.zip
Word Count: 2k
Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.
A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.
BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!
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v - .zip
epilogue:
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Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.
Calculated, cold, unnerving.
But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.
“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”
Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.
“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.
You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”
Oh, fuck.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.
He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.
So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”
“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.
“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!
You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”
Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”
“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.
“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”
Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.
You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.
“This better not stain.”
—
He promised thrice.
Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.
You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.
“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”
“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”
Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.
“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.
A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”
The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.
“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.
“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.
“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”
Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”
Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”
He has to. He has no other choice.
Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.
“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”
He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.
“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”
Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.
Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination
From Joaquin: Where are you, man?
From John W.: Do you have copies?
Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination
Urgent: Gross Misconduct
From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?
From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.
17 missed calls from an unknown number
From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!
72 text messages from an unknown number
Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.
His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.
“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”
You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”
Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”
—
Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.
His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.
Why would you leave it unattended?
The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’
Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.
Bitch.
The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.
He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.
“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.
Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”
You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”
Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.
Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.
“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”
You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”
“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?
“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”
He promises a fourth time.
—
Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.
Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.
“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.
“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.
The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.
Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—
Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.
You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.
No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.
A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.
Am I fired?
God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.
You could almost hear what he would say next.
As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.
A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.
You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.
He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.
I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…
A good guy? I really thought so too.
Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.
Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.
Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.
You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.
“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”
We? Fuck your ‘we.’
You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”
—
Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.
“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.
You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”
Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”
Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”
As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”
Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?
“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”
Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.
One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.
So, who taught you how to love like this?
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Fuck You Too | G.D.
Part 2 of Hate You Too
A/N - surprise! why im posting so late, I couldn’t tell you but here we are. im so excited to share this part w y'all, and im currently obsessed with this whole story line at this point. pls lmk what you guys think!!!!! (and @vintagedolan is an amazing gifer and I will be using her gifs on everything I post but we knew I loved her from the start and anyways)
Word Count - 5.3k
Warnings - some nasty, some angst, nothing new
Kacey described it as a glow.
You hated that, because that made everything seem warm and magical and nice. That’s not what you were feeling, despite the new pep in your step.
But how were you supposed to tell Kacey you’d slept with her boyfriend’s twin that you despised and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it?
The worst part was everything was almost back to normal the next day. He was making rude comments, you were rolling your eyes, and you were flipping each other off by the time dinner came around all over again. But something felt a little different to you. The way his eyes shined a bit brighter when you caught him giving you a death glare, the way you thought about your late night activities with him whenever he flashed you his middle finger, a whole new meaning associated with the action.
You hated that he was giving you these new feelings. So you decided to hate him even more for it.
Luckily, since your mini vacation you’d been able to avoid seeing Grayson. And you thought you’d be able to continue that streak tonight. You and your friends were headed to your favorite bar for tequila tuesday. You didn’t typically participate in something that sounded like an excuse for a frat to throw down during the week, but between your constant thoughts of Grayson and your stress from heading back to work, you were in need of a midweek drink. Or ten.
So you got on your best top, your cutest jeans, your hottest shoes, and you made sure your hair and makeup were both perfect. Tonight was about distracting, about your “glow” becoming sweat from dancing with your friends, and maybe even having an actual excuse as to why you were less uptight because Kacey was getting way too suspicious for your liking.
When you first got there, your spirits were high. Your friends were quick to get some tequila in you, and before you knew it you had that warm feeling all over your body. You had hope, you were feeling good and loose, ready to forget everything that had been haunting you for almost two weeks.
But then the Dolans walked through the doors, and it was almost like you had this 6th sense they were there because the second Grayson was inside, your eyes met. You quickly moved your gaze elsewhere, anger already flowing through your veins alongside the alcohol that was continuing to fog your brain by the minute.
You hear Kacey greet Ethan excitedly, and turn your head to see her almost tackle him down. It makes you giggle to yourself because as much as you had wanted to hate them at first, they were cute as fuck. They almost made you want a relationship of your own. Almost.
“Already drunk?” The deep, and now familiar voice of Grayson comes from behind you, already way too close for comfort.
A scowl makes its way onto your face as you turn around, finding him almost directly behind you. You have to look up at him to see his face, and he looks plenty amused with how much he’s already gotten under your skin.
“Maybe. Does it matter to you?”
He shrugs casually, looking around and smiling at the rest of your friends before looking back down at you. “Not at all. Just something I’d expect from you.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes and pushing at his chest so you can step away from him. “Mind your fucking business, Dolan. I don’t even know why you’d come to a bar when you know you’re not gonna drink.”
“Oh, so I’m not welcome to hang out with you guys? That’s kind of mean, Y/N. Does alcohol make you mean?”
The teasing tone of his voice is only adding to your quickly building frustration as you take a large sip of your drink. “You haven’t seen mean from me yet.”
Before he gets a chance to respond, you walk over to Mila, a more than annoyed look on your face.
“Fuck that kid,” you mumble, finishing off the rest of your drink in a few gulps.
She laughs, shaking her head at you. “Easy there, tiger. You’ve already had four shots and two of those. You wanna be able to walk out of here by the end of the night?”
You roll your eyes, putting your empty cup on the table. “Fine, mom.”
“Damn, he’s been here for less than five minutes and you’re already a bitch,” she laughs, her eyes going to Grayson for a moment to watch him talk to Jas before she looks back at you.
“Can you blame me? He’s unbearable,” you whine, a pout on your lips. You feel a bit childish, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. Grayson was a nuisance. A nuisance with a big dick. But definitely a nuisance.
“I think you’re literally the only one who feels that way,” she responds, her eyes clearly raking up and down his body, and you turn to do the same. The tight black long sleeve shirt defines his muscles quite nicely, and his jeans follow the curve of his ass.
You shake your head to bring you out of your trance, knowing yourself too well. Tequila made you horny, and you refused for him to be the one you wanted to spend the night with.
“He’s shallow, condescending, and straight up rude. I don’t get how any of you even like him.”
“You’re the only one he seems to be like that too, though. I wonder why.” Mila grabs her chin, tapping her lips as she tries to think of a reason.
You can’t help the anger that bubbles right back to the surface at her statement, though. That’s all everyone tells you. He’s so nice, and cares about others, and he makes people laugh and is a good time overall. It’s just you that he isn’t nice to. And they love to remind you every time he comes up in conversation, which is more often than you find necessary. They seem to literally swoon over him. You wonder if he’s fucked them too, and that’s how he has a hold over all of them. Maybe he thought it was what would make you like him more, but it didn’t fucking work and you despised how much of a cocky ass he was about fucking you.
So you do what you do best, and find the most attractive man you can. It’s almost laughable how much he looked like Grayson. He was about 6 foot, dark hair, beard, tattoos all over his legs, defined muscles, almost a Grayson look a like. But not quite. And fortunately enough for you, he was easy to woo because he was dragging you out of the bar not even an hour later to bring you back to his place. You hoped he was a distraction enough, finally no Grayson in site to continue to ruin any type of fun you were determined to have.
***
You were grateful that your friends so regularly opened their homes to you. It led to many nights spent at their pools, in their living rooms, cooking in their kitchens, that all created new amazing memories for you to remember forever.
And that’s what you guys were all doing tonight. You were at Mila’s pool, floating around with everyone and going over your weeks to catch up. That’s when Mila asked about the guy you went home with, and you decided now was your moment to finally brag about the man from the bar. He didn’t make you cum as hard as Grayson did, but he got the job done and you’ll be damned if you don’t let everyone know.
To be honest, when Grayson heard you talking, for a moment he couldn’t even blame you for fucking the guy and being so proud about it. But then he remembered it was you talking, and he instantly felt his blood pressure rise.
“His hands were just so...big. And his hand print was bruised on me literally until this morning.”
All the girls around you giggle, ignoring Grayson's looming presence as he wafted in the water closer and closer, trying to seem as casual as possible with his back turned to you all.
“Oh my god and the way he just manhandled me, he picked me up without even batting an eye. It was fucking amazing.”
“Ugh, you’re really out here living the dream,” Mila sighs out, a pout adorning her lips.
“For real, Y/N, you gotta give us all the tips,” Jas adds, a knowing smirk on her face. You roll your eyes before looking at the other girls again.
Before you can respond with anything, Ethan is announcing dinner and the girls are dispersing. You decide to float around for a few minutes alone, wanting the space before you’re back at the dinner table with everyone.
“So he’s got nice hands?”
You jump and cover your mouth, fear shooting through your body for a moment as you turn to see Grayson in the water with you.
“Jesus fucking christ you dick. How long have you been stalking me?”
He rolls his eyes, sinking into the water so that just his neck and head are above it. “It’s a small ass pool, I’m not stalking you.”
You huff, looking over to see all of your friends starting to get their food and sit around the table that’s blocked by the fire pit. You could see them, but they could barely see you. “Aren’t you going to eat or some shit?”
“Aren’t you?”
“God you’re annoying.” You decide to move and float on your back, closing your eyes so you can do your best to ignore him.
“Bet he didn’t make you cum as hard as I did.”
You groan, clenching your fists as heated anger shoots through you. Of course he’s right, but he shouldn’t know it. “You’re such a fucking boy. Not everything is a damn competition. But, if it was, he won.”
For a minute you’re met with silence, and you think maybe he’s actually going to leave you alone.
“Liar.”
“Oh my god,” you sigh, shifting your body to be upright again. You’re met with his smug face, muscles bulging as his skin drips with water from the pool. For a second you think about how he definitely looks better than the other guy would dripping wet like that, but you shut it down real fast. “First, you need to put your ego in check. This may come as a shock to you, but you’re not some god on earth. Second, stop talking about this shit while our friends are here. They don’t need to know shit happened.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I definitely don’t want them knowing I slept with the fake ass princess of town. I’m just saying it’s a shame you think you’ll ever get better dick than mine.”
“You are such a fucking asshole. Like a grade A, picture perfect image of an asshole.” You start to swim to the edge, over his antics. Your patience for him is thin to start, and he’s pushed your buttons enough for you to need another two weeks of not seeing his stupid face. You reach for the deck, getting ready to pull yourself out when you feel two large hands grip your waist, forcing you to stay shoulder deep in the water. You couldn’t stand here, but he could.
“Running away from your problems, like always?” His voice is right in your ear and you’re sure if you shift your head just a tiny bit you’d feel his lips there as well.
“So you finally admit you’re a problem?”
He chuckles softly, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. “Maybe. But you’re not much better.”
You cock your head to move farther from his, almost as if you’re considering his words. “Maybe,” you mock him, your muscles tensing as one of his hands slowly moves to the front of your bathing suit. His fingers dip in, quickly finding your clit and getting to work. You hate that your body naturally responds as you relax like putty in his grip, your legs spreading. “But at least I don’t have to trap random girls in a pool with me to reassure my fat fucking ego.”
He bites his lip, temporarily ignoring your words and he continues to circle your clit. He listens to your quiet whimpers as you do what you can to stay silent, both for the sake of not feeding further into his pride and to keep your activities a secret.
Soon your chest is rising and falling quickly and you’re grateful you’re in a pool because there would be no other way to explain the drips of sweat on your hairline. You can feel the fire in the pit of your stomach slowly growing, spreading throughout your entire body.
“Interesting you think you’re a random girl,” he mumbles into your ear before removing himself completely from you.
You gasp, quickly coming back to reality as your orgasm fades into the past, watching him pull himself out of the pool next to you. It should honestly be illegal how good his back looked when doing that.
He looks down at you, annoying ass smirk and all with his hands on his hips as he watches you try to process everything that just happened. “Going to eat. Or some shit.”
And with that he leaves you alone in the pool, cheeks flushed, pussy clenching and a whole lot to think about.
***
“You’ve got the new dick glow girl, I’m telling you.”
“Oh jesus, Kace. It’s not even 9 in the morning,” you huff, sitting across from her at your table, breakfast in hand.
“You have been happier lately,” Ethan chimes in as he watches you begin to eat the vegan french toast he claims will change your world.
You take a bite, shaking your head. “That’s not a thing, and even if it were I don’t have it. Haven’t had dick in a week.”
Although that’s technically true, your mind can’t help but go to the pool from a few days ago. There was no dick involved, but it definitely made you flush a bit. There was definitely no glow, though. If anything it was from embarrassment that you let Grayson touch you again. Or, that’s what you tell yourself, at least.
“Well you’re acting like you’re getting dick every night. Was it so good you masturbate thinking about it every night?”
“Oh jesus christ.”
Ethan turns bright red as Kacey laughs and you rub your face in your hands. Her accusations aren’t wrong, but telling her would mean telling them that Grayson was the one haunting you while you laid awake, chasing sleep but his body, his hands, his everything wouldn’t leave you alone until you did something about it.
“Oh my god, is it the feelings glow? Do you like the guy?” Kacey continues to laugh, wiggling her eyebrows as you make a face of disgust.
“Absolutely not. I don’t want to date anyone right now, and I don’t know anyone who I’d be willing to give up my single life for. Ethan,” you turn to him pointing your fork at him. “Good luck, she’s fucking crazy today.” You stand, grabbing your plate and walking towards your room. “Now I need to get ready, so stop talking about my fucking glow that doesn’t exist.”
The couple wait a few moments to hear your music blasting before Kacey turned to Ethan.
“God, she’s got it for someone. Think it’s the guy from the bar?” She wonders aloud, watching Ethan inhale what’s left of the french toast he served himself.
He shrugs. “Dunno. What exactly is the ‘new dick glow’?”
“It’s when a girl starts getting dicked down, but like actually dicked down, not just by a guy who has a ten second stroke game. Whoever the guy is definitely fucked her right, because Y/N never gets the new dick glow. She hasn’t made a joke about guys not knowing where the clit is for almost three weeks, which might be a record.”
Ethan scoffs, looking down the hall and then back at Kacey. “I know where the clit is.”
Kacey laughs, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I know, baby. That’s why I’m dating you. You gave me the new dick glow.”
He smirks, crossing his arm over his chest. “Fuck yeah I did.”
“But that’s why I wanna know who it is, because Y/N deserves to be happy with someone who makes her happy. The only reason she got defensive was because I’m right.”
Ethan nods in agreement, thinking to himself for a moment.
“Is there a guy equivalent to the new dick glow?”
“Well, any guy who likes dick can get the new dick glow.”
“No, I mean like would I have gotten a new pussy glow when we started fucking?”
Kacey sits back in her chair, running her tongue over her teeth as she thinks before shrugging. “I mean I guess. Any pussy to a guy is good pussy for the most part, though. It’d have to be a girl they’re really into to get a glow.”
Ethan hums, clearly lost in his thoughts. Kacey raises her brow, sitting up to grab her fork. “Why, do you think you got the glow when we started seeing each other?”
“Oh 100%,” he nods, resting his elbow on the table to put his head in his hand while he looks over at her. “But that doesn’t surprise me. I just think Grayson might have the new pussy glow.”
“Really?”
“Mhm,” Ethan nods, now even more confident in his conclusion. “He’s just been more energetic than normal, and he hasn’t mentioned how desperately single he is since our beach weekend.”
“Who’s he been seeing?”
“That’s the thing,” he huffs, the frustration clearly starting to build as he racks his brain to put the puzzle pieces together without success. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone new, and when he’s talking to his new soulmate of the month he doesn’t shut the fuck up about her before he even knows her last name. But none of them have ever given him the pussy glow, not like this.”
“Wow, the odds Y/N and Grayson get the glow at the same time? Maybe they’ll finally be able to stand one another,” Kacey jokes.
“What if they’re fucking each other and that’s why they’ve got the glow?” Ethan laughs, shaking his head before continuing to eat.
Kacey laughs with him at first, but then her face falls when she thinks about it.
“You said Gray stopped complaining about being single after the beach weekend?”
Ethan nods, looking at her confused.
“That’s when Y/N stopped with the hating all men jokes.”
They both sit there for a moment, watching each other.
“Nah, there’s no way. Grayson can barely stand to be around Y/N for five minutes. There’s no way she could give him the glow,” Ethan speaks up first, shaking his head.
“Yeah,” Kacey sighs, a slight frown forming on her lips. “You’re right. Would kinda be the perfect love story, though.”
***
2:53 am.
That’s the time your phone says it is.
And somehow you’re wide awake, Grayson haunting your thoughts.
You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion or the way he seems to consume every part of your mind and body that has you opening your messages with him. There’s only a handful of texts there, all of them short. Your last conversation with him was from when you were out with your friends, but Kacey and Ethan had too much fun too fast. They needed to get home, and being the best best friend, you willingly put your ego on the line by texting Grayson to come get them.
fine.
That one word was staring at you, mocking you almost from the screen, knowing that despite how much love Grayson has for his brother, he was still barely willing to do what you asked just due to the fact it was coming from you. It made a small pang of sadness shoot through you, but it was quickly overpowered by anger, and that anger was only heightened by the fact that his snappy attitude and the way he was able to get such a rise out of you made you so fucking wet.
You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you see the three dots pop up on the screen in front of you for a few seconds before they disappear. You hold your breath, unable to move from the anxiety of being caught staring at these messages looming over you for no reason. It was probably him trying to reach someone else and he didn’t realize he was typing to you.
But then they pop up again, and for almost a full minute before they went away again.
You lay there, waiting to see if he’ll actually say anything to you, but the three dots don’t come back. The time at the top of your screen says 3:01, and you can’t believe he’d even be up right now. Hell, someone probably had his phone and was trying to text you as a prank or something.
But fuck it. You wanted dick, his dick.
you up
You press send before you can think too hard about it, knowing if you let one brain cell evaluate your decision, you wouldn’t have done it.
As you read the message back to yourself, you see why. What kind of douche ass shit was that? That’s something you’d expect Grayson to send you, not the other way around. What were you going to say after he responds? If he responds. What would you say the next time you saw him if this didn’t go as planned? What even was the fucking plan?
As you continue to spiral, your phone dings and lights up in your face, his name popping up.
what do you want
You purse your lips together, surprised by his response. First, the fact he responded and also by the fact he didn’t totally dismiss you either.
But how the fuck do you respond to that?
You decide honesty is the best policy, and at this point there isn’t anything you could do too make things worse than they are because they are already so fucking bad.
thinking about your dick
Shit. You can practically feel his ego growing from your comfortable position under your sheets, even though he lives almost a half hour away. Maybe you should start consulting your brain cells after all.
did you just fucking booty call me 😂
Great. Just more fuel for him to add to the fire.
no. it was a text and i didnt ask you to come over.
thats a shame
You sit there dumbfounded, his response confusing you even more than every feeling he stirs up inside of you. Did he want to come over? Was he thinking about fucking you? Did he actually mean to try and text you before and pussy out?
Ethan and Kacey were at the guys’ house, leaving you alone in the apartment. Realistically, you could totally have him over for a quick fuck without them noticing, as long as he snuck out and back in without waking either of them up. Did you trust him to be able to do that? No. Did you care about that more than getting fucked?
guess im going to bed
A double text from the Grayson Dolan himself. Maybe you weren’t the only desperate one here.
what would you do if you werent going to bed rn
if it were up to me id come fuck you
gonna unlock my door. don’t let k or e hear
You throw your phone face down on the bed as you get up, slight panic running through you. This could quite literally be the dumbest thing you’ve done in a long ass time, and especially sober.
But there’s no time to harp on that, preparing for Grayson’s possible arrival taking the cake. So you get up, moving to the front door and unlocking it before rushing back to your room to get ready. You do what you can to freshen up, changing into just an oversized shirt for easy access, and cleaning up the room, doing what you can to make it as nice as possible. He’d never been there before, and you had no interest in him picking apart anything before getting to what you really want.
Just as you’re fluffing your pillows, you hear the front door open and shut. Butterflies explode in your stomach, nerves you’d been ignoring unable to hide deep within you anymore as you anticipate finally seeing him after what felt like so long.
You check the time on your phone. 3:33. Only a few minutes earlier than you thought he would get here.
You turn as soon as you hear your bedroom door opening. His wide shoulders take up the majority of your doorframe, his white shirt tight across his chest, and his casual stance making you practically drool. And you let yourself enjoy, taking in his athletic shorts that show he is definitely not wearing anything underneath and he is also definitely excited to be there.
He chuckles, crossing his hands over his chest. “Did you tell me to come here just to check me out?”
The minute you hear his voice, your eyes quickly meet his, and his gaze seems to be burning into you.
“Dunno. Do you know how to do anything besides stand there and look pretty?”
He rolls his eyes, making his way into the room and kicking his sneakers off as he gets closer to you. “You and I both know I can do a lot more than that.”
“You’re gonna have to remind me, then,” you hum, a smirk on your face as he finally grips your waist, pushing you gently against the bed so that you have to sit in front of him.
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
Your hands come to rest on his biceps as he grabs your chin to lean down and kiss you. His lips are soft against yours, moving slower than you expected. The kiss is sensual, slow and hot as he makes sure you can feel every part of his mouth on yours. You bring a hand to his wrist, the sensation of finally having his lips on yours making your head spin. You’d missed it more than you’d like to admit.
He begins pushing your body down so you’re lying on your back, your shirt riding up your thighs and exposing the warm skin there. He rests his free hand by the side of your head to lean his body over yours, his knees resting on the edge of the bed in between your legs. You could feel his hard dick against your abdomen and you moan against his lips just at the thought of finally having him again.
He pulls away from your mouth for a moment, both of your breathing a bit more ragged than before as you look into each other's eyes for what feels like the first time. It’s pretty dark in your room, the lamp in the corner the only source of light, but you can still see all the different colors and emotions that seem to be dancing behind his irises.
You lick your lips and pull on his wrist to bring his face back to yours and he seems to hesitate for a moment before conceding, meeting your lips with his again for a moment before dragging them down to your chin. His kisses along the skin there are lighter and quicker, until he is finally trailing them down your neck and finding the spot there that makes you gasp.
He pays attention to this spot, kissing and sucking until you’re sure there’s a bruise there, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
While he focuses on your neck, he lets go of your chin to drag his hand leisurely down your body and to the hem of your shirt. His fingertips dance along the skin just below it, and you feel the goosebumps quickly forming in a trail behind them. He pushes the shirt up slowly, letting himself enjoy the feeling of your skin that hadn’t left his mind since the last time he had been able to touch it.
He grabs the collar of your shirt from the inside, his forearm pushing the fabric up to completely expose your body while also showing some new skin where your neck meets your chest. He lets his lips drag down there, and you let out a breathy sigh of contentment.
“So soft for me,” he mumbles, and you melt into the way his tongue feels against your skin, his hand moving from your collar to your chest and allowing his finger to brush over your nipple
“Grayson,” you mumble, eyes closed as you enjoy his soft touches, but the warmth coming from them is overwhelming. It was caring, gentle, even nice. That’s not what you need from him, though. Not when you’ve already been so confused.
“Hm?” He hums against your skin, licking over the dark spot there.
“Gonna put a pep in your step or what? Thought you came here to fuck me.”
He lifts his head at that, his eyebrows quirked as he looks at you confused. “No build up allowed?”
You huff, assuming he’s only acting this way to get a rise out of you. He wants to hear how ready you are from him, and at this point you don’t care because you want to get your shit rocked.
“I don’t need the buildup, that’s some romantic ass shit. You’d know I’m wet as shit if you touched me where I know you want to.”
You swear you saw disappointment rush over his features for a split second before they harden, his jaw tightening.
“I wasn’t being romantic, I was just doing what I always fucking do!” He stands from above you, backing away as he rests his hands on his hips.
You sigh before sitting up, assuming he’s just throwing a fit and will get over himself to finally do what you’ve both been anticipating.
“That was some soft shit, Gray. Last time you literally told me all the things you hate about me.”
He groans and mumbles under his breath as he closes his eyes to collect himself. You lean back on your hands, amusedly watching him try not to completely lose his shit.
“Do you always have to be such a fucking bitch?”
His words make the smirk fall from your face, and they cut way deeper than you’d expect. You can see from the look on his face that he’s not teasing you, he really meant what he said. You’re not sure if he expected an answer, but before you can think of anything rational, your anger takes over.
“I’d rather be a bitch than a fucking idiot?”
“Oh, so caring about people makes me a fucking idiot?” Grayson’s teeth clench, his skin still red as his fingernails dig into his palms.
“No, caring about you would make me an idiot,” you do your best to be as nonemotional as possible, pushing the anger that is aiming to match his down while ignoring the implication that he cares about you. Of course, anger is a secondary emotion, and the fear of actually caring for someone you’re supposed to hate is what’s triggered your fight or flight, but that’s something for you to work on alone. Or in therapy. But not with Grayson.
He scoffs. “You know what Y/N? Fuck you.”
He walks around the room, gathering the few things he brought with him before slamming your bedroom door.
You let all of the emotional baggage of the past ten minutes take over, tears quickly filling your eyes as you mumble, “fuck you too.”
Read part 3 here!
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