mutter as you approach it, grabbing it in your hands as Jisung follows you and peers over your shoulder.

You open it up and chuckle.

"Something in English."- you add and he nods at you to read it.

If you have gotten to here somehow, turn back now, there's a switch you can pull to leave, I beg of you; just leave, do not fight her and do not let the demon out. I repeat, don't let the demon escape!

"What demon?"- you purse your lips. "And who shouldn't we fight?"

"Maybe it's the demon from our dreams."- Jisung shrugs.

"Yeah, it he comes up though, we can just kill him."- you say in a nonchalant tone, tossing the scroll aside as you turn to look at the comfy bed.

"Kill him. Yes."- Jisung nods absentmindedly.

"Oh wow, look at that bed."- you rub your palms in delight, forgetting about everything else.

"Looks comfy."- he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"For sleeping."- you add as you tumble down onto the mattress.

"And other activities. Perhaps later?"- Jisung jumps on the bed next to you, making your body shake with it as you chuckle.

"Mhm. Maybe."- you nod and turn around with a blissful smile on your face.

The warm feeling envelops your naked sleeping body, yellow eyes boring into the back of your head as sharp claws rasp at your skin, barely touching you as they explore your sweet sleeping form.

Long bony fingers rest on your thigh, squeezing the flesh before lifting your leg up to reveal your sopping wet pussy.

The creature growls quietly, making you stir a little, and he gravitates closer to you, the big throbbing red cockhead makes contact with your little pussy, it drags against your folds and you whimper in your sleep, warm, wet and inviting as you chase the touch.

He presses his cock harder into you, slowly dragging the length with all the ridges against you, your aroused pussy leaving trails of white cream on the red member.

"Fuck. Need to have you like this."- the creature groans and grabs you, turning you on your back.

Your eyes snap open and you see those yellow eyes looking at you hungrily as he spreads your legs and pushes your knees up to your shoulders.

"Are you gonna fuck me?"- you ask sleepily as you blink, arousal gushing out of you in excitement.

"Yes."- he answers simply, pressing his cock against you.

"It's so big."- you whimper. "Can I touch it?"

"Not yet. I need to put it inside you first, okay?"- the creature smiles with his sharp teeth and you nod.

"Okay."

He slowly drags his tip against your folds up to your clit, teasing it and pressing into it and you throw your head back, moaning quietly as you snake your arms around your thighs, hoisting your legs up even more, your fingers playing with your sensitive nipples.

"Aren't you so ready to receive?"- the creature chuckles, the tip slowly being pushed into you.

"Ah! Yes, I am!"- you whimper as it stretches your pussy, you've never felt this aroused and needy, the need to be filled up with the creature's cock was the only thing on your mind.

The head finally pops in as your warm flesh stretches around it, accepting it in and you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes.

He looks down at the sight of your glistening pussy lips clenching around his head and it has him grunting, it takes everything he has in him to not start fucking you dumb immediately.

You lift your head up a little and look down.

He's barely even in and you look at the ridges on his cock that is yet to be pushed inside you, and you feel your pussy ooze with more arousal at the thought of having the monster cock deep inside you.

"Please!"- you whimper.

"You're such a desperate little slut."- the monster smirks, his hands pressing on the back of your thighs as he slowly pushes more of his big girthy cock inside you.

"Mm, yes!"- you moan.

"Say it!"- he demands, slipping more of his length into you, the ridges finally touching the inside of your soft walls.

"I'm a desperate little slut!"- you whine out, your hands coming down to spread your pussy as much as you could, feeling crazy as the monster fucks you open slowly, pushing a bit more of his cock in each time he thrusts.

"Never had a human as freaky as you under me. Willingly letting me split you apart with my cock. No, not just letting me do it, begging me to do it."- the creature smirks.

"I've always fantasized about being fucked by a monster."- you gasp as his cock pushes in deeper into you, stretching your little hole impossibly wide as the member gets even more girthy towards the balls.

"Fuck, you're sick!"- the creature cackles. "Your fantasy is about to come true. Be careful what you wish for."- it sounds menacing but you bite on your lip in anticipation, your hands squeezing your breasts and massaging them.

He stops being patient, pushing all of his length into you, knocking the air out of your lungs as his heavy balls rest on your ass, and you look down, trying to catch your breath.

"Ngh..."- you whine almost cross eyed, when you see that he has managed to push his huge cock inside you completely, a huge bulge evident on your tummy.

Your hand comes down to touch the bulge as the creature observes you.

"Brace yourself, little human."- the creature smirks before he starts fucking into you with vigor, making you gasp and claw at the sheets, your eyes wide as his cock fucks you painfully but you revel in the pain, craving more and more.

"Harder!"- you whimper, tears streaming down your cheeks quickly as the monster pounds into you, the texture on his cock stinging against your velvety walls, the head hits somewhere deep inside you, making you feel like your insides are literally being rearranged as he obliges and fucks you even harder than before.

It doesn't even take that long for you to cream and squirt around him, cumming hard as your eyes roll back and you moan loudly, your whole body vibrating on the bed.

He keeps fucking into you fast and hard, bringing his weight down on you as you scream in pain and pleasure.

"You're enjoying this so much. Already came, little slut you are."

"Yes, so good!"- you whimper, your vision blurry as you stare up at his yellow eyes. "Need more!"

"Keep taking it good like this and I might keep you forever."

"Yes!"- you whine, your hips lifting up into his as his cock keeps splitting you apart.

"Yeah? You want that? Wanna be fucked like this all the time?"- the creature growls, fucking you even harder and you can't even keep your eyes open anymore.

"Yes, please, fuck me!"- you keep moaning and the creature laughs above you.

"How about I use you as my own little cum dump? Breed this little human pussy with my demon seed?"

"D-demon?"- you whimper, your eyes opening up as he keeps wrecking you. "P-please! Yes, I want it!"- you feel like your mind has completely seeped out of your skull and the only thing left inside your empty head is the demon's cock bringing you pain and pleasure like you've never experienced before.

"You're gonna take all of it then."- the demon says and fucks into you harshly as you cry, holding onto the sheets for dear life before you feel him twitch inside you, his cock spasming and flooding your insides with so much cum that it drips down between your legs, sliding down your ass and making everything around you soaked.

"Aw, your little pussy can't even take it."- the demon mocks you as he slowly pulls out, the ridges massaging your walls before he leaves you feeling empty.

"I-I'm sorry!"- you whine as you feel his cum gushing out of you like a river.

"Don't be. I'm still gonna fill you up."- he smirks almost evilly as he slides his still hard cock between your asscheeks, pressing the head on your fluttering hole and you gasp.

"Ever been fucked here?"- he smirks.

"A few times."- you nod.

"What a slut you are."- the demon seems to be enjoying. "You want me to stretch you here too?"

"Please!"- you beg again, a new wave of arousal running over you as you anticipate being filled up again.

The demon's long tongue licks at his teeth hungrily as he looks at your stretched pussy still oozing out cum, his cock pressing into your little hole, meeting some resistence as he tries to push in.

"So tight."- he whines, his cock bullying its way inside your ass.

"Mm, it hurts."- you moan, your legs leaning on his shoulders as he presses closer to you, his cock slipping in more.

"You love that."- he smirks and you nod quickly, moaning as he keeps pushing in.

The ridges feel painful again but his cock is coated in so much cum both from him and you that it manages to slip into you steadily.

"How about being fucked in both holes at the same time?"- the demon asks and you nod desperately.

"Please, please!"- you beg quickly.

The demon's claws retract before he plunges three long fingers inside you, moving his cock inside your ass at the same time.

The pain that brings pleasure is too much as you let the demon have his way with you, fucking both your holes open, your eyes flutter closed and you think you may have passed out a few times as he keeps relentlessly pushing into you like he's trying to dig his way inside you.

You can't even count how many times you squirted all over yourself before the demon's hips finally become sloppier and soon he cums inside your ass, filling you up again.

"That's it. Take it all. Good slut."- you hear him say as your hole overflows with his hot cum.

You feel his long tongue lapping at your asshole and your pussy, the demon moaning against you as it savors the taste of the two of you mixed together.

That's the last thing you remember before you slip into unconsciousness.

"Y/n! Y/n!"- you hear Jisung's voice as he shakes you awake.

"What? What?!"- you sit up, your whole body is sweaty and you can feel the wetness between your legs, the feeling makes you dig your fingers into the sheets beneath you.

"Someone is trying to break in!"- he panics, pointing at the rattling door and your head snaps towards it, eyes wide as you suddenly become awake.

"Fucking hell. We need weapons!"- you scramble to get up, your legs almost giving up when you stand but Jisung is quick to rush towards you and grab you.

"What's wrong with you?!"- he asks worriedly as you whimper.

"The monster..."

"Oh... Oh. I know what it feels like. You'll be okay, I promise."- Jisung nods quickly and the pounding on the door becomes even more frantic.

You know the flimsy wood won't be able to take much more so you try to gather all the strength you have and forget about the monster from your dreams for now, and focus on whatever monster is at the other side of the door.

You stand up and run over to the table in the room.

There is an upgrading station for your sword which makes it more sharper, carrying a magical strength and a deadly poison on it.

Jisung acquiers a magical crossbow that makes you jelaous for a moment but before you can protest the door is finally kicked down, and an angry looking big dog growls at the sight of you.

Frightened, you jump behind Jisung unconsciously.

Big canine teeth drip with saliva as the dog's eyes glow red is your biggest nightmare come true.

"You're afraid of dogs?"- Jisung quickly prepares his bow.

"Terrified. Please kill it."- it's your only fear manifesting itself as an enemy, ready to pounce on you any time, rip your flesh into pieces.

"Don't worry!"- he says as the dog jumps up, you shriek, shielding yourself automatically but Jisung is quick and accurate as the poisonous arrow hits right between the creature's eyes.

The dog wails as it hits the ground harshly, disappearing after it dies.

"Is there more?"- you ask with tears in your eyes, as you clutch at Jisung's arm.

"Don't know. But something's in the foyer, for sure."- he points at the zaps of energy shining and echoing in the tall room.

You gather your senses, prepare your sword and walk past Jisung towards the frame where the door used to be.

"Wait!"- he says and you turn quickly, looking at him expectantly. "Are you sure you're okay to fight?"

"Jisung, we have to fight."- you say with determination and he nods with a sigh before joining you.

"You're going to die!"- a shrill voice yells out and you look up to see a creepy looking woman dressed in a black dress, her hair long and white, her eyes filled with blank whiteness too, as she floats in the air, some kind of light energy around her.

"Cue the dramatic music."- you roll your eyes with a smirk, getting ready to fight.

The woman laughs, "I'm not gonna let you get away!"- she adds, creating an orb of light and throwing it at the two of you.

You bring up your sword in a milisecond, quick enough to swing it and hit the orb like you were playing baseball, throwing it right back at her, making her scream out as it hits her chest.

At the same time, Jisung readies his crossbow and hits her straight in the head but the woman just grips the arrow and slowly pulls it out of her forehead.

She's still alive after that, even after being hurt, and her hands are creating light orbs again.

You hear scratching near you and your worst fear comes true again, she has called upon two angry dogs, ready to rip both you and Jisung into little pieces.

"Oh my god!"- you scream and Jisung quickly pulls his bow up and hits one of the dogs before it can even move.

"Just worry about her, I will get rid of the dogs!"- he yells and you manage to move out of the way of an orb in the last second.

"Okay!"- you take a deep breath and fight with everything you have, trying to hit the orbs and return them back into her, giving her visible damage as she keeps floating closer to the ground, evidently losing strength.

At the same time, Jisung is fighting hard to keep the angry beasts as far away from you as he can.

To his and your surprise, he has a natural talent with the bow just like you do with your sword, like you have done this before, like you do this every day.

The woman screams as she falls to the ground after being hit with her own magic repeatedly, the zapping energy around her dies down as she breathes hard.

You smirk to yourself, noticing that no more dogs are coming out either and you make your way towards her, ready to put an end to her existence.

"Y-you're making a mistake."- she whimpers as she looks up at you.

"Yeah, sure I am."- you lift up your sword.

"If you let him out... chaos will rule."- she says meekly and you chuckle.

"I don't know what you're talking about and I don't care. Goodbye!"- you say and swing your sword, easily decapitating the woman, her body falling down with a thump, slowly disappearing after a few seconds.

"We did it!"- you turn to look at Jisung and see him smiling wide before he makes his way to you, his crossbow clattering to the floor as he wraps his arms around you, lifting you up and making you squeal as he twirls you around.

"We did it!"- he repeats happily and you chuckle, your feet finally touching the ground, the two of you find each other's lips in a fiery kiss.

"Wait- what now?"- you ask, finally looking around.

"There! Those doors weren't there before!"- he points to a door that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

Your fingers intertwine as you run, quickly opening the door, only to scream when you realize you're falling through the map.

"Fuck! Hold on!"- Jisung yells as the two of you clutch at each other, waiting for the inevitable impact with the floor.

But what you fall into seems like nothingness, almost as if you're suspended in air.

"Woah!"- Jisung exclaims, wobbling on his feet.

"You okay?"- you ask and he nods quickly.

"Yeah, just a bit dizzy. You?"

"Me too. Let's go over there."- you point to a light in the darkness and as the two of you walk towards an unknown ending, that warm and comforting feeling is back, running through your veins.

You somehow end up in your room, right where you were sitting before shit hit the fan, Jisung right next to you and the smell of burnt plastic coming from your ps.

"Shit, it destroyed my console!"- you whine and Jisung peers at it.

"Can you get a new one?"- he asks as you inspect the shriveled cd.

"Yeah, sure, after three paychecks. Maybe."- you whine again, visibly defeated.

"Hey, we're home though! I mean, your home."- Jisung's cheeks become red as you look up at him, tossing the burnt cd aside.

"Where do you even live?"- you ask.

"W-well obviously not here, but um- if I could stay for a few days, I'd be really grateful. Honestly, I'm kind of disoriented."- he nods quickly.

"Sure."- you shrug with a smirk. "Are you as hungry as I am?"- you ask.

"Starving."

-

After eating a big dinner and taking a much needed warm shower, exhaustion takes over both of your bodies, and you plop down into your bed, Jisung behind you as he nuzzles your neck.

"I like you a lot."- his lips move against your skin.

"That was obvious."- you chuckle.

"Say it back, please!"- he whines, teeth nipping at your neck.

"I like you a lot too."- you say sleepily, your eyes closing.

Jisung leans back a little to look at you, a smile stretches on his face, revealing sharp teeth and a long tongue, eyes glowing yellow as his arms tighten around you, the claws gently scratching at your skin.

Thank you for saving me.

He says in his true demonic voice, thinking you're asleep but you smile to yourself as you feel him press into you, the memories of him in his demon form having his way with you and using you flood your mind.

Finally, you've gotten what you always wanted, something to make your life interesting, to make your deepest and darkest fantasies come true, a sick smile spreads on your face matching the one of the monster behind you.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

[korepersephone]

Se chiudo gli occhi.. scompari..

No!

Se chiudo gli occhi.. ti trovo ovunque!

Se chiudo gli occhi, penso di vederti scomparire, di lasciarti andare via, di allontanarti da me come una nuvola che si dissolve nel cielo. Mi immagino la tua figura che si fa sempre più lontana, come una presenza che svanisce nel nulla, come se non fossi mai esistito. Ma poi, quando lo apro, la realtà mi colpisce con una forza che mi fa quasi vacillare.

Barcollo.

Tremo.

Cado.

Invece.. se chiudo gli occhi… ti trovo ovunque. Non sei più lontano, non sei più un’ombra sfuggente, sei presente in ogni angolo della mia mente. In ogni pensiero che mi attraversa, in ogni sogno che si intreccia nella mia notte, in ogni fibra di me che pulsa di vita. Ti trovo in ogni cellula che compone il mio corpo, in ogni atomo di aria che entra nei miei polmoni e si mescola al mio respiro. Sei lì, in ogni sussulto del mio cuore, che batte, fremita, e poi perde un battito al solo pensiero di te. Sei in ogni vibrazione dei miei nervi, che si innescano al ricordo di un tuo tocco, in ogni goccia di sangue che ribolle nelle mie vene come un fuoco che non si spegne mai.

Non posso sfuggirti, non posso liberarmi da te. Sei radicato in ogni parte di me, come un’eco che non smette mai di risuonare. Anche quando cerco di scappare, di negarti, di dirti addio, non riesco mai a cancellarti. Non sei un ricordo, perché sei ancora reale nella mia vita, presente in ogni giornata, in ogni ora.. Sei una parte di me, una presenza che non posso ignorare, che non posso rimuovere.

E in questo caos di emozioni che mi travolge, la tua assenza si fa più pesante, ma la tua presenza, quella invisibile ma costante, è ciò che mi fa sentire viva. Eppure, questo sentimento di appartenenza a te, questo essere invasa dalla tua essenza, è sia una benedizione che una maledizione. Una maledizione perché non so come liberarmi da questa connessione, e una benedizione perché mi fa sentire che, in qualche modo, sei ancora con me.

[girlactionfigure]

Rabbi Reuven Israel Kott was a Torah prodigy whose cleverness and chutzpah saved thousands of Jews from annihilation by the Nazis.

Born in a Polish shtetl in 1897, Reuven was one of fifteen children. His family were Hasidic followers of the Ger Rebbe.

Reuven’s exceptional intellect was apparent at a young age. He was a gifted scholar of Talmud and Jewish scripture, so precocious that he was given rabbinic ordination when only 17 years old.

The Rebbe took a special liking to Reuven, and every Friday night Reuven sat next to the great man at his festive Sabbath gathering. Small in size - he stood only 5’1” - Reuven was known for his big brain, and big heart.

Reuven was selected by his community to represent them as the Jewish voice on the local provincial council. When the Polish president died in the 1920’s, young Reuven stood at the graveside with other clergy and delivered a eulogy on behalf of the Jews of Poland.

Although life seemed fairly good for Polish Jews at the time, the Ger Rebbe sensed that big trouble was coming. He urged his followers to get out of Poland and move to Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel), at that time British Mandate Palestine.

As the Rebbe’s right-hand man, Rabbi Reuven Kott threw himself into the mission of helping Jews leave Poland and return to their ancestral homeland.

The British had a quota system restricting the number of Jewish families they let in. Reuven took advantage of a bureaucratic loophole defining “family” as two parents and an undetermined number of offspring.

Reuven collected money and bribed Polish authorities to get blank birth certificates. He would then “create” new families, matching people up, changing names and identities as needed. Every “family" had at least a dozen children.

Reuven told those he helped that they must stick with their fake identity. Most people complied, but a few didn’t and were caught. Under threat of being sent back to Poland, somebody gave Reuven’s name to the authorities.

Reuven and his brother were on a train in Warsaw when three plain-clothes officers approached. After verifying his identity, they arrested Reuven for bribery and forgery and threw him in jail. As a pious Jew, Reuven couldn’t eat the non-kosher jail food, so every day his daughter brought him a kosher meal - a two hour journey each way.

After several long months, his brother finally got word that there was going to be a hearing in the case. He went to visit Reuven in jail, told him the news and asked which lawyer he wanted to hire.

Reuven scribbled something on a scrap of paper, folded it up and slipped it through the bars of his cell. Outside the jail, Reuven’s brother unfolded the note. He was shocked to read the contents: “Hire me the most anti-Semitic lawyer in Warsaw!“

Reuven’s family was baffled. With so many top-notch Jewish lawyers, why would he want an anti-Semite? Had his incarceration led to a mental breakdown? Reuven’s brother assured them that he was of sound mind, and he went to Warsaw and found an attorney notorious for his fierce hatred of Jews.

The day of the hearing arrived, and the courthouse was packed with hundreds of Hasids from Reuven’s community. Reuven was allowed only three minutes with his lawyer, and then the hearing began.

To everybody’s shock, Reuven’s lawyer stood up, made a brilliant argument, and got the case dismissed.

Back home in the shtetl, everybody wanted to know what Reuven had said to his lawyer in those three minutes. Reuven said his Talmud study had taught him that in a business deal, if you get three “Yes” answers, the deal will close.

He asked his lawyer three questions:

- You hate us Jews, don’t you?

- Do you want to see me rot and die in jail?

- Would you like all of us Jews gone from Poland?

The lawyer answered yes to all three questions. Reuven immediately shot back, “What good would it do if one measly Jew rots in jail? If you set me free, I can get all the Jews out of Poland!”

Reuven got what he wanted by blinding the lawyer with his own hate. He continued his work “creating” large families and helping them move to Palestine. The anti-Semitic attorney even helped him procure more blank birth certificates. People often asked Reuven when he would go to Eretz Yisrael. He said, “I’m like the captain of a sinking ship. It is my responsibility to get all the passengers out before I get in the lifeboat.”

Over the course of 20 years, Reuven helped tens of thousands of Jews escape Poland. Today, almost half a million descendants of those Polish Jews owe their lives to Rabbi Reuven Israel Kott.

Unfortunately, Reuven himself never made it to Israel. He was murdered at Auschwitz in 1942.

For proving that one small man in three short minutes can accomplish miracles beyond measure, we honor Rabbi Reuven Israel Kott as this week’s Thursday Hero at Accidental Talmudist.

This story was told to us by Reuven’s granddaughter, Ziporah Bank. She heard it from her mom - the daughter who brought kosher meals to Rabbi Kott in prison. 

Accidental Talmudist

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Orbit

college!finnick odair x fem!reader content warnings: little bit of angst summary: you meet your estranged best friend. wc: 2k

masterlist. | part two

In our lives, we pass a thousand faces, hear a thousand voices. Some stay for a moment, some for years. And then there are the rare ones —the ones that leave a mark so deep, that even after time stretches thin and memories start to fade, their face, their voice, still makes the world slow down for just a second.

Finnick Odair was that for you.

He had been your sun.

From pre-K to eighth grade, the two of you were inseparable — two kids tangled together in every yearbook photo, every group project, every inside joke scribbled into the margins of a worn-out notebook. Your school had been tiny, the kind where the same twenty-five kids followed each other from year to year like ducks in a row, stuck in the same beige classrooms under the glow of flickering fluorescent lights.

You watched Finnick grow up, phase by phase. The Minecraft era, when he wouldn't shut up about building underwater houses. The time he got braces and wouldn’t smile for pictures. The summer he insisted he was going to be a marine biologist and memorized every fact about hammerhead sharks known to man.

And he had watched you, too. Through your Percy Jackson obsession—your Camp Half-Blood shirt on constant rotation, your hand always clutching the newest book like it was scripture. Through your quiet spells, your louder ones, your slow-blooming love of words and late-night journaling.

You knew each other like second skin.

And then, you didn’t.

High school was supposed to be a fresh start. You were tired of the sameness, the way the girls in your grade had started icing you out for reasons you never fully understood. You needed change. So, you were headed to the public high school. And Finnick? He was moving across the state to some swanky private boarding school.

Still, you had both sworn things would never change. You pinky promised before the eighth grade graduation, sitting cross-legged on your trampoline under the June stars. You would stay best friends. You would visit on weekends. You would FaceTime and text and never lose touch.

But time had other plans.

The goodbye hurt more than you thought it would. At your shared backyard graduation party, he’d handed you a small box. Inside was a necklace, a dainty silver moon on a thin chain. He wore the sun version around his neck.

“Best friends. Always,” he said, voice thick but steady.

You hugged him like it was the last time. And in a way, it was.

Then came the after. The quiet house. The empty driveway. The summer that didn’t feel like summer anymore.

You tried. You really tried. The texts. The late-night FaceTimes. The blurry selfies captioned with "miss you :(" and "we need to talk soon." But the truth was, you were both changing—growing up in opposite directions. He went to some private high school across the state. And you dove headfirst into your new school, trying to forget how badly middle school girls could break a person.

But eventually, the calls stopped. Then the texts.

By late winter of freshman year, you were watching him from afar—his face glowing on Instagram stories, surrounded by people you didn’t recognize, smiling a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. But maybe that was just your wishful thinking.

He had new friends. New school. A whole new life you didn’t belong in anymore.

You didn’t text. You wanted to. A thousand times. But your thumb always hovered over the keyboard, then moved away. He seemed happy. You weren’t sure he’d even remember the girl who used to wear Camp Half-Blood shirts and knew all his shark facts by heart.

You let him go.

Years passed like seasons—fast, blurry, warm in some places, freezing in others. And then, you were a senior in high school, opening your acceptance letter to the University of Panem.

You didn’t think about Finnick that much anymore. Not really.

But one night, while tapping through Instagram stories in bed, your thumb froze. You blinked. Then blinked again.

It was a repost of a college commitment post.

Congratulations to Finnick on his commitment to the University of Panem!! 🎓🎉 We are so proud of your accomplishments and are excited to see what you accomplish!

You dropped your phone on your face out of shock.

Because for the first time in four years, after all the silence, after all the growing up you did apart—Finnick Odair would be at your college.

And suddenly, the past didn't feel so far away.

Your alarm blared through your room.

Sleepily, you turned it off and unlocked your phone, eyes adjusting to the light. Move-In Day. Today was the start of your new life.

College.

You stared at the word written in your notes app, a list titled Dorm Must-Haves that you definitely didn’t finish packing. The adrenaline of this day was supposed to kick in. You were supposed to feel excited. But instead, you just felt...suspended. Not exactly nervous, not exactly calm. Somewhere in between.

Downstairs, you could already hear your older brother clattering around in the kitchen, loudly pretending not to be annoyed that he had to help you move into his school.

You sat up, brushing the sleep from your eyes. In the corner of your room, your duffle bags sat zipped, a heap of clothes and books and memories you were dragging with you. It was weird, packing your life into three bags. Even weirder, knowing everything was about to change.

You got ready quickly, shorts, an old Fleetwood Mac tee, and a hoodie tied around your waist.

Then you looked over at your desk.

The moon necklace sat where it always did, on the corner of your desk, still resting in the little box Finnick had given you. You hadn’t worn it in years, not really on purpose. It just felt like it belonged to a different lifetime.

Your fingers hovered over it.

You weren’t expecting to see him. The university was big, he could be anywhere, different dorms, different major, different people. It had been four years, and who knew if he even remembered you.

Still…

You slipped the necklace into your pocket. Just in case.

The drive to school was long and loud a mixture of your brother’s playlist, gas station snacks, and bursts of silence as you stared out the window, lost in thought.

You remembered road trips with Finnick. His sun-streaked hair catching the breeze through the open window, the way he used to dramatically sing along to pop songs he pretended to hate. The games you made up to kill time. The way the car always felt warmer when he was in it.

You shook your head.

It was just move-in day. No big deal.

You rested your head against the window and let the scenery blur. The sky outside was pale and still waking up, streaked with pink and gold.

Your brother talked, about school, about his freshman year disaster of a roommate, about everything you should pack for the communal bathrooms, but your mind kept drifting.

To him.

You hadn’t let yourself think about Finnick too much since seeing that commitment post. It was easier that way. Cleaner. But now, with your stomach fluttering and your whole life packed in a trunk, he was creeping back in.

Would you see him today?

Would he recognize you?

Would he even care?

You had no clue what dorm he was in, no clue what major he picked, no clue if he was even moving in today. The odds of running into him on a campus this size were probably slim.

Right?

The campus was already buzzing when you arrived. Cars lined the curbs, trunks were popped open, RAs shouted directions through megaphones. Bright-eyed freshmen dragged carts full of dorm essentials up concrete stairs, their parents trailing behind like pack mules.

Your brother parked near your building, Rose Hall, and the two of you got to work unloading. You made trip after trip: from the trunk to the lobby, from the lobby to the elevator, from the elevator to the third floor, where your new room was tucked away at the end of the hall.

It was hot. It was crowded. Your arms ached.

You were halfway to the elevator with a box of books when he nudged you hard with his elbow.

"Hey, isn't that Finnick Odair?"

You blinked. “What?”

He nodded subtly toward the grass, where a tall guy was laughing, tossing a football back and forth with some guy. Golden brown hair, messy in the way that was probably intentional. Broad shoulders. Confident posture. Even from a distance, he stood out.

It was him.

You recognized him instantly.

And just like that, your heart dropped into your stomach.

You expected to feel something dramatic, shock, butterflies, maybe even anger. But instead, it was this quiet stillness. Like your brain couldn’t quite catch up with what your eyes were seeing.

Finnick Odair was here.

And he wasn’t wearing the sun necklace.

You quickly looked away, pretending to read the label on the box you were holding. “I don’t know. Might be.”

You didn’t see him again the rest of move-in day.

Or maybe you just avoided looking.

The moon necklace stayed in your pocket—warm from your fingers, but still untouched. You weren’t sure why you brought it. Maybe part of you thought wearing it would’ve felt like a statement, like you were walking around campus with a banner that read I Still Care. Maybe keeping it hidden just felt safer.

By the time orientation rolled around two days later, you had almost convinced yourself it didn’t matter.

Almost.

It was hot. Way too hot for whatever cutesy “Welcome to U of P!” schedule the orientation team had cooked up. You sat under a tent surrounded by other freshmen, a drawstring bag full of free university merch at your feet, and a fake smile plastered on your face as your peer mentor tried to get everyone to do icebreakers.

Your attention drifted. You scanned the crowd.

You weren’t looking for him, not really. But your eyes caught on familiar hair, familiar height—too many guys here could’ve been him if you only glanced for half a second.

You had no idea how it would even go. Would he say hi? Pretend nothing happened? Would he even recognize you?

And then..

“Hey,” someone said beside you.

You turned.

He was just…there.

Finnick.

Older, taller, broader. His voice deeper. His eyes somehow the exact same. It hit you all at once, like a song you hadn’t heard in years playing from another room. You could barely breathe.

He looked like he hadn’t expected you to actually turn around.

There was a pause. Just a little too long to be normal.

You opened your mouth. “Hey.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I, uh- I saw you the other day. On move-in. I wasn’t sure it was you.”

You gave a tight smile. “Yeah. Same.”

A silence stretched between you. The kind that used to never exist.

“So…” he said, eyes flicking around like he was buying time. “You’re in Rose Hall?”

“Yeah,”

“I’m in Pallis Hall.”

You nodded. “Not too far from here.”

Another pause.

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? Hey, remember when we promised we’d never lose touch? That worked out great. Why didn’t you text back? Do you still have your necklace?

Instead, all that came out was, “It’s…good to see you.”

He looked at you, really looked at you. His voice was soft when he said, “Yeah. You too.”

The peer mentor clapped their hands, snapping both of you back to the present. “Alright, time to break into your assigned groups!”

You stood. So did Finnick. For a second, you just hovered there, unsure if you were supposed to say goodbye or just awkwardly shuffle away.

“Well,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” you replied, heart thudding. “See you.”

And then you walked away.

Like you barely knew each other.

A/N: WOW I AN ON A ROLL