anhydrousromance

[anhydrousromance]

and i died.

[anhydrousromance]

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.

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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

[anhydrousromance]

Sweet Thing [PT. 1]

Toby Rogers x f!reader (NSFW)

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WC: 10.2k

Summary: Church on Sundays, a quiet daily life on your family’s farm, and the chirp of crickets to lull you to sleep every night. You had a nice, simple life. That is, until you found yourself entangled with a miscreant from another state. You should’ve listened to mama.

CW: 18+ content, mentions of religion + religious imagery, questioning faith, descriptions of violence and gore, alluded sexism, americans written by a canadian lmaoaoao, female masturbation, manipulation, sort of toxic relationship, loss of innocence, loss of virginity, explicit sexual content, corruption, salirophilia, unsafe sex, semi-public sex, dirty talk, pretty plot heavy - you gotta suffer a bit before Toby makes an appearance, but once he doesss, LORD

Part 2

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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“Did ya’ see? The old fence out front got knocked down again.”

Sat at your family’s wooden kitchen table, you push around the scrambled eggs on your plate absentmindedly. It’s a morning like any other. The sun just barely peeking over the horizon, illuminating the dew drops on the crops outside. A crisp chill in the air before the sun warms up the sky.

Your father sits in front of you at the head of the table, dressed and ready for the day like he always was - complete with his suspenders and hat, dirtied blue jeans stuffed into his work boots. Your mother sat next to him, looking lovely - as expected. You sometimes wonder how early she truly woke up, with the way her hair was always perfectly curled and her makeup was spotless before the day had even started.

Your brother sat next to you. Jameson, or ‘Jamesy’ as everyone called him - your family’s crown jewel. He was strong, capable, and smart enough that he really could’ve done something with himself if he really wanted to, but he didn’t. He chose to stay here, much fonder of the smell of dirt and manure than that of gasoline and city smog.

It wasn’t much, but it was comfortable. Easy. For you, at least. Your father and Jameson tended to most of the farm work - harvesting and replanting crops, milking the cows and slaughtering the pigs. All you had to do was collect the eggs from the chicken coop in the mornings. And all your mother had to do was homemake and look pretty (which, truthfully, was probably a lot more difficult than you were giving her credit for).

It was all you had ever known, ever since you were a little girl, but you were content with that. You doubted it got much better than this anyway. Even if it did, the cost was probably far too great.

“Again?” Your mother frowned, polished pink nails clinking against her coffee mug as she raised it to her lips. “That’s the third time this month, ain’t it?”

“You bet.” Your father huffed back to her, lips twitched down into a scowl you had learned to look past. Downturned lips under a bushy greying moustache, you couldn’t reminder the last time his face had changed. Maybe it was stuck that way. “I’m gettin’ damn tired of fixing it.”

You watch as he stabs a few pieces of fresh made sausage onto his fork, before shovelling them into his mouth.

“I fixed the fence last time, Pops.” Jameson pipes up as he leans back in his chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. He crosses his arms over his chest, the navy blue flannel he was wearing rolled up to his elbows.

It was such a run of the mill, mundane conversation, that you were barely even paying attention. The words were more so floating around your ears than actually entering them - the food in front of you going cold the longer you pushed it around. You could name countless other days that has started just the same as this one.

That didn’t mean it was bad, just… Growing stale. After nineteen years on this same old plot of land, everything was. Jameson had his driver’s license and ventured out often, spending nights god knows where only to return with a stupid grin and a flush on his cheeks. You… Well, you didn’t go anywhere. The farthest you wandered was to the old willow tree just outside of your family’s property. Any further, and you’d get an earful from your father.

Which was strange, because you were the eldest, but you suppose that’s just the way life is. Maybe one day you’ll turn out just like your mother - continuing to never wander far, dedicating your time and energy to make some regular farm boy happy. That’s probably the plan.

“Yeah, because I just said - I’m damn tired of fixin’ it!” Your father drops his fork back onto the table with a clink. His plate was clean. Just like your mother’s. Just like Jameson’s. Unlike yours. “I didn’t spend two weeks breaking my back putting that thing up just for it to be knocked down every fuckin’ Tuesday.”

“Language.” Your mother chastises in a soft hiss, shooting your father a narrow look out of the corner of her eye. The pearls hung around her neck showed their lustre the best in the morning sun, as did the absolute rock placed in the centre of her wedding ring. With her fingers clasped around her mug, she lets out a sigh before continuing. “I reckon it’s that new family that moved in at the end of the road. You know, the Rogers?”

Finally, your interest is piqued, and you look up from your plate to gaze curiously at your mother as she rambles on. “None of these things were happening before that lot showed up, and I heard their boy is a real piece of work. They only moved out here to try and keep him outta trouble.”

“Yeah? Where’d you hear that?” Your father asks, voicing the question you had been silently wondering yourself. You watch with interest as your mother takes a sip of her coffee before answering - steam billowing up from the mug.

“Word gets around. Saw Darleen when I was runnin’ errands at the market.” She hums softly. “They moved in right across the street from her and Tommy.” She sets her mug down before standing up and pushing her chair in. She picks up her plate, then your father’s, then Jameson’s. When she reaches yours she eyes it quizzically, obviously taken aback by how little you’ve actually eaten. “You’re not done, are you darlin’? You’ve barely made a dent.”

Your eyes widen a little as they lift to meet hers, before you sheepishly brush a few strands of hair off of your shoulders.

“Oh, I’m just not hungry today, mama.” You answer back softly, giving her a little smile. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed I suppose.”

She raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you, studying your face for a few moments. Probably to try and determine whether or not you were lying. You weren’t. You knew better than to try and slip a lie past her.

“Alright.” She breathes out, before collecting your plate as well. “But you’re not skipping supper. Can’t have you going all frail on us.”

You watch as she carries the plates towards to kitchen sink, setting the three empty ones on the counter before scraping yours into the compost under the sink. You can’t help but feel just a little bad about it, knowing that she had been the one to get up early and cook it - only to end up shovelling it into the waste bin. “Anyway, as I was sayin’-“ She however, doesn’t seem phased. But then again, she never did. “The Rogers, they’ve been all over the place because of that boy of theirs. Darlene says he’s got a whole shopping list of medical problems, so they’ve been flying state to state ever since he was a baby to try and get him patched up.”

The faucet squeaks as she turns it, warm water gushing out and starting to fill the sink. Then she turns, grabbing her apron off of a coat hook next to the fridge before fastening it on. “Don’t know what he’s got, but it doesn’t really matter. Apparently he’s been a bad apple ever since he hit puberty. Lyin’, stealin’, the whole lot. Lived in Colarado for a little before he stole a cop car. Paid his bail and moved him out here.”

“You sure love your gossip, don’t you, ma’?” Jameson snorts, shooting you a look out of the corner of his eye that has you letting out a soft giggle.

“It’s not gossip, Jamesy.” You mother sighs. She picks up his plate, and rinses it under the warm water. “It’s talk. Everyone talks around here. What else is there to do to pass the time?” The same thing is done to the other three plates before she’s pouring soap onto a sponge. “Besides, it’s good to talk. Keeps you aware.”

“Aware of what?” You ask, your eyes following her hands as she scrubs grime from the dishes. Just like she had done every day since you could form a memory. Your father’s calloused hands had never even touched a dish in his life. You didn’t even have to ask to be sure of that fact. Which, again, was just the way things were.

“Of what’s going on around us.” She hums softly, not sparing you a glance as she worked. “Of the people you don’t wanna mix with.”

“Well how can you know you don’t like them if you’ve never even met ‘em?” You question again. Where this boldness had come from, you weren’t entirely sure, but questions just kept bubbling up in your mind like popped corn. You suppose you should just keep all these thoughts to yourself, but then where was the fun in that? You needed something to keep your mind lively, even if it was just a hoard of ‘what if’s’ and ‘what could be’s’

This tidbit about some family of strangers was the most excitement you had gotten in weeks.

Your mother’s hands still, and then she’s pausing at the sink to look at you. And that’s all it takes, one look to know you’ve taken a step too far.

“I know enough.” She answers back to you, with a tone of finality in her voice that immediately shifts the atmosphere in the room. You can feel it, and so could your brother, if the way his shoulders tensed up was anything to tell by. “I know enough to know that I don’t want the likes of them hangin’ anywhere around here. Anywhere around you, specifically.”

“Me?” You ask, still pressing through you know it’s a dangerous route. Her warning though, just had your imagination running even more rampant. “Why just me? Jamesy’s the one always goin’ out at night. For all you know he’s probably already met the kid.”

“Have not.” Jameson snaps back immediately. He turns his head and deals you a warning glare, probably a suggestion to not throw him under the bus again. “Rogers is weird. You’d never catch me hanging around him.”

Oh?

“That right?” You push, narrowing your eyes right back at him. The calm morning vibe had long since diminished, leaving plenty of room for something much more volatile. “And how would you know if you’ve never met him?”

You watch as Jameson’s eyes widen a little, his fingers twitching into fists once he’s realized his fatal slip up. Got him, you think, as your lips stretch up into a sly smile. Somehow, the look in his eyes only grows colder, before he’s looking away from you with a scoff.

“Alright, damn, I’ve met him before.” He confesses with a huff. “But don’t worry ma’, I don’t pass the time with him. He’s…” He pauses for a moment, struggling to come up with the right word. “Freaky.” He settles on. “The typa guy that your gut just tells you to stay far away from.”

Your mother hums in satisfaction at the answer, resuming her previous actions as she rinses off soap in the sink. “He’s a gnarly lookin’ fellow too. Face all scarred up, practically torn to shreds on the left half of it.” He turns to look at you again, and then raises finger to point square at your face. “Bad news.” He snaps. “That whole damn family. Ma’s right, and you should listen to her. You’ve got no business bein’ around him. I can’t think of a single intention he could have that would be good.”

“Alright, Jamesy, gosh.” You finally concede, crossing your arms over your chest. Unable to conceal the frown twitching at your lips. “I wasn’t gonna, anyway. Was just curious.”

“Like hell you were ‘just curious’.” He snorts, giving you one last warning glance before standing up. “Curiosity turns into ideas, and ideas turn into actions.” He pushes his chair in. “Ain’t that right, pa’?”

“Right on the money.” Your father hums. He looks to you, meets your eye, and you know right then that this little fight is over. You could argue with your mom, and you could bicker with Jameson - but you knew better than to fight with your dad. So you zip your lips, give him a curt little nod of understanding, and the matter is dealt with.

The curiosity, however, lingers.

Breakfast is finished with, and after helping your mother wring out the fresh washed clothes, you pin them up to dry outside. The sun has finally made its full appearance, painting the whole world gold and blessing your skin with its warmth.

A soft, cream coloured maxi dress hangs off of your body - lacy, flowing, complete with bell sleeves. It was the type of thing that showed off the fact that it wasn’t you who got your hands dirty. Your hands were soft and nimble as they pulled your hair up and off of your neck, pinning it in place with a claw clip. You pull a few strands out to frame your face, before turning to look at your mother. She was just finishing hanging up the last few articles of clothing, dressed in something rather similar to you - though hers boasted a robin’s egg blue tone.

“You look lovely today, mama.” You tell her as you take a few steps towards her, bare feet pressing into the soft blades of grass below you. She looks up to meet your gaze, and you smile to yourself when you catch the way her eyes softened. She always looked so much younger when she smiled. It was like a glimpse at the young girl she used to be - the one who giggled softly and blushed at compliments.

“Thank you, darlin’.” She hums, lips curved upwards minutely. Once the last garment is hung, she wipes her damp hands against the front of her dress. “Why’re you kissing up? Trying to make me forget about the stunt you pulled at breakfast?”

Well, yes, but you didn’t think you were that obvious.

“I didn’t pull a stunt.” You laugh softly, clasping your hands behind your back. A soft breeze blows by you both, tousling the hair you had just made presentable. “I really just wasn’t hungry. Promise.”

“Oh, that’s not what I’m talking about.” She places a hand on her hip and cocks her head to the side. She had this way of peering into your very soul when she looked at you. A result of being born from her very flesh, maybe. Or perhaps you were just too much like her. “Got Pa’ and Jamesy all riled up. A woman’s got to realize when to bite her tongue sometimes, you know.”

“I was just askin’ questions.” You huff, lips tugging into a pout as you gaze up at her. “It’s not often someone new comes around here, can you blame me for wanting to know more?”

It’s silent for a moment as she studies you, her eyes narrowing minutely.

You can see it in her eyes as a million different thoughts pass through her mind, before she’s letting out a huff and settling on one. Closer, she approaches, until she’s standing right before you. Then, she reaches a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear gently. Her fingers are soft, yet so cold.

“Listen to me, okay?” She breathes out. You can tell that she’s trying to keep her expression neutral, but you can still see it when a crease begins to form between her brows. “I know you’re at the age where you’re startin’ to want things, growing up into a woman right before my eyes.” She pinches your cheek gently and lets out a little sigh. “But you’re still my little girl. I’ll be damned to hell if I let you run off with some miscreant.”

“I wouldn’t, mama.” You frown, eyebrows scrunching up at her words. Despite that, you reach up to touch her hand softly with your own. “I just wanted to know more about him. I don’t have many friends around these parts, you know.”

“I know, baby, and I’m sorry for that.” Mirroring your own expression, her lips twitch downwards. “But you don’t need to be friends with someone like him. You’re a sweet thing. You need someone who matches that.”

She pulls away and purses her lips, before crossing her arms over her chest. “If you don’t believe me, trust Jameson. He’s met the boy.” Somehow, neither warning is swaying you. You weren’t one for rumours. Would much rather see the horror for yourself and be the judge of it, than just blindly abide to hearsay. For all you knew, he might just be a little off kilter, but a notch too far for your tight knit community to accept.

Maybe, he was just as lonely as you were. Maybe, he also just needed a friend. “We all just want what’s best for you, okay?” Your mother continues when she notices you’ve gone silent - getting lost in a mind that she just knew was growing more and more dangerous with each passing moment. “You need to listen, just this once. You’re a smart girl, act like it.”

Act like it. You’d sure as hell try.

By the afternoon, you’ve finished up lunch and were slipping on a pair of sandals by the back door with a wicker basket hanging from your arm. It was a lovely day outside - all blue skies and warm wind - so it was much favourable to the stuffy quarters of your family’s little homestead. Besides, you really felt like you needed a little time alone after being hounded for the greater half of the morning.

“Where are you goin’?” Your father asks, sat at the dining table with a newspaper in his hands. An ashtray sits in front of him, packed with ash with a smouldering smoke rested precariously on the edge.

“Found a patch of lemongrass out by the willow.” You hum back to him, offering a smile once you’ve fastened your shoes and stood up straight. “Last time I was there it was just shy of being long enough to pick. I think I’ll be able to grab some today.”

“That so?” He reaches forward and picks up his abandoned cigarette, slotting it between his teeth before settling back into his chair again. His calloused fingers rub against the thin paper in his hands as he turns to the next page. “Ma’ would probably like that for the roast shes cookin’ up tonight.” His gaze floats over to you once more and he lets out a soft huff. “Don’t dirty your dress again. Got an earful from ‘er last time she had to scrub grass stains from the knees.”

“I won’t.” You laugh sheepishly, but it’s a half-baked lie. You never try to, but somehow you always find yourself coming home with dirt on the hems and moss caked into your knees. You had an affinity for lying beneath the old willow, sinking into the soft patch of grass below whilst sun shone down on you through the gaps in the branches. Nature wasn’t as gentle as you were though, and always left you sullied by the time you walked back through your front door.

But that was alright. You’d just have to do your own laundry next time. Surely that would make up for it.

The sun heats your skin once you step through the door and skip down the steps of the back porch. The gentle sound of wind chimes meets your ears, a soft melody that brings a smile to your face even as you drift further away from the source. The wind carries you as you pad through the soft grass that made up most of your backyard, bordered with a slew of different crops.

Tomatoes, peppers, sweet peas - basically every vegetable your mother wanted constant free access to. Your favourites, were the potatoes- a variety spanning from golden russets to deep purple yams. It was simply the most fun, on the rare occasion that you’d convince your father to let you slip into a pair of Jameson’s old overalls and pluck each nugget from the ground with your bare hands. Dirt under your fingernails, mud on your elbows, sinking your hands into the earth that kept you fed and provided for.

You make a mental note to try and get him to let you next time. You pass the vegetable crops and venture out further, through the plowed land that served as a home for your father’s pride and joy - his corn field. Spanning acres, what felt like miles and miles of husks waiting to be peeled, the scent so fresh and sweet as you trudged through it. If there was an easier route to get where you needed to be, you didn’t care. Wading through the leaves and stems was a simple pleasure you wouldn’t deny yourself. It tickled as they brushed against your bare skin, stray hairs from the cobs catching in your hair and being carried away by you.

It’s a trek for sure, but it was the length of the journey that calmed your mind. The distance from your home that freed you, at least for now.

By the time you get to the willow tree your shows are caked with dirt, and the bottom hem of your dress is dusted brown from the earth it dragged against. Predictable. You have to hop the small fence that serves as the boundary line for your property, and once your feet land on the other side your heart feels lighter.

You had just barely left home, and yet you felt so far away. It was a euphoric feeling, to be all on your own.

Walking closer, you drop your basket on the ground before sinking into a crouch then flopping onto your back. You hadn’t lied to your father, there was a patch of lemongrass close by that was probably ready for picking, but that was your secondary motive in all honesty. The primary motive, was this. Lying beneath the willow with weeds in your hair, moss staining your dress, dirt sinking into your stockings when you slip your sandals off.

The breeze is warm, and the air is warmer. When you close your eyes and stretch your arms above your head, you feel like a cat stretching out in a spot of sunlight - relaxed, content. Free. You could spend hours like this, and you have before. Lying here until the sun went down and sent a chill through your bones. Sinking into the earth, letting it claim your body as its own for a few hours.

Whenever you die, you wish to be buried here. To have the roots of this tree wrap your corpse in an everlasting embrace. Keeping you close. Winding into your ribs and filling the space where your heart once was. It had been there when others hadn’t. It had watched you grow up, and absorbed your tears into its bark. You were one. A piece of you wound into each ring in its trunk.

You stretch your limbs, then bringing a leg up to bend at the knee. Your dress rises dangerously high, lace against your thigh. Exposing skin never seen, to air that would never speak of it. You bring your hands up to your face, cheeks rosy from the sun, and you hold them there. You can feel how warm you’ve become. How the sun has blanketed you in its heat, providing you with the comfort you so deeply craved.

It was times like these, that you felt guilty for calling yourself lonely. You had the sun, and the earth, and the willow that stood sturdy no matter what storm ripped past. You had all these constants, and they should be enough.

But they’re not. Not even close.

You want the warmth of hands. Hands, that loved you and held you close. Hands, that brushed upon places you had never shown another, imbuing you with a heat you couldn’t produce yourself. You wanted breath that brushed against you softer than the breeze did, causing goosebumps to rise despite the temperate nature of it.

You wanted arms to snake around you like these roots would when you were long gone. Curling around your body, constrictive yet grounding. Tight enough to make your breath shallow.

You wanted a man.

A real one. One who knew what you wanted, and abided to it. One who would kiss the souls of your feet, just to make sure every step of yours was blessed by his protection.

You wanted to feel, taste, love someone who held you just as dear.

But it was slim pickings, in a place like this.

You reach into your cleavage, fingers clasping the warmed metal of the crucifix that rested there. You knew it was sin, but was it not also human nature? Were we not born to crave one another? How else would this species live on?

How could one live, without the embrace of another? How could one die, never experiencing it? You wondered sometimes if you would. If you’d take after Mary, and leave this earth as a virgin unsullied.

Your pastor would probably say that was a blessing of the highest honour. You would call it punishment.

You needed it. Craved it like a starving dog craved a bone to slobber on. You could only imagine how it would really feel, but you were sure that your mind didn’t come close to reality. You didn’t have enough information to accurately picture how calloused palms may feel against your soft skin, or how blunt teeth may feel as they bite into your neck.

The crucifix feels hot in your palm, almost like it knows it’s in the grip of a sinner. But you just hold it tighter, like strengthening your grasp may make up for your lack in faith.

Forgive me, Father, for I am just a woman. Your other knee comes up, bumping into the one next to it. Your hair splays beneath you, like a halo surrounding this fallen angel. Is it truly so wrong, to want to be loved in the highest form?

You feel the breeze hit the backs of your thighs, exposed with your legs drawn close. You wonder if the soft tickle is similar to how it would feel if it were someone’s fingertips instead. Your thighs twitch just from the thought.

Would they touch you like you were something holy? Would they whisper your name in your ear like you were gospel? Would they take you apart, just to remake you in their image?

Would they love you? Truly?

Could you find love in a place like this?

You aren’t even thinking as the cross slips from your fingers, in favour of trailing your fingers against the exposed neckline of your dress. Across your collarbones, yours fingers sweeping over the swell of your chest. With eyes closed, you sink into it, grass in your hair as the pads of your fingers skirt against your warming body.

You were a woman, but were you? Were you not just still a girl, blind to the pleasures hidden from you? You could touch yourself all you wanted, but would it ever be the same?

You wouldn’t know until you felt it for yourself.

You rest your palm on your stomach, right over your womb, curling your fingers gently into the soft material of your dress. You wouldn’t dare venture lower - not with the cross hanging around your neck. You would press your thighs together though, as if it were less of a sin if your hands left the ordeal unstained. You press them together tight, shifting, trying to generate any form of stimulation to placate you.

It works, a little. Enough to send tingles up your thighs. Enough to make your stomach flip. It was just shy of pleasure, so it couldn’t truly be wrong, right?

You shift again, rubbing your thighs together more as your fingers grip the fabric between them tighter. You can feel it. The heat, just barely brewing. So close, but just out of reach. You could have it, if you just slipped your hand down lower.

No one was watching. No one would know.

God would. But would he turn a blind eye, just this once?

You had always, always been good. Would one sin damn you? If so, where was the fairness in that from a god supposedly so compassionate?

If you repented, would it all be erased?

Even if you didn’t, what was the difference? You knew it was wrong either way.

(Or did you?)

You’re just taking the bait, slowly sliding your hand down lower, lower - towards the hem of your dress. Towards a place that was simply a gateway to hell if you laid your fingers on it. You were just about to give it all up, succumb to your desires and worry about repentance later. But then-

“A-Ah, shit. I didn’t expect to see anyone a-around here.”

Your entire body jolts, eyes flying open and being temporarily blinded by the sun. Before you even look at who’s just spoken to you, you’re sitting up and tugging your dress back down to your ankles. It didn’t matter who it was, that voice was a man’s. Low, gravelly. Soft, and wracked with stutters, but a man nonetheless.

A man who had just undoubtedly seen you, mere seconds away from indulging in your wicked desires.

Once you’re completely sure that any bare skin is far out of sight, you finally look up, and immediately your eyes widen.

It’s a man alright, just five feet away (give or take). He stands tall, or maybe it’s just an illusion because you’re still sat on the grass. Brown hair, fluffy and unruly - visibly knotted even from the distance between you. Honey brown eyes, freckles spotting the bridge of his nose and trickling down his cheeks. A bandage on the left side of his face, placed right next to the side of his mouth.

You’re speechless. Speechless as you look up at him. Speechless as he takes a hesitant step forwards. Cautious. Restrained. Like a person approaching a scared animal. Maybe that’s exactly what you were.

Baggy jeans hang off of his hips, ripped at the knees and visibly well worn. A slate grey shirt hugs his torso, covered mostly by the dark brown flannel shrugged over top of it. A black baseball cap completes the look.

The look of trouble. You can sense it before you even open your mouth. Or, it could be that you were just being presumptuous, considering that this was the first man who had spoken to you (besides your father, Jameson, and your preacher) in years.

“I didn’t expect to see anyone here.” You murmur back once you’ve found your voice, sitting up more as you eye him curiously. You just can’t tear your eyes away from him. Away from everything that makes him so much different than you. The wrinkles in his clothes, the stubble on his jaw. The way he carried himself - shoulders square with his hands tucked into his pockets. “This is my tree.”

“Your t-tree?” The man laughs and raises an eyebrow, taking another step forwards that has your entire body tensing up. Not that close in the grand scheme of things, but far too close for your comfort. “I didn’t know people c-could c-claim trees around here.” He tilts his head to the side. “B-Besides, isn’t this unclaimed land?”

“Technically.” You narrow your eyes up at him, trying to gauge his intentions. He looked harmless, but was he? Was anyone? “But I’ve been coming to this tree for years and never had another soul wander close.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Therefore, it’s mine.”

“Y-Yeah?” The man shifts from one foot to the other, and you’ve noticed that he’s rather fidgety. Shifting, twitching, like something inside him was trying to burst free from his body. “I-I’ve been coming here too though, and I-I’ve never seen you.”

“You have not.” You argue back immediately.

“I ha-have too.” He laughs softly, eyes warming at your immediate defiance. It was cute, how something that looked so sweet seemed to have so much bite. “C-Come here all the time when home gets buh-boring. Have since I m-moved in.” You watch curiously as his shoulders jolt, a strange sudden motion that had you raising an eyebrow.

“No you haven’t.” You press as you cross your arms over your chest. You’ve never seen this man, not even once. You knew that it wasn’t possible for you to keep an eye on this place all the time, but the chances of never running into him? Slim. Incredibly slim. For all you knew, this was all just a ploy to gain your trust. “I’ve never seen you ‘round here. I’d know it if I did.”

“Oh, s-so you’re here 24/7 then?” He snorts, rolling his eyes minutely. He takes another step closer, then another, so quickly encroaching on your bubble of personal space. “Or, w-what? You g-got cameras set up?” He makes a show at looking upwards and peering through the leaves, sarcastically scanning the area. You narrow your eyes.

Before you can say anything else, he’s already crouching down before sitting against the grass next to you. Still with a few feet in between, but the action makes your eyes widen nonetheless. You can observe him so much better now. How his eyes looked so dark until the sun hit them, and suddenly they were transfiguring from molasses to pools of honey. The slash in his eyebrow, a scar that left a permanent gap between the hairs. His eyelashes, quite long for a man you thought, fluttering against his cheek every time he blinked.

He smelled like pine and tobacco. It wafted over to you, like a beckoning call to get closer. You wouldn’t. “Can’t we share?” He asks you, leaning back on his palms and turning his head to the side to meet your gaze. You avert your eyes immediately. “I th-think you’re being selfish, keeping something so nice all t-to yourself.”

“And I think you’re being entitled.” You mutter back to him, lips twitched down into a frown.

You watch as he lets out a snort of laughter, a sound that caused his expression to crinkle. Little creases appearing at the corners or his eyes and the bridge or his nose.

“M-Maybe I am.” He shrugs. He tilts his head back, fluffy brown strands of hair falling into his eyes as he looks up through the leaves to the blue sky above. “Or, maybe I just want some c-company. It’s lonely around he-here.”

And for the first time during the conversation, you feel like you can’t argue. Because he was right. It was lonely around here. Agonizingly so. Bringing forth the type of loneliness that sunk into your bones like rot, festering more and more each day. Until one day, the sun rose, and you were completely infected. Numb to the melancholy around you.

That day hadn’t come upon you yet, but you feared you were close. “Y-You got a name?” He asks when your response is mere silence, and your eyes flicker up to meet his.

You know you shouldn’t tell him. Names… They held a lot of power. Transformed strangers into acquaintances. Opened a door that couldn’t easily be shut. If you told him, you couldn’t so easily brush him off if you ever saw him again.

Your name was a snippet of who you were. Something not to be taken lightly.

And yet, you find yourself uttering it out anyways. Soft, carried away by the breeze around you - but he hears it. He hears it clear as day.

“Puh-Pretty.” He hums back to you, lips twitched up at the corners in a way that made your heart flutter. A feeling so foreign to you, that it immediately elicited panic in your mind. “Suits you. Y-You’re a pretty thing.” Again, your heart skips a beat. Were you dying? Your pulse has skyrocketed and was doing flips in your chest. Surely, you must be dying. Before you can attempt to get a word out in response, he’s speaking again. “I’m T-Toby.”

Toby. It’s a nice name, soft and boyish. You mill it over in your brain a few times, imagining how the syllables would taste on your tongue. The craving is too strong to stay silent.

“Toby.” You murmur back to him, testing out the sound as it leaves your mouth. You like it, you decide. “Is that short for somethin’?”

The man - Toby - raised an eyebrow at you and lets out a soft chuckle. It’s a nice sound, deep and smooth, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Very quickly, the distain you had felt for him when he first approached was fizzling away. Even if your mind was on edge, your body was so clearly craving the presence or another. Still a few feet between you, but now you were itching to minimize the space a little. Not enough to touch, of course not, just enough to… Observe him better. Your curiosity was, once again, getting the better of you.

But how could it not? The man beside you was a bundle of unanswered questions, just waiting to be dug into. This was just the excitement you had been looking for.

“I-If you must know…” Toby answers with a dramatic sigh, making your lips twitch as you try to contain a smile. You fail, and his grin only widens when he sees your lips curve. Got her. “It’s short for T-Tobias. Tobias Rogers.”

You can practically hear the glass break when the light atmosphere is shattered.

Rogers? Like… Rogers, Rogers?

The very same that your entire family had spent the greater half of the day warning you to stay far away from? The criminal? The ‘bad news’? The ‘freak’, as Jameson had so eloquently put it?

Toby sees it when your lips part in shock, and the colour slowly begins to drain from your face. Rosy cheeks swapped for a shell-shocked pale tone. It’s staggering, how quickly your mood flipped just from the mention of his name alone. He furrows his eyebrows, and tilts his head to the side a little. “D-Damn, is it that bad? We can just stick to T-Toby then.”

You swallow thickly and take a breath, your eyes locked on his face - practically impossible for you to tear away. He couldn’t be the same person, right? You were being presumptuous.

Jameson had described him as a ‘gnarly looking fellow’, and he didn’t look like that to you. There were a few little scars here and there on his face, but nothing enough to warrant such a grim description. Your eyes drift, catching on the bandaging covering a solid portion of the left half of his face. You wonder what lay beneath it. Was it ‘torn to shreds’ just as your brother had said?

“Why are you all bandaged up?” You blurt out, unable to contain yourself. You just had to know. You felt like you may burst or you didn’t.

You watch as Toby’s lips tug even further down, his eyes flashing with something you couldn’t quite describe. The closest match would probably be shame.

“Manners, much?” He mutters as he catches your eye. “That side of my f-face ain’t pretty. I’d rather k-keep it covered.” He pauses for just a moment. “Especially around s-someone like you.”

You hum softly in response, but you’re nowhere near satisfied by his answer. You needed proof. Proof that your luck truly was laughable, and that sheer coincidence was making a fool out of you. If it was true, and this was who you had been warned about, it’s almost funny how you didn’t even need to try and seek him out. He found you.

Was that fate? Was it God delivering him to you?

And if so, could he truly be that bad?

Unless-

Toby watches you, waiting for your next move as he reached up with his left hand to absentmindedly pick at his bandage. His hands were littered with scars too, the skin on his fingertips red and raw. Nails bitten to the bone. You wonder, against yourself, how they would feel against your skin. They looked so much different than your own soft, unmarred hands. Rough and worn. Battered to such an extent that left you wondering how they had become that way. Not even your father, a man who worked the farm day in and day out, had hands like that.

Would his touch be as rough as he looked? Or would he be gentle, so to preserve your fragility?

-Unless it was a test of faith.

“You can show me.” You speak back to him, pushing your hair over your shoulder as you lean to the side a little. Just barely bridging the distance between the two of you. Testing the waters. “Promise I won’t make fun of ya’.”

That earns a snort of a laugh out of Toby, before he’s shaking his head softly in disbelief.

“I’d sure hope n-not.” Toby chuckles, then pulling his hand back down in favour of leaning back against it once more. “Not today though, darlin’. You’re j-just starting to used t-t-fuck! -to me.” You watch curiously as his shoulders jerk, his head cracking to the side in a way that both looked and sounded painful. Of course, he catches onto your worried gaze pretty quickly. “S-Sorry.” His face crinkles up in embarrassment. “It’s, uh-“ His hand lifts up to wave around absently. “This thing I got. T-Tourette’s.”

And suddenly, you get it. You don’t think a place like this would take kindly to someone like him, regardless of what his true nature was. He was different. Different in a way that wouldn’t so easily be glossed over by people who had been set in their own ways for far too long. Barely any outsiders were accepted warmly into your close-knit community, and so one that was so clearly a contrasting force? Not a chance.

But you weren’t put off. Weren’t scared or disgusted like every other member of your community seemed to be. If anything it made you angry at them. For being so unforgiving, though forgiveness was the very thing they nodded along to when the pastor preached about it.

What hypocrites.

“S’Not a problem.” You wave him off, offering him a kind little smile. He deserved it, you think. Everyone deserved to be treated kindly, but him especially. You could just feel it in your bones, that compassion wasn’t something Toby was often dealt. He was probably far lonelier than you. You don’t suppose you can blame him, for trying to find a connection with someone else, though he had startled you at first. At the end of the day, that’s all you wanted as well. “Don’t gotta be sorry about it. ‘Specially if it’s something you can’t control.”

You shrug softly, then meet his gaze as a gust of wind sent your hair into a flurry.

And though you didn’t know it, that would be the exact moment when Toby fell for you.

You were… So kind. So kind, gentle, and sweet. And so pretty too. The way the sunlight was hitting you right then made it look as if you were glowing - golden rays hitting your unblemished skin like the sun was created simply to shine a spotlight on you. You looked like an angel. Maybe you were. With your sparkling eyes, fluttering lashes, and flowing white fabric draped over your body, the only thing you were missing was a pair of wings.

His fingers curl into the grass beneath him, accidentally ripping out a few blades in his grip as he tries to reign in his thoughts. How could someone so lovely live in this place? Riddled with bigotry and sour expressions. How had they not tainted you? And did he even deserve to be in the presence of your purity?

Probably not. He met your eyes again, so warm and inviting. Definitely not.

“Y-You’re a sweet thing.” He mutters softly, tilting his head to the side a little. “Has anyone ever t-told you that?”

“My mama, sometimes.” You giggle, now fully scooting closer though you can so clearly hear the words your mother had spoken to you just this morning. ‘You’re a sweet thing. You need somebody who matches that.’ Grass smears against your dress as you shuffle towards him, leaving lime green stains against cream fabric. Sorry mama, for more reasons than one. “Y’know, she warned me about you.”

Toby’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches you approach him, finally eliminating the space he had created to be courteous. He could smell you now - fresh linen and lavender - and he could pick out all of the tiny features on your face that made you… You. He could see each little flyaway strand of hair that went into a frenzy whenever the breeze hit you. He could imagine the warmth of your skin when his eyes fixated on the rosiness to your cheeks.

He’s so caught up in how dizzyingly beautiful you are up close, that he nearly misses what you say completely. When the words do register though, his eyes are flicking back to meet yours as a frown tugs his lips downwards.

“W-Warned you?” He raises an eyebrow. “‘Bout what? I didn’t d-do nothin’.”

“Didn’t you?” You giggle softly and narrow your eyes at him playfully. Even if he was trouble, it was so fun to talk to somebody that wasn’t directly a part of the circle you had grown accustomed to. It was exciting. So many unknowns that it made your blood simmer with the need to dig in deeper. “It’s a small town y’know, people talk.” You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your forearms on them as you gaze up at him. “Locals are sayin’ you’re a criminal. And my daddy’s convinced you’re the one who keeps knockin’ down our fence.”

You nod your head in the direction of your property, to which Toby’s gaze follows. Immediately, his expression morphs into one of sheepish realization.

“Hmm… Y-Yeah, that might’ve been me.” He laughs softly, a cocky little smile playing at his lips. “Tell your ‘daddy’ he built his f-fence too close to the- the road. Pretty easy to lose control on g-gravel streets.”

You snort out a laugh and roll your eyes. You’d probably spit in your father’s face before ever criticizing one of his creations. Still though, the thought is funny to you.

“So it was you.” You grin up at him. “Are the rest of the rumours true then? Did ya’ really steal a patrol car?”

His eyebrows shoot up immediately, a look of bewildered amusement coating his expression.

“Christ, country folk are s-scary. How’d you know th-th-“ He draws out that first syllable for a couple seconds, like the word is hard for him to form. After a couple tries, he gets it. “-that?”

“I told you, people talk.” You laugh softly as you lean back on your hands. Your shoulder brushes against his just minutely, but it’s enough contact to raise goosebumps on your arms. “So is it true?”

Toby scoffs softly, before glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re so close now. Welcoming him into your personal bubble so easily, looking up at him with those sweet doe-like eyes. For just a split second, his eyes flicker downwards towards your cleavage - smushed together from the way you were sitting leaned towards him, presented so beautifully in that silken white fabric.

He just knew that you had to be so soft. Could already imagine what your breasts would feel like against his palms - cushy warm flesh, yielding to his hands. He could only dream of what you would sound like it as he did it too. With a voice so soft and lovely, you’d probably sound like heaven itself as you breathed out little whimpers and moans.

He bet that you’d be shy about it. Refusing to meet his eye, flushed pink and pretty as you tug at your bottom lip to try and keep all of your noises at bay. But you wouldn’t stop him. No… You probably look up at him with both desperation and embarrassment clouding your eyes, before you hesitantly tugged him in closer.

Maybe he’d make you beg for it, just to see you squirm. Just to see your eyes shine with tears of humiliation.

He could imagine how your thighs would quiver when he gently pushed them apart. How you’d gasp when he touched you for the first time. How pretty your skin would look, with splotchy red marks and indentations from his teeth.

He could imagine ruining you. Tearing off your wings with his bare hands.

You were a sinful temptation, and you didn’t even know it. Looking up at him like he was the perfect picture of a good man. He wasn’t.

He was rotten. Had been since birth, most likely, because he couldn’t remember a day in his life where misfortune didn’t follow him. He was careless, impulsive, brash, and short-tempered. He would taint you the second you touched, infecting you with the decay hollowing out his bones.

He wanted to do it anyway.

“A-And if I did?” He asks with a sly smile, leaning into you with full intentions - just to see how you’d react. He’s delighted when you don’t move away, but he does feel how you instinctively tense up at the pressure of his shoulder pressing against yours. So timid. Had you ever been touched? “Would it ss-scare you off?”

You can feel his warmth through your clothing. The contact point where his shoulder meets yours being so warm in comparison to the rest of you. His bicep presses against yours when he shifts a little, and you can feel the lean muscle hidden under his flannel. What would it feel like to really touch him? To feel his muscles flex under your grip?

It’s barely anything. Just the slightest contact, but your head was already spinning. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to a man, and your body was very clearly elated by the prospect. Hormones? Human nature? You weren’t sure what it was, but you were absolutely captivated by every little thing about him. You were trying to stay restrained, but these depraved thoughts just kept worming their way into your brain and speaking louder than the rest.

Would it scare you off? No, you knew that it would only entice you. You could feel it, how the idea of his misdeeds was only making him seem that much more desirable to you.

Trouble. Bad news. Then why did it seem so exciting? Why did he set your mind alight?

Maybe his natural charisma was a trap. A trap that you were so easily falling for, like a mouse too fixated on the prospect of cheese to see the danger.

“No.” You hum, tilting your head upwards to look at him better. He was very handsome. Sharp features but soft eyes. Shaggy, unruly hair, and yet it looked so silky. Stubble on his chin and along his jaw, framing his already captivating face. You were already in too deep. You could tell. “I’m not so easily scared. I’m not some delicate flower, y’know.”

Toby raises an eyebrow at you, clearly not convinced. And though he really was trying not to scare you off, the urge to push just a little bit further was getting harder to ignore. He could see it in your eyes, how receptive you were. Skittish, a little shy by nature, but clearly still wanting more. If you didn’t, then why hadn’t you moved away? Why were you the one to close the distance initially?

You were prodding at his personal space like a scared little kitten. Curious, but still on guard. Could he break down your walls a little? Would you let him get closer?

Toby lifts his hand up, his moments fluid and confident as he reaches down towards your face. Your eyes widen immediately, breath catching in your throat as his hand approaches you. Gently, like he’s scared to break you, his fingers brush the skin of your cheek before he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your cheeks heat up immediately, momentarily frozen in placeby the tender contact. It’s like he’s cast a spell on you, and only once his hand leaves you does it break. Still though, you’re left shell-shocked with shaky breathing as his touch retreats.

“Aren’t you?” Toby asks, leaning back on his hands once more. He can’t hide the smile on his lips as he observed you - so flustered by the smallest touch. You were definitely innocent. From that reaction alone, he’d be surprised if you’d ever been kissed before. Just like that, his mind started whirring with images or what if would be like to do so. Guiding you, slow and gentle. Showing you the ropes. “You sure l-look like one.”

You feel dizzy. Your skin tingling like he was setting you on fire with just his eyes alone. He was looking at you in a way that made your lungs feel tight. Amused, and yet tainted with something deeper. Something darker. Something you had never encountered before. Heady. Carnal.

You couldn’t quite tell if you were intimidated or enraptured.

All you knew, was that your heart had never beat quicker than now. “But… Yeah, I m-might’ve done that.” Toby continues, knowing you’re probably too ruffled to respond properly. “Among other th-things.”

Trying to regain your composure, you swallow thickly and take in a shaky breath. You didn’t want him to know just how easily he was sending your mind into a frenzy. Little did you know, he already did.

“Why?” You ask softly, eyeing him curiously. What did he want from you? What did that expression mean?

Toby hums softly, reaching up to scratch the stubble on his jaw before answering.

“For fun, I g-guess.” He breathes out, sending you a playful grin that made your stomach flip. “Mostly just t-to- to piss my dad off.” You watch his hand as it moves, your skin still tingling where it had touched you. You wonder if he’d do it again. “He moved me out h-here hoping it would calm me d-down, but it just made it all worse. It’s so boring out here, I’m more restless than- than ever.”

He tilts his head down, smiling down at you. “What do you do around here f-for fun?”

You’re a little caught off guard by that question, and it’s hard not to shrink under his gaze. If he really wanted to, it would barely take any effort to close the rest of the distance between you. That possibility, is enough to make you squirm.

“For fun?” You repeat back softly. “Um… Come here?” You laugh sheepishly and look up towards the leaves above you. An easy escape from his paralyzing gaze. “Water our crops.. Read, help my mom sew up old clothes.” You shrug. “Not much else.”

“Really?” Toby asks incredulously, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. That sounded like such an agonizingly boring life, it nearly made his skin crawl. “You don’t d-do anything else? G-Go anywhere?”

You shake your head, before looking to him once more.

“Nah. My daddy doesn’t like it if I wander off somewhere he couldn’t easily find me.” You shrug. “That fence right there is our property. This is as far as I go on my own. Mama takes me to the market sometimes though, and my whole family goes into town for church on Sunday.”

That just makes Toby’s frown deepen. It seemed to him like you were being kept on a leash, hidden away from every interesting thing that life had to offer. How were you not so incredibly restless? Had you lived your whole life this way? Confined within the fence posts of your family’s property.

“That’s… Not right.” Toby speaks back to you slowly. “There’s a whole world out there. D-Don’t you want to see it?”

“Well, of course.” You murmur softly, gaze dropping down to where your hands were folded on your lap. It was strange, having someone agree with what you believed were just troublesome thoughts. Thoughts that had been shot down since you were a child, never once indulged in or encouraged. “But it’s not what you think… They’re just trying to keep me safe.”

“I think it’s exactly w-what I think.” Toby argues back, his eyebrows furrowed. “They don’t want to keep you safe, they want t-to keep you- you- fuck! -contained. Controlled.” His words make your shoulders tense up. “You’re an adult, r-right? Why’re you letting them treat you like a kid?”

“I’m not.” You frown, to which Toby merely scoffs.

“You are.” He protests. “It’s your l-life, you know? Not theirs. Y-You should live it.” He leans his head down lower, practically caging you in as he encroaches on your personal space. “Or are you t-too scared?”

“I ain’t scared.” You snap back at him, eyes narrowing up at him.

“No?” He laughs, eyes crinkling in amusement. You were so cute, it made his chest feel tight. He could definitely understand the need to protect someone like you. God forbid you fall into the clutches of someone like him. “T-Tell you what,” He grins down at you. “If you’re really not scared, l-let me take you out tonight.” Your eyes widen, and you just look even cuter. “I’ll pick you up in my truck. D-Drive you around. Show you a bunch of places I think you’d l-like. How’s that sound?”

Scary. Perfect. Dangerous. Exhilarating.

Like a recipe for disaster.

“I… I dunno if that’s a good idea.” You mumble. “I’d have to sneak out. And… If my daddy saw you trying to take me away he’d probably shoot ya’.”

Toby barks out a laugh, tilting his head back and taking in a wheezing breath like you had just told him something hilarious - and not a threat against his life. A few more giggles slip past his lips before he’s able to contain himself, and he lets out an amused sigh before looking back to you.

“I’m sure h-he would.” He chuckles. “But I’ll take that risk.” His laugh is so warm and addictive, it’s hard for you not to break into a grin as well. “S-Sneak out after he’s sleepin’ then, if you’re so w-worried about me. And I’ll pick ya’ up here, just to be safe.”

He really didn’t quit, did he? His insistence was more charming than anything else though. The idea of him wanting to spend more time with you this badly, was something that made your heart skip a beat. “If he somehow still manages t-to catch you, and he d-does put a hole in my head, I’d still say it was worth it.”

You want to. You really want to. And how the hell are you supposed to stay rational when he’s staring down at you with the warmest brown eyes you’ve ever seen? You’re trying to fight it, but it’s futile. You know you’re going to say yes. It’s a golden opportunity. When’s the next time you’ll be offered freedom like this?

“Okay.” You find yourself muttering out, the wind whistling in your ears and rising goosebumps on your arms. Or was it because of him, and how his aura was so effortlessly subjugating? “Okay.” You repeat, louder this time, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself that you’re truly giving in.

But the smile that Toby gives you in response? It makes all of the apprehension dissipate. He smiles at you like you’ve just offered him the world. Eyes gleaming, expression wrinkling with elation.

“Yeah?” He grins, then nudging your shoulder lightly with his own. “I’ll show y-you a good time, p-promise. And I’ll get you home safe. N-No one will be the wiser.”

“You better.” You giggle. ““I’m taking a big risk for you, you know. Never done anything like this.”

He bet you hadn’t. Bet you wouldn’t know a good time if it stared you in the eye. He could teach you so much. Teach you everything, and more. And maybe, if you liked him enough, you’d let him keep you.

Maybe you’d let him get you out of here, show you what life’s all about, as if he knew. You could figure it out together.

“And for that I-I’m grateful.” He smiles, leaning into you a bit more. “I’ll pick you up a-at midnight, right here.” He was already practically buzzing with anticipation. “Y-You better not stand me up.”

“I won’t.” And you’re leaning right back into him, because it just feels right. Feels like something you need.

“Good.” Toby hums, feeling so satisfied with himself he almost feels guilty. Almost. It’s hard to really, when he’s got someone like you sinking into him so easily. He knew he couldn’t give you what you deserved, but he was sure he could give you something better than you were accustomed to.

That was enough, right?

You probably didn’t even know what a good man acted like. “Then I’ll see you a-at midnight. Wear somethin’ warm.”

You would, though you weren’t sure if you would even need it. Just being around him seemed to make your skin heat up.

Your brother was right, he definitely was trouble.

But maybe that was exactly what you needed.

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getting part one up then working on asks!!

I’ve just really been wanting to get this one out here,, everyone say thank you to ethel cain for placing this idea in my mind!

part two is where all the goody goody will be, and I’m hoping to get it up by next week maybe?? Idk we’ll see

thank you for reading! and thank you to all of my new followers who have been so kind <3

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Good golly gosh

spider geto

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I like my men evil, nefarious even.

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I fuck with this

HP oc (⚠️oc x canon content!)

literally my own version of Y/N when i read fics😂

Full name: Xander Alex Sashimj (preferred to be called by his surname)

Nickname: Shimj (by Tom Riddle)

Date of birth: Unknown month and day, 1926

Patronus: Dolphin

Boggart: Heights

Ability: Metamorphmagus

(really want to cook something with them ugh🤧 i'm CRAZY for slytherin x hufflepuff dynamic...)

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Stop spending times with your families and log onto tumblr dot com to like my posts

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This is beautiful- but I can't stop staring at Herald Viks toots

glorious evolution

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Divorce failure duo go to drink together and thing will go totally disaster with happy ending of course

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Started writing a AU Tom Riddle sorta angsty reader insert one-shot thing set in the 1940s but is there even an audience for it help

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me staring at my ceiling after y/n does the most FLABBERGASTING thing ever

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show me how | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x reader

genre: fluff? angst? unrequited crushes but not really, love confessions, first kiss, complicated feelings???

wc: 1.2k

originally posted on AO3: 23/02/2023

You like Tom Riddle. Like like like. Like fancy him like. You knew that. And you think he knows it too.

It's not like you actively tried to hide it, if he knew about it then that's that. If he doesn't then that's another path that readily available for you to take.

"Hmm?" You hummed, Tom had called for your attention earlier but you weren't exactly focused on what he was saying. Your eyes met his, now wide and curious as to what he had to say. "What is it?"

"Are you okay?" He asks.

And the words sound so foreign coming from between his lips that you thought for a split second that you weren't speaking to Tom himself.

"Yeah," you murmur softly, nodding as he process the words in as a clear lie. If Tom had been a more expressive person, he'd be frowning, but he wasn't, so instead he settled on pursing his lips. "Don't worry about it."

Tom was conceived under a love potion. He can't love. And one would think that that was enough of a reason to not have feelings for the guy but you were stupid enough to do it nonetheless.

"You're lying," he states, his brows furrowed the slightest bit. "Why are you lying?"

"It's nothi—" You stop, tearing your eyes away from his to stare down at your hands. And after a second, you huff, looking back at him once more. "—Do you think that you could grow to love someone?"

And that was when it clicked into place for Tom. You, the only person he was able to tolerate and or considers as his only friend, fancied him.

He thinks for a bit, mulling the idea over and over. Tom is used to the act by now, he would get confessed to then he would promptly turn it down because, quite frankly, he doesn't give a shit what others think of him.

But with you. He doesn't know what to do with you.

"I think you should get something to eat," he says instead, another action that was so foreign of him to do. "Come on."

Tom was never one to avoid confrontation in any shape or form and always made sure that the person who confessed to him knew their place. But you were his friend, and he doesn't know how to tell you where you were placed on the list of things that occupied his mind.

Tom stands up awkwardly by the library's table, a place you've been frequenting with him lately. And watched as you made no move in gathering your things.

"Have you ever loved anything?" You ask him quietly, grateful that you've found the table furthest from any possible commotion.

Tom says your name sternly. You knew he didn't like to talk about this topic, a wall having been put up and never once crossed during the years of friendship in which you've known him. "I think we should go."

"And I think you should tell me that you can't love me back," you counter. "Just so I could move on."

Tom stays silent, his head going dizzy at the look on your face, staring up at him from your seat with your pupil blown wide with admiration. You not only liked him. You loved him.

"I'm not going to care for you any less when you tell me no," you say to him. Tom reaches over and grabs at your things, packing it as he quietly listens to you. "You're still my friend."

Friends. His stomach drops at the words. He doesn't want to be your friend. He doesn't know what he wants, he just knows that he didn't want to be just that. But he will not give you false hope by lying to you. So he tells you, like you've asked of him: "I can't love you."

It takes you two beats before you smile at him, finally putting away your things, your own hand brushing against his cold ones as you stuffed your supplies into your bag. Tom considers for a second if he should hold it for you. You know, as an apologetic gift.

But he decides not to, and watches as the straps drapes over your shoulder, digging into your skin uncomfortably.

"You know," you start as you walked out the library besides him. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile."

Tom steps slows, matching with your own and with knitted brows he asks. "What do you mean?"

"I can't remember how you smile," you say with a small smile of your own. "Show me how, will you?"

Tom blinks. He thinks back to his life in the orphanage, to the basilisk under the chamber, Moaning Myrtle, the things he did to Hagrid, everything he has done so far that you've had zero clue of and feels to guilty too lift the corner of his lips up. He just can't do it.

"If you can't show me how you love, Tom," you say. "Then the least you could do was show me how you smile."

He doesn't say anything, just watching you as your eyes flickered between his lips and any of his other features. You were shorter than him, and he thinks he likes it this way.

He thinks of you, how you look at him, how you speak to him, how you've dreamt up visions of who he'd never be, and how he —for the first time ever in his life, feel the love you have for him. And how when he does smiles, a small sigh slips out of him.

You notice then the corner of his lips curving upwards, the small squint of his eyes, the scrunch on his high nose bridge, and the dip of dimples in his cheeks, poking through clearer than ever before. Your thoughts err away, and you let your heart fall in love with Tom again.

You smile back, reciprocating his and somehow his only grew. A blissful glint reaching his eyes, as he mirrored you. You tilt your head to the side, only realising now that you two came to halt, and signalled for him to follow after you. "Let's go."

You didn't get far, cold hand wrapping around your wrist and held you in place. You look back at him with a questioning look and you could see Tom contemplate with himself.

"I'm going to kiss you."

"What?"

Tom didn't repeat himself, his lips pressing onto yours with his free hand gently cupping your face, the coldness melting into the heat of your flushed cheeks. Cold. Cold. Cold. You kissed him back, letting yourself enjoy this moment while it lasted with an ache in your heart. Tom pulls away, hand still cupping your face as his thumb slides down to your chin and lifts it up so you would look at him.

"I want to learn to love you," he says slowly. "Please."

A smile etched its way onto your lips, and it doesn't go unnoticed by Tom since he has to physically restrain himself from kissing you again and again. Tom awaited for your words, and as he thinks that he'll finally get an answer to his semi-love confession.

You ask him instead, "why are your hands so cold?"

—from bee: writing my favorite slytherin to my favorite song, may be OOC tom but who caresssssss,, i love him for ittt.

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Cinnamon-Sugar Milk - Part 1

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader (romantic)

Summary: Tom adopts a kitten. However, this kitten may be more than he bargained for…

Warnings: 3rd person pov, 1940s timeline, Potter!reader, Gryffindor!reader, fem!reader, small!reader, unintentional deceit, illegal animagus, platonic petting, a small age gap (1~ year), food and drink mention (milk & cat food) (brief mention of eating cat animagus/cannibalism?), brief mention of needing to use the restroom (because of excessive milk consumption), joking about throwing oneself off the astronomy tower (if you squint), slight OOC Tom, & cursing (language-wise).

Date: December 2024

Masterlist

*

Patrols were tedious. But as prefect and potential Head Boy the following year, they were a necessary task. Students sneaking around after curfew were always up to no good, and when it was with another student with the intentions of snogging in a hidden corridor, Tom Riddle hated it even more. Affection was disgusting and the blatant, vulgar display of it was even worse. At the risk of house points and reputation, Tom Riddle could never understand such degrading impulsions. 

But here he was once again, scolding the second idiotic couple that night before sending them on their way back to their respective common rooms. He proceeded on with his patrol route, shaking his head in disgust once again. 

At least the patrols provided a good excuse to note the layout of the castle - providing further knowledge of potential secret passageways and hidden alcoves. And of course, giving him more ideas on how to carry out his plans in the Chamber of Secrets. There were several spots that would allow the basilisk a way to enter the castle before exiting back into the Chamber through the pipe system. Everyone at Hogwarts would be none the wiser.  And amidst the panic and confusion, his control of the pure blood hierarchy would strengthen and would amass all the more followers and support. Thus accumulating more power and solidifying his place in high society before he even left the halls of Hogwarts.

Thankfully, he was assigned the route closest to the girls bathroom and opening to the Chamber of Secrets in the following week. Scoping out beforehand in the early weeks of the new school year would be both essential and beneficial to his plans.

But as Tom Riddle continued down the hall, scheming and plotting as he went, he was unaware that his inevitable downfall lied just yards away - haven just transformed for the first time, complete with a stubby, triangular tail, the tiniest of toe beans, and a raging appetite for sweetened milk.

*

“Mew?”

The soft, questioning sound echoed off the corridor walls, causing the 6th year prefect to stop mid step. 

He tilted his head, listening once more.

“MEW!!!” A panicked cry came once more.

Tom tensed, once more disgruntled.

Snogging teenagers are one things, but if I see a couple of pet cats -

He turned the corner, correct is his assumption about a frantic cat, but not quite right in context…

 There, in the far corner of an indented wall, behind a large statue - an area big enough for a first year to hide effectively - was a tiny kitten. It was curled up and crying as it waved its tiny paws around in a state of panic.

Tom stilled, watching the kitten have a tantrum for a solid minute. The small creature seemed to have not noticed his presence in its state. Tom took note of how it appeared to be barely a week or two old and poorly underdeveloped. And even more, it was without a collar. 

His eye twitched. All pet cats were required to be fixed before their owners arrived at the school. And if someone’s cat had arrived pregnant and had abandoned the runt…

The sad kitten soon turned to whimpering, seemingly tired from its crying.

Tom’s resolve began to crack, giving way for pity and, against his will, sympathetic understanding. The pathetic thing was clearly rejected by its parents and abandoned to die in the wilderness of Hogwarts halls - no doubt to be trampled on by hundreds of uncaring students and left to die in some lonesome corner. 

With a deep sigh, Tom knelt and grasped the kitten by the scruff of its neck, holding it up to look it in the face.

The small creature’s fighting spirit seemed to come back with a vengeance. It frantically squirmed in his hold, raking its minuscule claws and tiny fangs against whatever it could reach - but, of course, not even landing a scratch on the prefect’s pale skin. 

Tom looked at the wiggling thing in his hold, relatively unimpressed, but amused all the same.

“Quite spirited, aren't you?”

Tom nearly let out a soft laugh as the kitten stilled and confusedly looked up - with eyes much too big for its head.

“Mew?”

He could not hold back a chuckle this time. Shaking his head with a gentle sigh, he decided his next course of action.

If he was being honest with himself - like he often never was when it came to emotions and vulnerabilities - he had always wanted a pet. When he had first received his letter and Dumbledore took him to acquire his supplies, he had no money of his own to do so and the professor did well to remind him of this burden; the burden of having a background riddled with the shame of being an orphan, a half-blood, and no source of income. And, of course, as a pet was not a requirement, he went to Hogwarts alone with no companion. He envied many of the other children, for many different reasons. Much to his embarrassment over the childishness of it, their animal companions were one of those reasons for envy.

The stupid little animal stared up at him, looking to see what he would do next. He had to admit that the creature was objectively adorable, although much too small and weak. But, he supposed it would grow with time and care. And perhaps it too could come to be as special to him as the basilisk. 

He nodded to himself once more, this time standing up and placing the kitten into his upper-left robe pocket. It mewed in surprise as Tom tucked it in, its head peeking over the top as if still reeling from this new development. 

“Quiet, you insolent thing.” Tom hushed the whimpering kitten as he proceeded with his patrol. 

Muttering a quick “tempus” he noted that he only had about fifteen minutes left. He performed his job as expected and had found some new corners of the castle that might become beneficial to unlocking the Chamber completely in the following months. And, of course, had gained a new plaything. Everything was going as planned, nay, better than planned.

Tom smiled smugly to himself. The kitten in his breast pocket, however, was coming to the realization that this night was just getting worse and worse.

*

On second thought, Y/N hummed, perhaps being kidnapped by the prince of Slytherin was for the best…

The fifth year, newly turned animagus was currently lapping up the last of the warm milk that Tom Riddle had provided for her. He had so thoughtfully added cinnamon sugar to the bowl, specially requested from when he had taken a detour to the kitchens. 

When Y/N had decided to transform for the first time that night, she had done well to take into account it being a Friday night so that students and teachers would be much too distracted by the coming weekend and would also have the next day to recover should anything go awry. In addition, as the fifth year Gryffindor prefect, she was the one who had patrol over that area of the castle and more than aware that it was relatively quiet and abandoned for the most part. The older Slytherin prefect was supposed to be in the next section over.

But, Y/N thought as she finished licking the remaining milk droplets from her mouth, he was probably taking a shortcut or had gotten mixed up when reprimanding loitering students.

Either way, Y/N’s stomach was much too full to think too much about it. She didn't know milk could ever taste so good. It was surely blasphemous and sinful for it to be oh so delicious.

Without a second thought, Y/N rolled over to her back. The bulge of her now fuzzy and milk-round tummy came into view and was now reminded what had gotten her into such a predicament. Couldn't she have been something a bit more ferocious? Or at least quick or repulsive enough for him to not scoop her up like it was nothing and plop her in his pocket? If anyone ever found out, she would never hear the end of it -

“Are you dead?”

Y/N meant to let out a groan, but instead a low pur escaped as she laid there on the thick rug in the Slytherin common room. 

Turning with milk-drunk eyes, she saw the prince of Slytherin himself sitting beside her, cross-legged on the floor and watching her as if both puzzled and enamored. 

Blinking slowly at him, he returned the gaze and let out a low hum.

“Hm, perhaps not.” He mused, taking in the kitten’s sleepy demeanor.

It was quite cute, he thought. Conventionally, of course.

Y/N was certain that the prefect had known who she was and what she had done as soon as he found her in the midst of a panic attack behind that stupid statue. He always had sharp, pervasive eyes and the way his dark eyes seemed to drill into hers - she was certain he was going to turn her into Headmaster Dippet. But she was even more alarmed when he brought her to the kitchens. Of course, he would choose an even worse fate for her - handing her over to the house elves to cook for breakfast the next morning. A kitten breakfast sandwich, she was sure. 

But his asking for a bowl of warm milk and cinnamon-sugar was perhaps even more horrifying. Did he not know? Or was this an act of humiliation? Y/N couldn't care less, however, once she first tasted that sweet, sweet milk. 

This was humiliating. 

But maybe, just maybe… Tom Riddle was unaware of her being an animagus. Perhaps she could sneak out when he wasn't paying attention and then simply ignore the boy for the remainder of his stay at Hogwarts; he had never noticed her before, let alone spoken to her. Surely it wouldn't be so hard to get out of the situation she had found herself in…

…Right?

*

Oh Merlin. Y/N wanted to cry. Was that Nott? And Lestrange? Holy fuck, did Malfoy sleep nude?!

Strike me dead, Godric Gryffindor, Y/N prayed but to no avail; no one was listening. The snake pit of all things - a teenage boy snake pit, no less!

Y/N shuddered, Hell is better preferred.

But no magical deity or wizard ancestors came to save her. Instead they had forsaken her as Tom Riddle, the prince of Slytherin, unfolded his duvet and climbed into his bed, being sure to lay her kitten form gently beside him.

I'm gonna piss myself. Then perhaps he'll put me out of my misery for ruining his bedsheets.

But the boy seemed to not notice her desperation either, because he started to hum a low tune and scratch under her chin with a soft touch.

Without her permission, but with plenty of shame, her whole body started to vibrate as it purred incessantly.

I'm going to throw myself off the astronomy tower.

Unfortunately, Y/N could not finish that train of thought as Tom Riddle had put her swiftly to sleep with warm milk and head scratches - quickly enough that it could rival him knocking her out with a deadly jinx. 

*

“-ou think that it's Tom’s?”

“While Riddle doesn't seem like the pet type, it is in his bed…”

Y/N felt a soft prodding at her stomach. A dull pain hit then and Y/N cursed drinking so much milk the night before…wait a minute.

“Oh, look! It's waking up!”

“Aw! Merlin, it's so cute~”

With great reluctance and fear, Y/N opened her eyes to see three boys staring down at her with bright, shining eyes and large smiles. Abraxas Malfoy, Cantankerus Nott, and Randolphus Lestrange looked even scarier when they were happy. Y/N didn't think she had ever seen them look so happy except when they were antagonizing others - hopefully it won't be as painful as the other teenage tortures she had witnessed from the sidelines up until now. 

Unfortunately, it was worse.

“D’ya think Riddle’s already named it?” Nott asked, excitedly scratching her behind her ears as he cooed.

“Dunno, but I know my sister still has some kitten supplies from when she got hers a couple years back. Ya don't think Tom would be offended if we offered to help?”

“Yeah, where is he anyway?” Malfoy inquired, gently joining Nott in petting her.

Y/N, stiff with fear and about to piss herself, almost cried with joy as the door swung open and Tom Riddle walked in. Without a second thought, Y/N took the opportunity; she leapt off the bed and rushed out the door, not bothering to slow down as the four Slytherin boys cried out behind her.

She could hear the dignified Tom Riddle rush after her, having quickly set down the warm milk he had gone to retrieve.

“Kitten, no! Bad kitten!” The prefect sounded flustered, and if Y/N had taken the time to look behind her, she would have seen him also look very unkempt as he pushed through the other students in the common room, all of whom were giving him startled and baffled looks.

But, as if Merlin was finally showing her mercy, two first years had just opened the common room door and Y/N slipped through into the dungeons and quickly made her way to the second floor girls’ lavatory, which was the closest and safest place for her to transform back. 

Thankfully, as it was still early morning on a Saturday and this part of the castle was relatively empty, Y/N was alone in the furthest stall. While it took her a moment to calm down and focus on how to turn back, she finally did. As she examined herself in the mirror she was just happy she had done so successfully, without maintaining a tail or ears.

In fact, she was just happy she didn't accidentally transform back into her human form the previous night. Y/N shuddered. She could only imagine the horrors she would have faced if Riddle and the other boys had woken up to a random 5th year Gryffindor snuggled up to him in bed and not a cat in sight. Small victories.

But while she was here, Y/N made sure to use the restroom and take off her prefect badge, lest anyone become suspicious that she never returned to her dorm. Thankfully, the girls she shared a room with rarely bothered her and couldn't care less about what she did. But the Slytherin boys…she would have to be careful around them, especially if she wanted to continue her plans on sneaking out of the castle to go explore the grounds. And of course, she needed to keep transforming even if for a small amount of time so that she could get used to transitioning and such. 

Y/N made sure to straighten out her uniform in front of the mirror, patting down her skirt and her slightly ruffled hair before heading back to her dorm to change for the Hogsmeade trip -

Is that a snake on the facet? Y/N did a double take, looking curiously at the emblem under the mirror. Huh…none of my business.

Must be some Slytherin thing…they do like to own things, don't they. And of course putting some kind of marking or brand on their possessions. I'm just glad I escaped before Riddle put a collar on me…

Y/N shook her head once more at the faucet before retreating to her dorm to get ready for the Hogsmeade trip.

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Does anyone else have the issue of not being able to open their tiktok without exposing themselves to psychological warfare in the form of the most gutwrenching arcane edits ??? Why have I cried like 10 times in the span of 30 minutes help this isn't fun anymore