#the right to refuse unsafe work

[dispatchesfromtheclasswar]

[thepoetrytheorist]

If you love Disney, its parks, its media, and its merch, listen up.

So I work for Disneyland, and we are talking about striking very soon. So soon, in fact, that we've been hosting rallies just outside of the parks. Yesterday was the 69th birthday of Disneyland Anaheim... it was also a monumental rally.

I haven't seen anyone on tumblr talking about the impending strikes against Disney. Not even going through the Disney tags or searching tumblr for "Disneyland Strike."

Let's talk about why we're striking:

Cost of living in the immediate SoCal region is nearly 2x as much as we are getting paid.

Cast members that have worked for the company for long periods of time are still paid as mucha s new hires.

Disney has showed up to union negotiations with insulting offers, including at 25 cent raise. Most cast members make $19.90

Disney rarely schedules you. In some areas and departments, you are fighting with your fellow cast members for hours. I have heard of cast members who are only scheduled for 1 4-hour shift per week. Many of those cast members have upwards of an hour commute to and from work.

Disney Admin has told attractions castmembers [so: rides, rollercoasters, and anything fun you get to do and see at the parks] that we are losing them money, which is why they refuse to schedule us and pay us. In the words of my partner, who also works at the parks, Disney without attractions is an over glorified mall and a food court. Disney needs us, and they know it, but they do not respect us.

Disney has an unfair attendance policy. It can be very difficult to get a needed day off, even when it has been requested weeks or months in advance. When you do take a day off [with-out accrued sick or vacation time] it counts against you. You can have 3 a month, 6 in 90 days, 9 in 180 days, or 12 in a year. How do you accrue sick/vacation? Hours worked, which can be impossible with the scheduling practices mentioned above. (Most cast members trade shifts among themselves to get around this.)

Cast members feel unsafe and unsupported in the parks. Many cast members have felt threatened by entitled guests upset that they are following policy. Disney Leads and Managers have to say yes to these guests and make things happen, though. [Which only makes this behavior worse and more dangerous for cast members who are only doing their job.]

Cast members also report feeling threatened, or even being literally threatened, by management in the parks. Especially cast members who have a second job. Especially cast members who know their rights.

Further, cast members work in hazardous conditions with pay that does not reflect that. Many cast members report losses of hearing, sore throats, and severe back and shoulder pain. Cast members are also exposed to infectious diseases at a much higher rate.

https://www.sfgate.com/disneyland/article/union-button-contract-dispute-19515296.php?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR2u5o_mvU3i6jpIyHxBUZpEzD2GRSKFf5Pem4uRXqa6vKWDgZuffvINd1g_aem_AA1L0fI1phugJIluYMcDSw

[noctiva]

Sweet Thing (PT. 2)

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

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Part One!

Part Three! (Will be added once it’s posted)

Playlist!

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WC: 24.4k (a beast, I know.)

Summary: One night. One night is all it takes for your simple life to take a turn you would’ve never expected. With rough hands moulding you into something you didn’t think you could ever be, you don’t realize you’re in too deep until it’s far too late.

CW: 18+ content, mentions of religion + religious imagery, questioning faith, descriptions of violence and gore, alluded sexism, americans written by a canadian lmaoaoao, manipulation, sort of toxic relationship, loss of innocence, loss of virginity, explicit sexual content, corruption, salirophilia, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, lowkey-exhibitionism, dirty talk, toby being an asshole lowkey, sort of kind of coercion

Reminder to separate reality from fiction! Some of the acts written here are definitely not recommended to imitate. Be safe!

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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You were quite literally trembling with anticipation.

Hands shaking as they held your fork, refusing to meet anybody’s eyes as you sat at the dinner table - the roast your mother had slaved over virtually untouched. It was a nice meal; slow-cooked seasoned meat from a freshly slaughtered cow, homemade mashed potatoes topped with a hearty amount of butter, stewed peas and carrots plucked from the ground outside.

The type of meal that you should be digging into, appreciating the hard work your mother had put into it to keep you fed and happy. And you would, on any other night, but not tonight. Not when your thoughts were so loud they were giving you a headache.

Toby had stayed with you for a little while after asking for your company later tonight. Sat next to you with his legs crossed, his knee bumping into yours every now and then. He had told you lots of things, voice soft as his scarred fingers plucked stray weeds from between the blades of grass.

Your mother had been right, about a lot of aspects. Toby had moved around quite often, hopping from state to state and hospital to hospital since he was just a baby. He had told you, that not only did he have Tourette’s, but he also had what caused him the most trouble - a condition that numbed his body to pain.

On the surface, you didn’t think it sounded all too bad, but the more explained it with a solemn frown tugging at his lips, you realized it really was a curse more than anything else. Broken bones left to fester because he couldn’t feel the pain of the fracture. Cracked teeth from clenching his jaw too tightly without realizing. Biting his nails until they were raw and bloody, only noticing the damage once he tasted iron on his tongue.

He wouldn’t show you his bare face, he had said, because he had gnawed through his own cheek without even noticing.

‘It’s u-ugly.’ He had muttered. ‘Real fuh-fuckin’ ugly. Highly doubt you’d s-still wanna talk to me if I showed you.”

“No, I would.” You had argued softly, as your eyes drifted to the bandaging that covered him up once more. Could it really be that bad? And even if it was, would you really be that disgusted?

Could anything really distract from how pleasant his features were to look at? He was rugged, a little roughed up, but in a way that endeared you. All his scars and imperfections coming together to form a man that you just couldn’t take your eyes off of.

He wasn’t perfect. Far from it. And maybe, that was the charm.

You had spent your entire life trying to fit into the mould that had been formed for you before even being born. Prim and proper. Soft spoken and considerate. Prioritizing everyone else’s needs over yours. Everything a woman should be, to make the lives that floated around you live easier. You were supposed to be perfect. It was what you were born to be.

It felt nice to be around someone who would never expect that of you, because he had a long way to go himself.

“Y-You say that…” Toby had breathed out in response to your little protests, his eyes holding a sad sort of resignation when they met yours once more. “But I think I’m still g-gonna keep it c-covered.”

You had been disheartened by his refusal, but looking back on it you couldn’t really blame him. You supposed the only people he had come across before you, were people like Jameson. People who shunned him for something he couldn’t control. People who backed him into a cage, forcing him to be ashamed for living within a body he didn’t ask for.

Maybe, one day you’d get the chance to show him that he didn’t need to be.

“Oh, baby, we are not doin’ this again.”

Your mother’s voice snaps you out of your daydream so harshly it makes you flinch, though she sounded just as sweet as always. You look down at your plate, just as full as it had been when you last focused on it, before your eyes snap up to your mother’s face. She’s staring down at you with a deep frown - one hand on her hip and the other holding everyone else’s plates. All completely empty. “I told you at breakfast that you’re not skipping dinner.” She reaches down to nudge your plate closer to you, but by now all the fixings have gone cold. What a waste. “What’sa matter with you today? Head in the clouds. Barely eating.”

If you told her, you’d probably start world war three right here at your dinner table. How were you supposed to say that you were too distracted because later tonight, you had your first date with a boy. Ever. Not to mention, the very same she had told you to steer far clear of.

“Nothin’, mama.” You answer back as convincingly as you can. By the look on her face, you can tell it’s not working. “I just haven’t had an appetite today. Maybe I caught a bug.”

“Caught a bug?” Jameson snorts from beside you, leaning back in his chair with an eyebrow raised. “You caught a bug, in the middle of summer.” His words come out laced with so much sarcasm it makes your brows wrinkle together. Just once. If he took your side just once, life would be so much easier.

“Yeah. Maybe I did.” You narrow your eyes at him, before dropping your gaze back to your plate once more. With a sigh, you finally pick your fork back up again and use it to shovel up a mouthful of mashed potatoes - which you have to force down. Cold. Just like you had expected. “Butt out, Jamesy.”

“Ah, don’t think I will.” Jameson hums back to you, watching you like a hawk with each mouthful of food you choke down. It was already hard to eat, but now it was even worse with an audience. “Ma’s right, you’ve been actin’ weird today.” He leans forwards a bit more, a sly little smirk tugging at the corners of his cracked lips. “Hiding somethin’?”

You didn’t think you were that obvious. At least, you had tried not to be. But, you supposed it was to be expected. You had spent the last nineteen years surrounded by these four people, day in and day out. Almost always under the watchful eye of at least one of them. It would be easy for them to pick out if something was off about you.

“I ain’t hiding nothin’.” You mutter back to him through a mouthful of carrots, to which you earn swift smack on the back of your head from your mother.

“Keep talkin’ with your mouth full and I’ll throw you in the barn with the rest of the animals.” Her tone is sharp and scolding, and you quickly swallow down the rest of your food before looking up at her apologetically. “You better not be hiding anything.” She continues, and there’s that look again. Peering down at you like she’s trying to get you to crack, her gaze steadfast as she waits for you to look away nervously - effectively admitting defeat.

But you didn’t, even when you felt sweat bead up on your brow.

“I told you, mama, I think I’m just comin’ down with something.” Somehow, that lie sounds even less convincing the second time it leaves your tongue. “I think I just need a good nights rest.”

Your mother, doesn’t look swayed. And when you glance over at Jameson, he doesn’t either.

You couldn’t exactly be blamed though. You weren’t well versed in the act of lying, especially not to your loved ones. It felt so wrong. Like each mistruth was stacking on your shoulders, weighing you down more and more each time you opened your mouth.

The weight of sin, you knew it was. A reminder to get back on track when you start to stray from the path. It rose goosebumps on your skin and made your chest feel tight. Made the crucifix around your neck feel like a noose, slowly choking you out more with each word you spoke.

You have to ask yourself if it’s really worth it. All of this stress and anxiety. To be damning yourself, simply for the sake of some companionship.

The answer, just makes you feel worse.

Because you did think it was worth it. Despite how wrong it was, and despite how much trouble you’d get into it you were ever found out.

Sitting next to Toby, talking to him, had been the most free you had felt since you took your first breath. He made you feel… Listened to. Appreciated. Known. He made you feel all of those things, within the span of just over an hour. And so if he could do that, by simply sharing space with you under the willow - what could he do if you gave him more time?

What else could he make you feel?

Maybe, that was why your family didn’t want you hanging around him. Because he made you wonder if the life you lived was really as good as you made it out to be.

He showed you that there could be more. That it could be so much better.

He was dangerous.

“Why would I ever lie to you, mama?” You asked her, in the sweetest, most sincere tone you could muster up. And maybe it was overkill, because all she responds with is a simple;

“I don’t know, darlin’. Why would you?”

To your surprise, she doesn’t push further, but you would guess that was on purpose. She wanted to let her words fester, sink into whatever secret you were keeping locked away, and gnaw at it until you were caving from the unbearable guilt.

Begging for forgiveness like a good woman should. From God first, then her second.

You could also hope, that on the flip side maybe she did actually believe you - because there was truth to your words, despite how coated in deception they were now. You hadn’t ever lied to her. Not before today. You had credibility, a track record of being honest and open.

A clean slate tainted in just a few hours.

You felt almost… Disgusted with yourself. So ashamed it brought a sickly taste to your mouth, almost unable to believe that you were sinking so low. Prioritizing your selfish desires over your loyalty to your family.

Your family. The ones who had raised you, cared for you, kept you safe and wiped the tears from your cheeks. You were turning your back on them, for a boy you barely knew anything about. A boy who had wriggled his way into your mind like a parasite, making a permanent home in your mind even when you tried to stay focused on the present.

A boy whose gaze made your tongue feel heavy. A boy who could turn you to stone with the lightest touch.

A boy who had awakened something, that had long been sleeping. Coaxing you to sink into all of the desires you had told yourself were so incredibly depraved. A boy who encouraged that, all while wearing the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen.

Toby had incited a war within your mind. Tearing into your psyche with his bare hands, moulding it into something he could settle comfortably into. The carnage of who you thought you were, left to be a mutilated mess that he used as a throne. He had hooked you from the first touch, imbuing you with an ache that you knew would persist until you felt the roughness of his fingers again.

He had grazed your cheek with the same gentleness as the summer’s breeze. Like you were made of porcelain. Something he knew he could easily break.

Little did he know, he had broken you the moment he bridged the gap and let his skin brush against yours.

Somehow, you manage to finish dinner. You choke it down with a lot of water to make it easier, trying to quell the way your hands would shake every time you lifted your fork. You did your best to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, listening in to the idle chatter of your family - even as your pulse thudded so loudly in your ears that it drowned out your thoughts.

You laughed at Jameson’s stupid jokes, and nodded along to your father’s usual grumbled complaints about people you couldn’t remember the names of. You played the part, even though you felt like nothing short of a phony.

An actress, playing the part of the daughter you should be.

By the time everyone’s retreating from the table, you feel like your throat is closing up. The meal you had just eaten was siting heavy in your stomach, and when your mother wishes you a good night when you’re on your way to retreat upstairs - you feel like you’re going to throw it all back up.

She knew. You knew she knew. And yet here you were, standing here and spitting in the face of her trust. Here you were, making a mockery of the woman who had created you from her very flesh.

You don’t think any amount of repentance could redeem you after this. Because even though your legs wobbled as you walked up the stairs, even when your palms went clammy as she leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead - you just kept lying. Doubling down on it when your father gave your hair a gentle ruffle.

You must be a rotten, rotten girl.

Your parents both retreat off to bed, though it’s only just past eight o’clock. They were always early sleepers, given how early they rise as well. Always out of bed before you, even though you were normally crawling out of bed just after six.

Which meant that you, still had just under four hours to kill before driving the final knife in their backs. Midnight, might’ve been overkill to be sure that everyone in your house would be deep in slumber whilst you snuck out the back door, but it was definitely better safe than sorry. If you got caught, you would never see him again, and you knew that for certain.

You hadn’t been joking, when you had told Toby that your father would probably fire a bullet at him if he caught sight of you two together.

And even if Toby didn’t leave bloodied, you’d probably be locked away until your parents found someone who they thought was suitable for you. Probably some run of the mill farm boy, the son of one their church friends. A safe, easy option.

Something you were quickly finding out, was not what you wanted.

You had seen how your father treated your mother, and you couldn’t imagine yourself being in her place. He never treated her badly, per se, but more often than not it seemed as if she was a caretaker rather than a wife. Always doting on him. Cooking his meals, washing and ironing his clothes. Wiping the sweat from his brow when he came back from the barn dirtied and cursing under his breath.

Never doing anything that could break the ‘perfect woman’ facade she had created. Always smiling, never complaining, barely ever letting him see her when she wasn’t all done up with her hair perfectly curled.

She seemed happy. But, you don’t think she’d ever let it show if she wasn’t.

You couldn’t imagine a life like that. Always hiding your true emotions for the sake of someone else.

You passed the time at the desk in your room, after changing from your day clothes into your nightgown. A book rested in your hands as you sat by the glow of your lamp, the overhead light switched off to give the illusion that you were also retiring for the night. It was a book you had been delighted to receive, when your father brought it back for you after a trip to the city - but right now, you can barely even focus it.

Your eyes were skimming over the words rather than actually soaking them in - having to reread paragraphs dozens of times because your mind kept wandering. Your foot was bouncing against the wooden flooring, and your fingers were trembling each time you turned a page. So full of anxious energy that you were practically bursting, fidgeting uncontrollably in attempts to relieve some of the jitters.

It wasn’t working, and every time you glanced back at the clock it just got worse. Eight o’clock turned to nine quickly, and nine turned to ten even faster. When you were finally closing your book after somehow managing to force your way through it - it was eleven. And the panic you had been trying to push down was creeping up to rear its head. Leaving you to do nothing but lean your elbows against the surface of your desk, placing your head in your hands as you let out a shaky sigh.

The house had long since gone quiet, only the occasional creak and groan from the shifting supports of your decades old home. Your mind though, was so loud you had barely even noticed. As the clock ticked down your thoughts were increasing in volume, screaming at you from both ends of the argument.

‘If you actually go through with this, every single day with your family will be a constant string of lies.’

‘If you don’t, you’ll lay awake at night wishing you did’

Both sides were incredibly convincing, causing you to fist your fingers in your hair as you attempt to quell the headache you could feel creeping up on you. Your eyebrows were wrinkled together tightly, nails scratching at your scalp as you tug at the stands harshly.

‘If you get caught, you’ll lose any freedoms you’ve accumulated over the years.’

‘If you don’t, it could be the best night of your life.’

“Dammit.” You’re muttering to yourself in a strained whisper, sliding your hands down your face. You squeeze your eyes shut before pressing your fingers into them, so hard they start to ache. “Dammit, dammit-“

You spend a couple more moments breathing out quick, panicked huffs of breath, before pulling your hands away from your face and glancing over at the clock once more.

11:37.

Oh, good lord.

Toby’s probably getting ready to leave. Running a hand through those soft messy locks of his as he does a once over in the mirror. Would he be wearing what you saw him in last, or would he change into something different - something that might impress you more?

Was he putting on a few spritzes of cologne, to cover up the scent of cigarettes you had smelled on him last? Did his hands shake when he did?

Was he just as nervous as you?

You doubted that immensely. Nervousness hadn’t even been an idea swimming in the air for him when he was sat beside you. Encroaching on your personal space like it was his right, weaving a web for you to fall into with all of those smooth words he had spoken. You had been the one on guard, and he was the one who had chipped at your defenses like it was a game.

Pushing you. Seeing how close he could get if you’d let him. Asking you out, probably because he knew the boldness would drain all the air from your lungs. Toying with you. Because you were a timid ball of nerves, and he was anything but.

That was what had pulled you in though. His confidence. His persistence. The want to spend more time with you, so much so that he wasn’t afraid to work for it.

And for someone who had only spent time with people who were obligated to, it was an intoxicating feeling to actually be wanted by someone who could’ve just as easily brushed you off.

By 11:50, your decision is made.

You’re standing from your desk, not even bothering to push the chair in because the scrape of its legs against the wood would be far too loud. You don’t change, not wanting the rattle of your clothes hangers to ring out in the air. As quiet as a mouse. Soft footsteps everywhere you went, with a heart thudding so loudly you were afraid it would give you away.

When you reach your bedroom door, you turn the door knob agonizingly slowly. It took you over a full minute to get it open, not wanting to chance the slightest sound alerting your brother - who slept in the room right next door. Or worse, your father.

You open the door only halfway, knowing how it creaked when you pushed it farther than that. Then, you slip through the gap, tiptoeing with socked feet out into the hallway. You take slow, soft steps, avoiding all of the planks that you knew groaned under weight. One foot after another, legs shaking with each step forwards, you make it through the hallway and down the stairs without so much a single noise to give you away.

You almost feel proud of yourself for it. Almost. Because the guilt was crushing down that thought with heavy hands.

But your excitement, is pushing your forwards. Excitement that had been smothered under the weight of your sins, but was clawing it’s way to the surface with each soft step. It moves you through the living room, into the kitchen, and to the back door even as your hands tremble.

Picking up the sandals by the door, is when it really sets in for you. You take a moment to pause, staring at the lock on the door as you breathe out quivering exhales. And yet, you’re still being pushed even more.

You reach up and turn the lock with your free hand, just as carefully as all of your other movements had been. It squeaks just a little when metal scrapes again each other, a sound that had your whole body freezing.

It wasn’t loud, and you knew that, but it felt like you had damned yourself with that one tiny noise. So you pause, even holding your breath as you wait to hear the sound of your executioner. The rustle of bedsheets, the creak of floorboards under feet. Your father clearing your throat, or Jameson sniffling away his grogginess as he pushed open his bedroom door.

But, none of that happens. The house stays almost eerily quiet. You wonder, if for some strange reason, God was on your side. Endorsing your wrongdoings, just because you wore the image of his son around your neck.

Not wanting to chance it, or give fate an opportunity to change its mind, you take the final step.

Through the back door, closing it behind you gently. Out onto the porch, where you slip your sandals onto your feet. Down the steps, the night summer breeze brushing against your skin. So warm, it doesn’t raise a single goosebump. The air holding a crispness you’ve never gotten to breathe in before.

You don’t think you’ve ever been out this late. Not only because you weren’t allowed to, but because you didn’t have a reason to. Nothing so important that you would take such a risk.

As you walk through the gardens, you realize how much you’ve been missing. The peacefulness that has taken over the entire earth, your surroundings dark as the world lays in slumber around you. When you look upwards, the moon shines brighter than you’ve ever seen it - stars surrounding it like holes punched through a backlit canopy. Crickets chirp in your ears, a sound that you’ve really only been able to take in through the screen of your bedroom window.

They sound louder now. Gracing your ears with the nightly serenade they bring to the air.

Though the trip is the same, it feels so different as you weave through the corn stalks. You were always excited to walk to the willow, but now you were bursting with it - the pace of your walk growing faster and faster, until you’re practically running through the crops with the wind whipping through your hair.

Away from that cage you had been confined to. Into the arms of the person who had helped you pick the lock.

With dirt on the hem of your nightdress, and leaves in your hair, you burst out of the other side. Breathing heavy, eyes near frantic as they dart around looking for him. Shaking not from the cold, but from the intensity of the emotions flowing through your veins.

Your eyes land on the fence before you, then the willow tree behind it - though it’s so dark now you can just barely make out the shape of its branches against the inky sky above. Then, your gaze moves over to the side, and when they land on what you were looking for your pulse reaches a worrying pace.

By the side of the road, a truck is parked. Engine running, yellowing headlights casting a beam of light against the gravel road it’s parked on. Even from the distance you’re at, you can tell it’s a beat up old thing - with a crooked bumper and rust creeping up its doors.

In the drivers seat, you see him. Toby, who hadn’t caught sight of you yet - feet kicked up on the dash as the flick of a lighter illuminates his face in shades of orange and gold. The rest of him, is bathed in the warm glow of the overhead light he has flicked on above him. He’s got those same beat up sneakers on, and it looks like a different pair of jeans, but it’s hard to tell because they’re just as ripped.

The cap his was wearing before is gone, letting you really take in the sight of the fluffy brown hair thar falls in loose curls over his forehead.

You’re struck by the image of him. Even more than you had been the first time.

You can’t help but just stand there for a moment, the breeze tousling your hair as you drink him in with your eyes. And you become more sure than ever, that you made the right decision. The effect that he has on you is one you don’t know how to describe, let alone comprehend. Just looking at him made your blood feel hot, made your heart flutter in your chest.

Made your feet start moving before you even realize it. You hop the fence more fluidly than you ever had, limbs feeling so light and loose you would swear you simply floated over it. When your feet hit the grass on the other side, you’re immediately breaking into a jog. The soft silky fabric of your night grown flowing around your legs, hair pushed off of your face by the wind as you advance on him.

“Toby!” You call out softly, lungs too tight to force your voice any louder.

But he heard you, of course he did.

You watch as his eyebrows shoot upwards, the cigarette in his mouth nearly falling out as his lips part in surprise. Then he’s turning his head, and his lips are stretching into a grin.

A grin, that was a mask for the absolute state of awe you’ve suspended him in.

The moment his eyes landed on you, all of the breath left his lungs - goosebumps immediately raising on the back of his neck and crawling down his spine. He feels his breathing go shakier, feels the heat that starts to bloom on his cheeks.

Because christ, if he thought you were beautiful before…

You were jogging towards him dressed in silk, a material that was loose and flowy - but clung to your body like a second skin as you moved against the grain the wind was blowing in. And he would swear that the moonlight was making you glow. Sharp shadows cast against all of the worst places for his eyes to focus on.

The dip of your collarbones, the swell of your breasts - which moved like liquid with every step you took. The soft curve of your hips, hidden away by just a thin layer of fabric. He could just imagine how it would feel to sink his fingers in deep, moulding your flesh to the shape of his touch. He had to wonder if you knew what a tempting gift you were to him, as you slowed into a walk and came up to the window of his truck.

“Hey, ss-sweet thing.” Toby grins down at you, eyes now locked on that sweet, sweet face of yours. Soft hair framing your features, falling down onto your shoulders so effortlessly elegant. “You made it.” He makes no effort to hide it as his eyes rake over the sight of you, half-lidded, and partially obscured by the smoke trailing from the tip of his lit cigarette. “Th-Thought I told ya’ to wear s-somethin’ warm.”

Just like before, his eyes on you immediately rise goosebumps on the back of your arms. You clear your throat, and cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to look a lot less affected than you truly are.

“It’s not that cold out.” You answer back softly, gaze falling to the way he fiddled with his cigarette between his teeth. Breathing in a lungful of smoke to exhale it through his nose, to which it would waft towards you and cling to your clothes. “Besides, I didn’t wanna risk making too much noise. My brother’s a light sleeper.”

Toby lets out a little hum of acknowledgment at that, before plucking the cigarette from his lips and ashing it out the window of the truck. He’s about to say something, when a sudden jerk of his shoulders cuts him off - the action so sharp it made his fingers go slack in their grip on his smoke. Which ends up falling in the grass right in front of your feet.

Not saying a word, you lean down to pick it up, brushing your hair out of the way as you do so.

When you stand back up fully, you give Toby a little smile, and for some reason he looks redder than before.

“Still lit.” You hum, extending the smouldering cigarette back to him, smoke wafting back towards you due to the way the wind was blowing.

“Y-You can take a hit, if you w-want.” Toby answers back, a sly little grin creeping onto his face. He leans his forearms on the windowsill of the truck door, putting his whole body weight against it as he gazed down at you.

He had a funny little feeling that you’ve never even been offered a cigarette before, and something within him - something sick and self-indulgent - wanted to see it happen. Wanted to watch those pretty lips wrap around the filter, breathing it in and tainting your pure lungs forever.

He wanted you to think of him, every time someone lit up in your presence.

“Oh, I don’t smoke.” You shake your head, quite predictably, and nudge the smoke in his direction with the cutest little pout of your face. “My daddy says it ain’t ladylike.”

Of course he’d say that. Toby thinks to himself, lips pursing a little in annoyance. All these rules and restrictions placed upon you, it was equal parts as pitiful as it was irritating. Your father, your mother - all of them - holding you by your leash even when you venturing so far away from them.

“Well,” He reaches forwards and begrudgingly takes the cigarette back from you. “I think a-anything’s ladylike, if it’s a lady that’s doing it.” He flashes you a cheeky little grin before slotting his smoke back between his teeth and leaning back in his seat. Looking at you, like he knows his words cut deep. Knows that they wriggle under your skin, forcing open a bigger and bigger gap to just let him in.

What was that in his eyes? Pride? You couldn’t quite tell. All you knew, was that it made your limbs feel weak. Body feeling heavy and lungs feeling tight - craving the burn of tobacco for the first time in your entire life.

How did he do it? How did he bend you to his will so easily? Tugging at you like a marionette - pulling the strings, swaying you in the direction he wanted you to be. Curious. Desperate. Naive. Everything you shouldn’t be, around a wolf like him.

Unaware that you were just his type of prey. “C’mon. It’s c-cold out.” He taps the windowsill with his palm, like a beckoning call. “Get in.”

“It’s not cold, Toby.” You roll your eyes. “I think you’re just a wuss.” But, you do oblige. Rounding the front of his vehicle to the passenger side, placing a foot on the sidestep before hauling open the door. It creaks when you pull it open, and thuds loudly when you close it - like it’s groaning out its discomfort.

“Y-You’re calling me a wuss?” Toby snorts, his eyes tracking you as you settle into the seat. Soft silk pooling around your thighs, giving him just the slightest tease of bare skin when you cross one leg over the other. “That’s rich. You’re the one who had a whole existential crisis just ‘cause I w-wanted to take you out.”

Point made, you couldn’t deny that, but you suppose he’d never get it. From what he had told you, Toby had lived a rebellious life. Just doing what he wanted, even if the consequences were grave. Viewing rules as suggestions and warnings as encouragement. He wouldn’t last a day in your shoes.

But then again, would you survive in his? Is that not what you were doing right now? Throwing caution to the wind, like he did every single day?

“You wouldn’t get it.” You roll your eyes, before cutting him a look out of the corner of your eye. “Not everyone can just do anything they want.”

“S-Sure you can.” With curiosity brimming your irises, you watch as Toby leans forwards a bit in his seat to shrug his flannel off of his shoulders. Letting the heavy fabric crumple behind him, revealing just a thin t-shirt beneath it. It wore the logo of a band you had never heard of, frayed at the hems and sleeves. Fitting him loose enough that you could only use your imagination to wonder what may lay beneath it.

Just a glimpse, is all you got. Lean but toned biceps and forearms, skin speckled with scarring and the odd bandage here and there. His freckles extended throughout his whole body, it seemed, with the way they trickled across his collarbones and down his arms. His skin had texture, told a story. Made you want to reach forwards and touch. Run your fingers across all of his scars like they were messages told in braille, read him like a book with just the pads of your fingers.

Oh, christ. Maybe this was a bad idea.

You’re too transfixed to even fully realizing what he’s doing before you feel the weighted warmth of something covering your shoulders. You snap back into the present, and oh. When did he get so close? When had you become draped with his flannel?

He’s mere inches from you now, his cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth as his fingers tug the material further over you. Eyes dropped low, not meeting your own. Focused, almost too focused, for the task at hand. “Don’t want you c-catchin’ a chill.” He mutters out softly, but you barely even hear it. He’s too close. Much closer than he had chanced earlier. Close enough that you can feel the heat of his body radiating towards you, close enough that you can feel each of his exhales.

Close enough that he can smell the scent of shampoo wafting off of your hair. Such a soft, sweet scent. So perfectly fitting for a girl like you. Invading his lungs, travelling up to his brain where it coated his entire psyche - muddling his thoughts even more than they already were.

With one last little tug, he pulls away slowly. Almost reluctantly. “Heat doesn’t work in this old thing.” He settles back into his seat, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth and extinguishing it in an ashtray that sat in the cup holder. So nonchalant, so unaffected it was almost enviable.

Were you just overthinking things? Drawing conclusions that had no merit, because he was the first man you had ever let in such close proximity? Was this all normal?

Or, was it just normal to him?

The weight of his flannel is a comfort that just borders on the edge of suffocating. Like a weighted blanket, warmed by his body heat and spritzed with the smell of his natural scent. Slipping your arms through the sleeves felt like a much bigger deal than it probably was. Like it was a watered down version of what it might feel like to be embraced by him.

It makes your skin tingle wherever the fabric touched you. Knowing that it had been touching him, just moments before. “Seatbelt on.” He reaches down to shift the truck into gear, before glancing at you and flashing you a cheeky smile. “C-Can’t go damaging the precious cargo.”

“Stop that.” You huff out immediately, feeling heat rush to your cheeks as you pull the seatbelt over your body. It seemed to come so easy to him, spitting out words that made your breathing go shaky. Barely even having to think about it, before he was stringing together the perfect phrase to make your face go pink. Almost like he had a whole repertoire stashed away.

“Stop what?” Toby laughs, before pressing down on the gas pedal. The sound of gravel crunching accompanied the rumble of his truck’s engine roaring back to life. Pulling off the side of the road, starting down the road and away from your home. No going back now.

You breathe out a shaky little exhale and cross your arms over your chest, pulling Toby’s flannel further over your body. Cocooning yourself in its warmth, letting the scent of his cologne melt away your worries. Even as you glance out the window, and watch the posts in your property’s fence roll by.

You wonder if your mother can sense it. If she’s shifting in her sleep, restless with anxiety because her maternal instincts pick up on the shift in energy. Tossing and turning, because she can feel her connection to you weaken, the further away you go. “Sayin’ stuff like that.” You mutter softly, squinting through the darkness to try and pick out the shapes you’re passing. The corn field, your house, the bridge that stretched across the creek next to your property. “Actin’ like a rodeo clown.”

“Hey!” Toby barks out a laugh, leaving one hand on the wheel so that he can lean to the side and nudge you with his elbow. “Y-You callin’ me a c-clown?” You let out a little giggle and give him a soft shrug, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

“If the shoe fits.” You hum, leaning back a little more in your seat. Getting comfortable, letting his inviting demeanour soothe you. The expression he breaks into just makes that easier - completely aghast, dramatically offended. Making it impossible for you not to burst into another fit of giggles.

“Wow.” He huffs, eyes flicking over to observe you for just a moment before he’s looking back to the road. In all honesty, it was pretty difficult to stay focused on the road when he had you sitting beside him - filling the air with the saccharine sound of your laughter, the smile on your face lighting up the darkness the truck was enveloped in. You really could give the sun a run for its money. “Y-You wound me. I’m j-just tryin’ to get you to smile.”

Toby reaches up with his free hand, running through his hair and pushing it out of his eyes. Letting you marvel at how soft and feathery it looked, falling back into place so effortlessly. “Which you are. So, I win.”

In more ways than one. He was winning, just by having you sat next to him right now - snuggled up onto his flannel shirt. A blush on your cheeks, and a smile curving your lips.

“Yeah, yeah.” You laugh softly, rolling your eyes as you lean your head back against the headrest. You tilt your head to the side to watch him, taking in every little movement of his as he drive you through the night. One hand tapping against the shift knob, the other one draped over the steering wheel. Shoulders jerking every once and awhile, and his jaw would clench every time it happened - like he was trying to suppress it.

Gnawing on his bottom lip every now and then, soft brown hair hiding his ears. Which, you learned when he ruffled up the strands, were pierced a couple times. Metal glinting in the light, just a flash of what he kept hidden. You wondered what other secrets he kept, just out of your sight. “Where are you taking me, Toby?”

“Oh, you w-wanna know the itinerary?” He chuckles. “I was hopin’ you be a fan of sur-surprises.”

Maybe you should’ve expected that answer. But regardless, it still makes you roll your eyes.

“I am, I’m just curious.” You hum back to him, gaze dripping down when he shifts the truck into a different gear. The aged metal grinding against each other in a way that almost sounded concerning. “For all I know, you could just be biding time until you decide to kill me or somethin’.” Words uttered out in a joking tone, but there was a bit of truth lying beneath them.

Toby felt safe. His presence was comforting n and his words were effortlessly charming. But, at the end of the day, you didn’t know him. Met him just earlier in the day, and now you were placing a great deal of trust upon him. Letting him take you away, without any of your loved ones knowing you had even left the house.

If he wanted to, he could take advantage of the situation so easily. He could make you disappear, and no one would even ever know he had crossed paths with you.

“You’ve g-got a dark mind.” Toby huffs out a laugh, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over at you. “I can p-promise you, the things I’ve got planned require you being alive.” He lifts his free hand and extends it towards you, letting it find a home resting atop your shoulder. And just like every time before, he feels it when your muscles go rigid just from the simplest touch.

That was alright. He’d get you used to it soon enough. “I-If it makes you feel better, I guess I can s-spoil the surprise.” With the roads so empty, he doesn’t even bother flicking his blinker on before he’s steering the truck around a right turn. “Was gonna show you my house, then I was g-gonna take you for a walk.”

“A walk?” Your eyebrows shoot up. “This late at night?”

“Can’t t-take the truck where I want to show you.” He shrugs, giving your shoulder a little pat before he’s pulling away once more. Leaving a warmed spot in the wake of his touch, like a ghost of his hand. “It’s worth it, I p-promise you. I think you’ll really luh-like it.” He rests his hand back on the shift knob, and meets your eye out of the corner of his. “You trust me?”

Should you, so easily? Definitely not. But, your sense of self-preservation was at an all time low right now. Had been, since you settled into his passenger seat. Had been, since you said yes to him earlier today.

Your curiosity was so intense, it outweighed the apprehension. Clouded over the lingering possibility of danger. And so, you nod.

“Yeah, I trust you.” You answer back to him softly, watching how his lips curl upwards at the sound of those words. How he looks a tad too pleased with himself, before he’s giving you a little nod.

“Good.” He hums, then fully directing his gaze back to the road. He drives for a little while longer, the gaps between conversation filled with the soft hum of the engine, and the sound of tires against gravel. At some point, he turned the radio on, but kept the volume knob turned down low, letting the music just be a soft drone barely audible through all the other noises.

Trees pass, houses pass, and as you glance out the window, you wonder to yourself how far away he’s going to take you. How detached you’ll be from what you know, by the time you’re finally stepping onto sold ground again. “Alright, t-take a look-see.” Toby’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and it’s then that you notice the truck has stopped moving.

Parked at the edge of the street again, right in front of a house that you already recognize. You remember when the old residents moved out - an older couple with no kids, that your mother would invite over for tea every now and then. You remember her saying that she was sure they must be lonely, with a big house and no children to fill it.

You remember them being one of the happiest couples you had met. Content with their own company, and nothing more. Looking back on it now, they may have been the catalyst for you wondering if the life your parents lived was the be all end all. If maybe, there were ways to be fulfilled elsewhere.

“That’s your house?” You ask, leaning over the centre console a little to peer out the driver’s side window better. There were differences here and there; a new coat of paint on the shutters, shrubbery planted along the fence posts. An old, 80s era car sits parked out front - just as worse for wear as the truck you sat in was. Tossed on the ground outside the fence is a bike, which you can only assume is Toby’s. It looked like something he’d own, with stickers all the way up and down the frame. “Just you and your parents? Or do you got siblings?”

Toby’s silent for a second, and when your eyes lift to look at his face you notice that his expression has hardened a little. Jaw clenched, eyes glazed over as he gazes out the window.

“I ha-had a-“ A sudden movement makes his jaw crack to the side, startling you a little and making your body jolt. “-a sister.” He admits, voice softer than you’d ever heard it - imbued with the type of hidden sorrow that could only be achieved by someone who had lost a loved one. You immediately feel horrible for asking, like you committed a sin by bringing it up, though you had no way of knowing the weight that question held for him. “She- She died before we moved out there though. A few years back.”

“Toby, I’m sorry-“ You try, but he lifts a hand to silence you.

“Not your f-fault. No way you coulda known.” He lets out a deep sigh before shaking out his shoulders, like he was physically trying to knock off the weight accumulated on his shoulders. “Bet she woulda liked you though. Would always tell me to stay out o-of trouble.”

He glances over at you, and smiles. “And I don’t think you even know the m-meaning of the word.”

“I do.” You hum back to him, holding his gaze as you lean in just a little more - elbows propped up on the centre console. Toby notices the shift immediately, and it takes all the willpower in the world for him to keep his eye up.

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow. “What is it then?”

“You.” You feel like you’ve taken a page out of Toby’s book of tricks, with the way that comment has his eyes widening. Stunning him for just a second, enough to make the tips of his ears burn pink. But he regains his composure easily, breaking into a grin and letting out a disbelieving chuckle.

He shakes his head, before leaning to the side to nudge you with his shoulder.

“Cheeky.” He laughs, eyes gleaming as he looks down at you. “I like that.”

He stays leaned close to you like that, just as close as he had been when he had draped his flannel over your shoulders. The smell of him so potent from this distance that it made you feel dizzy. Woodsy cologne, covered up by the scent of cigarette smoke. He’s close enough that it would be so easy, to let this interaction go further.

All you’d have to do is tilt your head upwards, lean in just a little bit more, and then-

You can almost feel yourself doing it. Your body pulled to him like a magnet as he held your gaze - his eyes holding a question that you already knew the answer to, if he were to ask it. Out of the corner of your eye you notice his hand lift, extending out towards you, hesitating for just a moment before he bridges the gap.

He cups your jaw with his palm, barely adding any pressure to his touch. So gentle it’s barely there even there, giving the chance to pull away if you really wanted to. You don’t, even as your pulse picks up to a worrying degree. Thudding so hard in your chest that you’re almost convinced it’s going to bruise your ribs from the inside.

You can’t move, can’t speak - frozen in your spot as you watch his gaze flicker between your eyes and your lips, lingering on the latter for long enough to make your stomach do flips. “You-You’re really pretty, you know that?” Toby asks you softly as he trails his hand up your face, gently tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. “It’s kind of insane.”

“Don’t… Don’t say that.” You mutter, dropping your gaze down towards your lap.

“Why not?” Toby asks, finally able to get a good look at you, now that you’re not tracking your his every movement. The curve of your lips, how the bottom one trembles when you inhale. The slope of your neck, down to your shoulders - all soft smooth skin that he’d die to get his lips on. Get his teeth sunk into. Mouthwatering cleavage, presented to him so beautifully in the silken fabric of your nightgown, accented by his shirt draped over your body. “It’s true.”

“Because-“ You lift your gaze back upwards, and you’re about to speak, when the little bubble Toby’s brought you into is popped by the sound of a door swinging open.

“Tobias!” A man’s voice hollers through the silent night air, such a stark contrast that it makes you freeze up. Toby, also jolts for a second, before he’s rolling his eyes and pulling away from you - directing his gaze towards the window.

A man in his late 40s is stalking down the driveway, and even from so far away you can tell his lips are tugged down into a scowl. Eyebrows furrowed together, on a beeline towards the truck. “What did I tell you about stealing my truck?”

Oh, that must be Toby’s dad.

“Fuck-“ Toby groans out, immediately shifting back into gear without a second thought. “P-Party’s over, time for the next stop.”

And with that, he’s shifting back in his seat and stepping on the gas - sending the truck lurching forwards with a speed that made you gasp, hands flying to your seatbelt to keep you stable. Gravel kicks up from under the tires as he peels away, not sparing the man behind you a second glance as Toby disappears into the night once more - leaving him in the cloud of dust he left behind.

He looks unfazed by it all, even as you stare at him incredulously - eyes as wide as dinner plates. There’s a flicker of irritation on his face, but you would guess it was only because he got interrupted - not because he was in trouble.

“This is your dad’s truck?” You ask him after you catch your breath, barely able to shake the adrenaline from your bones. You were still moving far faster than you had been before, trees blurring into smeared navy and green shapes. “Thought you said it was yours?”

Toby shifts into a higher gear, before responding.

“S-Semantics.” He shrugs. “It’s my family’s truck, so i-it’s mine by proxy.”

You raise an eyebrow, watching him with a mix of curiosity and awe. Such a blatant disregard for rules and expectations. It was almost… Inspiring.

“I… Don’t think that’s how that works.” You let out a soft laugh and shake your head. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” The truck pulls off onto a side street, this one so dark that the only lighting comes from the headlights before you.

“Just… Just drive away like that.” You shrug, leaning against the door. “That’s your dad, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Toby shrugs. “B-But he’s also a jackass, so it’s warranted.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel to an uneven beat, and you notice then that they look even more worse for wear than they did earlier. The tips of his fingers red and raw, like he had been gnawing the skin off of them. “It won’t end up anywhere anyway.” He speaks up after a few moments. “It’s a cy-cycle. I do shit that pisses him off, he gets mad, so I run off until he’s cooled off enough t-to forget what I even did in the first place.”

The truck finally rumbles to a stop again, and Toby pulls the key out of the ignition before looking over at you. “It’s not that deep. N-None of this shit is. Just do what makes you happy, a-and smooth out the bumps along the way.”

“You make it sound so easy.” You breathe out, nearly in a state of awe as you watch him unbuckle his seatbelt. You mimic the motion, undoing your own with a click that rings through the air.

“That’s be-because it is.” Toby laughs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Then, he’s swinging open the driver’s side door and sliding out of the seat - feet hitting dirt and grass when they meet the ground.

He stops at the back, pulling open the door to grab something out of the backseat you couldn’t make out. Then, he round the truck and meets you at your door, before pulling it open and extending a hand out to you with a smile. You notice the backpack slung over his shoulder now, causing your brain to whir about with guessing of what it could contain. Of what he had planned. “C’mon, pretty. L-Let me show you.”

You hesitate for just a moment, fingers twitching before you reach out to let him take your hand. Warm, rough, grounding. That’s what it felt like, when Toby’s fingers curled around your hand. Terrifying, exhilarating, and so new. Those were the thoughts running through your head when he started tugging you along with him as he started to walk.

Toby led you through a small forest, if you could even call it that. More so a grove, with the way the trees surrounded you. Not densely packed, just speckled across the land with tall grass and wildflowers blooming in between them. Sparse enough that the light of the moon could filter through the gaps in the leaves, bringing a cool toned light to your surroundings. It was still dark enough to bring a chill of apprehension through your bones, but with Toby’s hand clasping yours so tightly - you didn’t feel vulnerable.

You felt… Safe. Which was weird, considering that you were walking through an unfamiliar place, late at night, with somebody who was barely more than a stranger. “I f-found this spot a few weeks ago, looking for somethin’ interesting around here.”

He takes you out further, swinging your arms as he walked - surrounded by nothing but the sound of his voice, and crickets chirping within the leaves. “It was the most noteworthy thing I found, up until t-today.”

He looks down at you and smiles warmly, eyes glinting in the moonlight like the stars in the sky had migrating to irises. If it weren’t so dark, he’d probably be grinning at the sight of you going pink from his words yet again - but to be honest, he didn’t even need to see it. He could just sense it. “You’ll like it.”

You walk together for a little while, and it is a little colder beneath the leaves, so you’re happy to be wearing Toby’s flannel. Happy to have Toby so close to you, sharing his warmth everytime his shoulder brushed against yours. You don’t know how long the journey truly spanned, time meaning less and less to you with each step you took.

Just this morning, the farther you had ever ventured without your parents was just past the fence posts of your property. Now, you didn’t even know how far away you were. Far enough that you couldn’t go back on your own, that much was for certain. “Ah, here it is.”

Your eyes snap forwards at the sound of Toby’s voice, and once they do, you’re left speechless. Because he was right, you did like it. Loved it, actually.

Stretched out before you, so unsuspecting in the way it was nestled right within this little grove, was a pond that stretch out far into the distance. In the darkness, it seemed to span for eternities - blending in with the shadows, hiding the shoreline on the other side. The moonlight sparkled like diamonds off of the surface, so mystifying you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

So captivating, your body moves before you can even think. Now you’re the one tugging Toby along with you as your feet glide across the grass - barely even remembering to breathe as you’re pulled in closer and closer to the water’s edge. You don’t think you’ve ever seen something so beautiful. Weren’t aware that something this jaw dropping resided so close to your home.

And maybe it wasn’t much, in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it was just a pond. But to you, it was everything. “P-Pretty, right?” Toby hums from beside you, unable to help the smile on his face as he takes in your awestruck expression. “It’s nice during the- the day too, but I think it really shines at night.”

It did. Water so dark it looked like a pool of ink, lily pads and cattails barely illuminated by the moon above. Like something pulled straight from a movie, and Toby had conjured it up right before your eyes.

“It’s…” You can’t even find the words to describe what you’re seeing, what you’re feeling. And so, you just settle on, “Wow.”

Toby lets out a little breathless chuckle, and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Yeah.” He agrees. “Wow.” He shrugs his bag off of his shoulder, letting go of your hand so that he could unzip it. Rifling through it for just a moment, he pulls out a blanket - and shoots you a grin before spreading it out on the ground below the two of you. “Take a seat.” You barely even get time to respond before he’s taking your hand again, pulling you down with him when he does just that. “This is why it’s good to g-get out, y’know? Not just the big things, little things too. Like this.”

You hum in agreement, tearing your eyes away from the pond to look up at his face from where you’re sat beside him. And you find, that he’s already gazing down at you, leaning back on his hands with a soft smile. “You g-get it now?”

“Yeah.” You breathe back to him. “I get it.” You pull your knees up to your chest and let out a breath. “I just… It’s not that I don’t have things I want to do, or sights I want to see. It’s just that it never seemed possible. Felt selfish.”

“Well, being selfish is a g-good thing sometimes.” Toby shrugs, watching you as you shift. How your hair cascades down your shoulder like silk when you move. “What do you want to do?”

“I…” You hesitate for a moment, before scooting a little closer. Letting out a soft exhale, before you test your head against his shoulder. This time, it’s Toby’s turn to tense up for a moment, before he’s going lax - sinking into the feeling of you offering up your closeness. “I’ve always wanted to move away. Out to the city.” You answer back to him softly. “I wonder… If it’s like the movies. Billboards and neon lights. Busy streets and good food on every corner.” You look up to him with a smile. “That’s what I want.”

“I lived in D-Denver, for a while.” Toby hums back to you. “Nothin’ fancy or flashy like you’re probably picturing, but it was way better than th-this place.” He reaches down and pats at the pocket of his jeans, before reaching in and retrieving his lighter along with a pack of smokes. “You could do it, you know.” He opens the carton and taps a cigarette out onto his palm, before setting the carton on the blanket beside him. “Leave this place. I don’t th-think there’s anything stopping you but fear.”

“Not true.” You laugh. “Also money, and a living situation. I can’t just up and leave.”

“You’d figure it out.” Toby slots the cigarette between his teeth, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye before flicking his lighter. “Could g-go ro school somewhere out of state. Get a job waiting tables at some restaurant. Bet you’d g-get a lot of tips.” His smoke ignites, fizzling when the tobacco at the end combusts and transfigures into wisps of smoke. “There’s always a way. Y-You just gotta take the leap.”

He reaches up behind you, before placing his hand on your head and giving your hair an affectionate ruffle. Just an excuse to feel how soft it was. “It doesn’t have to end here, this freedom. And, I’ve g-got a funny feeling you won’t want it to.” His hand slips down the back of your head, before trails across your shoulders. Pulling you in close, finally letting go of the restraint he’d been holding on to with white knuckles. “It’s never enough to just g-get a t-taste.”

His words resonate deep, deep within you. Reigniting all of the hopes and dreams you had buried down so long ago. Sparking up a flame within you, one of hope. One that believed, that he might just be right.

You look up to watch as he takes a drag, cheeks hollowing to pull smoke into his mouth, before he’s exhaling it all in one long exhale. He relaxes even further, a look of serenity om his face when he catches you looking at him. “You sure you don’t want to try it? One hit wont h-hurt.”

And with all the risks you’ve already taken, all of the rules you’ve broken - it feels silly to let this be the like you draw. “I’ll even make it easier for you.” As if you needed more convincing.

“Just one.” You agree, and tilt your head up a little. “I’m not trying to get addicted.”

“Y-You will.” Toby laughs softly. Then, his hand trails across your shoulders, up the expanse of your neck - to find a home cupping your chin. In his wake, a patch of goosebumps rise on your skin, visualizing exactly where he’s touched you. “Open your mouth.”

You’re a tad taken aback by the command, even more so because of Toby’s close proximity, but well - you asked for this, and you were teeming with curiosity on where it would take you. So you do. You part your lips and look up to meet his eyes, waiting patiently for his next move.

You watch as he uses his left hand to bring the cigarette to his lips once more, the ember at the end crackling - casting a golden glow against his face. Then, when is mouth is filled with a thick cloud of smoke, he leans forwards - lips just inches from your own when he exhales.

He didn’t tell you to, but you can just tell that you’re supposed to inhale - stealing the smoke straight from his lips. It’s more intimate than you’ve ever been, closer to someone, than you ever dreamed of getting. Toby’s fingers holding you gently, his hair tickling your face as he breathes life into your lungs.

It burns, which was a given - considering this was your first time - but your curl your fingers into fists as a way to try and negate the urge to cough. It works, just barely, even as your eyes start to water a little as you breathe all the smoke back out in a shaky, stuttering exhale.

And it’s the loveliest sight. Eyes fluttering as you breathe out, lips so plush and pink as the smoke slips past them. You look like sin itself. The sweetest vision, indulging in something so dirty. “Not b-bad.” Toby grins. “You didn’t even c-cough.”

“It’s..” Now you cough, leaning to the side to clear your throat of the thick film of smoke residue that was clinging to it. “It’s still harsh though.”

“Duh.” Toby laughs softly. “But it gets better with time. W-Want another?”

You should say no, considering your previous stipulation, but it’s the easiest thing in the world to concede to all of Toby’s wishes. Especially, when it means you’ll get to be so close to him once more. As close as you could be, without actually touching.

“Yeah.” You lean in again, more relaxed this time now that you know what’s coming. “Give me one more.”

And Toby agrees happily, just itching to get all up in your space once again. He could feel your walls breaking down, letting him in more and more. Closer and closer. Just an arms reach away, from where he wanted you to be.

He repeats the action; taking a drag, pulling you close to him, breathing it all out into your parted lips. Only this time, when you exhale he doesn’t retreat. He stays right where he is, just a few inches from your face, letting the smoke wash over his skin. Smelling sweeter than ever, because it came from your lungs. “You’re a natural.” He murmurs, smoothing his thumb against your jaw. “Knew you h-had it in you.”

It’s just like in the truck. So close it would be a breeze to close the distance. The greatest temptation, staring down at you with the warmest brown eyes your ever seen. Looking at you, like you’re the only woman to ever exist. Like you were special. Toby must be thinking the same thing, because next he says, “I meant it, you know. You’re really f-fuckin’ pretty.”

He shifts a little, leaning his head down minutely - enough to make your heart skip a beat. “Like some sorta angel.”

“Toby…” You mutter sheepishly, barely able to think straight with the combination of his words and the warmth in his eyes. “You.. You’re too much.”

“Am I?” He murmurs back to you. “I’m just c-callin’ it like I see it.” With his other hand, he snuffs out his cigarette against the grass, not breaking your gaze once while he does it. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and with the sweetest nature to boot.” When his hand comes to rest on your waist, you nearly flinch, but he soothes you with soft circles that he rubs against your skin. Warming you up, breaking down those walls even more. “Somethin’ straight outta my d-dreams.”

You notice how the space between you is slowly disappearing, how he’s getting closer with each word he speaks. You can feel his breath on your lips, his fingers curling into the fabric of your nightgown as he pulls you in closer. There’s a motive behind all of these actions, and you know what it is.

The possibility of it, makes your head spin.

Only when he’s just a hair widths away, does he speak on it. “Can I?” He doesn’t need to clarify, but he does anyway. “Can I kiss you? I really want to.”

And so do you. More than you’ve ever wanted anything, you think. It just seems… Right. Like how you used to fantasize about it when you were a little girl. Underneath the stars with the wind in your hair, held so tenderly by someone who viewed you as gold. Was there a better way, to give away your first kiss?

Was there a better person out there, to take it?

“Yeah.” The word comes out shakier than you want it to, but it can’t be helped. You’re shaking in your boots, brain running a mile a minute as your heart races even faster. The moment you’ve been waiting for, one you thought would never come, right here within your grasp. “Yeah, you can.”

Just what he had been waiting to hear.

Toby moves slow, giving you all the time in the world to back out if you wanted to. But you don’t, you stay still - albeit shaking a little - watching him with the sweetest doe eyes as he closes the distance.

And when he does, it’s more than he could’ve imagined. He gives you the softest, gentlest kiss he can muster up. Just a little peck against your soft lips, smiling to himself when you let out a little squeak of surprise. Absolutely adorable. It’s hard not to want more. “How a-about one more?” He’s asking when he pulls away, and you look so starstruck it’s no surprise that you’re nodding back to him shakily - eyes dazed.

So he does. And then again, when you give him permission. Then again, and again, and again. Peppering your lips with kisses that linger more and more with each one that he plants. Savouring how soft you are, how easily you melt into his grasp. How you just can’t stop shaking, even as you beg for more.

Toby loses count of how many kisses he gives you, but at some point he coaxes you into parting your lips - making you gasp when his tongue kicks into your mouth, hands flying up to grasp at his shirt. He can taste the smoke on your lips, coating your mouth like a film. Walking you through the motions as his grip on your waist pulls you in closer, getting greedier and greedier with each moment that passed.

It was hard to keep a slow pace, even if it was just the two of you for miles, with all the time in the world.

And so, when you start to get the hang of it - your tongue sliding against his sloppily with little moans catching in your throat - he pushes you further. Pressing his body against yours until you’re falling backwards, gasping into his mouth when your back hits the ground. But you don’t pull away, no, you pull him closer - your body buzzing with adrenaline as you reach up to grasp at his shoulders with trembling fingers.

He’s pulling you down further as gently as he can, but he knows deep down that he couldn’t be satisfied with just a little make out session. He needed more, and he’d reckon that you do too. There had to be a reason, that you were bending to his will so easily. He had something you wanted, and he was more than happy to give it to you.

One hand stays cradling your face, but the other rests against your thighs, slowly inching up higher and higher - dragging the fabric of your nightgown upwards with it. Exposing the smooth skin of your thighs to the night air and his touch, not stopping until it was resting in the crease between your hip and leg. So close to your core that you’re jolting, whimpering against his lips before he pulls away to trail kisses down your jawline. Sweet and soft, just like the rest of his touches, but they set you on fire nonetheless.

“T-Toby-“ You murmur softly, breathing quivering as his lips move down lower, down your neck, grazing against your collarbone.

“Mhm?” He mumbles against your skin, pulling away only a little bit, just so that he can look up at you with hazy eyes. “Is it t-too much?”

Maybe. But you wanted more regardless.

“N-No.” You choke out, before taking in a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. You breathe it out slowly, but even then your heart is still racing. “It’s just…” You squirm a little and try to bring your legs together, acutely aware of how his previous actions had hiked the skirt of your nightgown up - so much so that you knew your panties were exposed. “I feel… No one’s ever seen…”

He knew that. And that’s what was making this so magnificent. First to lay eyes on your bare skin, first to touch it. It was like he was going through a checklist, seeing how many of your firsts he could collect tonight. So far, he was on a roll.

“Here.” He leans up a little, and before you can even blink he’s reaching down to grab the hem of his shirt - then he’s peeling it off in one fluid motion, shaking out his hair after and tossing the fabric to the side. “Now we’re e-even.”

Maybe, but he just sent you into even more of a frenzy. So much bare skin to look at now, filling in all of the gaps of what you had been wondering about. Your eyes rage over every muscle, every scar and mole, breathing going more and more ragged the more you drank him in.

If you were shaking before, now you really were, your mind practically short-circuiting from the sight before you.

“Hey.” You’re trembling so much that you know there’s no possible way to hide it, your whole body doused in a suffocating mix of anxiety and a desire you couldn’t quite understand. So lost in your own mind, preemptively running over every worry and concern that it’s hard to bring yourself back to the present. The present, where you lay beneath Toby, sticks pressing into your back through the thin barrier of the blanket below you.

His palm cradling your cheek, is what brings you back down to earth. So warm, so gentle, cupping your face with a firm pressure - tugging you out of the war waging inside your mind. The touch coaxes your eyes back to his - your frantic, glossy eyes, meeting his. He didn’t look nervous at all, not how you were, nothing but an almost pitying warmth brimming his irises. Gazing down at you like you were just a scared little mouse, caught beneath the paw of a lion. “A-Are you scared?”

His hand trails down your face, callouses brushing against your jawline before his thumb presses against your bottom lip. Melting away the tremble you hadn’t been able to stop on your own. “You don’t gotta be.”

“I-I know.” You murmur out back to him, putting all of your focus into the good thoughts, instead of the bad. Like how nice it felt, to be touched by him. How the warmth of his body felt like it was made to meld into yours. How he slotted against you like a puzzle piece falling into place - like he was always meant to be here, with your thighs fallen open around his hips.

The comforting scent of cigarettes and cologne, the softness of his hair as it tickled your skin. It was all so good. Your anxiety was just trying to spin it into something terrifying. Which, wasn’t exactly unwarranted. You had never laid it all bare like this, never letting anyone close to the chance of seeing you like this. You were giving yourself up, everything you could offer him, right here beneath the moonlight. You’d return home as someone different - life splitting into two separate halves. Before Toby, and after him.

You manage to lift a hand, trembling as you cautiously reach up to grasp his bicep. Fingers curling around his arm, gripping onto him like he was the anchor that would keep you from floating too far away from shore. “I just… I’ve never..”

“I know.” Toby’s lips stretch into a soft little smile, his eyes crinkling around the corners. If your mind was a little less foggy, you might’ve been able to pick up on the hint of self-satisfaction that lay hidden behind his irises. But, the adoration that masked it was laid on thick. Too thick for you to see past it, when he was looking at you like you were the only woman he had ever seen.

His head dips down low, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a sigh, stubble scratching at your soft skin when he parts his lips. Placing the gentlest kiss against your shoulder, soft and slow - letting the feeling linger. “You th-think I’d hurt you?” You feel his lips brush against your skin when he speaks, feel the warmth of his breath fan against you.

You feel his right hand slide from your waist, down lower, slow enough for you to barely notice. Languidly creeping over the curve of your waist, across the swell of your hips, down the expanse of your thigh. Feather light, barely there, but causing more damage than he could ever know.

“I don’t know.” You breathe back to him honestly, your whole body tensing when his touch doesn’t cease. It doesn’t slow down, or speed up, just keeps the same space - mapping out the grooves of your skin beneath the pads of his fingers. “I really don’t know you that well.”

Toby lets out a low chuckle, nosing up your neck and into your hair, breathing in the scent of you deep. Letting it fill his lungs as his hand does finally find a home to rest, right in the crease between your thigh and your hip. Closer to your core than you’ve even ever allowed yourself, teasing in the way he rubs slow circles there - just inches away from his final destination.

“I guess you don’t.” He agrees softly, punctuating his words with a gentle nip to your earlobe. Absolutely relishing in the way you gasp and jolt when he does so. So sensitive, it was unreal. So intoxicating, that any guilt he might’ve felt for going this far was gagged by the intensity of his desire. It was so easy to make you fall apart. Him, armed with knowledge, and you - his little experiment. Graced with the honour, of showing you just how good you could feel if you just gave in. “B-But, you’ve let me get this far. Why?”

Great question. Because you were stupid? Naive? Desperate for companionship? Too curious for your own good? It was probably a teeming mixture of them all, fuelled by a distain for how restricted your life has been up until now. Never getting to choose, always just blindly following orders.

This, was a choice you could make. Something so monumental, it made up for all of the years you had spent shackled. And Toby… He just seemed perfect for it. Showing up in your life like some sort of messenger from god, teaching you that life isn’t just to be lived within the fence posts of your property. Pulling the blindfold off, opening your eyes to everything you could have if you just reached out and took it.

Your saviour, or a devil in disguise? For now, you were content with not knowing the answer.

He felt godly enough to be an angel, sinful enough to be hell spawn. Addictive enough, that you pull him in closer, even as your thighs shake.

“Because I like you.” Mind too hazy to delve into the complexities of your thoughts, you just melt it all down to core of it all. You like him. Liked his low, raspy laugh. Liked how his eyes crinkled up and his cheeks dimpled when he smiled. Liked how he always toed the line between messy, and put together.

Liked how he made you feel. How he gave you freedom. Never told you ‘no’. Just let you indulge in anything your heart could desire. You liked how he made you feel important. Gazing at you every time you spoke, like you were the focal point of his universe.

“Th-That simple, huh?” Toby lets out a gentle laugh, before pulling away a little so that he can look at you once more. So beautiful, it made his gut twist. Bathed in the moonlight, spread out beneath him like an offering. Your nightgown hiked up to your hips, white cotton panties on full display for his eyes to feast on. Still swaddled in his flannel, hair messy and sticking to your forehead with a nervous sweat. Skin flushed. Eyes hazy. Gorgeous. “Well, I like you too.”

He didn’t think it would work. That he’d actually manage to get this far, and now that he had - his mouth was drier than a desert. The calm and collected facade he was maintaining, slowly but surely crumbling apart. Because on the inside, he was buzzing with a mixture of lust and adrenaline - his thoughts foggy, his brain feeling like it had melted into a thick goop. You’re looking up at him like he’s some sort of god, like he’s the answer to all of your troubles.

He wasn’t. Far from it. But he could play the part. “So pretty.” He breathes out in awe, using his free hand to draw a trail in goosebumps from your neck to your chest. Pausing, eyes flickering up to yours for a second, before he takes the plunge.

Cupping your breast with his hand, he gives it a soft squeeze - and when you let out a surprised little moan, he all but crumples. His fantasies had been laughable, no where near as good as the real thing. You were so soft. Just like he knew you’d be, and yet so much better all at the same time. So supple and pliant, just giving way to his touch when he starts to knead the flesh gently.

And the sound of your moan - all quiet and timid - he was sure it would be ingrained in his mind for years to come. Pinging around in his skull, making his already compromised mind go all but blank. You were an absolute dream. Damn near heaven sent, and right now, you were all his.

He did not deserve to get this lucky. “That f-feel good?” He murmurs to you, his voice low and shaky - buckling under the weight of all the effort he’s putting into being as gentle as could be. If he was a worse man, he’d already be fucking you by now, but he really didn’t want to scare you off - and besides, he’d be stupid if he didn’t savour this. He was extremely doubtful, that an opportunity like this one would ever come again.

Toby watches your every little change in expression; how your eyebrows wrinkle together and your eyes squeeze shut, the way you gnaw at your bottom lip to try and quell any more of those sweet little sounds from slipping out. You’re breathing in shaky through your nose, skin painted the most enticing shade of pink, before you give him a little jerky nod. “Ah- I w-wanna hear you say it.” He rolls his thumb over your nipple, grinning when it makes you let out a hiss through your teeth. God, and he’s barely even done anything. Would you even be able to take more, if he gave it to you?

Your eyes flutter open, and christ. You give him the most pitiful look. Bottom lip jutted out in a soft pout, eyebrows pinched together in embarrassment - the blush on your cheeks only growing darker. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel all the blood in his body rush south, just from that look alone. That’s what he’s been wanting to see. You, so helpless, squirming from a mixture of bashfulness and arousal.

And, it just gets better.

“It-“ You swallow thickly and turn your head to the side, trying to avoid his gaze as your breathing grows heavier. Barely able to focus on anything other than the feeling of his touch, kneading your sensitive flesh beneath his palm. “It feels good, Toby.”

“Yeah?” He grins down at you, giving you a firmer squeeze just to watch your jaw clench. Trying so hard to keep as quiet as possible. Too shy to let all those dirty noises spill out into the night air. That was alright, he’d crack you soon enough. “H-Have you ever touched yourself like this before?”

Your gaze shoots over to meet his, and he doesn’t know how it’s possible - but you just get pinker. Absolutely bathed in warmth, heat radiating off of you as you stare up at him - aghast by what he’s just asked you.

“Toby!” You chastise softly in embarrassment, lips tugging down into a little quivering frown. It was becoming more and more clear to you, that your shyness was just egging him on more. Stoking the flame inside him with the heat seeping out of your skin.

“What?” Toby laughs softly, his gaze dropping downwards. “G-Gotta know what I’m workin’ with.” You feel it as his fingers pause, then twitch - obviously contemplating something. Only a few moments later, he’s tugging the neckline of your nightgown down - letting your bare tits spill free. You gasp, and your stomach flips, before you’re letting out a soft little whine and shifting beneath him. More exposed than you’ve ever been, and you don’t even have to meet his eyes again to know exactly what effect that has on the man above you.

You hear it when Toby’s breath catches in your throat, and you can feel it when the bulge in his jeans grows - hard and insistent against your thigh. “F-Fuck-“ Toby all but hisses out, his voice strained and his chest feeling tight. He feels like he can barely breathe, heart beating so loudly he’s half convinced it’s migrated to his ears. Because you’re telling him that he’s the first man to ever lay eyes on tits so perfect? The first to touch them?

He’s got to be the first to taste them too. He barely gives you any time to react before his head is dipping down low - his patience slowly waning with each inch of skin he uncovers. Cupping your bare breast, he captures your nipple in his mouth, and you squeal.

It’s the strangest feeling. His tongue lapping at skin so sensitive, so warm and wet. His fingers kneading the fat of your chest as he sucks on it gently, soft moans rumbling out of his lungs and muffling against you. So insistent, growing less gentle with each moment that passes. His control slipping as desire consumes him, because every inch of you is just so sweet.

And the noises you’re making are even sweeter. Gasped out, shaky little moans - ringing through the air and flooding his ears. Too overwhelmed now that you can’t hold them back anymore, that pit in your stomach becoming more and more prominent every time you let another moan spill free.

You were waging a war. So nervous, but equally as excited. Fighting against the shame - the guilt - because each touch from him was better than the last. So much more than you had ever expected, so much better than what you thought you needed. “I-If you want me to stop, tell me, okay?” Toby’s voice barely even reaches your ears when he pulls away, leaving your chest slick with spit. “S’Getting hard to keep m-myself in check.” His hand on your thigh - which you had honestly forgotten had still been resting there - inches closes to your panties, making it all too clear just exactly what he was getting at. “Just w-wanna touch you all over.”

His other hand drifts down your body and settles on your waist, before he’s meeting your eyes once more. “You gonna let me?”

You were. You don’t even have to think about that question twice. Even with all the nervousness, even with the knowledge that you were taking a dive you could never come back from. You needed this. You needed him. You didn’t want to be the girl you were before - so blissfully ignorant. You wanted to be his.

“Yes.” You breathe out, chest heaving as you gaze up at him. The moon backlighting him, lighting up a sliver halo behind his head. “Please, touch me.”

You could’ve punched him in the gut, and it probably would’ve had the same effect. Your words wind him, all of the air leaving his lungs in a shaky exhale as his grip on your waist tightens. Fingers digging into your skin, possibly harder than he should’ve, but if he didn’t ground himself he thinks he may just fall apart.

Despite the air being so clean and crisp, it feels as if it’s been thickened by smoke when he breathes it in. Those words sound like scripture, the most beautiful plea he’s ever heard - straight from the lips of an angel.

His hand is moving before he can even think, fingers grazing over the shape of your pussy through your panties - absolutely enraptured by the way your hips jolt from the lightest touch. And when he presses them down a little firmer, all rational thought is lost - because they’re wet. Dampened by the arousal seeping out of your core, barely concealing your throbbing cunt. Begging for him, your body was, even as you trembled beneath him.

Coaxing him closer as it enticed him with a slickness that wet the pads of his fingers. So ready for him, all he had to do was take it.

“J-Just relax.” He whispers out to you, though it’s also self-assurance, because he too has started to shake. It’s far from his first time was a woman, but it’s his first time like this. With someone who doesn’t know what to expect, what to feel. Someone he was about to ruin. “Can you do that for me?”

His thumb adds the slightest pressure to your clit, enough to make you gasp, before he’s following that up with some slow circles to get you warmed up and used to it. Nothing too intense, not even peeling your panties off yet, just giving you a taste of what’s to come. “I-I know that feels good.” He’s leaning down to bury his face in your neck again, working you over so gently it would be considered teasing if you weren’t so sensitive. “Just feel it, baby. I-It’ll only get better.”

A shaking hand comes up, threading into his hair and curling into a fist as your lips part and you let out the sweetest little whimper. Pulling him in even closer, encouraging him as his lips part to lave at your skin. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, a pleasure never before seen creeping up your thighs and settling deep in your gut. Only getting more and more intense every time his fingers rolled against you.

You can barely even think, too consumed with the fact that he was pulling this ecstasy out of you so easily. Hands roaming your body like he knew it better than you did. Maybe he did.

He pinches your clit lightly, and you choke out a surprised moan. He definitely did.

“Toby-“ You gasp as your thighs begin to shake, heat rising to your cheeks as you feel yourself grow wetter - dampening your panties, his fingers, and the insides of your thighs. So embarrassing, but it’s difficult to even worry about that even more. Because your brain has turned to static, your body feeling like jelly - light and tingly, like you’re floating on air.

You’re practically panting, unable to regulate your breathing properly as you struggle for air, feeling suffocated by the intensity of what he’s making you feel. Your fingers tug at his hair harder, your other hand clawing at the ground below you - desperate to find anything to ground you but it’s all futile. You felt like you were getting too hot, whole body feeling restless, that knot in your stomach tying so tight it was hard to withstand. “T-Toby-“ You gasp out nervously, your voice wobbling. “W-Wait- It’s too much-“

Oh, he knew what that meant. Too much? No, not enough, but so close to where he wanted you to be.

“Shh-“ He hushes you softly, gently scraping his teeth against your neck as his fingers double their efforts. More pressure, just a little faster - tight quick circles that make you cry out. “W-What did I tell you? Just feel it. You-You’re alright.”

You let out an absolutely pitiful whine, tears brimming your eyes from this onslaught of pleasure you’ve never encountered before. Hips bucking, abdomen tense, clinging onto him with a grip you’d feel bad about if you didn’t know he couldn’t feel it. Clawing at his scalp as he sucks at your neck, bringing you higher and higher. Stoking that flame and making it burn hotter.

And then-

When you cum, it’s the most glorious sight. Toby has to pull his head out of your shoulder to make sure he gets a good look at it - at the fruits of his labour. You, cumming for the first time, because of him. You let out a moan more beautiful than any of the other ones you’ve let out this far - so unrestrained and pure, ripped from the depths of your lungs as your back arches and your shoulders bow.

Your eyes all but roll back, a whole new wave of slick gushing out of you and soaking your already ruined panties. It’s so intense you forget to breathe for a second, so intense that your vision goes white and your ears ring. It’s nothing like anything you’ve ever felt before, so raw and all-consuming - feeling like every single nerve in your body was firing off at once. “S-See?” Toby doesn’t let up, rubbing you gently through it all to prolong it as long as he can, eyes glued to the image of you falling to pieces beneath him for the first time. He couldn’t wait to make it happen again. “Told you it’s just gonna g-get better.”

Still in a state of bliss, you barely even notice when your panties are tugged off, but the cool air hitting your slick cunt does catch your attention. Immediately, your eyes snap open, still watery as you watch Toby run two fingers against your bare folds. “You trust me?” He asks you, meeting your gaze as he slides them against your slit, gathering up all of that sweet, sweet essence and getting them nice and wet.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was planning next, especially with eyes so dark - honed in on your blissed out expression like a predator. You swallow thickly, and force yourself to nod. “Yeah?” He hums back to you, teasing your entrance with the tip of one finger - just barely pressing inside, but enough to make your hips kick in surprise. “I made y-you feel good, didn’t I?” Again, you nod. “You gonna let me d-do it again?”

And of course, what else can you do but agree? Gasping for breath as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body set alight by his touch.

So perfect, Toby’s in awe. So perfect, willing, desperate. So his. Melting into a puddle beneath him, staring up at him like he’s a god amongst men. If he had a little bit less restraint, he’d just skip this next part and sink his cock into you instead. The insistent throbbing in his jeans sure wanted that, and he’s this close to just giving in. But god, that look in your eyes. So devoted, like you’re trusting him with your entire life, not just your body.

He’s got to treat you kindly, even if his patience was wearing thin. “Just stay relaxed.” He murmurs softly, circling the tip of his finger around your entrance. “J-Just wanna make you feel good, ‘kay?”

“O-Okay.” You gulp, and force your limbs to lessen up on the tenseness just a little bit. Trying to relax, just like he told you to. Breathing in deep, before letting it all out slowly.

“Atta girl.” Toby smiles down at you, eyes trained on your face as he slowly presses his finger in. Sinking it in slowly, right up to his knuckle, watching the way your nose scrunches up a little in discomfort. So cute. “I-It’ll get better.” He assures you, pulling it out just to press back in again - gently pumping it in and out of your heat. “A-Always does.” You were so tight it was making his brain feel fuzzy. Just taking one finger, but even still. He thinks to himself that even if he had just tried to skip to the good part, he’s not quite sure that it would’ve even worked. He doubted you would’ve been able to take him.

He gets you used to it. Watching as the discomfort slowly melts away, feeling a bolt of excitement go down his spine when he crooks his finger just right and your body arches. Waiting until you’re all relaxed and blissful, before he’s adding another one.

The second finger makes you let out a soft whimper, eyebrows scrunching together all over again as the stretch becomes more noticeable. Such a foreign feeling, you almost want to wriggle away from him, but you know his words must be true. It’s going to get better, and so you endure it until it does.

And oh, he was right. Even quicker than before, the discomfort melts away and the pleasure bears its fangs. Sinking in deep when he curls two fingers inside of you, rubbing right up against that sweet spot he had found before.

Thrusting them in and out of you as he watches from above, his own breathing just growing heavier each time he pulled them out and saw how wet you left them. Absolutely soaking him, your virgin cunt just eagerly taking whatever he was giving you.

He might just be the luckiest man in the world.

He really makes sure you’re ready for it, before he slips in the final finger. Scissoring you open with two, waiting until your whines of pain subside until he’s pushing you a little further. Making sure all the tenseness in your body has faded away, before he’s getting you even fuller.

The third finger has your eyes blowing open wide, your pussy clamping down onto the digits as if trying to push out the intrusion - your hands flying up to grasp at his shoulders to try and stop him.

“Toby- Toby-“ You choke out, gasping for air as your nails scratch at his arms. The other two had been manageable, but this made your stomach twist. This stretch burned, made tears spring to your eyes. “Wait-“

“Too much?” He asks gently, his own breathing ragged as he watches you - sniffling and trembling even though he hasn’t even got past the second knuckle. God, his dick was probably going to make you sob. Was it cruel, that he was looking forwards to that? “Y-You got it, though. I know you can take it:”

You let out a little whimper and shake your head, your vision fuzzing up around the edges a little when he presses just a little deeper. Barely even any movement, and you’re tensing up all over again. “No?” He asks, eyes flicking up to search your face. Your expression is all scrunched up, bottom lip quivering as you take in shaky gasps of air through your nose. He knows he should feel bad - and a part of him does - but you just looked so beautiful it was hard to pay attention to the guilt. “You want me t-to stop then?”

Again, you shake your head, making him immediately raise an eyebrow. “Then what do you w-want me to do here, darlin’? Gotta tell me.”

“Just-“ You take in a slow breath, and try to lessen your death grip on his shoulders - both of you unaware that your nails had broken skin. “Go slow. Please.”

Even slower than he already had been? That’s a bit of a task, but he’s not trying to break you before he even gets inside you, so he listens. He gently lays your body back down - which had sprung up to grasp at him - and blankets it with his own. Using his free hand to massage your tits again as a distraction, leaning down to capture your lips with his when he starts to move again.

He swallows up every little noise you make as he slowly rocks his fingers into you, licking into your mouth to keep you focused on the pleasure rather than the pain. Drinking you in, working you over, keeping you nice and relaxed so that he can finally get completely buried in you. And when he is? He feels it when you melt. Feels it when your body goes completely lax, letting out a languid moan into his mouth once you finally accept the feeling of him stretching you open.

By this point, he’s aching - having ignored his own arousal for so long that he can’t help but rut up against your thigh. His moans mingling with yours from the barely there pressure against his cock. It’s enough to sate him though, when combined with the sounds you make and the feeling of your cunt squeezing around his fingers.

Curling them just right, he feels it when your walls start to flutter. He rubs against your gspot on each pump in, groaning into your mouth when you just get tighter. The hairs on the back of his neck standing up when your moans go higher in pitch. “Toby- D-Don’t stop-“ Oh, you sure loved to beg, didn’t you? It was just second nature. Good thing you sounded so sweet when you did it.

“Y-Yeah? Gonna cum for me again?” He gasps out against your lips, eyes wild with lust when he pulls away minutely - a thin line of spit connecting the two of you for a moment before it breaks. “S-So fucking gorgeous. C’mon, wanna watch you break.”

You grant his wish, cumming for the second time with a force that steals all the air from your lungs. Looking just as beautiful as you did the first time, but feeling even better - the walls of your cunt pulsing around his fingers to the tune of your heartbeat as he continued pumping them into you.

And Toby just can’t take it anymore. He met his limit a long time ago. “Baby-“ He pants as he pulls his fingers from your still twitching pussy, quite literally shaking with desire as he grasps at your thighs - leaving your skin slick with your own release. “You gotta- Please, let me have you.” His turn to beg now, but he was so desperate he could barely think straight. Barely even got the words out before his free hand was flying to his belt buckle. “You-You’ve got no idea how bad I need you.”

You could make a good guess. Toby was trembling and tense all over. The most affected you had ever seen him. Normally he was the composed one, he was the one who sat back and watched as you twisted yourself into a knot. But right now? He was crumbling apart right before your eyes, just as vulnerable - so eager he’s already getting his belt undone with a jingle that rings through the night air.

And this was what you’ve been wanting, right? This was what all of this had been leading up to, what he had been getting you ready for.

It felt so glorious, to be wanted.

You don’t say much, instead just letting your actions speak for themselves. With a blush on your cheeks, you let your legs fall open wider - an invitation. Permission, for him to give you everything, because you were ready to give it all to him. “Christ-“ He chokes out, so starstruck by the display that he fumbles with the button of his jeans for far too long. But, once he figured out how to make his hands work again, they’re tugged down faster than ever before.

You barely get a glimpse at his underwear before he’s pulling those down too, and the sight you’re greeted with next makes you let out an audible noise of surprise. You’ve never actually seen a dick before, but you didn’t need to, to assume that Toby had a nice one.

A trail of fuzz from his belly button trailed down to the main event, so long and thick that it made your eyes widen. Already slick with precum when you watch him reach a hand down to stroke it a few times, his shoulders immediately going lax as a deep groan escapes his mouth. The arousal still lingering within you spiked, despite having already came twice. Because that was a sight that was so dirty, yet so captivating that you just couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Toby, eyes glazed with pleasure, pumping his cock right between your thighs. The moonlight bouncing off of his sweat slick skin, casting shadows against all the right places - making it that much more prominent when his muscles contract with each movement of his wrist. “I-I’ll be gentle, promise.” His voice is low and gravelly, and with how he’s twitching and shaking - you’re not quite sure if you believe that promise. But, you nod anyway.

And you let him, when he slots himself snugly between your legs. Let him grind his length against your slick cunt, gasping every time the head pressed against your clit. Your heart pounding, because now that you could feel it right up against you, you’re wondering how it’s going to work - how all of that is going to fit inside you. His fingers were already a challenge, but this was a whole new beast and you both know it. “Re-Remember what I said.” He’s murmuring out as he reaches down between the two of you, grabbing hold of his length so that he can line up properly and swipe the head against your entrance. “Relax.”

And that’s when it really all dawns on you. The feeling of his cock prodding at you, just barely pressing in, makes it all so real. You’re about to lose your virginity. You’re about to give it all away, to this boy you just met yesterday, while your family sleeps peacefully at home - none the wiser. You’re about to change irreparably, and he’s about to leave a permanent mark.

First date, first kiss, now this. He was taking it all, and you were just letting him.

Should you feel ashamed? “You ready?” You probably should, and yet… You don’t. Because for some reason, you think it was supposed to all play out this way. You believed in fate, sometimes more than you believed in god himself, and so there was a part of you that believed that this was all supposed to happen. You were supposed to go to the willow, and you were supposed to meet Toby there. You were supposed to say yes to meeting him late at night, and so by proxy - it was fated that this would happen too.

You could only hope, that the rest of your journey would be kind.

‘You think I’d hurt you?’ You hoped not. You’d pray to leave all of this unscathed.

But, you also wouldn’t be surprised, if god had abandoned you already.

“I’m ready.” You whisper to him, effectively closing the door on your last chance to back out. Tearing your old self to shreds, when you let him split you open.

Toby nods, silent now that he’s on the brink of tainting you beyond all repair. Knowing deep down, that this is the exact outcome he had been hoping for. You, the purest thing he had ever laid eyes on - sacrificing yourself to someone so rotten. Was he saving you? Severing the ties of your devotion to the life you lived? Or was he just dragging you down to his level? Finding a sick sense of gratification knowing that he was the reason you could no longer ever be what your family wanted of you.

He didn’t know the answer. But even if he did, he’d never tell you.

Slowly, with one hand on your waist, and the other one reaching up to cup your jaw - he nudges his hips forwards. Enveloping the head of his cock in your heat, and having to stop there for a moment for him too, not just you. You were tight. Almost suffocatingly so, wrapping around his length like a vice - making him let out a hiss through gritted teeth. And you, you’re already shaking, breathing going choppy as you try to be good and relax like he had told you to - but it’s hard to, when he’s stretching you open even more than his fingers had.

“G-God, you-“ Toby’s fingers dig into your waist, leaving crescent shaped indents in the soft skin as he tries to steady his breathing. Only once he’s sure you’re not going to burst into tears, does he sink in a little deeper. Then, a little deeper. A little more - relishing in how absolutely unreal you felt around him. So warm and wet, squeezing him with velvety walls that fluttered each time he got another inch buried. Easily, the best he’s ever had, and it’s not even a competition.

Just halfway in, and he feels it - the resistance he had been waiting for. And you’ve been taking it so well so far, but this is going to hurt you, he knows that for certain - even if you don’t. “Hey.” He stills his hips and rubs his thumb against your cheek, gazing into your watery eyes framed by wet lashes. “It’s-It’s gonna hurt for a sec, but then the tough p-part’s over.” He watches as your eyes fill with apprehension, eyebrows furrowing together at his little warning.

You’re already struggling, already shaking from the feeling of him filling you this far, you weren’t quite sure how much more you could take. “Ah, Ah-“ Toby’s hand slides around your head, threading into your hair to cup the back your neck - cradling you like you may just break if he were to add any more pressure. “You’ve been s-so good for me, I know you can take it.” He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss just beneath your ear. “And after, I-I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t even remember the pain.”

It’s so easy to believe him, when his words come out so soft and tender. Weaving around your head like a halo, dissuading the anxiety with each sweet assurance he murmured against your skin. It’s so easy, to just sink into it completely. Relaxing in his hold as you reach up to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his shoulder. “I-I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

And then he’s moving again, nudging against that barrier within you until it gives way - tearing open a path for him to glide the rest of the way into you. You let out a pained cry that muffled against his shoulder, your grip on him tightening as your arms squeeze him in a near constricting hold. “Shh, shh…”

Toby’s trying to comfort you, he really is, because he knows that you’re going through the wringer. Tears wetting his shoulder as you claw at his back, thighs squeezing around his hips like you’re desperately trying to bring your knees together. But, in all honesty, it’s a little hard to think of the proper words to say. A little hard to think of anything at all.

Because he just felt it. He felt it as he tore your innocence to shreds. Sinking in until his hips met yours, suffocated your pulsing cunt as he gasped into the crook of your neck. It was indescribable, really, the feeling. Not just on the physical realm, but emotionally as well. He had just, effectively, made you his. Sure, you could run off with someone else after this. Go home, get sold off to some farm boy your parents liked better. But he would always know, that he got you first. That you were his, before you were anyone else’s.

That you’d always be his, even if you weren’t. “You-“ He gasps out a breath against your neck, teeth grit as he holds himself still - trying to get used to the feeling of you clenching around him so good. So good, he’s putting almost all of his effort into not shooting his load right then and there. That just wouldn’t be fair, for a lot of reasons. “God, you feel ss-so good.” Gently, he begins to pepper your neck with kisses. Down to your collarbone, nudging his flannel out of the way so that he can lave against your shoulder too. Just letting you really feel it as he rubbed soft circles against your hipbone, soothing and tender - coaxing out the relaxation smothered by the tenseness in your muscles. “You o-okay, darlin’?”

Yes. No. Maybe. You couldn’t begin to describe what you were feeling, because it was something you hadn’t ever even come close to encountering. You felt so full. Stuffed to the brim. Your body was slowly adjusting to it, so the pain was ebbing away, but that feeling? That fulfillment? That stuck around. So overwhelming. All consuming. Mind-numbing, in the way he’s closer to you than anyone else had ever been before.

Nearly suffocating you with his presence. His hands on you, lips on you, cock inside you. His scent, his warmth, his heat. Toby was everywhere. Leaving not a single spot untainted, like he was trying to make sure he had touched upon every inch of your skin. Staking his claim wherever he could.

And it felt wonderful. It was bliss, in the purest sense of the word. Toby cradling you, holding you close as he murmured sweet nothings in your ear. Carding his fingers through your hair, fingernails softly scratching at your scalp. Doing everything he could, to make sure you were alright.

It felt like being cared for.

“I-I’m alright.” You finally manage to get out, sniffling back the last remnants of the tears you had shed. But, he was right. That pain? You could barely even remember it now, and he hadn’t even gotten started yet. “Feels… Feels good.”

You feel it when Toby’s lips curl up into a smile against your skin. Slowly, he lifts his head. Then, he’s using his grip on yours to gently pull you out of the crook of his neck. Getting a good look at you, now that he finally had you right where he wanted you. And, maybe it was hormones, but somehow you seem even prettier than before.

Hair in disarray, fanning out against the blanket below you. Skin flushed and stained with tear tracks. Eyelashes damp and clumping together. Your plump lips were red and bitten raw from a combination of his teeth and your own.

Your once clear, unblemished skin, had a line of hickeys spanning down your neck to your collarbone. Dark red and angry, so vibrant he knew they’d be hell to cover up. For just a second, he has a moment of clarity, realizing that he may have just dug a grave for the both of you with that little stunt.

Ah, well. He’d cross that bridge when he got to it. If your dad wanted to shoot him, he’d take it with arms spread wide open. Because he could be blown to smithereens, and yet he’d still be the winner.

He had already gotten you, whether your parents wanted him to have you or not. Game over.

“Told ya’ it would.��� Toby smiles, and it’s then that he nudges his hips forwards just a little more - his expression widening into a wolfish grin when he got to see your eyes go hazy because of it. “I-I’m a lot of things, but I’m n-not a liar.” He leans down, pressing the tip of his nose against yours. “So? Gonna let me g-give you more?”

“Please.” You don’t even think before the word slips off of your tongue. Mind wiped clean, then filled completely with nothing but thoughts of him. Anticipation, for what else he has in store for you. “I wanna…” You look away shyly, gaze darting away when eye contact with him became too much to handle. Especially with what you were about to say next. “I want to be yours.”

Toby hums softly at that, his eyes teeming with warmth as he gazes down at you.

“You w-wanna know what I think?” Slowly, he draw his hips back, his length sliding against your quivering walls until just the tip remained - the sensation causing a shiver to ripple through your body. “I think you already are.” With his forehead pressed to yours, and his hands holding a firm grip on your waist, his hips roll back into you in one fluid motion. Stretching you open around him once more, but this time - it doesn’t hurt. This time, it leaves you breathless.

You can feel every inch of him, hard and throbbing, pressing up against places you didn’t even know existed up until now. “I think,” He repeats the motion again, pulling back just to fill you right back up again - watching how you melted more and more with each thrust in. How your eyes went glassy and your jaw dropped slack, ragged gasps turning into the sweetest moans. “I th-think you have been, since I first saw you.”

And he’s right. You had been. Letting him worm into your mind and make a home there, from the first word you ever heard him speak. He had caught you so easily, it was almost laughable. Throwing out a net laced with charm that made your heart flutter, snaring you within it with the first touch he ever placed upon you. Leaving a little breadcrumb trail to follow, which led you to be right here.

Right here, in his arms, trying to remember how to breathe. “G-God, you feel amazing.” Toby’s head nudges into the crook of your neck, and he’s panting against your skin once he finds a good rhythm. His voice, low and raspy as it reverberates against you, multiplies the swarm of butterflies already fluttering around in your gut.

You want to respond, to tell him that he’s making you feel just as good, but it’s a little difficult to get the words out. You can barely breathe past the moans hiccuping out of you, vision blurry as sinks into your heat over and over again. So good, it was making drool pool in the corners of your lips, especially when the head of his cock was nudging up against the sweet spot inside you. Making your whole body jolt, nails sinking into his skin where you were grasping at his shoulders.

You don’t have to tell him, it’s clear as day. Reduced to such a mess it was nearly pitiful, your body sliding against the blanket below you with each press in. Skin flushed pink all the way down to your tits, which rippled every time his hips met yours. Face wrinkled in pleasure with tears dotting your lash line - gasping, moaning, crying out for more.

An absolute angel. He could practically see the bloody pile of feathers beneath you, from when he had ripped your wings off.

A glint of light catches his attention, and for the first time throughout this whole endeavour his eyes hone in on the one piece of jewelry always hanging around your neck. Always present, like a collar you didn’t own the key to. A golden crucifix, sparkling in the moonlight, shifting against your chest every time your body jolted. The way it caught the light was near blinding, like it was taunting Toby. Forcing him to truly think about what he was doing, right here and now.

But here’s the thing; he knew. He was well aware. The issue was, Toby couldn’t be swayed by the weight of sin. He didn’t even believe that there was a god that tallied it all up. If there was, then that being had damned him before he was even born. Never even giving him a chance to live a normal life like everyone else.

And so even if there was a god, he couldn’t give less of a damn about what was viewed as wrong, and what wasn’t in the eyes of his creator. If anything, he took pleasure in how absolutely abhorrent his actions were. Snatching up a devoted follower, steering her off the right track - just for his own selfish desires.

A false prophet, promising things he could never fulfil.

“T-Toby-“ And you just ate up every single word. You didn’t know any better. So, you’re grabbing at him, crying out his name as his length splits through your heat. Letting him take you apart, just to rebuild you in his image. “I-“ You’re trembling all over, thighs squeezing around his hips like a vice, nails scraping against his skin - sure to leave pink streaks by the morning. Maybe, you’d even draw blood. That was alright, you could scar him up if you wanted to. Leave a mark on him, just how he had done to you.

“Feels good, d-doesn’t it? He drags his tongue up your neck, lapping up all the salty sweat that had accumulated against your skin. When he reaches your jawline, he sinks his teeth into your skin with a sharp nip - adding to the collection of incriminating marks he had already painted you with. “You’re so b-beautiful.”

You gasp when his hips meet yours with a force you hadn’t been expecting, stars speckling your vision as your body arches up towards him. He takes that in stride, wrapping both arms around your torso and pulling you flush to his chest - hips never faltering as he picked up the pace. Face buried in your neck as he stole all the air from your lungs. Teeth scraping, nails scratching, his sweat mixing with yours with each movement he made.

The scent of his cologne muddling the scent of your perfume. Wiping away that pure floral smell and replacing it with something new. With the smell of you becoming his. “Can’t- fuck - Can’t b-believe you’re letting me have you.”

Over and over again, the head of his cock slams against your g-spot, the walls of your cunt tightening up around him more with each press in. He was setting you on fire - no - he was drowning you. Maybe both, somehow, at the same time. “S-So fuckin’ lucky.” He’s got you so overwhelmed that you’ve practically become brainless, incoherent, unable to do anything but just pull him in closer. A snivelling mess of drool and tears as your lungs struggle for air - crying out his name over and over, like a desperate prayer.

Clawing at him like you were trying to tear him to shreds, leaving his back and shoulders with a mosaic of pink and red stripes. Digging in deep, like maybe if you tried hard enough, you could sink your hands under his skin to get even closer.

He let you, if you could. It would be the least he could do, for all that you’ve given him.

“Toby- I can’t-“ You gasp out, eyes squeezing shut when a wave of pleasure sends a jolt of heat throughout your entire body. It’s unrelenting, this ecstasy. So intense that you barely even know what to do with yourself. Grateful for Toby’s arms holding you so tightly, because you were sure you’d crumble to pieces if he wasn’t.

“R-Remember what I said, darlin’.” He doesn’t let up, sinking his cock in right to the hilt on each thrust. Hips smacking against yours, filling the peaceful night air with the sound of skin on skin. So filthy, as is the sticky noise you can hear each time he separates you. It makes your stomach flip, a heady mix of arousal and embarrassment simmering in your veins. “Just feel it. Sh-Show me how good I’m making you feel.”

You can feel his breath against you neck, hot and heavy, strained groans slipping in between his inhales. “I c-can feel it, you know? You’re so close again, aren’t you?”

You nod jerkily, burying your face into his neck as you start to feel the sensation that was becoming familiar to you now. Heat brewing and brewing, tingles sparking up across the entire surface of your skin as that knot in your stomach tied tighter. “That’s right. Don’t gotta hold back. I w-wanna feel you fall apart.”

You were already squeezing him so tight, he was fighting to hold off his own release. All of the muscles in his body so tense, teeth grit as he tries to hold on just a little longer. He wouldn’t tip over the edge until you did first.

But that shouldn’t be too much of a challenge, considering that you were already falling apart right before his eyes.

One arm unfurls from around you to wedge between your two bodies instead. His palm sliding against your slick skin, down your abdomen until it was slipping between your thighs. Finding your clit easily, he rubs a tight circles against it in time with his thrusts. Hellbent on breaking you down completely.

And you do. You sob, thighs trembling with the force of which you’re squeezing his hips when you fall to pieces. Practically convulsing beneath him as you choke and gasp for air, pressing your face deep into the crook of his shoulder. Mouth hung agape, Toby can feel your drool smearing against his skin, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

He’s too focused on how glorious your cunt feels when it spasms around him. Sucking him in so tight, pulsing around him to a rhythmic beat - like it was trying to coax out his own release with each dizzying throb. He fucks you through it, not giving you even a second of reprieve even as you start to feel a little lightheaded. Head in the clouds, you barely even register it when his hips start to stutter.

Once, twice, three times his hips meet yours, before he’s pulling out a the last second - groaning deep against your neck as he strokes his cock above your still quivering cunt.

You feel it as his release hits your skin. Splattering against your pelvis and the insides of your thighs. Warm and sticky, the sensation makes you squirm and scrunch your face up, especially when it starts to drip down towards your ass. “H-Hah- Fuck-“ Toby hisses out into the crook of your shoulder, shoulders jerking with each rope of cum that dirties you.

When he’s finally sated, he crumples. Just barely refraining from crushing you as he holds himself up on his elbows, his whole body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Panting raggedly against your skin, clearly just as winded as you are. “Christ, th-that was good.”

He takes a moment to just breathe you in, trying to calm his racing heart as he nuzzled against your jawline. Planting a soft kiss here and there, stitching you back together with each tender touch. One of his hands smoothes up the side of your body, caressing your curves until it’s sweeping up your neck and finding a home cupping the back of your neck once more. So gentle, you’re already relaxing even though coming back down to earth feels like an impossible feat to you right now. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You run your hands down his back and take in a deep breath. You can feel the raised welts where your nails had dug in too deep, skin split and torn in a way that had you wincing. Good thing he couldn’t feel it. “Sorry.” You murmur out. “I think… I think I made you bleed.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” Toby chuckles lowly, leaning up so that he can flash you a cheeky grin. His thumb rubs against the side of your neck, right against one of the hickeys he left behind. The skin feeling pebbled under his touch. “At l-least I won’t have any problems hiding them.”

And just like that, he’s made your blood run cold. You hadn’t thought about it at all, when he had been sucking at biting at the sensitive skin of your neck, because it felt too good at the time to realize that maybe there would be consequences from it. Maybe, this secret would be harder to keep than you originally thought.

“What are you talkin’ about?” You ask him softly, voice wobbling. You can feel how sore the skin he’s pressing against is, and now that you’re really starting to pay attention - you’ve come to realize that your neck is actually throbbing. Little stinging patches wherever his teeth had met your skin. “Toby… You didn’t mark me up, did you?”

You ask even though you already know the answer, hoping that maybe you’re just being presumptuous. Praying that he knew he was supposed to be careful, and so he had been.

He hadn’t.

“M-Maybe a little.” He doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. In fact, he looks pleased with himself. Proud, that he’s just damned you. Does he not get it? Not know how absolutely detrimental this is for you? You wouldn’t be able to face your parents like this, you couldn’t face anyone like this. “Couldn’t-Couldn’t help myself.” His hand trails down your neck, that smug little smile staying on his lips the entire time. “I think it’s a good look on you, bein’ a-all messed up.”

Messed up, you were. Still slick with sweat, still feeling the stickiness of his cum on your skin. Dirty. So dirty.

“What’s wrong with you?” You hiss, lips tugging down into a frown as you shift a little - trying to nudge yourself out of his grasp. “Don’t you get it? I’m screwed. If my daddy sees them-“

“Stop worrying a-about your dad.” Toby huffs out in annoyance, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He finally peels himself away from you, sitting back on his calves as he tucks himself back into his boxers and zips up his jeans. “What’re you gonna do? Just l-live under his thumb for the rest of your life?”

He’s far too nonchalant for your liking, shrugging off your concerns like they weren’t a huge deal. They were. A massive deal, actually, and yet Toby wears the same passive expression as he does his belt back up.

“No, but I can’t just-“ You prop yourself up on your elbows and take in a quivering breath. “If I go back home like this, I’ll probably never step foot outside again.”

“Then don’t.” His neck jerks to the side when he moves to grab his discarded t-shirt, a motion that happens twice more before he’s letting out a little whistle. Like every time something like that’s happened around you, his face scrunches up in embarrassment for a moment before he’s continuing on with what he’s doing.

“What?” You blink up at him, watching as he tugs his shirt back over his head - shaking out his sweaty hair afterwards. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t go home.” He says it so simply. As if it was an obvious option that you were too stupid to consider. His eyes lift to meet yours, and you feel your pulse quicken. Because his gaze isn’t light and playful, it’s serious - maybe even a little nervous. What he’s saying right now, he means it. And that, might just be the most terrifying thing you’ve encountered tonight. “Stay with me.”

You’re left speechless, sat in a frozen stupor as you wait for him to laugh it all off and tell you that he’s joking. That doesn’t happen though. His expression stays the same, dark eyes glinting in the moonlight.

“Don’t…” Your lungs feel tight, each breath feeling like a chore as you try to fully comprehend what he’s saying. What that offer entails, you could only imagine. But one thing was for sure - it was insane. “You’re nuts. What the hell are you saying?”

“You really want to g-go back to them?” He asks, breaking your gaze to reach into the bag he brought and grab a fistful of napkins. He then leans forwards, using them to gently start wiping away the mess on your skin. “They don’t care about you. I-If they did, they wouldn’t treat you like a dog on a leash.”

He wipes down your thighs, then venturing between them and making you jolt when he cleans up the most sensitive parts of you too. Despite his gentle care, his words still make you frown.

“You don’t know them, Toby.” You mutter, narrowing your eyes a little. He hums softly at that, before crumpling up the dirtied napkins and setting them on the blanket beside him. “You don’t know me.”

Toby raises an eyebrow, his eyes flickering between your still debauched state - dress rumpled, marks up your neck - and your face.

“Don’t I?” He answers back to you lowly. “I-I think I know you better than they do, even if I haven’t known you l-longer.” He reaches forwards, using his index finger to tilt your chin up. “Does your ‘daddy’ even know, that you’ve got dreams of moving out to the city?” Your bottom lip quivers. “Am I right to assume that he’d j-just laugh in your face if you ever told him?”

Yes, he was. That’s why you had always viewed it as a pipe dream, something unobtainable. That is, until you were faced with someone who actually took you seriously. Actually listened, to all of your thoughts and wishes. Encouraged you, made your wildest fantasies seem like real possibilities.

You don’t have to answer. The look in your eyes tells Toby everything. That silent resignation. Knowing that you couldn’t argue, because every rebuttal would be a filthy lie. “They don’t want you to l-live. They want you to be just like them.” He leans down a little, and his gaze is paralyzing. Freezing you into stone where you sat below him. “C-Complacent. Never venturing outside the fence.”

Toby knows he’s being cruel. Asking even more of you even though all you’ve done is give and give and give. He wasn’t even sure what the plan would be, if he convinced you. All he knew, was that he wanted to keep you close - and your family wouldn’t make that possible. They were an iron wall standing between him and you, forcing him to only be able to indulge in you under the cover of darkness.

He wanted you all the time, now that he had gotten a taste. He wanted you every day, every minute.

He wanted to set you free, just to pull you into his arms. “But, it feels nice t-to stretch your legs a little, doesn’t it?”

Again, you couldn’t argue with that. Within the span of just a few hours, Toby had brought you more excitement than you had experienced in your entire life. Never once before had you felt so carefree, so fulfilled. So… Happy. Because for once, you were able to just stop worrying about it all, and give in to everything you’ve been pushing away. Selfishness, impulsivity, ignorance to the consequences.

Is this how Toby lived, every single day? It was such a stark contrast to what you knew was awaiting you at home. A stern, watchful eye. Rules upon rules you could never stack up to. Constantly trying to fit into the mould of the person you were expected to be.

Living for others, not yourself.

“But… What are you saying?” You ask softly, reaching up to tug Toby’s flannel further over your body. “Are you asking me to just run away from it all?” A soft night breeze blows past the two of you, and it’s warm, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. “I can’t…”

“You can.” Toby’s thumb smoothes against your jawline, before his hand trails upwards to tuck a few sweaty strands of hair behind your ear. “I-I’m not saying you have to, I’m just saying that if you want to - if you’re tired of it all,” His hand moves again, this time to brush against your bottom lip softly. “I’d be m-more than happy to take you away.”

He leans down a little more, and you feel his soft curls tickle your forehead before his lips meet the skin there. Placing the softest of kisses, like it was the final step of the spell he was casting upon you. Even if it wasn’t, his next words sure were. “Besides, you said you wanted t-to be mine, didn’t you?”

This wasn’t fair. Not in the slightest. How were you ever supposed to say no to him, when it seemed as if he was offering you the world? How were you supposed to deny him, when his offer seemed to hold no consequences? He made it sound so easy, just leaving everything behind without a second thought. Like he had everything covered, and you wouldn’t have to do so much as lift a finger.

All you had to do, was say yes. Just like before, when he had offered you one night of freedom. You had said yes, and he delivered. Now, he was proposing an entire life of it, it seemed. Would he deliver on that too?

Could he? Or would you be running back into your mother’s arms just a week later, sobbing into her dress because she had been so right all along?

It’s an enormous leap to take, one that could easily leave you tripping up and falling to the pavement. Scraped up knees and bloody palms when you finally drag yourself back home.

And yet,

“Where would we go?” You ask him, gazing up into his eyes from below. Those same deep, dark eyes that had pulled you in from the start. Always so paralyzing, every time you looked into them, because it always seemed like he knew something that you didn’t. Like he knew exactly what words were going to leave your tongue, before you even speak them.

That was because he did. He did, because you gazed up at him like he was your entire universe - the moon, the stars, and everything in between. Looking to him for the answers, because from your perspective, it seemed like he knew everything. So much more than you could ever hope to. It’s what he had been doing from the start - guiding you, holding you by the hand as he pulled you deeper and deeper into the shadows outside of your home. Never letting you worry, because his confidence was enviable.

Asking you to blindly trust him, because the outcome would always be worth it.

It seemed like that was true, so far.

“Anywhere you w-want.” Toby hums, reaching out with his free arm to hook it around your torso - pulling you close to him once more. Finding it absolutely captivating when your cheeks heated up because of it, as if he hadn’t just roamed every inch of your skin. “A-Anywhere your little heart desires. D-Different city, different state. You pick, and I’ll do the driving.”

“You’re insane.” You whisper, your breathing coming out short and shaky. “I.. I don’t have money, we wouldn’t have anywhere to stay.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “You just met me.”

“All true.” Toby chuckles softly as his fingers rub gentle circles against your waist. “B-But, i think we’d figure it out just fine.” His lips curl up into a warm smile. “And yeah, I know I j-just met you - but it only took a few s-seconds for me to realize something.”

He leans forwards, and presses a kiss to your nose, then your cheek, then your jaw - painting a trail all the way to your lips, where he planted a soft peck. “You’re too sweet for this t-town.” He breathes against your lips. “You deserve so much more than what’s b-been planned for you.”

“Yeah?” You murmur back to him. By now, you’ve almost grown accustomed to how rapidly your heart was pounding against your ribcage. It seemed that was just a side effect, of being around Toby. “What do you think I deserve then?”

And that’s such an easy answer, Toby doesn’t even mill over the thought.

“To be free.” His fingers curl into the fabric of your nightgown. “To be l-listened to.” He presses his forehead to yours. “To be encouraged.”

Everything you’ve ever wanted, every desire you’ve kept hidden, offered up to you on a golden platter. So easily obtained, after years of believing they could never be in your grasp. “You deserve to live, and I’ll sh-show you how to. All you have to do, is let me.”

“Toby…” You mutter, looking off to the side. “What if-“

“Ah-“ Toby cuts you off, pinching your chin lightly between two fingers. “N-No ‘what if’s. What do you want to do? What would you do, if you knew there were no c-consequences?”

“But there are consequences.” You huff. You’re trying your very hardest to stay as rational as you can, but with each word that he speaks it seems to be slipping away. You had to force that rebuttal out, and even when you do it tastes bitter on your tongue.

“N-Not-“ Toby’s hand jerks, making his grip on you tighten - eliciting a soft gasp from your lungs. “Not in my books. So, tell me. What do you w-want to do?” You already knew, but it felt like the deadliest sin to speak it. “Do you w-want to go home? ‘Cause I’ll take ya’ home. But don’t come cryin’ to me if you re-regret it.”

You would. You knew you would. Even if, somehow, you managed to keep this little rendezvous a secret. Going home, meant lying every single day of your life. It meant straining to keep up a perfect facade, never knowing when you might slip up and ruin it all.

You had barely survived one dinner with them, even before you had let Toby roam your body like it was his god given right. With so much stacked against you now, you don’t think you’d even be able to look your mother in the eye without spilling your guts right at her feet.

And then, she’d rifle through the carnage with her pretty polished nails - washing off the blood to reveal your transgressions.

You couldn’t do it. You just couldn’t. And you think, that Toby already knew that too.

“I… I don’t.” You breathe out those words so softly, they’re nearly swept away by the night wind. But, with how close Toby is to you, it’s easy for him to grasp onto them before they drift away. “I want… I want to know what else I’ve been missing out on.” You lean into him, chest to chest, swatting away your worries as you eliminate the distance between you. Letting the heat he brings to you, drown out your apprehension. And the smile gives you when your body presses to his? It’s so warm, so appreciative, it’s hard to believe that you were making the wrong decision.

Because no one else has looked at you like that. Only him. “I want you to teach me.”

Toby’s splay against the small of your back, drawing you in closer, helping you shift until you’re practically sat on his lap. He felt like a king, right then. With the prettiest woman he had ever known, sinking into his grasp so easily. Agreeing to be his alone, and he had barely even lifted a finger.

Clearly, the concept of karma had given up on him completely.

“I-I’ll teach you.” He breathes. “Anything you want t-to know. Darlin’, I’ll show you th-the world.” His smile widens into a grin, and he’s letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle. He had gotten so much more than he bargained for with you - his wildest dreams come to life. “Are you saying yes? ‘Cause th-that’s what I’m hearing.”

“Yeah.” You answer back to him, quick enough that you aren’t able to second guess yourself. It felt right. It felt like fate. “Yeah, I’m saying yes.”

You break into a grin that mirrors Toby’s expression, a few giggles of disbelief slipping past your lips before you’re practically launching yourself at him. All but tackling him to the ground with a hug that nearly winded him from the force of it.

But as his back hit the ground, and you toppled on top of him - your hair cascading down like a curtain of silk - he knew that the leap he took was worth it.

And you hope, that the same is true for you.

————————

holyyy shittttt. are we all still alive after that? because I’m not LOL that was a BEAST to both write, and edit

the reason I made it so long is because I didn’t want to split this section of the story up and make you wait for part three just to get to the goody goody

and now you’re saying, ‘noctiva?? part three??’ yes 😌 BUT fair warning and disclaimer, it will not be out for a little while. I haven’t even started writing it yet, all I’ve got is the ideas for it pinging around in my brain. plus, I’ve got a lot of requests to start working through, and my coms open in a week, so sweet thing is gonna be taking the back burner for a little

regardless, thank you all for all of the love I’ve received for this little story of mine. I never expected it to ‘blow up’ I guess? and I never imagined to have so many people anticipating the second part

so! as always, thank you for reading <3

[witherby]

Part 7 of mer!reader?🫣🫣🫣

Of course! I think it's time to get you and Damian back together.

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader Part 7

Masterlist with all parts Here!

Content features upsetting Mer behavior and unsafe diving practices. Wear your protective gear, people!

It takes another month for your routine to settle back into a semblance of normalcy. The specialists Bruce told Damian about had spent three days observing your behaviors and drew up a detailed care plan to help you recover as best as you could, which the facility follows with great enthusiasm.

You wake up and swim to the entrance of the tank to receive breakfast from Jon. Afterwards, he and Clark gently roll you out of the tank to apply weird-smelling salves to the patches on your tail, encouraging it to heal correctly and for new scales to grow. You sit and wait for the salve to absorb, then you get back into the water to play a little, and then it's Attention Time.

You swim all the way to the bottom floor of your tank, where visitors come admire you through the tunnels under your tank for several hours. Sometimes you have the energy to do a trick or two.

Then, it's back up to the top of the tank for dinner, more playtime, and then you get to sleep until tomorrow where you do it all again.

But the lethargy remains. The stinging, empty space in your chest only seems to grow the more you see Damian dispassionately leading tours and refusing to look at you. Of all the people that come to admire you, the one person whose attention you actually want, you cannot get.

Jon, bless him, is trying so hard to keep you happy. He talks to you every day, he gives you tons of treats, he swims with you as long as you want him to, and he's given you so many new toys that they've overtaken your cute rock collection. His effort is why you're doing your best to hide how bad you still feel.

And his company does help! It does. You can comfortably call him a friend, and mean it. But you are so tired. You miss Damian so much. You feel drained, and the urge to remain inside your little hideout gets stronger every passing day.

Every night, in the comforting darkness of your castle spire, the old bricks pressing against your body and shielding you from the rest of the world, you allow your thoughts to drift back to the boy with beautiful, emerald eyes without fail.

You think of the first time you met him, and how he looked at you as just another dumb animal in the aquarium for him to care for. You think of the first time you made him realize you were so much more — how you'd done every trick he commanded with such attitude and even mocked him back that he actually cracked a smile. You think of the first time you pulled him into the water to show him your favorite parts of your habitat, and then how he reassured you it was fine that you almost drowned him by accident because he knew you hadn't meant to. You think of all the times he snuck in after hours to spend just a little more time with you, to play just one more game, to ensure you didn't feel like another part of his job he had to do but someone he genuinely looked forward to seeing.

You think of the pretty blush on his face when you mustered the courage to give him your scales.

You think of all the gifts you left him afterwards, and how you didn't get any back.

You think of his dispassionate expression as he leads another group of visitors into your enclosure, day after day after day.

Your chest burns. You weep into the water and succumb to fitful slumber.

--

"I need a dive team to the Mer tank please! Right now!"

Damian furrows his brow, momentarily pausing his work. He's in the dolphin exhibit currently hand-feeding them when the announcement comes over the speaker system. He wonders what you're doing to have freaked Jon out, but it's not his place to care anymore, so he tries to push the curiosity from his mind and refocus on his task.

One dolphin in particular is pretty bad about taking food from a handler. It's also just food aggressive in general, bullying its pod-mates out of the way to get to the food first. Damian can't help but compare how much smarter you are to these animals. He sighs.

"Doctor Kent to the Mer exhibit!"

Hmm. Did you breach your tank again? Or maybe you bumped your body against the spire you like to sleep inside. Damian tried to tell his father that the rough brick texture could hurt your more vulnerable top half if not careful, but Bruce was certain you'd be alright. He wonders what kind of fuss you're kicking up today, if it's a real issue or if Jon hasn't been around you long enough to realize that sometimes you fake a problem because it's funny.

"All divers to the Mer exhibit please!"

Tim rushes through the door into the dolphin exhibit, startling Damian into dropping the bucket. He quickly backs up with a gasp as the dolphins swarm to the food and start gobbling it up. He faces Tim with a glare.

"Does nobody know how to follow protocol anymore? You're supposed to knock before you —"

"You need to get upstairs," Tim says, holding up an access key to your enclosure, "like right now. Vitals on our mer are really bad, we can't extract them from the spire and —"

Damian doesn't stick around to hear him finish that sentence. He snatches the key and sprints through the aquarium like the devil's on his fucking heels. His heart is racing and not from the exertion. He forgoes the elevator and starts rushing up the stairs three at a time, climbing floor by floor by floor to get to you as fast as he can.

It was a real emergency, then? What had happened? Jon was supposed to be taking care of you now. You were supposed to be recovering. You were supposed to be happier without him, now.

What was wrong with you?

There's no time to head into the locker room and get a wetsuit on. He jams the key into the exhibit door and throws it open, rushing into the room with single-minded focus.

Jon is in a wetsuit and treading water, relaying information to his dad with a worried frown. Clark is kneeling next to the tank and giving him instructions on how to get you to the surface. Dick is sitting on the lip of the tank and wiggling into a suit of his own, very unfamiliar with the gear as he doesn't dive with Mers. Bruce is on the phone and standing by Clark, looking more and more concerned as the situation develops.

When Damian bursts in, Dick startles and looks up at him, fumbling with the clasp on his flipper.

"Dami, go ahead and get a suit on. We need you to — DAMIAN!"

He doesn't think. Doesn't stop to listen to whatever Clark's rambling on about. Doesn't wait for permission before he kicks his shoes off, takes a running start, and dives into the tank in his plainclothes. He pedals his arms and kicks his feet as hard as he can and goes down, down, down, deeper into your vast tank and towards your favorite resting place. The effort is tremendous without the slim, hydrodynamic suit to aid him and a rebreather to allow him to stay down here for long periods of time. He pushes past it all and keeps going. You are in trouble and he is going to help you.

When he makes it to the spire and swims around to the entrance, he immediately sees the issue. Your body is curled into the mer version of fetal position; your arms are locked around your waist in an embrace and your tail is coiled underneath you in a tight spiral, twisted around itself and wedging you deeply into the cramped space. The angle of your body, coupled with the tight spacing of the hideaway, make it nearly impossible to pull you out.

In the wild, a mer found in this position is an almost universal signifier that they are near death.

If there's no intervention, you are going to die today.

Damian climbs into the spire with you, squeezing his body inside with a low grunt. A burst of bubbles escape from his mouth. If he can't pull you out — a dangerous move which would damage your tail and break your fins if they tried — he has to unfold you.

His back scrapes against the bricks and pain rockets down his spine. Another bunch of bubbles fly out. He grits his teeth and starts carefully pushing at you, gingerly moving your upper half, then your lower half, around and around and around to create enough space to safely push you free.

His chest is heaving. Damian is exhausted and quickly running out of breath. He cannot stop. If he stops, you won't make it.

He jerks when something jabs his ankle, arms wrapping protectively around you as his head snaps down to see what happened.

Jon is hovering just by the spire opening, holding a rebreather in his hand and shaking it insistently at him.

Damian reaches around you and makes a few grabs at it, finally curling his fingers around the device and pushing it into his mouth. He clicks the button to turn it on and almost coughs when oxygen starts to flow into his lungs. He slumps against you briefly, taking in your closed eyes and face twisted into agony.

What happened, he thinks. How did this happen to you, Princess?

His ankle is jabbed again. Damian looks back at Jon, who has his hands out in an offer of help. Damian gently starts to maneuver you around again, slowly but steadily unfolding your body, and when Jon catches on, helps do the same thing from your opposite side.

It is painstaking work. Dick eventually gets into the water to join in, but there's no room for him, so he hovers to the side ready to help carry your body to the surface when you're finally free.

It feels like it takes hours, but can't be more than twenty minutes. Twenty minutes too long in Damian's opinion. Eventually, your body is unwound enough to ease you out of the spire without injury, and the three men rush you to the surface where Clark and four other vets are waiting to take you. It becomes a flurry of activity after that.

Damian spits out the rebreather when his feet are back on solid ground. He pants and doubles over, limbs shaking from exertion, and watches the medical team assess your condition and fret over you. You're loaded onto a special stretcher and whisked from the room, and he's about to follow suit when a hand clasps over his wrist.

"No," he rasps, already gearing up the breath to scream at his father, but Bruce just shakes his head and presses a towel into his hands.

"Here," he says, voice soft and knowing. "Here, Tadpole. I just want you to get dry before you follow them into the medical bay. You can't help anybody if you get sick."

Damian clutches it, staring at his father with no small amount of trepidation. Bruce just sighs.

"I'm sorry, Damian. I am. We'll talk about it later, but I won't separate you two again. You have my word." He jerks his head toward the doors. "Go dry off and change in the locker room. I'll call Medical and tell them to let you in when you're done."

Damian throws his arms around Bruce, uncaring about how he's soaking his dad. Evidently Bruce doesn't care either, if the fierceness in which he hugs him back is any indication.

"Thank you," Damian whispers, then pulls away to head to the lockers.

[seat-safety-switch]

There's a diner near me that is really mad about all the construction. This shouldn't be a surprise to everyone, because the natural enemy of any small business owner is "literally anything." Turns out that the big wigs at City Hall callously decided that they should repair the sidewalk in front of the diner, so that little old ladies don't trip and bust their heads open on their way to buy a $19 brunch.

Now, any normal person would simply shrug and accept that it's going to be a little inconvenient to eat there for a couple of weeks. Not these folks, who immediately flew off the handle and demanded the resignation and/or ritual suicide of their city councillor. Then the councillors of the adjacent ridings. Then the mayor. By the time they were done screaming at every politician they could find up to and including on the International Space Station (which has an informal "mayor" astronaut onboard at all times, due to historical precedent) they were out of legal options. It was time for them to get dirty.

I took the contract, of course. Being a freelance shithead has become really easy since the advent of the internet. Used to be, you'd have to make a name for yourself being a sort of apprentice henchperson, before you could really do all the serious henching. Now, if your website is nice enough, you can jump right to the head of the class. I had my friend XHTML Nancy put it together for me. She's really good at making the little CSS animations of me beating a bookie half to death with a blackjack.

My job was to get revenge on the local councillor, by stealing their car. Now, I'm not one of those folks who would ordinarily mess with anyone else's vehicle. Cars are a unique expression of one's innermost personality, and have natural virtue on their own regardless of your opini– hot goddamn, a Mercedes C-class? You might as well just drive a taxi to work. Anyway, I hotwired that shit, but then quickly realized I don't know how to drive an automatic transmission. I ended up leaving it in "R," for "revenge," at which point the car made a scary noise, that in retrospect was probably a working stereo (I am also unfamiliar with this concept.) In fear, I hopped out of the car, only to watch it careen across the parking lot, jump a sidewalk, and then smash directly into the window of the diner across the street.

I still got paid – the rent-a-thug platform is very serious about either settling your bill or getting a bad rating – but things worked out in the end. I'm told that after all the commotion, the city's construction worker union refused to work at an unsafe job site and just left a giant, empty pit where the sidewalk used to be in front of the diner. Every morning, the councillor goes over and inspects it. That's some good foot traffic. I bet he can afford the $25 mimosa platter, too.

[covid-safer-hotties]

@susanoos-wife has me blokt for responding to things like this before, so I can't directly respond to her posting this.

Accepting hygiene theater is unacceptable. Promoting proper covid caution is ALWAYS more important than applauding people for abandoning disabled and high risk people to participate in shallow consumerism. Asking people to mask around others and/or test before interacting with you isn't "too strict" in any context. It's the bare minimum. If you can't do two things to help keep EVERYONE more safe and more healthy, I'm fucking saying something. And you should too. Quit being a coward to preserve a "normal" that includes mass death and disease. Quit perpetually conceding to eugenics and fascism because you don't care enough about your own health let alone the health of literally everyone else to ask your friends to regularly take two or three precautions during an ongoing pandemic. I cannot praise or accept people who refuse to face reality, especially when they've been acting like this:

Mitigations only work when you use them. Turning off air filters, removing masks, "forgetting" to get vaccinations, and insisting on unsafe activities like indoor dining when safer alternatives like outdoor dining and take-out are RIGHT FUCKING THERE is literally killing and disabling people. Quit trying to pathologize, shame, and otherize those who have adapted to the reality of airborne illness and catch the fuck up. Act like you care instead of acting like you act like you care, performative-ass bitches.

[kinkyniragi]

Red Flag Revolution

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader Genre: Smut 18+ Word count: 1,5k Summary: You are a union activist fighting for women’s rights at Shelby Ltd. Enraged by the unbearable working conditions, you storm into Mr. Shelby’s office to confront him. But the conversation takes an unexpected turn… CN: Enemies to lovers (?), hate fuck, rough sex, domination/power imbalance. Please note that this is all just fantasy. Things that happen in my stories should always be consensual. Take care. Author’s note: Feel free to leave comments and share my story if you enjoy it—I truly appreciate every bit of motivation to keep writing.

***

The heavy oak door slams against the wall as you storm into Thomas Shelby’s office. You don’t give a shit. And you don’t give a shit that the secretary tried to stop you with a sharp voice, that she grabbed your sleeve as if sheer willpower could hold you back. You ignored her. You don’t give a shit that the loud slam of the door echoes through the entire goddamn Shelby Ltd. building, that everyone inside now knows you’re about to march into Mr. Shelby’s office and rip him apart.

Your blood is boiling.

“You absolute bastard.”

Mr. Shelby barely looks up. He calmly exhales smoke from his cigarette, leaning back in his chair like your anger is nothing more than an amusing inconvenience. “Good morning to you, too.”

The moment his gaze lifts to you, it drops again just as quickly. Without a word, he resumes scanning the stack of papers on his desk, flipping through them at an agonizingly calm pace before jotting something down with a casual flick of his pen.

Your fists clench. Fury claws up your spine.

With a single swipe of your hand, you knock the papers off the desk. They flutter to the floor in a scattered mess.

Nothing. No reaction.

Not a single flinch, not even a scolding glance. Just a slight, almost amused twitch at the corner of his lips.

It enrages you even more because he is purposefully ignoring your fury. “Don’t you dare patronize me, Mr. Shelby. You know why I’m here.”

His blue eyes flicker with something unreadable—curiosity, perhaps. He takes another slow drag of his cigarette before tapping the ash into a crystal tray. “Why don’t you enlighten me, sweetheart?”

You slam your palms onto the desk. “Your factory. The women. I warned you, didn’t I? I told you that the conditions were unsafe, that the fumes from the dye vats would make them sick, but you ignored me. And now?” Your voice rises with fury. “Three of them collapsed today. One of them—Margaret Cole—she’s barely breathing.”

Thomas Shelby leans back slightly in his chair, his cold blue eyes scanning you like you’re an amusement on an otherwise uneventful morning.

“And?” His voice is smooth, detached. “I assume the others called in sick?”

“Of course, they did! Or at least, they tried.” Your fingers dig into the wood of his desk. “Until your foreman cornered them. Until they were pressed against the wall, his hands on their thighs, his breath in their faces. Are you telling me you knew nothing about this?”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Unruly women sometimes need a reminder of where they stand.”

Something inside you snaps. You lean closer, your breath uneven. “They need what? Are you fucking kidding me, Mr. Shelby? They have every right to fight for themselves! No man has the right to touch a woman against her will! And you know this and don't stop it. You should be ashamed of yourself! Women’s lives mean nothing to you, do they? As long as they keep working, keep making you money—”

His lips curl at the corner. “You sound quite emotional.”

Your stomach tightens. “Excuse me?”

He tilts his head slightly, feigning concern. “Women. Always so... dramatic.” His voice is soft, deliberate. Cruel. “A few sick girls, an appropriate punishment for refusing to work, and suddenly, you’re storming in here like a bloody hurricane.” He exhales smoke again, slow and steady. “Hysterical.”

Your vision blurs with rage.

“You smug, misogynistic—”

"Shut the fuck up!" he cuts you off, his voice sharp yet eerily controlled. “So, this isn´t about men and women, this is about me, eh?”

Your hand moves before you can think. The slap cracks through the air, your palm colliding hard against his cheek.

You immediately regret it the moment you touch him.

Not out of fear—but because you know that’s exactly what he wanted.

His misogynistic, self-important arrogance had baited you into losing control. And now, you’ve given him exactly what he was waiting for.

Thomas Shelby doesn’t stumble. He doesn’t curse. He doesn’t even touch his face. In one swift motion, he’s out of his chair, pressing forward, his body pinning yours against the desk. His hands grip your wrists, forcing them back against the wood.

“You think that was wise?” he hisses.

Your breath hitches. His grip is strong, unyielding, his chest barely an inch from yours.

“Let me go.”

His lips twitch. “No.”

You try to regain composure. “You have no right to touch me. I am the official representative of the Women’s Union, and you—”

His unbearably smug laugh cuts you off.

“And I,” he leans in slightly, “am Thomas Shelby.”

As if that alone settles the matter.

“You hate me, don’t you?” His breath is warm against your skin, his voice taunting. “I can see it in your eyes.”

You glare up at him, your chest heaving. “More than anything.”

He hums, tilting his head as if considering. Then, slowly, he leans closer, until his lips nearly graze your ear.

“Then prove it.”

A pulse of something wicked coils in your stomach. If you could move, you would. You would strike him again. Harder. Drive your knee between his legs, bite into his skin, rake your nails across his face until he bled.

But you can’t.

He’s too strong. Your struggle against him is useless. His grip tightens just enough to painfully remind you of exactly who he is—Thomas Shelby, the man who bends Birmingham to his will.

Maybe that’s exactly what settles the matter.

And yet...

Your breath shudders as he presses you harder against the desk, his thigh slipping between yours. You should push him away. You should scream at him, fight him.

But you don’t.

Instead, you arch against the bulge in his crotch.

The smirk that ghosts over his lips is nothing short of victorious. “That’s what I thought.”

Your nails dig into his arms. “Go to hell.”

He chuckles darkly. “Sweetheart, I am hell.”

And then his mouth is on yours, warmer and more pleasant than you like.

It isn’t a kiss—it’s a battle. Teeth clash, tongues fight for dominance. It’s all heat and fire, pent-up rage exploding into something neither of you can control.

His hands are rough as they roam your body, his fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt before yanking it up. You gasp against his lips, but he swallows the sound, his grip bruising, demanding.

You shouldn’t want this.

But you do.

God help you, you do.

His fingers trace up your thigh, slow, teasing, making you squirm beneath him. “You’re trembling,” he murmurs against your neck.

“Shut up.”

His teeth scrape against your skin, and a sharp gasp leaves your lips.

“Make me.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking hard enough to make him growl against your throat.

And then, in one skilled and forceful motion, he has you turned around, bent over the desk. His hands press against your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

“I should ruin you, as you deserve it” he mutters, his desire hard to deny. “Take you apart piece by piece until you can’t even remember why you hate me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath ragged. “Then do it.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

The world narrows to nothing but sensation.

The hard press of his body against yours. The sharp intake of his breath as he moves inside you. The way your fingers dig into the wood, desperate for something—anything—to hold on to.

He takes what he wants.

And you let him.

The room is filled with harsh breaths, muffled moans, the sharp slap of skin against skin. Every movement is a fight—a challenge, a test of wills. You push back against him, refusing to surrender completely—but it’s futile. Every single thrust reminds you that he has already won. That no matter how much you fight, your body betrays you, melting into his control.

And then—just as you think you can’t take any more—he grips your hair, yanking your head back so his lips hover over your ear.

"Who wins now, sweetheart?" he taunts, his fingers sliding between your folds, circling your clit with relentless precision.

A desperate moan escapes you.

You bite your lip, too late to mask the sound, too lost to resist.

But it doesn’t matter.

You both already know.

Because when the tension finally snaps, and you can no longer avoid the inevitable, you don’t hold back the cry of his name.

And that’s victory enough.

When it’s over, the room is silent except for your ragged breaths.

Tommy leans over you, his lips ghosting over your shoulder, still not letting you go. His hands are possessive on your hips, his body pressed against yours as if daring you to move first.

You swallow hard.

“This doesn’t mean—”

“I know.” His voice is lazy, satisfied. Amused. “You still hate me.”

You do.

You really do.

But you can't deny that you already crave the next fight—ready to lose again... ***

<<<You liked that? Click here for more>>>

[insomniakisses]

Sunshine’s First Day

Warnings/Nates: Omegaverse Au, Pup!Reader, Mixed Barca Pack, Part of Moon and sunshine au.

It was mid-January 2021 and today was the day you were going to officially join Barcelona’s Senior team, and the year you would be joining the senior team for Spain. Growing up in Barcelona and going through the ranks of the academy today was the day you had been dreaming of for so long.

Entering the training grounds you went through the whole signing process, taking photos and getting into your kit. All that was left was to meet the girls. The girls that you idolised since forever, and the girls that probably didn’t remember you from the times they had been to the academy.

Your parents had bid you goodbye, readying themselves for the long commute home stating you’d have to get somewhere by yourself to save wasting their time. Just as they had said that, Alexia had rounded the corner. Her face puling into a confused frown, as she took in your parents disregard for how unsafe a child living alone would be and how seemingly used to this you seemed.

She waited for them to be out of earshot before clearing her throat, internally cooing how you stumbled over yourself and eagerly shook her hand despites yours shaking. “h-hi I’m Y/n” you stuttered, and she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Alexia, but please call me Ale” she chuckles at your wide-eyed expression.

-

The rest of the day was spent following Alexia around, the captain refusing to leave you alone for too long in case you left before she had a chance to talk to you privately about your living situations. She hoped you would agree to move in with her willingly if not she would have to make sure the club forced you to move in with her. If that was a no go then she would be making sure you lived as close to her as possible, that you were eating, doing your school work etc. you would not be left to struggle alone.

After training ended she waited for you to change and finish up your conversation with Jana, Pina and Patri before walking over. She placed her hand on your shoulder, a tight-lipped smile on her face. “Hey.. Y/n, Can we talk for a second? About where you will be living and how you will be balancing your school work?”

You could tell by her strained expression and the seriousness in her voice that this was not a conversation to take lightly, and that she was not going to believe any lies you told. The girls had warned you of that earlier; that the older girls, especially Lucy and Alexia, always knew when someone on the team was lying to them.  

So you simply nodded, smiling softly at her and explaining that you didn’t really know where you would be staying right now. You had money saved up for a hotel for a few nights but then you’d be out of money and she shot you the most incredulous look.

“No, no you can not do that.” She shakes her head, “You will stay with me.”

It’s a fact and not a question that much you know from the way she phrases it, and then walks over to grab your stuff walking to the door. You must have been staring for too long because she lets out a sigh, opening the door.

“Come on Y/n, we need to get home so I can plan out meals and your homework schedule!”

A/N: Kind of short because it was half finished when i came back to it but its done sooooo yeah.

[silentium-symphony]

A Lamb in Wolf's Clothing (Link x Reader) SMUT

(a/n) hey ya'll! i'm so sorry for going MIA for a few months--as some of you may know, I have just recently graduated from college, so there are a lot of big changes happening in my life right now! i appreciate your continued patience with me :) this fic was commissioned by the lovely @mistressofdeathsblog! thank you for giving me such a fun prompt, I had a lot of fun trying smth new and I hope you enjoy it too!

before you start reading, please take special note of the cw below. also, please remember that this is not a healthy relationship you want to emulate and is written for the sole purpose of entertainment. if you are in a relationship that strips your autonomy and you feel unsafe bringing this issue up to the offending party/parties, please reach out to someone you trust. there is no power in staying if there is no freedom to leave. stay safe out there.

and ofc, since this is smut, minors do not interact with this piece.

cw: dubcon, afab!reader, ooc!link since i highly doubt Hylia's Hero would be so life-alteringly possessive of their lover, tp!link, reader being chased, reader being held against their will, blood, tight spaces, swearing, name-calling, dumbification kinda??, cunnilingus, doggy, mirror/standing sex

wc: 5k

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Sweat and blood dribbled down your forehead, stinging your eyes with a salty, metallic bite. Thorn-kissed hands grasped and blindly waded through thick patches of bramble. The dark, bristling whips that surrounded you worked every exposed piece of skin into a raw, bloody mess quivering from the forest's cruelty.

You couldn't care less.

The birds overhead guffawed at your efforts as splotches of pale moon danced mockingly, titillatingly along the cold earth. You chased every moon patch with the frenzy of an escaped convict a morning away from freedom.

Because that's what you were, really.

The beginnings and ends of thoughts knotted and frayed into each other, flurrying your head into a cohesive garble. Just how big was this forest? It looked like a sprawling mess from the fortress you were locked up in, but it was absolutely impenetrable now that you were in the thick of it. It was as if the very woods were enchanted to keep you from ever escaping.

A ring of pain hooked the topside of your foot, propelling all of your momentum downwards and towards the forest floor. You couldn't even scream before you bashed your cheek through a thin layer of crusted mud. The cold soil caked your flushed cheeks--the only shred of relief you've felt since your mad sprint to freedom.

Your spine slinked up into a curl--a pathetic attempt to get up, to begin your chase again, but your battered body refused to endure further abuse. (E/C) eyes flitted about you, trying to interpret the shadows that danced and weaved through the trees.

Running in this state would be pointless. You dug your forearms and elbows to crawl towards an ivy overhang that promised hidden refuge and curled into as tight of a ball you could muster. The silky white dress he gifted you had been ripped past recognition. The airy fabric that once brushed your ankles now clung tightly to your blood-laced thighs, soiled from the toils of flight. You pulled your legs closer; your lungs fought for precious breath against your pounding heart.

What a shame. If only it weren't beating so fast, you might have heard the crack of a single twig located too close for comfort.

From several paces into the unseen was a pair of blue eyes misted over with sinful hunger; your quivering, shorn form was scintillating to watch and feasted his mind with imaginations more heart-racing than the last. Your blood, sweat, and tears mixing with your natural scent proved to be the most tantalizing olfactory cocktail, scattering his thoughts into overdrive.

He hated the rush he got from seeing you like this--lost and confused without his guidance through these nested thorns, yearning for warmth and safety he knew he could provide (and had been providing since you stumbled into his castle that fateful day).

Why did you leave him? Was he not enough for you? But he'd given you everything! Everything! Freshly made home-cooked meals, tailored clothes that hugged your form, a bed warmed by him, his body...

He could still feel the soft plush of your flesh sinking and dimpling in his hands as he thrust into you with the faux tenderness of a starved man. Your beautiful eyes locked with his own, only leaving to disappear into the back of your head. Your mouth agape to let the cutest sounds escape...

If you were happy with him, why were you leaving him?

Not waking up to your face smooshed into his pillows, not beholding you in all the pretty silk and ribbons he had lying around, not fucking you in every position you could possibly think of, not spending every waking moment with you...

Why, he'd rather die.

If it made you happy, he'd allow the ambrosial drippings of freedom to bead your lips.

If it made you happy, he'd let you delude yourself into thinking you were far enough from the castle to be away from him.

But only for now. Link prided himself on his chivalry and patience, but even that was growing thin from your incessant attempts of escape. He was going to have to show you why it was such a good idea to stay here with him, forever and ever and ever.

You were nodding off now, it seemed. The way your head kept dipping and rising in a futile attempt to stay wary was so adorable, he just had to ravish you right then and there! He had barely managed to stave off his intrusive thoughts as he stalked closer to you, still clinging closely to the dark cloak that hung off twisted branches.

You saw something shift from the corner of your eye; your neck snapped up and a croak clawed out of you.

"Who's there?!"

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Why was it so quiet?

Had it always been so quiet?

Where have the birds gone?

A familiar silhouette emerged from the trees.

"L-... Link..." Your throat, parched and scratched from heaving the cold night air, rang a voice unfamiliar to you.

Azure eyes that once beheld you with all the love in the world now stare back with deadpan coldness. Words need not be exchanged here; his presence alone blew any hope of escape in the next breeze that ruffled his fur.

A calculated step towards you retreated you further into your little alcove, a prayer that the ivy could take you in as one of its own on your lips. There was no telling what he was thinking, or how close to the edge he was. But that look, that hunger.

That familiar, craved look your body knew too well pulsed anxious tingles through your fingertips.

Another step.

Then another.

Another.

Finally,

He was here.

You could feel him, all of him--his hot breath against your arms, his fur bristling against your thigh, his warmth freezing your blood where it ran. You hadn't realized how much you were shaking until you heard the rhythmic shifting of ivy buzzing into your ear.

He pressed his head into your lap, prying you open to make way for him. And you sat there, obeying him like the perfect little doe you were. As he lazily dragged a tongue across your thigh, lapping at the dried blood that crusted your flesh, he looked up. Relief, adoration, love. That stifling comforting, possessive protective obsession love that he had so readily wrapped you in the moment he met you. For a moment, he looked like a lamb in wolf's clothing.

So many thoughts swirled inside you, your brain numbing to prevent overstimulation. But amongst the chaos, a single thought backdropped every complicated emotion you were feeling.

He had found you.

Had it not been for the blood drumming through your ears and temples, you would have thought time had frozen in this purgative state. He was splayed atop you now, seeming to rest from his hours-long stalking; he wasn't crushing you, but it was clear he had all the control in this dynamic. Any undesirable shift away from him, to preserve your own personhood, would most certainly have led to a 'gentle' nudge toward him.

A single cobalt eye lazily cracked open after a million years ticked by. His piercing gaze, though fringed with some life, made it abundantly clear that your race to freedom was placed at an indefinite standstill. He had never once snapped at you, but the fear lodged in your chest informed you not to test him further.

He hauled himself up, joints locked from inactivity popping to life as he arched into a long stretch. His carefree pose hinted at obliviousness--borderline forgiveness--to your impertinence, but you knew better.

Link never forgets.

He eyed you again with a sort of child-like excitement that twisted your gut into a sickening pattern. His tail arced to and fro, painting his excitement in broad strokes. He wedged his snout between the small of your back and the wall and firmly pushed you forward, scooting you a couple inches toward your prison home.

You knew better than to anger him.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Link's skillful navigation through the thorns was unimpeded by your clinging onto him. It had taken hours to get to where you once were, but a quarter of that time for the wolf. The gloomy castle you had called your home for months (years?) broadened into view until you could clearly see its spires puncture through occasional clouds. The moon, basking in its celestial sovereignty, jeered at your return.

Link slipped through a tiny crack in the iron-clad door, made by the wolf confident in its tracking and retrieving abilities. You slugged off him with practiced movements; a sound akin to obscene magic asundering flesh preluded your captor's transformation. Grisly black fur gave way to sand-blonde hair; the worn, patchwork shirt which heralded his humble beginnings as a rancher ran taut against the back you had spent several minutes clambering onto.

He continued looking ahead unblinkingly as you idled a few paces behind him, your chest constricting and mind frenzying with murky anticipation. Your nerves, frayed from adrenaline and brain-altering fear, now swam in the heavy nothingness of silence; you were a breath away from weeping before a tenor tone disturbed the still.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

Silently, you both moved through the halls, paying the torchlit shadows the special type of attention one gave to the mundane in moments choked with awkwardness. Worn, freshly torn hands bunched the hem of your dress until your knuckles whitened. A part of you wished to never reach your destination, preferring thickened stillness over the unpredictable inevitable. You rounded a familiar corner and gathered the shreds of your sanity to brace yourself for whatever may come.

The sullen wooden door gave way to the man's heave and you followed him in. A large bathroom decorated only with the essentials filled your view. As Link ran the faucet, your eyes absently glazed over the rickety plumbing he had installed to transport hot spring water to the tub. For the first time since his transformation, he turned to you.

"Strip."

His clear, authoritative tone cut sharper than any thorn that had shredded you. Eyes downcast, your fingers wrought the straps of your dress further, further down your shoulders. Your skin burned from your clammy fingers; you blamed it on the steam that had begun filling the corners of the room and ignored the heavy, heated stare placed on you by the male.

Link followed your dawdling, hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt and lifting it to reveal a stomach sculpted by years of farm work and adventuring. The straps of your dress coiled close to your elbows before settling by your ankles. Your hands immediately scattered to cover your exposed parts as Link finished undressing himself, his fully erect length blurred by warm mists and (eventually) a deftly wrapped towel.

He reached over to squeak the faucet shut; the comforting, monotonous lull of running water now halted to scant droplets. After pulling out the small basket of rags and soap, he sat on a bar stool and beckoned you with a lone finger.

"Come here. You're filthy."

You shuffled out of the shredded dress and forward, keeping your eyes trained on the end of the tub where he sat.  The wanton desire for a hot bath waived your concerns over the situation, dulling your fears enough to throw a leg over the edge and sink everything but the top half of your face below the water.

The warm panacea cloaked you in an elixir of ease, and a satisfied groan unintentionally lapsed your lips; your hand figuratively slapped over your mouth when the air honeyed into something...

Sinful.

Link dipped a small bucket into the bathwater and slowly poured it over your head, calloused fingers expertly combing through knotted, crusted strands. The hardened skin tenderly brushing the back of your neck jolted heated memories to the forefront of your mind.

You could still feel the harsh, almost desperate grip laced in your hair as he pounded you from behind, panting sweet promises to give you more for the rest of your lives. Your face, buried in his pillows, blindly nodded along to the specifics of what he had said, your mind too blurred to focus on much else aside from your umpteenth high of the night.

The warm water felt like a cold deluge and a noticeable shiver ran through you. Soapy hands stopped caressing your scalp.

"(F/N)?"

"H-Huh?"

"How about we play a little game?" Link murmured suddenly, absently twirling your locks in his fingertips. Had it not been for the taut fingers interweaved through your hair, your surprise would have been more apparent.

"What... What game?"

"A little game similar to hide-n-seek." He started languidly, as if savoring every vowel that lisped his tongue. "If you can evade my capture until dawn, I will guide you to the forest's edge so you may leave. However..."

Rough fingerpads traced up the side of your bicep as darkened ears caught your quiet, involuntary gasp.

"If I catch you... You're mine. Deal?"

Throat tightening and heart palpitating, your mind fought to keep its last ounce of calm as your captor's hand circled to your front to cusp and knead your--

"What's the catch?" You breathed, somehow managing to divert your attention away from Link's sinful reaches.

"There is no catch, but there are rules." He pecked your cheek, his lips curving into a soft smile that thinly veiled iller intents.

"You are allowed to hide anywhere in the castle grounds and use whatever means necessary to hide from me, so long as neither of us gets seriously injured... The moment you step foot in that forest, I will claim you where you stand. Is that fair?"

Was this a trick?

A sick joke meant to dangle tonight's failure in your face?

Surely it was... But what if it wasn't?

His steady stare that peered shamelessly through your soul conveyed a degree of seriousness and sincerity required to make a truthful statement.

"How do I know that you won't go back on your word?"

"I have never lied to you." He gritted his teeth. "Can you say the same?"

The genuine hurt masking his eyes ached your chest, but the tiniest shred of dignity you had left netted the apology that almost escaped your mouth.

"Is there anything else I should know before I make my decision?"

"No. I have told you everything you need to know and will uphold my end of the deal. The final decision is yours."

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Moonlight masqueraded through the gaping windows, streaking drab grey pillars with hints of alabaster. The halls which you have called home for what felt like time immemorial now crowded your vision with a foreign bite, sinking into your flesh an unnerving uncertainty around every corner.

Your neck swiveled on all axes, one eye trained in front of you and the other separating the benign from foe that hid in every dancing shadow. Bare feet pattering against olden stone filled the gaps in between each racing heart beat, drumming your ears in a never-ending symphony of chase.

Legs aching, quaking, begging for proper rest are promptly ignored, outcompeted by the more urgent matter at hand.

Your final gambit for freedom.

You cursed under your breath as you ascended a spiraling staircase, your lungs burning with the rage of a thousand suns from heaving in the cold, arid air. The stone floor kissed knicks into the soles of your feet as you skidded around a corner and madly dashed down the hall, shifting down a narrow crawlspace that branched off from the main hall.

Whispered hisses and curses bounced off the tightening walls as rough-hewn stone jagged into your skin, reopening recently closed wounds from the brambles. You could only pray that Link was far enough away to not pick up on freshly streaked blood.

A familiar carpet--the one from the main hall--filled your view and you slowed your shimmying into a momentary pause. You fought to see through your grimace to peer around the corner and hoped that your heart wasn't beating loud enough to mask the signs of your stalker.

All good...?

You scooted out of that uncomfortable position and ducked towards the exit.

The private gardens opened up to you. Trails of ivy found residence in the cracked grey of decayed walls and the fountain was spewing the most delicious water your parched throat had ever seen. You circled the mini courtyard, your frenzied mind shunting the garden's haunting aesthetics in search of a practical hiding place. To your right was the more open space of the main courtyard, and to your left were the untrimmed topiaries of Hyrulian heroes commemorated only in flora.

Streaks of morning were just beginning to tip the horizon.

Your feet teetered toward the right, but a certain non-human shadow slinked past the threshold. All color drained from your pallor as you scurried around the topiary's wide base and hid behind the cloister's stone pillar. The sounds of flesh ripping and reanimating shot through the air; tears began to freely flow as a carefree whistle ambled closer to you.

"My, my... It's almost daybreak. I must find my beloved soon, or else I'll lose her forever."

The sky was just beginning to tinge a magenta-red.

"Is she... Hiding by the door?"

Boots clicking against stone rang like a departed's dirges. Your clammy fingers dug into the side of your face--a feeble attempt to muffle your whimpering.

"Is she... Behind these topiaries? No? Hm... But I'm getting close, aren't I, (F/N)?"

All strength, all hope, had been sapped from your body; your knees locked and buckled.

"Oh? Have we always had a little walkway back here? What a wonderful surprise! I know my darling would love it here."

Your vision darkened.

Leather nestled softly into your face as the heat of another poured and mingled with the cold stone pressed to your back.

"Guess who?" He sang.

You felt all your muscles simultaneously release their tension; your legs folded in on themselves, but secure arms hooked them under and hoisted you bridal style.

As you were carted inside the dark fortress, the morning sun greeted you in its soft-rayed glory.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The stale castle air flooded your lungs as your body was unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. A hand tightened around your wrists and hot, agitated lips locked with yours before your brain could register the cotton plush of your sheets. His other hand feathered up your thigh, learned fingers grazing all your tender spots and teasing your thoughts into a foggy mix of want.

Your figure writhed uselessly under him as he flattened you further into the bed, using his full weight to keep you pinned where he wanted. The hand that carried out its sinful ministrations below shot up to seize your cheeks. Rough fingerpads bruised the softer flesh as he craned your neck to make way for his lips, flushed with a feral red and coated with soft proclamations of domination.

"You're mine... All mine..."

Hot breaths ghosted the surface of your neck, tickling a heated whine out of you. Your needy noises hitched into a gasp when you felt moistened lips lock onto your skin, suckling and teething the flesh into discolored patches. Rich vermilion fringed with a sinful violet bloomed below your jawline, trailing down and darkening with each claim closer to your chest.

He yanked the noisome dress down, exposing all of your chest to him. The snaps of cloth ripping from its handles and the sudden whip of cold air across your most sensitive parts pierced a jolt through your body. He pulled away to admire the shades of purple and red marring your fair complexion, a visual reminder to the dust haunting old halls and courtyards lost to time that you were his, and his alone. A lone tongue swirled around an irritated bud.

Trembles quaked through you--from heated anticipation or disgust, you were unsure. He hooked his fingers back into your cheeks and pried your face to look into his own. Sky-blue eyes, which once beheld you in crinkled happiness, had dimmed into a hazy navy clouded with lust.

"So pretty... My gorgeous, gorgeous girl."

Soft lips brushed your forehead, ambled down to your nose, and finally settled on your lips.

"My good girl."

Lips warmed with depraved whispers silenced around your bud. Starved suckling backdropped the more apparent whimpers scratching your throat, dredged in pleasure with a dulling edge of resistance. Scarred skin delicately cusped your mounds, tweaking and flicking your perkiness until it was a rosy red.

Your growing sensitivity stung tears into your eyes. Achy hands, now free from his grasp, grappled onto sinewy shoulders but did little to convey genuine discomfort. A deep groan purred from his chest as Link balanced your sore bud in a soft knead between his teeth. A pop filled the room.

"Let me see those eyes."

Your eyes wedged open to see blown-out blues taking all of you in. Your heart pounded a flush into your cheeks and christened an unholy flame to spread through your core.

"That's it... Now watch me..."

He dragged his body lower and lower, his eyes unwavering from yours for even a second. Steady hands balled into the collar of your dress and tore through the silk, the symphony of rips bouncing off the walls and knocking coherence out of your head. His lips matched the pace of the ragged unveiling and chased progressively exposed flesh with soft kisses, down, down, and farther down. Feverish breaths along your inner thighs sent chills up your spine.

"Watch me as I make you cum for me."

Hands gnarled from knighthood knotted into the delicate lace separating him from his prize, tearing it apart with ease.

"Link, hold--ah!"

Your eyes shot to the back of your head as your mouth gaped into a silent 'O.' An orchestra of colors, conducted by a madly indulgent maestro, symphonized into a crazed, otherworldly experience. His tongue coiled and stretched into you with the practiced precision of many amorous nights while his thumb circled the space around your clit, teasing the nub until agony. It was only a matter of time before your impassioned gasps and pleas competed with the downright sinful wetness Link lapped below.

"Tell me you love this--that you love me."

"Link, please! Just give it to me please, please, please...!" The top of your head rolled further into your pillow when the painful prick of a pinch shot too much for too short a time.

"Don't look away. Don't you dare look away, you filthy slut." Deft fingers plunged into you until pleasure fried your brain. "You'll cum when I tell you to."

Your whines and whimpers hiccuped into full sobs for release, whistled with pleas and promises you both knew you wouldn't keep.

"You'll love me forever, right? You'll be my good lil' cock slut forever, right?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise! Please Link, just let me cum already, please!"

You damn liar.

He pulled away, coldly gazing at the weeping, quivering, gasping mess of his beloved.

"Link...? W-why did you--"

"Your heart may have forgotten, but your body remembers..."

His sweet lips, tinted with a hint of bitter longing, moved with yours in a desperate, crazed dance. Every lust-filled, haggard groan ripped from his lungs masked the quieter crack running up his heart.

The bed creaked from the sudden redistribution of your weight as he spread you on all fours. He aligned himself to your entrance and, in a single motion that he had done hundreds of times, completed you. A wail, colored in pleasure and streaked with pain, contrasted Link's blissed-out groan. Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes; each droplet slipped down your cheek in time with his frenetic pounding until it had thickened into a steady stream.

He wasted no time in his pursuit for pleasure, hitching his pelvis to your ass, pulling away, and slamming back in with the gentleness of a starved wolf ripping into a lamb. His fingers dug crescents into your hips as he adjusted himself, propping one of his legs up to angle himself deeper and faster into you.

He was stretching you past your limits, and every thrust was accompanied by a heated flash of pain. Your upper half sunk towards the bed as he moved your hips higher, closer to him. Helpless (E/C)s stared at the creaking bedpost while your whitening knuckles dug through the sheets clumped in your hands. A salty mixture of tears and saliva pooled on your pillow as honeyed cries haunted your walls.

"What, is my princess not having a good time?" He jeered, reaching over to give your engorged clit a cruel flick and your ass an even crueler slap. "What does my baby want me to do to her? Huh? What do you want me to do to your tight pussy?"

"L-Link, It hurts! It's too--!"

The side of your quivering hips slammed into the mattress and forced you on your back. Your face snapped into the pillow when his writhing tongue replaced his thick cock, tonguing and lapping at your dripping pussy as if your ambrosia would be the last thing he was to taste. He pulled out and spat on your entrance, pressing his tongue flat against your pussy and swiping up towards the clit that he coiled.

"Mmph... Fuck, I love you... Give me more... Gods, give me more."

A bruising ache pressed into your hips as his frenzied circling spurred faster, faster, faster. Pleasure dizzied your senses towards a dark void; the familiar knot in your stomach that ached to unravel popped with the abrupt re-emergence of Link.

"Mm, tight as ever... How're you feeling, my dove?" He husked, ragged breaths encapsulating the shell of your ear.

"Too b-bi--Link, you're too big!"

"Shhh... You can take it. You've taken it hundreds of times. C'mon, squeeze my cock like a good girl."

"It's so--Link, you're stretching me out, I need to--"

"Not yet. I'm not done fucking you yet." He swiveled you back on all fours and pounded you into the mattress, your cries and pleas be damned. Slender fingers snarled through your tresses and strained you away from the pillows that held your screams.

"When I'm ready, I want to watch you cum all over my cock." His erratic pounding slowed for a split second, enough time for a certain thought to come and go. "I want you to see it too."

Your abused cunt finally had a moment to breathe and process; if only your brain had that same luxury.

The bed sighed a relieved groan as Link crawled out and wrapped his arms about your lower abdomen to hoist you up. When it was evident that this pathetically limp curl was the best you could do, toned forearms hooked under your knees and spread your legs in the most vulnerable position you've ever been in. With a huff, Link brought you front and center to the mirror. You both watched breathlessly as he lowered you onto his slicked cock, sinking every inch into your gummy walls.

"Fuck, you're so tight... I need you, (F/N)..."

His crazed pistoning began once more; the sensations that ransacked your body were unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. The tip of his cock so easily, so effortlessly rammed into your sweetest spots; every thrust he slammed into you turned you into a shamelessly shaking, overstimulated mess.

"Look at you," he hummed darkly, "look at all the sin running down your legs."

Link's voice was so far away now. The way he kept disappearing into your sopping cunt and your juices dribbling over your thighs consumed your every thought. The only tangible you could feel was the building pressure coiling in your gut, tightening with each passing second.

"So beautiful... So tight... Don't you want to do this forever? Hm? Don't you want to be ruined by me forever and ever?"

His teeth sunk into your neck, adding to the carnal collection and ripping a hoarse cry out of you.

"You're my good girl, aren't you? My good girl... You're all mine--all fucking mine."

Veins marbled his arms and forehead as he nuzzled into your neck, tongue tracing the edge of every bite. The labored grunts that occasionally wheezed out of him, along with his stuttering hips, signaled that he was teetering closer and closer to the edge. Hooded blues stared piercingly into your own, weighed down by mindless intoxication. His lips brushed a flame through the curve of your ear.

"Look at me..." He purred. "Look at me and confess your lust to me."

A shattered cry, followed by a wave of profane heat, collided with your system. Winced eyes lolled to the back of your head while you spasmed and twitched in still arms. Your violent clenching and knowledge of your release strained a guttural growl through Link's chest as he spurted his cum as deep as it could go. Thin, white threads coated your walls and trailed out your still-plugged hole until drips of sin stained the stone below.

Link tripped to the foot of the bed, his body folding into the sheets the second his foot made contact with the wooden post. With arms wrapped comfortably around you and the familiar presence of your spent lover, you passed out the moment your body recognized blissed finality.

As you commenced your near-immediate foray into the realm of dreams, a familiar voice--soft yet broken--rang through your last layer of consciousness.

"Sleep well, my dove. If eternally precarious possession is the closest thing we will ever have to love, I will gorge myself on it."

[wrenthewriterishere]

It's honestly shocking how entitled the Shelby supporters are acting over Wilbur's latest video. You’re upset he didn’t dox himself and apologize the way you wanted, so you’ve gone right back to “Hate Soot Station” like it’s your last paycheck.

I've stayed neutral throughout this situation because there’s been a clear lack of proof from Shelby, and the level of disrespect her supporters get away with is honestly appalling.

The comments on YouTube, the posts slandering and disrespecting Wilbur and his fans—it's disgusting.

You are not entitled to anything. Stop acting like you are.

“B-but he’s an abuser!” OK, show me the proof. Outside of Shelby and a couple of women he may have distanced himself from, where’s the evidence? Those are just statements, not proof. That’s nothing.

If this were taken to court, Shelby and all the other women claiming abuse would lose. Not because the system’s unfair or because of some misogynistic bias you think exists, but because there’s no real evidence. Wilbur’s supporters have at least done the work—gathered evidence, connected timelines, and called out inconsistencies. That's not perfect, but it’s more than Shelby’s supporters have ever done.

Just because you’re mad that he didn’t handle the situation the way you wanted doesn’t mean you get to be a terrible person.

Because here’s the thing: When this blows over, people are going to remember who was kind and who was mean. If you keep acting like this, both sides of the situation are going to remember you as unsafe, toxic people.

You’ve made it clear that you’re no longer a safe person to be around. You jumped to conclusions, refused to wait for proof, and harassed people who disagreed with you. You and the people enabling this behavior are no longer safe to interact with.

And those who support this hateful, harmful attitude? You’re no better. You’re enabling toxicity, and you’ll always be remembered as part of that toxic circle.

You are not safe, and people will not want to associate with you. The internet is forever, so even if you delete and hide things, people like me? Other people, they will also remember.

[baseonezero]

stalker jiwoong

pairing. jiwoong x fem!reader | warnings. smut (mdni), stalking, obsessive behavior, filming, oral m receiving, masturbation, p in v, knife play (????), reader is lowkey a freak.

bea's notes. i kept holding off on finishing this. i'm sorry for the wait </3

wc. 3.5k

it was weird, really.

starting two months ago, you could swear that someone was watching you at all times. you were never much of a paranoid person but you brushed it off. you figured maybe you were beginning to become a little paranoid, especially after starting to make adult content for a bit of extra income.

for a complete newbie, you weren't doing so bad. you had a good amount of loyal followers who paid extremely well. you had this one follower who stuck out the most, constantly paying insane prices for exclusive content.

one thing you swore to do while posting these things was keep your face hidden and carefully check every video to make sure your face wasn't visible in any reflection.

this only helped calm your nerves but only to a certain extent. you at least knew nobody would recognize you just off of your face in public and that it'll stay that way for as long as you continued on with this path.

you had just finished your workout at the gym, walking the short distance to your home.

on your walks home, you refused to listen to music. you wanted to be fully aware of your surroundings and keep your guard up just in case. this wasn't just because of your new job but for your own safety. people were too unpredictable and at night, it was dangerous for just about everyone but especially for women.

despite knowing you had a pocket knife in your pocket and pepper spray in your gym bag, you felt unsafe.

you looked behind you, the streets lights only making the roads and sidewalks look more ominous.

not having seen anyone or anything potentially dangerous, you shook your head but picked up your pace, only 3 minutes from your place now.

arriving to your home, you once again looked around before unlocking the front door and rushed into the safety of your home, locking the door right behind you.

you took in a deep breath, your anxiousness subsiding as you dropped your gym back at the entrance.

you had a routine for when you got home from the gym.

you washed up, changed into loungewear, cracking your bedroom window open after burning an incense and then going to the kitchen to eat something light before bed.

a favorite song of yours played in the background as you made yourself a smoothie, the loud noise of the blender overpowering the music coming from your small speaker.

once the blender had finished its job, you turned it off and poured the liquid into your favorite cup, placing the dirty dish into your sink for you to wash later.

typically, you drank and ate all of your things in the kitchen but tonight you felt like hanging out in your room while watching a podcast on your laptop, resting on your bed.

of course, since you have free will, you were going to do just that.

you fetched a thick straw from one of your drawers, quickly plopping it into your cup as you turned off the lights to the kitchen and made your way over to your room.

walking in, you thought you noticed a few things get moved around. your eyes scanned around as you slowly shut your door behind you, now feeling unsure.

"am i tweaking?" you spoke to yourself.

you took a sip of your smoothie, trying to distract yourself with it's sweet flavor and it did work but only for a second.

your eyes averted to your window and your first instinct was to shut it immediately and lock it, closing the blinds right after.

this gave you the slightest bit of comfort, knowing that at least nobody was going to come in.

the coolness of the air conditioning had finally gotten to you, making you shiver.

you didn't feel like covering yourself up with a blanket just yet so you figured wearing a hoodie will temporarily solve your problem.

"what the fuck?!" you stepped back after opening your closet, revealing a tall male standing in your closet, your dirty underwear balled into his fist, holding it close to his nose.

his eyes widened and he dropped your undergarment, his eyes never leaving yours.

what surprised you even more is that his face was one you’ve seen almost every day.

in fact, about a month ago, you accidentally bumped into him as you were leaving the cafe and you apologized profusely. he froze, his jaw dropping for a second, eyes scanning your body before smiling. “no no, it's okay..”

at the time, you didn't think much of it but you should've maybe realized something was up when he started showing up to your gym every day since then.

he also just so happened to be at the grocery store whenever you were but how could you even call him out? it definitely could've passed as a coincidence and maybe you would’ve looked like the crazy one but it all made sense now.

"why are you in my house?!" you immediately backed away, unsure of what to do in a moment like this.

his mouth opened but nothing came out. he took a few small steps towards you only for you to keep backing a way until your back hit your dresser.

"oh..." he stared at you, almost star struck.

your breathing quickened, your hands finding the handle of your switchblade from the top of your dresser.

"i asked what are you doing here?" you tried to make your voice stern but it instead betrayed you and trembled a little, making it more than obvious that you were scared of the stranger standing in front of you.

he dropped to his knees, slipping his black jacket off as he stared up at you. he held his hands up on each side of his head. "i swear, i don’t want to hurt you or anything." he spoke softly, "i-i'm just a fan and...." he cut himself off right there, not knowing how to save himself from the situation.

you genuinely couldn't believe what was happening to you right now. you felt unsafe and there were a ton of thoughts running through your mind. what the fuck were you supposed to do.

"what do you mean you're a fan...?" you asked hesitantly, your grip tightening on the handle of your weapon.

he seemed confused by the question. "huh...— you're 'cambunny', aren't you?" he asked but then shook his head, "i'm— uh.. i'm woong. that’s my username."

you recognized the name instantly, suddenly feeling dizzy.

he's the same man that dropped several bands on you like it was nothing. there he was, knelt down with his hands up to prove his innocence.

you already thought poorly of people who consumed mature content but it definitely didn't help that he had stalked you and snuck into your home— a place you were supposed to feel safe in.

"i-i was going to leave— it's just that i heard you coming and i panicked..." he trailed off, his eyes averting down to the bulge forming in his black jeans.

was this weirdo actually getting a rise out of this situation? how fucking sick.

you could only look down at him in disgust yet for some reason you felt your lips getting dry. and for unknown reasons, you began to feel excited.

“do you have your wallet on you?” you asked, eyeing his dick print through his jeans.

he nodded quickly. “it’s all i have with me.. and my phone.”

“take them out and slide it to me. now.” you ordered. “try anything funny and i’ll actually stab you.”

he nodded once more, slowly bringing his hands to his back pocket and before sliding his belongings to you.

cautiously, you crouched down to take the items. you placed his phone into your drawer and then went through his wallet.

your eyes scanned over his id. the picture matched his face and you looked over his information.

kim jiwoong, dob: 12/14/1998, sex: m

you read his address and realized the city he was from was a 2 hour drive from yours.

you slid his id into your drawer with his phone and checked the large opening of his wallet, seeing the insane amount of cash he had on him.

pulling out the money, you placed it on your dresser and smiled. “i think it’s only fair that i get to keep it, right?”

“mhm,” he agreed quickly. “i withdrew it earlier to leave here for you.”

you stared in disbelief. “you’re such a creep.”

his cheeks blushed, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“huh. with no shame either.” you took a few steps towards him and he fell back into his arms.

you watched his adam’s apple bob down as he swallowed on nothing. “..are you going to call the cops?” he asked, looking somewhat nervous.

“i can if you want me to. unless… you do as i say.” you gave an option, bringing the small knife into his view as your hand kept its grip onto it.

his eyes glanced over at the metal, eyes filling with curiosity as he looked back over to you, nodding. “whatever you want..”

“sit over there.” your head nodding to where your bed was at.

he got up slowly, careful to not scare you and sat onto the edge of your bed, pulling his shirt down in a poor attempt to cover his bulge even though he knew you had already seen it.

you closed the gap between you two bit by bit, dragging the flat of the blade down his thigh, making him shiver. “you’re pretty handsome for a stalker, y’know?”

“am i?” he blushed, smiling shyly.

you only replied with a short nod, lifting his shirt ever so slightly with the blade and then sliding it across his bulge. “does it feel uncomfortable in there?” you purred, the tip of the knife bumping over each gap between the teeth of his pant’s zipper.

he answered with a hitch of his breath, nodding quickly.

you smiled at him before going to your nightstand and taking your camera out from the top drawer.

“i’ll help you with that as long as you film. i might as well make content off of you,” you placed the black device right next to him onto the bed.

his eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe what you were saying.

“or not?” you questioned, tilting your head.

“no— please. i’ll film.” his hands held the bulk, eyes scanning over the buttons and then looking at the screen. “let me know when i should start.”

“you can start now. and you can get my face in it too, i’ll just blur it out anyway.” you shrugged.

his long finger pressed down on the recording button, making a familiar noise as he directed the lens at you.

seems like he knows his way around a camera.

you moved the handle of your switchblade into your mouth, biting down on it as you brought your hands to the bottom of the hem of your hoodie.

jiwoong glanced at you, eyes off the camera for a second before returning them back to the screen.

slowly, you slipped your hoodie off over your head, tossing it off to the side.

you took the switchblade back into your hand. “zoom into my chest.” you ordered.

his finger moved over and he did as told, giving you a small nod.

with the point of the blade, you added just enough pressure from the neckline of your shirt to tear all the way down. your temporary cameraman had panned the camera down with the movement of the tool.

“so hot..” jiwoong whispered behind the camera, shifting on your bed.

you shot him a glare before using your free hand to slide the ripped fabric off of your arms and letting it drop onto the floor.

your tits were out and exposed due to not having bothered putting on a bra after your shower, you didn't see the point of putting one on since you were going to go to sleep but it somehow ended up working out well for the recording.

jiwoong swallowed hard at the saliva pooling in his mouth, starting to feel desperate. normally, he would’ve been palming himself at this point in your video but his hands were already busy and you probably wouldn't want him touching himself either.

your thumbs slipped underneath the elastic waistband of your shorts, sliding them off seductively.

the light pink panties you had on were nothing too special but they were cute enough for the camera and that’s all that mattered.

jiwoong zoomed the lens out now as you stood in front of him, blade back onto his thigh as you knelt down.

your cheek rested onto his other thigh, rubbing against it.

you felt his thigh flex, a low groan slipping from his mouth. “god.. please..”

you slid the edge of the blade down his thigh, cutting through the fabric as your free hand worked to undo his pants.

of course jiwoong was excited but you probably shared the same feeling as he did— you just happened to hide it better. not that he even tried to hide it.

“up,” you tapped on his hard on while dropping your switchblade onto the floor beside your knee.

he gasped, bucking his hips up and keeping them up for you to pull his jeans and briefs down in one go.

his hard cock had sprung out and smacked onto his shirt. his tip was flushed pink and already smeared in his own precum. the sight was both pathetic and pretty.

“ha..” you sighed, amused at the sight, feeling your own arousal grow between your thighs. “remember what i said earlier, yeah?”

“mhm..” his hands started to tremble with the camera still in them but he tried to stop it quickly, wanting to capture the moment well.

your index finger went over the head of his length, sliding down the coated slit, twitching at your touch.

jiwoong held back a sound, swallowing hard only for you to breathe out a laugh. “aw, how cute. so excited for me, aren't you?” you cooed, looking up at his face instead of at the camera.

his head moved up and down impatiently.

you lifted yourself up slightly for you to spit onto him before wrapping your digits around him, spreading your spit.

jiwoong immediately moaned at your touch. he thought he was going to cum right then and there but what kind of video would that be? it’d only embarrass him and he couldn't afford that right now.

your hand looked small now that it was working up and down his cock. your hands were average sized but his dick had length and girth to it.

your pussy drooled at the imagination of it inside of you— wrecking your g-spot over and over again without much effort but you had to stop yourself from daydreaming and focus on jerking him off.

picking up the pace of your hand, jiwoong whined at the feeling, hips bucking up into your fist. “shit,” he moaned, eyebrows crashing together, trying his best to not drop the camera.

once you thought it was fitting, you positioned yourself to take him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head.

he sighed, wanting nothing more than to shove your head down all the way down his cock but he learned to take what he can get and to be patient.

as you lowered your head, you ran your tongue up the length, earning a whimper. “more. please,” his voice trembled.

using it as encouragement, you took him in all the way, his head hitting the back of your throat. a disgusting gag sounded from your throat but you held yourself down, your heat beginning to overwhelm you.

bobbing your head and down his cock, your hand snaked underneath your underwear. your fingers worked on your own arousal as your mouth continued on jiwoong’s.

your moans were muffled around him as his were more clear, being captured by the camera. he was unable to film you touching yourself as your head and naked back blocked the view but this view was still hot.

“fuck.. just like that,” he moaned, thrusting into your mouth.

you gagged around his length but he only kept at it, his thighs shaking after a few thrusts and without warning, his cum shot down your throat.

you moved your mouth off of him and swallowed whatever remained, jerking him off a little more to milk him dry.

he cursed as he dropped his head back, not caring whether you were in frame anymore.

unfortunately for you, you weren't completely able to get off with just your fingers. you took your hands out from your panties, letting your digits shine with your slick.

“scoot back towards the headboard, won’t you?” you stood up.

breathing heavily and focusing back on the camera, he nodded, doing as told.

you got onto the bed yourself, crawling towards him like some sort of vixen.

reaching him, you situated yourself on his lap before taking the camera from his hands, setting it onto your nightstand but letting the lens face both of you.

“it’d be nice to have a monitor,” you mumbled as you stared at the camera, hoping you two were actually in frame.

jiwoong glanced over at it before returning his eyes onto you, biting his bottom lip as his hands landed onto your hips, trying to get new friction onto his hardening cock.

you quickly slapped his hands away. “nuh uh. no hands until i tell you it's okay. now take your shirt off,” you held the bottom of his shirt.

he quickly took it off, revealing his abs and firm chest.

the fingers you had used on yourself slid down over each bump of his muscle, licking your own lips.

“you work on yourself a lot?” you asked curiously, slowly moving your hips on his lap.

he huffed at the feeling, feeling slightly annoyed by the stupid piece of fabric covering your cunt. “yeah, i do.” he replied, trying his best to restrain himself.

you pushed yourself a little harder, adding pressure. you were driving yourself a little crazy but you had to tease him just a bit. “that’s kinda hot but it's crazy how i’ve seen you at my gym.” you paused for a second, looking into his eyes. "i've noticed it for a while now, perv."

as if something snapped in him, he pushed you off of him and onto the mattress, hovering over you.

he shoved your panties to the side, taking his cock into his hand before ramming it into you with no warning whatsoever.

you yelped at the lack of prep and stinging you felt. you’ve taken different sizes but jiwoong was something else.

“fuck!” you hissed, but he didn't seem to care. his fingers dug into your hips, moving you with his thrusts as he fucked into you, grunting.

his lips found their way onto yours, kissing you passionately though it wasn't really reciprocated as you were still trying to adjust to the feeling.

“you’re mine,” he brought his lips to one of your tits, leaving a dark hickey onto it, “you’re mine.”

his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing it just enough for you to struggle a bit but not enough to do actual damage.

you were choking on your moans, your nails clawing down his back. “you feel so good f’me. fuckkk,” he cursed as your sweet walls enveloped his cock, balls smacking against your ass.

your brain began to feel fuzzy and your body felt warm, eyes rolling back with the way he pounded into you. his hand that was once around your neck now pressed into your tummy, feeling himself through there.

“you're mine,” he repeated. “and this pussy is mine too,” he whispered, huffing out a laugh.

he was so entranced with the way you felt around him and the noises you’d make. the fact that this was most likely going to get posted for other people to watch and pay for was such a turn on to him. he wasn't going to let you go until he physically drops and even then he’d probably still try to keep you stuffed.

fucked out of your mind, you had absolutely no energy to do anything. even staying awake seemed like a major challenge.

jiwoong was nice enough to take you to the bathroom, help guide you to the toilet and wash you up real quick. by the time he took you back to your bed, you knocked out.

he remembered about the camera and turned it off before snatching up the panties you had worn hours before.

he found your phone and saved his number onto it before finding his own phone, sliding it into his pocket.

“i’ll be keeping this,” as he stuffed your panties into his pants and slid his jacket back on.

before he left your home, he placed a sweet kiss onto your cheek. “i’ll be back~” he smiled before walking out the front door of your house, calling himself a ride home.

once he got to his place, he gently placed your undies into a box of a few of your belongings he had taken on other occasions. he also had polaroids of you sleeping and doing other activities, taken from outside your window.

he told himself he’d use a condom next time and then save it to add to his collection. maybe he won't have to stalk you and instead he'll approach and ask you directly.

[boowritess]

you're just a broke university student that's barely making ends meet in a little one bedroom you've somehow managed to get through a friend that lives in the same building. and by little, it's little.

poor excuse of a kitchenette. small bathroom with a smaller shower and constant issues. a bedroom that's mostly bed.

however, rent starts to go up, as well as living expenses which is fucked since you're barely home during the day. either working or at uni attending lectures or simply studying. things were just getting crazy.

at wits end another student suggests sharing your place with a night shift worker who just needs your place to sleep and eat during the day.

they pay you. get a nights sleep. food in the belly. and that's that.

with no other solution, you agree and accept the first person.

you don't meet them. but you make sure to keep your space tucked neat and your more... important things hidden. with what little space you have, yeah you try to give the person space for their things too. even if they are only there for the night.

it's weird. you're out the door by 7am to catch the bus. when you get home by 4, sometimes later, the person isn't there.

the first night you expected - well all the bad shit you could possibly think of... but it's as you left it. except your bed is made. there's a lingering smell of cigarettes and a note on the counter with... a new bottle of your body wash and a jar of instant coffee.

drank the last of your coffee and used your shit in the shower. sorry. - s.r

the persons hand writing is rough but readable. and you don't know what to do with that information. feel like your privacy has been breached? unsafe? maybe?

but you're too tired to give a fuck and your head hits your pillow - you're out like a light.

as days go by you end up only getting communication from the guy from notes. it's strange but not unwelcomed.

especially when you come to your shower no longer leaking, the weird stain on the ground gone, the hole in your wall fixed, and your window actually keeps out the cold when before it couldn't. he pay his portion of the rent on time so you really can't complain.

there was even a humidifier in your room as well as a heater attached with a note:

i'll cover the electricity cost. - s.r

sure enough, time for payment and the person did just that. sending money but ending up sending too much. you send it back, plus half and a reference saying: too much. i'll pay half.

you think that's that, but then when you get home, there's a note, a new jar of coffee and underneath it - cash, the exact amount you paid back.

keep it. and i'm paying for it. - s.r

you refuse to take it. but then the next pay day comes and he not only covered the electricity of this time, but for last time too.

when you return home there's more cash with a scribbled note.

keep the money. get whatever u want with the extra cash. exam season right? there's pre-made meals in the fridge. eat em. i got too many snacks and energy drinks. have that too. - s.r

and you weren't going too. you really weren't. but then classes got too busy, late night study sessions consumed your time. it was convenient and right there. so you took them to uni with you.

like clockwork there'd always be more in the fridge. snack refilled, especially the ones you seemed to favour - also your favourite ones he some how knew.

while there wasn't notes all the time. you looked forward to them.

but then one evening you come home and your landlord stops you in your tracks. there's a slight grimace on your face but you feign a smile. yet it falters at his words.

"look, met your boyfriend the other day-" a look of discomfort crosses his face a shiver of fear you think but then he keeps yappin. "-just tell him to keep the smokin to a minimum. yeah?" the words leave his mouth and for a second you swear it looked like he regretted saying it out loud. "and- and look at the new lease agreement!" he shouts over his shoulder as he hurried to leave.

what the fuck.

for once - you're the one leaving a note.

boyfriend!? - y/n

and the fucker has the audacity to leave you a note the next day with

girlfriend dinner tomorrow night and we'll go over the new lease x - s.r

what. the. fuck.

a/n: read an article bout uni students doing this and thus this came vomiting out. kinda obsessed ngl. hope ya'll well.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Boeing’s deliberately defective fleet of flying sky-wreckage

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (May 2) in WINNIPEG, then Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!

Boeing's 787 "Dreamliner" is manufactured far from the company's Seattle facility, in a non-union shop in Charleston, South Carolina. At that shop, there is a cage full of defective parts that have been pulled from production because they are not airworthy.

Hundreds of parts from that Material Review Segregation Area (MRSA) were secretly pulled from that cage and installed on aircraft that are currently plying the world's skies. Among them, sections 47/48 of a 787 – the last four rows of the plane, along with its galley and rear toilets. As Moe Tkacik writes in her excellent piece on Boeing's lethally corrupt culture of financialization and whistleblower intimidation, this is a big ass chunk of an airplane, and there's no way it could go missing from the MRSA cage without a lot of people knowing about it:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-30-whistleblower-laws-protect-lawbreakers/

More: MRSA parts are prominently emblazoned with red marks denoting them as defective and unsafe. For a plane to escape Boeing's production line and find its way to a civilian airport near you with these defective parts installed, many people will have to see and ignore this literal red flag.

The MRSA cage was a special concern of John "Swampy" Barnett, the Boeing whistleblower who is alleged to have killed himself in March. Tkacik's earlier profile of Swampy paints a picture of a fearless, stubborn engineer who refused to go along to get along, refused to allow himself to become inured to Boeing's growing culture of profits over safety:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-03-28-suicide-mission-boeing/

Boeing is America's last aviation company and its single largest exporter. After the company was allowed to merge with its rival McDonnell-Douglas in 1997, the combined company came under MDD's notoriously financially oriented management culture. MDD CEO Harry Stonecipher became Boeing's CEO in the early 2000s. Stonecipher was a protege of Jack Welch, the man who destroyed General Electric with cuts to quality and workforce and aggressive union-busting, a classic Mafia-style "bust-out" that devoured the company's seed corn and left it a barren wasteland:

https://qz.com/1776080/how-the-mcdonnell-douglas-boeing-merger-led-to-the-737-max-crisis

Post-merger, Boeing became increasingly infected with MDD's culture. The company chased cheap, less-skilled labor to other countries and to America's great onshore-offshore sacrifice zone, the "right-to-work" American south, where bosses can fire uppity workers who balked at criminal orders, without the hassle of a union grievance.

Stonecipher was succeeded by Jim "Prince Jim" McNerney, ex-3M CEO, another Jack Welch protege (Welch spawned a botnet of sociopath looters who seized control of the country's largest, most successful firms, and drove them into the ground). McNerney had a cute name for the company's senior engineers: "phenomenally talented assholes." He created a program to help his managers force these skilled workers – everyone a Boeing who knew how to build a plane – out of the company.

McNerney's big idea was to get rid of "phenomenally talented assholes" and outsource the Dreamliner's design to Boeing's suppliers, who were utterly dependent on the company and could easily be pushed around (McNerney didn't care that most of these companies lacked engineering departments). This resulted in a $80b cost overrun, and a last-minute scramble to save the 787 by shipping a "cleanup crew" from Seattle to South Carolina, in the hopes that those "phenomenally talented assholes" could save McNerney's ass.

Swampy was part of the cleanup crew. He was terrified by what he saw there. Boeing had convinced the FAA to let them company perform its own inspections, replacing independent government inspectors with Boeing employees. The company would mark its own homework, and it swore that it wouldn't cheat.

Boeing cheated. Swampy dutifully reported the legion of safety violations he witnessed and was banished to babysit the MRSA, an assignment his managers viewed as a punishment that would isolate Swampy from the criminality he refused to stop reporting. Instead, Swampy audited the MRSA, and discovered that at least 420 defective aviation components had gone missing from the cage, presumably to be installed in planes that were behind schedule. Swampy then audited the keys to the MRSA and learned that hundreds of keys were "floating around" the Charleston facility. Virtually anyone could liberate a defective part and install it into an airplane without any paper trail.

Swampy's bosses had a plan for dealing with this. They ordered Swampy to "pencil whip" the investigations of 420 missing defective components and close the cases without actually figuring out what happened to them. Swampy refused.

Instead, Swampy took his concerns to a departmental meeting where 12 managers were present and announced that "if we can’t find them, any that we can’t find, we need to report it to the FAA." The only response came from a supervisor, who said, "We’re not going to report anything to the FAA."

The thing is, Swampy wasn't just protecting the lives of the passengers in those defective aircraft – he was also protecting Boeing employees. Under Sec 38 of the US Criminal Code, it's a 15-year felony to make any "materially false writing, entry, certification, document, record, data plate, label, or electronic communication concerning any aircraft or space vehicle part."

(When Swampy told a meeting that he took this seriously because "the paperwork is just as important as the aircraft" the room erupted in laughter.)

Swampy sent his own inspectors to the factory floor, and they discovered "dozens of red-painted defective parts installed on planes."

Swampy blew the whistle. How did the 787 – and the rest of Boeing's defective flying turkeys – escape the hangar and find their way into commercial airlines' fleets? Tkacik blames a 2000 whistleblower law called AIR21 that:

creates such byzantine procedures, locates adjudication power in such an outgunned federal agency, and gives whistleblowers such a narrow chance of success that it effectively immunizes airplane manufacturers, of which there is one in the United States, from suffering any legal repercussions from the testimony of their own workers.

By his own estimation, Swampy was ordered to commit two felonies per week for six years. Tkacik explains that this kind of operation relies on a culture of ignorance – managers must not document their orders, and workers must not be made aware of the law. Whistleblowers like Swampy, who spoke the unspeakable, were sidelined (an assessment by one of Swampy's managers called him "one of the best" and finished that "leadership would give hugs and high fives all around at his departure").

Multiple whistleblowers were singled out for retaliation and forced departure. William Hobek, a quality manager who refused to "pencil whip" the missing, massive 47-48 assembly that had wandered away from the MRSA cage, was given a "weak" performance review and fired despite an HR manager admitting that it was bogus.

Another quality manager, Cynthia Kitchens, filed an ethics complaint against manager Elton Wright who responded to her persistent reporting of defects on the line by shoving her against a wall and shouting that Boeing was "a good ol’ boys’ club and you need to get on board." Kitchens was fired in 2016. She had cancer at the time.

John Woods, yet another quality engineer, was fired after he refused to sign off on a corner-cutting process to repair a fuselage – the FAA later backed up his judgment.

Then there's Sam Salehpour, the 787 quality engineer whose tearful Congressional testimony described more corner-cutting on fuselage repairs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PP0xhIe1LFE

Salehpour's boss followed the Boeing playbook to the letter: Salehpour was constantly harangued and bullied, and he was isolated from colleagues who might concur with his assessment. When Salehpour announced that he would give Congressional testimony, his car was sabotaged under mysterious circumstances.

It's a playbook. Salehpour's experience isn't unusual at Boeing. Two other engineers, working on the 787 Organization Designation Authorization, held up production by insisting that the company fix the planes' onboard navigation computers. Their boss gave them a terrible performance review, admitting that top management was furious at the delays and had ordered him to punish the engineers. The engineers' union grievance failed, with Boeing concluding that this conduct – which they admitted to – didn't rise to the level of retaliation.

As Tkacik points out, these engineers and managers that Boeing targeted for intimidation and retaliation are the very same staff who are supposed to be performing inspections of behalf of the FAA. In other words, Boeing has spent years attacking its own regulator, with total impunity.

But it's not just the FAA who've failed to take action – it's also the DOJ, who have consistently declined to bring prosecutions in most cases, and who settled the rare case they did bring with "deferred prosecution agreements." This pattern was true under Trump's DOJ and continued under Biden's tenure. Biden's prosecutors have been so lackluster that a federal judge "publicly rebuked the DOJ for failing to take seriously the reputational damage its conduct throughout the Boeing case was inflicting on the agency."

Meanwhile, there's the AIR21 rule, a "whistleblower" rule that actually protects Boeing from whistleblowers. Under AIR21, an aviation whistleblower who is retaliated against by their employer must first try to resolve their problem internally. If that fails, the whistleblower has only one course of action: file an OSHA complaint within 90 days (if HR takes more than 90 days to resolve your internal complaint, you can no have no further recourse). If you manage to raise a complaint with OSHA, it is heard by a secret tribunal that has no subpoena power and routinely takes five years to rule on cases, and rules against whistleblowers 97% of the time.

Boeing whistleblowers who missed the 90-day cutoff have filled the South Carolina courts with last-ditch attempts to hold the company to account. When they lose these cases – as is routine, given Boeing's enormous legal muscle and AIR21's legal handcuffs – they are often ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs.

Tkacik cites Swampy's lawyer, Rob Turkewitz, who says Swampy was the only one of Boeing's whistleblowers who was "savvy, meticulous, and fast-moving enough to bring an AIR 21 case capable of jumping through all the hoops" to file an AIR21 case, which then took seven years. Turkewitz calls Boeing South Carolina "a criminal enterprise."

That's a conclusion that's hard to argue with. Take Boeing's excuse for not producing the documentation of its slapdash reinstallation of the Alaska Air door plug that fell off its plane in flight: the company says it's not criminally liable for failing to provide the paperwork, because it never documented the repair. Not documenting the repair is also a crime.

You might have heard that there's some accountability coming to the Boeing boardroom, with the ouster of CEO David Calhoun. Calhoun's likely successor is Patrick Shanahan, whom Tkacik describes as "the architect of the ethos that governed the 787 program" and whom her source called "a classic schoolyard bully."

If Shanahan's name rings a bell, it might be because he was almost Trump's Secretary of Defense, but that was derailed by the news that he had "emphatically defended" his 17 year old son after the boy nearly beat his mother to death with a baseball bat. Shanahan is presently CEO of Spirit Aerospace, who made the door-plug that fell out of the Alaska Airlines 737 Max.

Boeing is a company where senior managers only fail up and where whistleblowers are terrorized in and out of the workplace. One of Tkacik's sources noticed his car shimmying. The source, an ex-787 worker who'd been fired after raising safety complaints, had tried to bring an AIR21 complaint, but withdrew it out of fear of being bankrupted if he was ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs. When the whistleblower pulled over, he discovered that two of the lug-nuts had been removed from one of his wheels.

The whistleblower texted Tkcacik to say (not for the first time): "If anything happens, I'm not suicidal."

Boeing is a primary aerospace contractor to the US government. It's clear that its management – and investors – consider it too big to jail. It's also clear that they know it's too big to fail – after all, the company did a $43b stock buyback, then got billions in a publicly funded buyback.

Boeing is, effectively, a government agency that is run for the benefit of its investors. It performs its own safety inspections. It investigates its own criminal violations of safety rules. It loots its own coffers and then refills them at public expense.

Meanwhile, the company has filled our skies with at least 420 airplanes with defective, red-painted parts that were locked up in the MRSA cage, then snuck out and fitted to an airplane that you or someone you love could fly on the next time you take your family on vacation or fly somewhere for work.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/01/boeing-boeing/#mrsa

Image: Tom Axford 1 (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_sky_with_wisps_of_cloud_on_a_clear_summer_morning.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

--

Clemens Vasters (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:N7379E_-_Boeing_737_MAX_9.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[whore-ibly-hot]

God, I love your Yandere Boarding School HCs, Harrison is so cute with his domesticity, and I love Tyler for his slow Sweetness (I would be happy to lean on him during movie nights), and Joseph for just his vibe, I'll admit I like the admire from a distance type. 💞

Though Evan would make my mental health deteriorate so fast I would have to leave the Academy, I wouldn't be able to stand him and the way he does things even in the slightest 🤣

I have a question, How would Joseph feel if Reader had an interest in joining the newspaper, bringing their contact from every once in a while to almost- if not every day?

He would go absolutely feral, but would refuse to do photography juuuuuuuuuust yet. Mostly because he needs to remove some incriminating evidence; but he doesn't want to throw away the photos!

He's thrilled you share a passion similar to his, while he's not into journalism as much as photography, he's happy even if you are! He'll happily take photos for your article, or take you out if you're a photographer too. He'll invite you back into his room for food and to work on projects, but he'll make you wait outside because he knows remembers that shrine he's got to you. Once it's shoved under his bed, he's ready to let you in. Touch everything, let him arrange the way you hold the camera, let him take a photo shoot of you, anything, he'll be thrilled. Try to ignore the way he shakes as his hands trail your waist turning your hips and leaning you slightly so he can make sure you get the best shot.

"Good, just like that. Maybe a little to the left, mm..." He'd coo, trying to think of all the horrific things he can to prevent popping a stiffy right up against your ass.

He loves to see you focused, the way you're so passionate about what you do, just like him! Maybe he can get an internship with you somewhere, so you can keep pursuing your passions together.

Lastly, it'd gross and unsafe, but he wants to fuck you in the darkroom. No one goes there but him, he's really the only one who knows how to use it. He wants to have sex in a private, intimate place, and he's put some much work and passion into the black room that he wants to take you in his safe space. Where he can work with what he considers to be the most beautiful piece of art he's ever seen, you.

[osokasstuff]

i think about a lot of overlaps between fatphobia and intersexism, look:

normal variations of anatomy and physiology are claimed inherently bad and disordered. (fatness is a normal variation of body type, intersex variations are normal variations of sex characteristics, but both are claimed not normal).

fear mongering and pulling "risks" out of the ass. if a person is fat, they get 100500 "health concerns" from everyone and may be medically labeled as unhealthy just because of weight. fatness is equated to being unhealthy without taking anything else in account. even if a person is perfectly healthy, their fatness is treated like it's health problem (or a step to future health problems). same for intersex variations: every single intersex variation is treated like a health problem, despite how it actually affects the person. and every try to confront these beliefs is faced with hostility and "BUT WHAT ABOUT THIS SPECIFIC CASE WHERE IT'S A PROBLEM???? SEE??? SEE?? I'M RIGHT! IT'S BAD!" fuck, yes, sometimes it is a problem. but even in those cases, it doesn't work like society wants: the problem lies not in normal body diversity but in a specific condition that causes specific discomfort or risk. for example, some intersex variations cause inability to urinate. and the problem here is the inability to urinate and not ambiguous sex traits. (so you need to address this specific problem and not mutilate a person's body to fit in social expectations).

the discrimination is protected by biased science. bigots refer to biased scientific sources to justify their bigotry. authors of these sources refuse to admit their prejudices and change their opinions even when new information is provided because they don't want to be fucking scientists and reevaluate their opinions after new data appear. they'd better protect their image of the world and use every existing logical fallacy and shitty argument to justify their outdated sources. so, medical and scientific fields are extremely biased on these topics.

unnecessary, unsafe, and actually harmful methods of "treatment" are pushed on people, often without their consent. it is closely related to the previous point (about biased science). all potential risks are either ignored and denied or "justified" by fear mongering around not intervening.

there definitely are more, but all other points i can come up with are more universal for different discriminations.

no conclusions except society really likes to police people's bodies.

[thehmn]

I’m currently listening to Maren Uthaug’s book 11% about a world where most men have died. I should probably wait until I’ve finished the book but I’m so fascinated by the world building.

As of now it’s still unclear why the men died but when the story takes place there’s a mix of older women who fucking hates men and young women who have only met drugged up men at “breeding centers” and imagine “males” as violent boogeymen but otherwise don’t really care and just want to live in the new seemingly perfect society their grandmothers fought for. The only people who still fight for men’s rights are witches who believe masculine energies are as natural and Of Nature as feminine energies, but even they sound more like animal rights activists, standing outside breeding centers with signs every Friday. Their most provocative sign is a picture of a man with Human written on it.

Christianity has been completely transformed and is now run by priests (they don’t call themselves priestess) who can only hold ceremonies when they have their periods and snakes are their most sacred symbol because they gave knowledge to Eva and God is called The Mother.

Trans men exist but are referred to as Man Women and they all seem to be sex workers who have functional silicone penises, though I’m not far enough into the story to know if they have other jobs. They generally also still have breasts because working as a wet nurse is another source of income for them. Testosterone treatments is not an option because it would make them too masculine and dangerous to be allowed into society but they all have male names and everyone use male pronouns for them.

A really fascinating aspect of the world is how people want to get rid of the old “patriarchal architecture” of straight lines and boxes but refuse to tear it down with machines, instead insisting on letting Mother Nature reclaim it. Only Rat Girls are actively trying to destroy the old buildings by releasing hoards of rats into them and planting bamboo to break up the concrete. New buildings have round shapes and are build in ways that make them blend in with cultivated nature and inside they’re painting in beautiful colors with no hard edges. They sound a lot like colorful hobbit homes. Also, locks are considered uncivilized and of a time when violent men roamed the earth and made life unsafe so nothing, from front doors to bathrooms, have locks. For a while after most men died women would go for Night Walks to relish in the fact that they no longer had to be afraid, though they liked to visit the witches at night because it felt a little spooky, which the witches thought was good fun.

The story is naturally about a middle aged witch who is hiding a young boy illegally and gets milk from one of the trans men in the red district while also sleeping with a Christian priest who struggles with her sacred job because her periods are irregular.

I’ll come back with follow up thoughts once I’ve finished it. Unlike what you might think, Maren Uthau isn’t a scary man hater. I’ve listened to most of her other books and this isn’t a recurring trope so clearly she has something to say specifically with this story and it’s rated pretty highly by both male and female readers. I think I’m in for quite the ride.