#something about sex always being humiliating for a woman but a trophy for a man
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Happy Little Family My Ass, Miss Heed
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Seriously, there will always be something creepy about the way she happily trots them around in her posts like her pets/trophies and nobody realizes the horrible situation they are in. And again it has to do with the fact that they are two muscled men who could easily overpower her, but are under her serum that makes them submit to her whims. Again reverse the gender scenarios and build and you would see it as a gloating man trotting around his victims as his implied sex toys.
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(Q: How do you get on with Coyote? A: He's super cute, we've become besties)
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Q: Do you have pets? A: Sometimes we joke that Omega and Coyote are like my guard dogs
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Q: Do Omega and Coyote get along well? A: Before they are archenemies, but now they are besties
Seriously look at the posts she made for her Q & A that is now taken down. Especially her sickly gloating that she views them as just her dogs, which again is just twisted especially since Omega saw her as a friend and it’s no wonder at the end he cries due to how she treated him.  
Her answers regarding Coyote is just as disturbing because she mentions she thinks of him as cute and trots him as a friend. And again emphasis on the word cute, because again it implies she finds herself attracted (which I don’t blame any man or woman), but if you saw my previous post it just implies with the power she has she can make him do tons of unsavory things to him while probably being helpless to fight back. No wonder after he gets unbrainwashed he joins with the other heroes no question and wants her blood if he tried fighting off her control, but still was forced to be boy toy. And it makes me think that also happened to Omega, but instead of angry it was continuing hurt. 
And lastly, again everything about pretending that Omega and Coyote put aside their differences to be her bodyguards is just again for her to appear like she’s this miracle worker who can get any villain to reform and even get along with their archenemy. This is probably the biggest reason she hypnotized Omega due to the fact that he wouldn’t agree and even find it suspicious Coyote would turn over a new leaf, so she had to hypnotize him in order to comply. So again overriding his own probable wants to reap attention from getting two sworn enemies to be (pretend) besties. Also ironically in the end both of them could end up agreeing on something which is ganging on Heed for their humiliation. 
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vinylhazza · 4 years ago
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Temptation (G.D)
Summary: Y/n is sick of being called frigid, having it shoved down her throat at every party and social gathering she attends. Her confidence is repeatedly broken, stepped on by the people that were supposed to be her friends. Grayson, a boy she’s had a secret crush on for years, is there to comfort her. 
Word Count: 13.8k
Warning: Strong sexual content, smoking, blowjob, drinking *sorry mr. tAkE cArE oF yOuR bOdY grayson* 
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Pretentious jerks. That’s all they were. Teenagers that sat on their rich parents high horses, acting so above her every chance that they had. Robotic, inhumane, deceiving. But they were also mean, cruel, and unforgiving with their words more than anything else. They insisted it was all a joke - of course they would - said it was a system to break her into the ‘real world’. One she was sure she didn't want to belong to - not if it’s like anything they’ve shown her. Not if it’s full of sneaky spiteful assholes that didn’t care about anyone other than themselves. They insisted it was them being “good friends”. So why did it hurt so bad when threw their jokes, mockery, and snarky comments at her? Why did it hurt to not be included in on the joke but be the laughing stock of the party? Instead being on the outside looking in - to the one being laughed at. 
“You’re a prude, Y/n, just accept it,” they would say, a term that she’s heard for most of her teenage years. And she knew she should have ignored it, but it never sounded better no matter how many times she heard it. Never, was it used as a compliment - of course not. Because why was it okay to be a virgin? Why would it ever be okay to want more for yourself other than a quick fuck? Why did it have to be frowned upon and embarrassing? It was meant to put her down, not make her laugh, simply said to hurt her feelings because they knew it would. They knew she would think about it hours, sometimes days, after it floated out of their mouths and into the universe - the universe that refused to cut her a break. It basically defined her entire existence in the eyes of her “friends.” It was 1. Shouted at her or 2. Laughed in her face. No in between. They said it like they weren't meaning to hurt her, even if it did. Because, when would they ever have the capacity to know what was right and wrong? Why would she ever expect anything more than the life of a frigid ‘prude’? They thought it gave them a free pass when she laughed it off with them. She wouldn't let them know it cut her deep down to her core. But it had started to weigh her down, chip away at what little confidence she had built up. She thought that maybe when she got into college, it would get better, but it only got worse. 
Y/n wasn't the type to settle, thus making her very misunderstood. She wasn't what they called “frigid”. Time and time again they would throw around the word - and time and time again she chose to accept it for what it was. She just didn't want to bang it out with some random stranger like all of her friends did, instead wanting someone special that didn't just want her for her body - but saw her. Really saw her, for more than just a body. She knew it was clichĂ© and sounded like it came straight from every romantic movie ever made, but it didn't make it any less true. She was eighteen for Christ’s sake, sitting in a room full of people that have been fooling around since they were fifteen while she sat quietly and tried to ignore the whole thing. It was humiliating. It made her sick to her stomach. It made her nervous. And most of all, it made her sad. She had never wanted to join in or acknowledge it. The thing holding her back? Her dignity: something she was very proud of. She also wasn't even the least bit interested in any of her “friends”. Romantically, and lately, even platonic. 
But you would never suspect her to be a virgin, untouched, innocent, with all of her soft beauty. She had features that most guys took a double look at, stopping in their tracks, but it went unnoticed to her. She kept up her stride, walked past the men that gawked at her every step, mind focused on her next class. Never did she falter the persona she crafted carefully, a shield for her heart to hide behind. The wall that she’d built over time, not easily broken. Never would she let a precocious boy with a bad pick up line and a mind full of crude sexual desire cloud her vision - her vision of being with someone respectful, more than a lustful in the moment mistake. She would say it, she wanted better for herself. 
She’s sure it’s what pissed people off the most about her, that she wouldn't spread her legs for any attractive man that showed her an ounce of attention. They say you shouldn't waste your beauty - as if getting dick made her any more of a woman than she already was. As if sex would give her value. As if falling into the trap so many teenagers fell into would make her normal. It pissed them off that she didn't flaunt her body, and she knew it. Knew they wanted her to just let loose - show her skin - be the skimpy college girl they thought she should be. She didn't show herself off with revealing clothing, flaunting herself around like her friends did, having flings with her friends just for a little bit of pleasure that she would regret later. Y/n hated how they tried to guilt trip her constantly, nudging her shoulder when any remotely attractive boy would look in her direction. Boys would try and pressure her to sway against her morals, make her think twice about hooking up with them. Of course she was tempted a time or two, but she was snapped from the thoughts just as quickly as they came. 
It was unfair of them to keep trying, knowing that her answer would always be no. Begging for it didn't make them special. Making her feel like an object, a trophy they needed to obtain, a prize in a box of cereal on a shelf, didn't make them special. Not in her book, at least. Most of the time it just made her feel intimidated, objectified, disgusted, and forever left behind by a generation of people that saw women as nothing until their ‘V Card’ was swiped from their hands and claimed by someone that probably didn’t deserve it in the first place. 
That’s what caused her to sit with a sorrowful pout aimed at her lap, every other shitfaced person in the small circle with her laughing at the boy’s oh so funny comment. Y/n sighed, fingers tapping at the side of her thigh, willing herself not to cry in front of people that didn't deserve it. They never would. But she couldn't deny she was embarrassed beyond belief, yearning for the ground littered with solo cups and stale beer to open up and swallow her whole - maybe then she could forget who is staring right at her, hearing everything. 
It’s not that she wouldn't have cared if he wasn't there, but it definitely made the situation a whole lot worse - to have him hear them embarrassing her. To look in on one of the most humiliating moments of her short adult life. Grayson was the last person she wanted to hear about her lack of sexual experience. The only person in the room she knew from home, let alone respected. 
He was...different than the others. Setting aside the fact she’d had a crush on him since he moved into the house next-door when he was 16...he’d had a golden heart for as long as she could remember. Not a thing went unnoticed by Grayson Dolan, he was always so in tune with the world around him. His kindness spread all throughout any situation he was in. It was a gift she herself wished she could have. Maybe then she wouldn't be such a shy outcast afraid to stand up for herself. But nothing had ever come of her affections, she was far too introverted to make a single move in any other direction than a wave and sometimes a small conversation about nothing in particular. Not until he’d invited her over to hang out after school one day, that is. It was a fleeting suggestion, but it has meant so much to her. She was never sure if it was a pity invitation - but the whole duration of her short visit, she never felt like an outcast.
It was completely innocent, but made it even harder to resist him. Being older wasn't the only thing that had made him so unattainable to her all of these years, it was also his maddening habit of looking so God damn attractive all the time. When he moved away a year before her, something cracked in her heart - the pain of being left behind by the only person that had ever shown true kindness to her. Little did she know she would be in the frat that had become a home to him, at the same college, with the same group of people, that same intense stare aimed right at her. 
She’s seen him only once before on campus, passing by her with a text book tucked under one arm, other hand preoccupied with scrolling through his phone. The way he had smacked into her body with enough force to have her hurdling to the ground in a heap of bones and fly away papers had been humiliating enough - but what was even worse was the way he had gotten onto her level, kneeling before her to help pick up the scattered assignments with apologies tumbling from his mouth one after the other. She remembers that moment vividly, how her heart had stopped beating for a moment, his striking features coming to the forefront of her mind once again.
He was even more attractive than he’d been when he was just her handsome neighbor. He was...well...a man. Muscles that looked to be carved from clay, chiseled and perfectly shaped, that same prominent jaw, dark eyebrows, beautiful plump lips, pouting just the right way while his hands flew from paper to paper - making a messy pile before handing it to her in a clumsy - an adorable - fashion, his shocking hazel eyes landing on her in what seemed like too long. She never saw him again after- even when he mentioned wanting to ‘catch up’, until now. It had been a moment of great significance to her heart, judging by how well she remembered that very moment like it had been playing on a big screen in a theater somewhere. 
But her life wasn't a movie or fairytale, and this situation proved that to be true. He watched from his spot on the sofa, glaring at the immature children that threw their remarks at her without remorse. Y/n had never seen the kind boy look so angry. It made her feel strangely safe, even if she hadn't seen him in so long. It made her cringe knowing the one boy that had shown her true care, friendship with no further intention to get in her pants, was sat right there, witnessing something she hoped would be wiped from her own memory. 
She had always wanted him to be her first, she’ll admit. Somewhere inside of her, she knew Grayson was the only boy she ever imagined herself getting intimate with, pushing it away from the sadness of it never having the opportunity to become a reality. Especially not now, he’s heard too much. Seen her too rattled up. Definitely wasn't how she pictured their next encounter playing out. 
Y/n tried her hardest to avoid his gaze, her hands growing increasingly clammy from the pressure of his eyes looking over her blushing cheeks. It was so fucking mortifying. He sat back on the sofa, large hands hung loose between his thighs. The look on his face was dark, dangerous. He looked...so angry. The laughing continued on as the people around her waited to see what she would do next. Run like a coward? Or face them and subject herself to more embarrassment in front of the only person that’s ever seen her as more than a frigid shy girl? Y/n sat with the shame of their words eating her alive, head hung low to avoid eye contact with each and every person in the small circle. The loud music was making her suffocate, overwhelmed with the situation and the urge to bury herself into the ground forever. 
What was she thinking indulging in a childish game of truth or dare? It was a thing for movies, coming of age ones at that, not a college frat party with several dozen people grinding to music from wall to wall. They were far too old for this. It was stupid is what it was. So why had she said yes? She knew the drill: she said yes to the invite and then it was free reign the entire game to think of every sexual dare they possibly could, just to laugh when she said no. They knew she would too, that was the point. Every single one of them thought she squirmed at the mere idea of sex, just because she had a good reputation. It was okay with her to be that girl at a party, she would rather have no reputation than a bad one. Even if she was a Freshman sitting in a group of much older kids, and some not so much, she felt the most mature. In this moment, she was. 
“If you won't do it, I will,” Shondra spoke out, a skinny girl with a dark complexion, two purple streaks standing out on her black head of hair, falling in front to frame her face. Y/n didn't know her from Adam, only having met her about a weeks ago in her Sociology class. She was a transfer from a college out of state, a grade above her, and moved for personal reasons. Shondra didn't explain, and Y/n never asked. She seemed like such a polite girl, someone she could hang out with. But judging by her reckless actions, she doubts it. Y/n watched as the girl rose from her criss-cross position and onto her knees, crawling over to a freckle nosed boy, scrawny looking boy and pulling him up to his feet by the collar of his shirt. With her hand in his she led him seductively from the crowded room, a smirk plastered to her dolled-up face. The dare had been to “let any guy in the group finger you for seven minutes” to which Y/n had automatically declined, wanting to keep her body to herself. There was only a few boys in the group, anyway. But only one gave her a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow, making the bile stir in her stomach. They had proclaimed at the beginning of the game that the traditional 7 minutes in heaven game was drab, and that they would gladly spice it up along the way. She should have known they would try and pull something on her. 
She wondered for a second why Grayson would ever want to subject himself to these types of people, let alone join a frat when he was...well...the least likely person to become a frat boy ever. But it made sense in a way, he was so accepting of everyone, no matter the background. That’s what drew her to him in the first place. 
She watched the pair disappear up the flight of wooden stairs, a scowl turning at her lips. She flinched as another comment flew her way, “Missed opportunity, Y/n. Let loose a little why don't you?” her ‘friend’ cackled at her, her eyes scrunched up in amusement. Every last one in the group joined in on their mocking laughter. Everyone but him. 
It warmed her heart to look over and see the sympathetic look in his eyes, heart clenching at her own embarrassed smile. She didn't want him to know about all this. Not when she was so obviously out of her element. But she understood why he was here, he actually fit in, unlike her. Granted, she was new to the group. She gazed on, eyes taking in the way each and every guy gave him a nudge on the shoulder, a pat on the back - every girl sending him their best seductive smirk. He didn't even seem...phased. Gave them a smile back, a joke to his friends, and then it was back to him sipping at his beer. Never over the top. Never too little. Comfortable. 
She took the time to scan over Grayon’s body when a loud blonde frat boy stepped up to talk to him about what she assumed was pointless nonsense, her eyes trailing every bulging muscle that escaped Grayson’s burnt orange t-shirt hugging his chest tight. She was ridiculously attracted to him. Everything about him made her nerves buzz - his wispy hair poking out from under his hat, jaw sharp and defined as he smiled up at his friend. It was like he had walked straight out of her dreams, ready to steal her heart once again. She had almost forgotten the way he made her feel, the burst of adrenaline she got just from the bright sound of his laughter. It was like a breath was punched into her chest, getting caught from the force of the blow. 
Y/n knew Grayson was sexually experienced, she wasn't a naïve fool after all. He had always been a bit of a flirt and liked to call girls affectionate pet names. She knew that to him, it was normal, but that didn't mean it hadn't messed with her head a time or two. She thought back to the way he kneeled before her the day he knocked her flat on her back, sputtering out a shy, but surprisingly frantic, apology. There had been a little pet name slipped out with his rambling, one that had her shivering to this day: 
“Sorry, babe. Didn't see you there.” 
Babe. It stuck with her like a catchy tune, popping into her whirring thoughts the first second she saw him again. It just sounded so good coming from his heart shaped lips. She presumed the reason she didn't look at him like all of the other sex-crazed teens, was probably the fact that he didn't necessarily flaunt his sexuality like the rest. He was confident, of course, but unlike the others he had morals and could see plain as day they were hurting, sexualizing, and degrading her. She didn't know it, but Grayson knew there was more to her than some shy little girl that blushed at any sexual comment. She didn't flaunt it like the rest did, but that didn't make her any less of a woman. 
He watched her carefully, noticing her zoning herself out of the game, in her own head. He’s sure she’s beating herself up over the words they flung at her so carelessly. He wishes she knew how special she was, that she didn't fall into the ‘norm’ of things - that she didn't have to. She stood her ground even if it made her a social outcast. She had always walked on her own path, and he envied her for it, but was thankful he wasn't as blind as some of the people in the frat right then were.
Y/n moved away from the group of condescending, shit-faced college kids, needing a breath of fresh air and a refill on her drink. She normally wouldn't have been a social drinker either, but tonight had been different. She needed a boost if she was going to last the whole night and not lose her mind in the process. She wasn't joining in on the ‘fun’ anyway, and she was right on the money assuming they wouldn't notice her absence. They didn't even blink as she walked away. She thought over the night on her trek into the kitchen, squeezing between sweaty dancing bodies, ducking under flailing limbs. It had her thinking that...it could never be her. She doesn’t think she could ever be that carefree. Completely let go of all of her worries in front of dozens of people she didn’t know, didn’t trust, and didn’t want to see her like that. Part of her wanted to succumb to all of their teasing sometimes, just get with someone. But she told herself over and over again that it was ridiculous to go against what she wanted and believed in all because of a little drunken harassment. She wouldn't break for people that didn't respect her. She would regret it, and so far, she’s had no other regrets except maybe not kissing Grayson at least one time when she had even a little bit of a chance. But that chance was long gone and forgotten now. 
Glancing behind her shoulder into the packed living room, she saw Grayson lift his hand from across the way, hand gesturing in a sort of wave. His other hand was holding a beer. She cringed at his beverage internally, always loathing the strong putrid taste of beer. She was more of a wine girl, herself. Y/n let a smile lift her cheeks, it was slow of course, not really sure if his small wave was directed at her or just another one of his buddies that happened to be passing by in the crowded house, even if she was the only one in the kitchen. 
She quirked her head to the side, watching him with squinted eyes as he mouthed something in her direction. ‘You okay?’ she gathered, not understanding the sudden sympathy, but nodding back a ‘Yeah’ to him anyway. Why did he care? She had always been an outcast, that much was obvious. Yes, they had been ‘friends’ so to say before he moved off the college, but she had thought that was the end of it. He was there and then he wasn’t. She didn’t expect him to remember her, much less care about her after. The blush that crept up her cheekbones when he smiled happily back at her, made her internally cringe. Obvious much. ‘Good’ he’d mouthed back, a dazzling smile showing his ridiculously straight teeth off to her. 
Not wanting to keep staring, she turns her back to face the counter - trying to catch her breath from having him express such sympathy when she was used to being invisible, and when seen, mocked. Truth be told, she didn't know where the hell to look once the - sort of - conversation was over. She fought herself over the redness in her cheeks, cursing her own pathetic shyness. He was just...so kind. He didn't even have to be and he was. Even if someone doesn't deserve it, he shows them kindness. Redemption was something he’s always been a fan of. Grayson was always the bigger person, making it totally impossible to not open yourself up to him. She huffed at herself, apparently her desire hadn't lessened over time like she had hoped. He made it easy to fall back into old fantasies, that much was true. 
She focused on the wine dribbling from it’s box and into her red plastic cup, knowing that it’s shitty wine, but at least it isn't beer. She’d already had a few small glasses, feeling the warmth flooding in her body, but perhaps just a bit more would help. Thinking maybe juice would make it at least a small margin better, she wanders to the fridge, looking over her shoulder before grabbing the ‘kiwi melon’ juice from the bottom shelf - a sneaky smile playing at her lips. She knows it’s rude to pry and take what’s not yours, but if she’s going to be miserable at a party, shouldn't she at least have a good drink? With that same smile, she pours some of the pinkish liquid into her wine, doing a little shimmy in excitement from her silly idea at making herself happy. That moment was cut short when a heavy hand landed on the small of her waist, her body jolting from the shock of someone touching her so suddenly, heart hammering from the fright. She frowns at the puddle of juice on the counter before her eyes finally land on the culprit that had scared the daylights out of her - being met with a smiling Grayson, close to her face and a strong arm around her back. God, please stop messing with my hormones. 
“You know mixing isn't good for you right?” 
Hearing his low voice made her shiver, staring at him for just a bit too long before she broke the staring spell and responded shyly, “I’m probably not even gonna drink it honestly, I just thought maybe the juice would make it taste less bitter,” she laughed, reaching forward to secure the cap back on the juice, not interested in drinking the nasty wine anymore. Talking to him was much better. 
“Not much alcohol really tastes sweet, babe,” he laughed, sliding his massive arm off of her and leaning with his lower back flesh to the counter next to her. Peaking at him under her eyelashes, she admires how cute he looks with a hat on, he never wore them much in the past. His lips were tinged red from having a the neck of a beer bottle pressed against them throughout the night. She also chose to ignore the pet name that tumbled out through his teasing remark, knowing it didn't mean anything but if she thought about it long enough, the hopeless romantic in her would over analyze it. Ripping a paper towel from the roll above the sink, she attempted to clean the counter of the juice, lip curling at the wet feeling against her fingertips. She didn't like messes.  
“Yeah,” she agreed, “you just kind of have to chug it and the taste will be gone soon enough. It’s really the feeling that’s nice.” 
She knew it sounded bad as soon as it left her mouth, but chose to hide behind her hair once again, her blush would only make it more obvious that she hadn't meant to say something that sounded so vulgar. Grayson wasn’t a pervert or anything, but this conversation suddenly had him thinking about how she would be with her mouth. And it that was not how he wanted to see her when she had just sat in his living room and been made fun of for the exact opposite. He didn't want to be another one of those people that saw her for her body and nothing else - but he couldn't deny his attraction.  Instead of indulging in vulgar thoughts of her mouth and body, he slid in closer and gazed down at her doe eyes, flickering from his lips, down to his now closer chest, then back up to his eyes. 
“Are you sure you're okay?” 
“Yeah, Gray,” she nodded, “I’m fine, really. I’m used to it.” 
Gray. She hadn't called him that in what felt like ages. It slipped out in habit, and from the small smile tugging at his lips, she knew he didn't mind. He’d always loved when she called him that, let him know there was some level of trust between them. 
“You don’t have to be, though,” he told her earnestly, “I mean it - I can talk to them if you want...they shouldn't be treating you like that.” 
“It’s really whatever,” she huffed, getting just a tiny bit angrier, not at him, just the issue. Tossing the soggy paper towels into the bin in the corner, she dumps the contents in her glass down the sink, and rinses out the empty glass, “It doesn't get to me anymore.” 
Grayson’s stare burnt through the side of her face, his calm blinking letting her know he saw right through her bullshit. It did get to her, it got down to her very core and made the humiliation so unbearable she resulted to drinking wine that tasted like battery acid mixed with juice that was probably outdated, just to distract her from the embarrassment. He also knew it embarrassed her from the shaky rise and fall of her chest. That and the next words that flew from her mouth were so full of frustration and resentment, he almost choked, “I mean it’s like, yeah, okay I've never had a dick in my mouth, but does that make me a bad person?” 
He raised a hand to cover his smile, chuckling into his own hand. He didn't want to seem insensitive by laughing at her. Getting himself somewhat under control, he droned out with an amused smile, “Definitely not a bad person.” 
“Mhm,” she hummed, looking down at her hands perched on the edge of the counter. She would be panicking at being so open with him, but honestly he made it feel so natural she couldn't overthink it much, “I would rant more but I don’t want to waste your time explaining how much of a prude I am.” Her voice was sad, like she genuinely believed it was something he thought about her - would ever think about her. He watched her try and distance herself from him. not wanting to discuss her biggest insecurity in fear it would make him look at her different - as if he looked at her period.  
“I don’t think you’re a prude,” Grayson told her honestly. She looked so pretty staring up at him through her long lashes, blinking with a confused gaze. He knew she was confused by his kindness, “I just think they have no respect for themselves.”
“Well I don’t know about that,” she shrugged, “don’t get me wrong, there isn't anything wrong with sleeping around. I just wished they understood and respected why I don’t, you know?” 
“Well it’s like, wouldn’t you rather have sex with a friend? Someone who you get along with, trust, and cares about you?”
It was a genuine question and with one look she could tell he actually meant the words he said. He wasn't just saying them to appeal to her and make her feel better, even if that was part of it deep down under the surface. 
“But that’s not what any of them are like with me. I don’t trust any of them and I don’t think even one of them gives a damn about me,” she grumbled, “I would never. With any of them.” 
He chose his next words carefully, not wanting her to take him the wrong way. 
“But you would with someone who treats you right?” Grayson questioned, ignoring that the words sounded and inferred that he was asking for his own benefit. It was an obvious answer, but he had asked anyway. 
“Yes.” She swallowed, looking up at him nervously. Curiosity swam behind his eyes and she was starting to think he was getting at something, becoming the tiniest bit jittery under his stare. 
“Understandable,” he nodded, hair flopping from under his hat. “It’s better to be with someone you trust, always has been that way. Always will be. But don’t let them get to you, it will come.” 
Y/n looked up at his drunk little smile and felt oddly safe once again, a genuine smile rising to her face, it took his breath away. He took his time scanning her soft features, licking at his lips unknowingly. 
“I know, Grayson. You’re really sweet, thank you for listening,” she mumbled, that same bright smile aimed right at him. 
His head bobbed in a nod, a purse at his lips - he was holding something back. Her heart stopped at his next words.
“And, maybe this is taking this way too far and maybe i’m a little more drunk than i thought but - i mean - i’d do whatever the fuck you wanted me to do to you in a heartbeat, Y/n. No questions asked.” He blew a breath through his nose, on high alert now that he’d said something so bold - unsure of her reaction. Her blush gave him a great deal of satisfaction. 
“Um...right,” she muttered, unsure of what to say now that he had been so open with her. What he was saying had her mind reeling, tossing over idea after idea of what he would mean. She couldn't ignore the clenching in her nether region at his innuendo, trying to ignore it the best she could. It was impossible with his eyes scanning over her face. She tried passing it off for the fact he was intoxicated, and probably didn't mean what he said. Normally, on any other day, she would be immensely annoyed at any boy saying such a thing to her, assuming he only wanted her for her body. Most of the time it ended up being true. Maybe it was her being naive to think this was different, but he had already made it clear that getting into her pants wasn't her intention - and she believed him. 
The way he’d said it, was so honest it had her panicking slightly on the inside. It wasn’t that he was saying these things for his own benefit, it truly sounded like he meant the words that he was saying - that if given the opportunity, he would focus on her pleasure and not delve into a sea of greed that so many of the guys she’s come in contact with had. They just wanted to pleasure themselves. The steadiness of his voice indicated that he wanted to make her feel good. It made her giddy inside. Without the intention of getting her hopes up, she hid her blush behind her hand. Maybe he did like her back? 
It was childish to think such a thing, and she knew it as well as anyone else. How could she possibly know what anyone else, much less a guy, wanted when she couldn't even decide for herself? Peaking over at him once again, she’s shocked to find him staring at her still. 
“Was that perverted? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” his kind eyes widened to saucers, seemingly reading something behind her eyes she didn't realize was there. It was just so damn hard to hide her nerves when everything was so foreign to her - the ‘everything’ being flirting and sexual innuendos that she actually didn’t mind. His eyes dropped to the floor, his own frown adorning his handsome fact, “Was it? Because I’m sorry if I offended you or anything I’ve just had a lot to drink-”
“It’s alright, Grayson,” she giggled to hide her anxiousness. His worried expression turned into one of relief, his smile mirroring hers, “You’re just drunk, I get it. Don’t worry about me.” 
They watched as a girl not much older than her stumbled through the kitchen on broken heels, clearly out of her mind drunk. The giggling, clumsy teen disappeared behind the corner and into the bathroom, two of her friends following close behind with their own drinks in their hands - shouting her name with drunken slurs. She looked on at the messy college girl, smirking at Grayon’s shaking head. He seemed to be amused by her trashy behavior. As if he could feel her eyes on him, his stare returned to her face once again, an emotion she couldn’t put her finger on swimming in his eyes. 
“Yeah,” he swallowed, voice low - blinking down at her slowly, “just drunk.” 
“You okay?” she tilted her head when he tore his gaze away once again, wanting to be there for him like he had for her. She waited patiently while he bobbed his head up and down again - looking a bit unsure. 
“Yeah, I just uh...” he trailed off, blowing a puff of air from his lips again, “I just need a smoke that’s all.” 
That was his only explanation, for some reason, she didn’t believe it as much as she thought she should have. He just looked so damn nervous, it gave her more reason for concern. But she shrugged anyway, nodding herself, “So have one then.” 
“You wanna come with?” he offered with a hopeful tone, nudging at her shoulder with a small smile. 
“That’s alright. It’s cold outside,” she pulls an excuse from the air, not really wanting to travel back outside because she knows if she leaves she won’t want to come back - and being stranded doesn’t sound like the most appealing option. Neither does asking someone random for a ride. Her friends would only mock her further for wanting to leave so early. 
“I was actually gonna head up to my room and open a window, not really a fan of smoking outside. Too much effort,” he jokes, chuckling to himself. At least he was honest. 
Y/n swallowed down her nerves, not wanting to keep turning him away when he was trying to go the extra mile to talk to her and wanted to - for some unknown reason - spend time with her. She wouldn't choose herself from a crowd of college kids, that’s for sure. 
“Oh, um...yeah, sure, okay.” She hated the way he made her fumble with her words, made her nervous and jittery. She had always been that way around him, at a loss of what to do or say, totally enamored by him. She also hated smoking, but she wanted to be alone with him more than she wanted to admit. She would brave the smoke if it meant she got him all to herself for just a while. With her gentle nod came another one of Grayson’s award winning smiles, a hand coming forward to grab at hers to her surprise - tugging her through the living room and over to the stairs packed with sweaty dancing bodies. It made her lip curl in distaste. 
Following him up the stairs made her feel safe, untouchable in fact - hiding behind his large body kind of had that special effect. Like nothing could touch her. There were eyes that lingered on the pair of you along the way, darting from you to Grayson and back again. Someone shot her a smirk, some a full smile, and some even gave her a thumbs up as if to say: good luck. They could make their assumptions, Lord knows they did anyhow. 
And of course, like she had presumed, Grayson’s room was at the end of the long hallway - the last door on the left. It made her smile thinking back to her hometown where she had walked close behind him down the hallway of his home and into his bedroom to spend hours listening to him scream at some video game she never cared for and talk about how ready they were to get out of that town. She was first, the shy neighbor, and then his neighbor friend. It was an upgrade that meant the world to her at the time, even though he left her to herself when he moved away. They had been a team and his room had been their sanctuary. 
She was grinning when they stepped through the door and her eyes met the familiar white bedding he’d had had that same warm day in spring - when he had invited her to sit and talk a while. The only thing he’d added that she could notice were some rich emerald green colored pillows, the plush kind that probably felt like a cloud to sleep on. He was a simple kind of guy. Not many people knew - but there was a stitched in red robin on the underside of his duvet - courtesy of Lisa - his wonderful mother. Y/n always had a great deal of respect for the kind-hearted woman. She called the tiny hidden stitching her ‘Easter egg’ - something unexpected but always appreciated. If you didn’t pull back the right corner, you’d never even know it was there. 
Shaking her head out of her thoughts, Y/n tore her eyes away from the perfectly made bed (He always lectured her on making the bed, said it was ‘the first dose of accomplishment for the day’ - (simple but essential) and looked over to Grayson who had taken a seat on the large cushioned windowsill and was now bending forward to push on the window with one arm - the clear glass swinging outwards, letting in the breeze of crisp night air. It was a cool night, not too warm, not too cold - but just right. Just like every moment she spent with him. Peaking out of the window, Y/n could see a vegetable garden in the corner of the backyard, smiling with the knowledge that Grayson had probably put in maximum effort to get a garden so fresh and taken care of in a house full of frat boys that only cared about a good fuck and beer. It was odd to see something like a garden in a place that felt so disconnected from the world, that it nearly made her laugh. But instead, she took a moment to thank the Gods above that no one was outside. Because if they only looked up, she was sure they would be able to tell how nervous she was down to her very bones while her fingers twisted around each other - waiting for the right words to come to her. 
Satisfied with the crack in the window, Grayson leans back and to the side to tuck a large hand into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a yellow lighter. He lights the end of the stick as Y/n stood still by the door - wondering whether or not to close it. She wondered for a moment what message it might give and if it was one she wanted. 
It was so weird to watch him smoke when she remembered him being the biggest health buff she knew. She couldn’t ever predict to see a cigarette  resting between his fingers. But she had to admit it looked damn hot to see him suck in a drag between his plump lips, just to slowly ease it back out the window and into the night. The smoke danced for a minute against the screen before sneaky through the holes. It was mesmerizing, truly. He made everything look beautiful, and that was coming from a girl that gagged at the mere smell of smoke. 
Grayson’s body shifts on the windowsill, in pursuit of (probably) easing her nerves he could feel bouncing all around the room- when she lifts the heel of her foot and kicks the door closed behind her with a small *click*. A shaky hand follows as she reaches back to twist the lock to the right, trying not to think too much whether she would soon regret the split second decision or not. With one look at his warm, welcoming smile, she doubted it. 
“Do you wanna?” he asked her through the soft gold lamp light. Normally, the thought of smoking would make a chill run down her spine and repulse her for the rest of the day, but watching him make it look so...not gross and disgusting, had her thinking. 
“Oh, no thank you, I don’t smoke,” Y/n told him earnestly, shaking her head the tiniest bit. 
“Yeah I knew that, just thought maybe you had tried it a time or two since I last saw you...had a rebellious moment-” he gave her a wink at that, knowing she was the least rebellious person he had ever come across in his life. He just loved to tease her, “can I ask why you haven't?” 
“Just haven’t,” she said honestly, taking a few small steps to slide onto the edge of the bed - worried that if she sat with him at the window she might combust. 
“That’s okay,” Grayson chuckled, rising from his seat by the window and claiming a spot on the bed right next to her, “you could try it at least once, though. It won’t kill you.” 
That’s a lie, she wanted to say - but instead smacked her lips in thought, gazing up at the smile behind his eyes. He just made everything feel so safe and okay. Even something she had always viewed as disgusting and wrong, he suddenly had her pondering on. Y/n was so distracted with her own thoughts for a moment, she almost didn’t notice him holding the cigarette out to her. She looked at the white roll between his fingers, the smoke wafting up into her nose and she almost made a face, but stopped herself. A wave of panic went through because - fuck - was she really going to do this? What was the reason to go back on everything she believed in about smoking? She never wanted to, so what made this situation any different? 
“I guess not...I just don’t know how to do it,” she admitted. She’s sure it’s not rocket science, but she’s seen enough of her friends cough and gag to be convinced it’s easy for your first time ever trying. And she’s pretty positive she would never - and will never - attempt smoking again after tonight. Only for Grayson, she chanted to herself, only this once for him and then never again. Since when has she ever been subject to peer pressure? She scolded herself, knowing she should never say yes to something she is unsure of, but really wanting to make him proud for some reason. 
“I’ll show you,” he nodded at her and then to the cigarette in his hand, pulling her from her racing thoughts.  Raising the cigarette up, he held it pin straight in front of her face. Y/n gave him a skeptical look, heaving out a sigh, but took the roll anyway - holding it awkwardly in front of her lips. This is so wrong, this is gross, this is bad, she whined to herself, but smacked the thought away. 
“That’s it, now just wrap the dry bit of your lips around it-” he instructed her softly, and she could almost swear her heart was going to explode from the tone he was using, “that’s it.” 
Y/n followed his gentle direction, not daring to look at him while she did something she vowed to never partake in. But how could you say no to a face like his? 
“Now inhale, but breathe in. Don’t force the air down or anything like that, just take it in and pull it down until you feel it here-” he tapped a finger against her chest, goosebumps raising right where he had touched her. She prayed he didn’t notice - even if she saw his eyes linger on her skin for just a few seconds longer. 
With a burst of bravery, she sucked in on the stick, taking in a deep breath. She could feel it like a heavy cloud sitting in her throat and on her tongue before she sputtered it back out with a sickly sounding cough. Bad idea. She cringed as the smoke oozed from her nostrils as well, followed by a harsh pain. 
Grayson laughed lightly watching her grimace and hold it back out to him with panic, “No?” 
No, she agreed in her head, but instead shook her head and brought it back in front of her face with a disgusted scowl. He raised a prominent eyebrow at her in question and disbelief. Really again? His eyes talked back to her. 
“Just um... let me go again,” she urged, clearing her throat and ignoring the burning sensation that followed in result of her coughing fit only moments prior. She just wanted to look tough in front of him. Not that she owed him anything, but herself maybe. 
“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I don’t really want to be responsible for your death,” he laughed, taking it back from her. He would never force her to do anything she was uncomfortable with. With a pout she huffs. 
“Let me try again,” she whined slightly, holding her hand out. She tried giving him her best ‘please give into me’ eyes, but she wasn’t sure it worked until the corner of his lips started to curve upwards. 
His hesitation made her smile, hesitation was closer to a yes than a no. But he shook is head soon after, and he couldn’t catch her bottom lip fast enough before it popped out into a pout. She wanted to at least take a drag without all but coughing up her lungs. That’s all, after that she would let it go. She never had the desire to smoke in the first place. 
“Okay,” Grayson decided with a huff, “I wanna try something real quick. Can you come a little closer for me?” 
With a slight nod Y/n scoots herself closer to him on the edge of the bed, knees now touching his slightly. He’s close enough now that if she leans in just a bit, they would be kissing. The thought makes goosebumps pop up along the skin of her arms, something she hopes he pays no mind to. But instead, she sits with a dumbfounded look while he smiles brightly at her. 
“Now part your lips,” he nods at her, eyes glued to her plump rosy lips that tempt him more than she will ever realize.She’s looking at him innocently, only making it harder for him to think about the mean things that were said about her downstairs. He’d love nothing more than to kick all of their asses when they finish up in his room.  
With her compliance comes the knowledge that she’s gotten herself into some trouble when he takes the end of the cigarette into his own mouth, wraps his own lips tightly around the white stick and sucks in hard. She admires the way his eyes droop shut with the long drag, and gasps in a small breath when his hand reaches up to grab loosely at her chin, pulling her face even closer. A daring move. 
“Try what?” she frowned, looking up and into his intense eyes that all but glare at her now. A fire erupts somewhere in her when he ducks his face down to place his lips over hers lightly, almost hovering and resisting the urge to plant them fully upon hers just as he exhales the smoke into her open mouth. She jumps when she feels the smoke swirling in her mouth like liquid, warm - but something tells her that’s not what has her sweating right there on the bed. 
With her eyes pinched shut and tried to focus on the subtle burn that was in fact less overwhelming than her first time trying to smoke herself - but all she could seem to focus on or much rather care about, was his satin soft lips moving ever so slightly as he blows out the rest of the smoke into her mouth. The light pressure causing her head to spin in circles, his hand on her chin ensuring that her face stay near to his. 
With a dizzy head and a heart that just wouldn’t stop racing, she exhales the smoke out of her nostrils between them, Grayson’s head pulling back just a bit to let the grayish swirls of smoke drift away and disappear. 
“How about that?” he whispered, staring at her with softened eyes. She hadn’t coughed, so he took that as a good sign. 
Swallowing nervously, she taps at her knee with her fingers, trying to avoid his eyes altogether. He was just...too much to look at. Too kind, too handsome, too understanding of things he didn’t have to be. She thought she might feel sick with herself after endeavoring in such a disgusting act...but surprisingly, she just felt accomplished. She hadn’t hacked up a lung, and he wasn’t running for the hills like she thought he might. Her innocence sometimes frightened people. Especially those with no real understanding of the finer things in life. But Grayson wasn’t one of those people, and she knew she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. 
“Better,” she finally managed to squeak out. And for once, she wasn’t lying. In fact, it was the most truthful thing she’d said in a very long time. When you were putting on a show for dozens of people, it felt a bit strange to say something that wasn’t robotic and programmed. Even if was just once word. That would was hers. 
“Why was it better, Y/n?” Grayson whispered again, still staring right through her. His eyes seemed darker now, a pit of something she couldn’t put her finger on. 
“I-I um...don’t know really it’s jus-” 
“Can I kiss you?” He cut her off seriously, turning only for a moment to toss the cigarette into an ashtray on the nightstand, and it was actually kind of astonishing how good of a shot it was, “just once.” 
“W-why?” she whimpered, confused and flattered and unsure of what to think. 
Is this just another joke? Another prank to be pulled off by her ‘friends’? There has to be a camera somewhere. Someone waiting behind the door, just waiting to bust in with a group if people and laugh at her. 
“Does it matter why?” he smirked, still holding her chin softly. His touch felt so delicate. Like she was a little porcelain doll he had to handle with care. 
“I mean...a little,” she admitted, “ people don’t usually randomly ask me to kiss them.” 
“Because I actually like you,” he began quietly, so so quiet, “because you’re beautiful, you really understand things for what they are, and people make fun of you for it.” 
They are both surprised when she lets out an amused scoff, one hand raising to cover her mouth for just a moment at her outburst. Her eyes are wide, but within a moment she’s lowering her hand back down to what she thought was her own lap...but ended up being Grayson’s knee. She’s speaking before she can think to remove her hand first. 
“I am not beautiful, Grayson,” she mutters, shyly and ashamed. 
It’s almost like he’s been shot, to hear her say such a thing. To hear her lie. She can’t possibly think that about herself? 
“Y/n,” he breathes with a shake of his head, “the first time I saw you it felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.” Maybe it was the way he said it with such sincerity, the genuine emotion behind his words, or the way his lips ushered the words right out of his - but she found her heart fluttering and her head nodding at his request. 
“Okay,” she decided, not sure if he’d understand but hoping she wouldn’t have to actually say what she was okaying. 
“Okay? I can-” he checked, flicking his hazel eyes from her lips and back up again. 
“Yes, I mean yeah, I mean...okay,” she laughed, so beyond nervous she couldn’t prepare herself for what was about to come next. Something spectacular. Something magical. At least, that’s what she always thought it would be like kissing Grayson. Her only thought was that she didn’t want to be the one to lean in, and thankfully she didn’t have to. Grayson was leaning in in no time, and she was thankful for his confidence. It was something she was always lacking.  
His head tilted in such a way that he kissed her lips at this angle, this oh so special angle, one that she felt her body melt at. Her head dropped to the side as his lips put pressure against hers, his hand still placed right under her chin while his lips ghosted and danced over her own. 
With the thought of her hands remaining to herself being just too sad to handle, she delicately placed her fingers upon his waist. She could feel the heat of him under his shirt, and somehow that simple fact made her shiver, lean into him more. She didn’t squeeze, just touched at his waist - dipping her toes into the water so to say. Grayson being a little more invested for the time being, captured her upper lip with another roll of pressure. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp at the movement. She knew she wasn’t the best kisser, only having kissed a few times, and none of those times ended up being all that great - but she was trying. 
Despite her lack of confidence and the nerves threatening to make her wretch at any moment, she wanted to take it further. Not just one kiss, little pecks. She wanted a kiss: heavy tongues and puckering noises. She wanted the full kiss, the ones all her friends had and bragged about when she sat around being sad she hadn’t yet experienced something so electric. 
With an act of bravery, she let that hand that rested on his waist close in to squeeze at him, digging her nails in to the fabric and  applying just the right amount of pressure to have him kissing her deeper. She then took it a step further, sliding her other hand up to tug the hat resting on his head backwards off and clutch at his locks of chocolaty hair. She was proud of herself when his hand came up to grip at her own waist and she didn’t so much as jump, warning bells didn’t sound off in her head, she wasn’t afraid. She let him just like she let herself. 
Their kisses still weren’t long, just lingering pecks and lips squeezing one another’s. Y/n was the first to open her mouth, the first to show a sign of wanting something beyond the innocent pecking. Pulling back for just a second, she wraps her lips around his plump bottom one, pulling for a second before popping it free. 
Grayson makes a small sound, something like a grunt mixed with a breath, and slacked his jaw a bit to kiss her harder. Much harder. This was what she wanted. He was hungry for it now. With that new excitement, came the shock of his tongue colliding with hers. At first, she jumped on the mattress, her fingers stilled in his hair, but he kept her close. She recovered from her shock quickly and tried to not make any noise that might embarrass her when his wet heavy tongue rolled against hers, one of his large hands coming to press into her back. It was so smooth, the way he knew exactly how to angle his mouth, kiss her at just the right spots, apply just the right pressure. It pulled her into him more than the hand at her back. 
Her mouth grew hotter, tingles spreading from her lips down her collarbones, her shoulders, and to the tips of her fingers that were still locked in his hand and tethered to the fabric of his shirt. And it was almost comical that she liked the slight bitterness from the smoke they had inhaled minutes prior to their kiss, added an extra buzz to her nerves. This was so unlike her, but somehow...exactly like her in every way. She honestly didn’t really know who she was because of how often she had to conform to what everyone else thought she be. 
Y/n felt his firm hands become greedy quickly, his body just itching to do something to hers. A ball of excitement sat down low in her stomach, growing to a steady burn that spread out through the rest of her body, pushing out as a sigh she will think back on and be horrified about for the rest of her days. But in the moment? Kissing Grayson in a frat house? After smoking her first cigarette? She didn’t give a damn that she made any sounds of pleasure, in fact she wanted him to know just how good his lips felt moving against hers. He fought off the urge to act on his hunger, not wanting to be that guy. He wasn’t that guy. He never had been. Especially with her, he would be patient. If kissing was all she would ever want to do, he would be okay with it. 
“Gray,” she breathed, way too caught up in the heat of the moment to realize the weight of what she was about to say,” “Gray let me touch you.” 
Grayson stopped the steady speed of their kiss and pulled his tongue from hers, still holding her face close, but backed his head up just enough to get a look right into her beautiful eyes. With a thick swallow and a small shake of his head he’s finally blabbering out a confused, “What?” 
“Just...let me,” she begged, tightening the fist in his hair to really let him know she means it, “let me please.” 
And she did mean it, that she was sure of. She wasn’t sure if it really was the fact that she had a bit to drink tonight, of it was just the moment and she was high off of the way his lips felt, or the fact that she had liked him for so long anyway - but she wanted to fucking touch him. She wasn’t even sure to what extent, just that she wanted to feel the weight of the situation and go outside of her comfort zone. She was ready to go somewhere with him. She trusted him more than half of her jackass ‘friends’ anyway. 
“Y/n,” he began after a moment of irritating silence, “you don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for. We can just kiss, I promise I’m okay with just kissing you.” 
“But I want too, Grayson,” she whimpered, sliding her knee up his thigh, to show just how much. She tried to show with that simple motion that she thought now was perfect, her chance to finally let loose and just dive head first into her first sexual encounter. Her first real one anyway. It wasn’t just getting it out of the way. It wasn’t her acting on some rash urge to be like the other sex crazed people around her. It wasn’t a cry for acceptance. It was her about the opportunity she had pictured for so long was now before her and she didn’t want to throw it away due to the nerves pumping through her at lightning speed. She didn’t want to be afraid of intimacy anymore. 
“Y/n/n,” he whispered, “you really don’t have to. Don’t think that’s why I kissed you. I was fully expecting for us just to kiss.” 
“No,” she promised, leaning forward and dipping her head to the side to kiss at his sharp jaw, “show me how it’s done please, Gray. Show me how to make you cum. Wanna know how you like it.” 
Grayson swallowed loudly again, the head that was once holding her face now wrapped lightly around her neck. It was simply resting there, no intention or purpose. But she felt that same hand tighten just a bit at her words.
“Jesus, Y/n. You’re drunk, bub. You would never be saying this if you were sober,” he mumbled out to her, looking at her in the eyes. It almost made her feel better. Almost. 
But it still stung. Because there is was. There it fucking was. Even if he denied that he found her frigid like all the others, he still didn’t believe she had any form of sexual desire. That she couldn’t possibly have any confidence with her body. That she wasn’t like that. That she was worthless when it came to her body and the only time she would ever desire getting or giving any type of sexual pleasure is when she was drunk. 
Pulling her head back and away from his hand while trying to avoid the pity in his eyes, she decided that instead of shutting down and taking the sting in her heart home with her - she was going to prove him wrong. Because he was. She could do more than sit and look pretty, even if that’s what made her most comfortable on any other day. She wanted to suck his dick. It was that simple. She wanted it and she knew he wanted it just as bad, even if he was going to try and be a gentleman about it. 
Grayson watched her slip to her knees on the floor in front of him, never breaking the stare they had kept for a few long minutes now. She was pulling apart his legs in no time, her grip firm. He sucked in a breath when her silk soft lips fell to the inside part of his knee, the soft material of the tight fitting black sweats he was wearing softer than what she had assumed. Reaching a hand up, she twisted and pulled at the tie in the front, undoing it quickly, grazing over a bump in his underwear that he couldn’t hide even if he tried as she shifted closer to him on the edge of the bed. 
“Y/n,” he grabbed at her hand, trying not to choke when she gave him a dead look, like she would rather him do anything else but stop her, “are you sure you want this? I don’t want you to regret anything.” 
“Yes, Grayson. I’m not a fucking prude.” 
And there is was. That same word that was thrown at her all the time, for years she’s had to hear the same insult. But she didn’t have to prove anything to him. She was safe with him, even if he did want to fuck her senseless he would never act on any of those thoughts unless the time was right and she was 100% completely ready for that stepping stone in her life. Sitting there looking into her eyes, seeing the determination, it made his heart speed up he wouldn’t lie about that. 
“You don’t have to-” he huffed and put his hands to his face in frustration, “you don’t have to prove that to me.” 
It was sweet, the way he tried to validate her, make her feel safe. But he didn’t understand, she wanted him. 
“I know that,” she nodded, “but why does it have to stop me from doing the things I want to do?” 
As Grayson stared down at her, he was scared for a moment that she would able to see in his eyes how desperately he wanted her to go down on him, and didn’t want her to also think that was the goal with bringing her up to his room. He didn’t and would never want to pressure her into anything. If Grayson knew anything, it was that she deserved the best. So he made a promise to himself right there on the edge of his bed that he would treat her like a fucking goddess during and after whatever they were about to do. That he would show that he cared about her, because he did. And he knew he always had.
“Fuck, okay. As long as you’re sure,” he whispered gruffly, feeling his dick twitch from the simple bat of her eyelashes up at him. She smirked at this, tugging at the elastic of his sweats. 
Grayson complied by shifting his hips up and watched her drag them down his muscular legs and to his feet, yanking his ankles apart as much as she could in the denim. She stopped when she noticed the lack of shoes on his feet, now remembering him slipping them off in the time she came into the room earlier. But what really made her stop was the tattoo on top of his foot. She tapped at it twice with a smirk, but didn’t say anything. It calmed her nerves only slightly that his fingers were tapping on the bed nervously. She was thankful she wasn’t the only one. 
He'd just never had a virgin suck him off before. That and it was Y/n for Christ’s sake. She had always been too damn good for him and he put off any idea of ever being anything more than friends with her because he was 1. going away for college and 2. sure that she would find some dreamy successful kind of guy that would smoke his ass any day. But...there was was...choosing him. 
“Show me, Gray,” she whispered softly, sitting with her hands in her lap, twiddling with her fingers. 
He nodded immediately, the innocence in her voice ushering him to take her face in his hands when she came back up, just to tilt his head and land a sweet kiss on her lips. Just to let her know that he was going to take care of her, that it meant something. He was again glad that he was the guy she chose to have her first sexual encounter with. Not one of the dumbfucks downstairs that only wanted to fuck her and throw her away like a piece of trash. Grayson was respectful, and he was going to give her a comfortable experience no matter what. 
Y/n found herself stuck with what to do already. She had built up all this fire, but it was like she was standing on a stage with a spotlight pointing down at her - completely frozen. But she wasn’t dumb, she knew she had to get him hard first. Raising a dainty hand, she squeezed his clothes length, already half hard and massive. Y/n chose not to mention how big he was and instead inhaled and deep breath into her lungs, trying to stifle whatever stupid nervous thought was threatening to talk her out of what she wanted. With that breath, she took the time to pull the hem down and under his length. 
“Okay-shit,” he whispered once again, voice shaking even more than before when her hand came up to wrap around his bare shaft now. “Holy shii-okay.” He tried breathing in deep a couple times when he felt her hot palm around him, making blood rush down his body only making him that much harder in her hand. “Fuck, this is gonna sound gross but spit in your hand.” 
For a moment, she thought he was joking, and sat with his weight in her hand, but when she looked up to his pouted lower lip with no sign of amusement she knew he was serious and her cheeks grew a darker shade of red. Letting him go for just a second, she followed his direction and grabbed at him again, feeling slicker. 
“Shit-now move your hand for me,” he grunted, trying his best to not be greedy and thrust already. She needed to take all the time she needed. 
Slowly at first, Y/n moved her hand up and down, discovering that with each tug, his dick became smoother and wetter to the touch. Just looking at the massive cock in front of her made her nervous to put him in her mouth. He was just...so big. And the length was there too, along with the girth. This was quite the achievement for her first time. She tried getting him completely there with each flick of her wrist, speeding up gradually, slowing her hand up around the tip and thumbing the slit at the end. He was long and hard, his tip pink and dripping after her thumb dragged away from his slit. She wasn’t sure the effect it would have, but suppressed a grin when he jerked in her hand. 
He jolted with a deep moan that made her eyes shoot up to his in shock. 
“Fuck, that felt good,” he admitted, voice thick. 
It made her feel proud, that he sounded so breathless and bothered by her hand moving on his dick. The way he breathed it through his lips, like he was thinking it to himself and hadn’t even meant for it to come out, but he couldn’t help it. Kind of made her want to kiss him again. 
Grayson looked quite brooding over her, with a sharp dropped jaw and puffed up chest. He watched her every move when she couldn’t be bothered to tear her eyes away from his cock being pumped to filth by her own dainty hand. He carefully took her fringe back and behind her ear as her mouth came up and kissed his tip. Grayson quivered on his own bed, rolling his head back from the feeling of her soft lips that pressed against him for just a second. Such a soft gesture, with some dirty intent. The sight of her lips pressing to the tip of his cock almost affectionately, made him more desperate than he’d admit, like she loved it. 
“Take off your top,” she spoke quietly, wanting to see his body. He obliged, yanking off his shirt with lightning speed. Her eyes went wide at the first sliver of his toned stomach that appeared and she gulped. Damn, she was nervous by how fit he truly was. Grayson always did have a certain love for fitness she always admired. 
She’s brought back to the matter at hand when she feels a warmth on her hand, her gaze dropping to his dick once again. He sat hard and waiting for her next move, whatever that was anyway. Thankfully she didn’t have to ponder for much longer because Grayson rides in on that white horse to save her once again. 
“Just take the tip now, babe,” he soothed her through his, grabbing her hair in his hand lightly once he settled into just the right position. The little pet name had slipped out, and for a second he thought she didn’t notice until her lips curved into a smirk. Y/n is closing her eyes and leaning in close, wrapping her lips around him at last. Tight, hot, and wet. All the sensations he felt when her lips finally enveloped around his tip. 
“Jesus Christ,” he swore, heart hammering away from just the first feeling of her. 
He really didn’t know what to think when her tongue started swiping and rolling along his shaft. She figured that maybe it wasn’t all about the sucking. Maybe she could play around a little, give him kisses up the side, wet and sloppy. Look at him while she tongued at his tip, smoothed her tongue over his balls for just a second. 
“Oh fuck, roll your tongue on my just like that, that’s it,” he groaned, hips jerking from all the teasing on his tip. He’d always been a sucker for that sort of thing, she was learning his weak spots early, “doing so good, angel.” 
She hummed with a smile, batting her eyelashes up at him in hopes of looking at precious as possible. He looked like a sweating mess above her already, droplets glistening along the lines of his tanned abs. 
“Shit,” he panted heavily when she stuck her tongue out and took a hard lick to his tip once again, tongue sliding up his thin slit to flick against her teeth - her hand wrapped around his base. 
She rubbed him up and down, going just a bit faster and spreading her spit up his length. 
“Is this okay?” she checked, gazing up at him, continuing to twist her hand. 
“Yes,” he swallowed, “Yes, just uh fuck- go a little fast for me, Y/n. Move your hand faster.” 
She flicked her wrist against his throbbing cock, feeling much more confident now that he was moaning quietly and his chest moved rapidly with his quickened breathing. He was losing it, absolutely losing it, but he would try to keep it together in case she needed more guidance. But she felt sexy as hell - powerful even. Looking up at his eyes with a flutter to her lashes, a smirk coming up her face that he couldn’t detach his eyes from even if he tried. The little devil knew her power over him. She had to at this point. 
“You liking this, Gray?” she smiled brightly, knowing the answer but asking anyway. 
“So fucking much baby, doing so good for me,” he grunted, head thrown back in bliss with just her hand stroking him. 
With the new found confidence blazing through her and his eyes not watching her every move for once, she raised up again and held her hair back, her hand a bit sticky for obvious reasons. She didn’t have time to worry about a sticky hand when she was about to suck dick for the first time, Grayson’s dick at that. 
Slowly she slid her lips down his shaft, focused on taking medium length pulls that soon sped up once he had gathered her hair back and she could place both hands on his thighs to steady herself. 
“Meet your lips with your hand, baby,” he moaned, biting at his lip, watching her take as much of him as she could. 
Not having enough energy to do much else other than comply, she closed her lips tighter around him, feeling her saliva drip down onto her fist that met with her lips now. However; all she could focus on was the way he was breathing, the heavy rise and fall of his stomach. The sighs and moans of her name that spilled out of his mouth to encourage her further. She could feel his thighs shaking slightly, which made her head spin from the mere thought of him being so overworked by her actions. She sucked at him faster, and she soon realized she loved the dirty suction sound her mouth was making around him, the way his cock reached a place deep down her throat. 
“Fuck- mhmm gonna cum,” he got out through his pleasured whines, “stop babe, back up m’cumming.” 
“I know,” she assured him. 
She knew what was coming. But she’d come this far so it wasn’t like she was going to stop. She hummed around hum and it just made his pleasure increase, the hand holding her hand wrapping just a bit tighter with selfish desire as he took one last deep breath and closed his eyes with relief. 
He finished in her mouth in long, hot spurts. Spilling out on her awaiting tongue. Y/n kept sucking, trying her best to keep her lips tight - having some thought that if she just kept sucking he would be dry at some point, but he was still wet with her spit. 
He was wrecked before her, absolutely spent. He panted loudly above her as she swallowed and looked back at him with her doe eyes and a hopeful smile. 
“Was I good?” she teased sweetly. 
Fuck you, he wanted to say, so fucking high on pleasure that he honestly would have if it had been any other person besides her. He was just that caught up. But instead of that crude comment, he chose to fall back on the bed with a huff and a “Fucking hell.” 
It was nice to see him completely spent and worn out like he was, she had to admit. Made her feel powerful, like she wasn’t some princess that just had to have the world at her feet. Although, watching him flop back on the bed with a smile did make her feel like she did carry the world in the palm of her hands. He was...beautiful. 
“It’s just not right that it was your first time,” he joked, still panting, “you’re so good at it.” 
Finally having the strength to lift herself up off the floor, she stands on wobbly knees and confidently crawled up his body, careful of his sensitive length laying against his abdomen. Even when he wasn’t hard he was massive. It blew her fucking mind that a man could be that attractive, that he actually just did that with her, that he was then wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her close to his sweating body. He opened his eyes breathlessly just as she leaned in and gave his lips a gentle kiss. Light like a feather, but sweet like honey. 
“So,” she traced a shape on the tanned skin of his chest, “does this make me a bad person?” 
He wanted to laugh, he really did. But when he looked back at her, she looked seriously concerned that she might have ruined something for herself. And for that, he brought his lips to hers once again for an even longer skin. He rolled his tongue out to slide against her own, and not being a bitch boy, he could taste himself on her mouth - the thought making him smile. They really just did that. 
“No, my love,” he whispered, “it makes you a very, very good one.” 
My love...my love...fuck. 
She laughed at his lame compliment. In retaliation, and just because he wanted to, he gave her a light spank that made her gasp in sharply. By the time she had time to open her mouth and speak, he had already rolled them over and attached their lips. They giggled against one another’s mouths, Y/n holding his hair, Grayson rubbing his thumbs across her hips. 
“I don’t want this to be over,” he admitted quietly to her, forehead resting against hers lazily. He knew this was a dreamland and he would have to wake up to a frat house full of passed out drunks and a fuck ton of trash to clean up. But she was...damn near impossible to stop kissing and now that he’s gotten a taste of what it’s like to have her in his arms - he doesn’t want to let her go.
It made her heart flutter to hear him say something so honest and raw in a time like this, him being naked and pressed on tip
“It doesn’t have to be...” she trailed off, not knowing if he meant he didn’t want the night to end or something deeper. 
“Yeah? You sure you want to hang out with a fray boy? I’ve heard they're jerks,” he teased, tickling at her side and grinning when she wiggled in his arms. 
She nodded against his chest, not having enough courage to respond, but wanting to give a response anyway. She had to admit, she was overjoyed when Grayson slid out from under her and wrapped her up nice and snug in his bed, sliding right in next to her and pulling her close. 
She didn’t know what it meant for them, what this meant for her, or where the fuck they stood. All she knew was that Grayson’s lips sprinkled kisses across her face just to help her fall asleep that night...and no one in her life as ever made her feel so worthy. Loved. Touched. Not just psychically, but emotionally, spiritually, and beyond. And for once the thought of being close to someone didn’t scare her.  
tags: @episkygrant​ @highoffdolan​ @mercurygrant​ @indiyaesthetic​ @livelongdolan​ @dolandolll​ @aquadolan​ @prettyboydolan​ @blindedbythelightt​ @persistence-ofmemories​ @deeperdolan​ @zeusgrayson​ @nikesbailey​ @dolansaint​ @goldenndolan​ @kate-the-holland​ @money-is-the-reason-we-exist​ @hereticryan​ @dolansontheblock​
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heatherleeson-blog1 · 7 years ago
Text
a letter a therapist had me write to my abuser about two years after I left
Dear J*****,
This is a letter to say goodbye. I never want to have anything to do with you ever again. I want to be free of you forever. Living with you was the worst time of my life. You hurt me more than anyone has ever hurt me and in ways I’ve never been hurt before. You’ve wounded me in a deeply unsettling and permanent way. I won’t lie: I know I also caused you harm, I hurt you, knowingly and deliberately, in many ways. I won’t pretend I was blameless in the breakdown of our relationship. But the things you did to me are unforgivable. I’ll move on from this and eventually the pain will subside and I’ll be a stronger and wiser person in spite of, or perhaps because of, the grief you inflicted on me. But I will never forgive you. I’m not interested in hearing your side of the story. I don’t care what your reasons were or what pain there is inside you that may have compelled you to act the way you did, towards myself and others. I’m sure there’s a lot about you I’ll never understand, and I’m not sure you will either. You obviously have a lot of issues to work through, and despite your veneer of confidence and your constant show of bravado and aggression, I believe that at your core you’re an extremely frustrated, anxious and scared little boy. Not that any of this should make a difference. You always told me such things were ‘an explanation, not an excuse,’ and I’m holding you to that. I’m beyond the point of attempting to rationalise or justify your actions. Now it’s time for me to push you aside and move on with my life. This letter is my chance to say the things you never let me say and then turn around and walk away.
I remember the day I met you, at your beach house in B*****. My first real boyfriend and I had broken up about 6 months before, and even though I made a big show about being ‘over it,’ I was still extremely hurt by what had happened. Unlike you, he’d always been a good friend to me, and although we both knew it had to end, I was sad and lonely and feeling unwanted and unloved. My self-esteem was so low. I’d been feeling depressed and even though I didn’t know what it was at the time, my anxiety was at an all time high. I tried to make myself feel more confident by losing weight and meeting new people—tried to invent a ‘new Heather.’ One of those people was your ex S*****. Right from the start, she told me how messed up you were and how badly you had hurt her. By the time I met you, I had really heard nothing but bad things about you for months. When she invited me to a weekend at B***** I was nervous but quietly excited to meet new people and potentially find someone to hook up with—a dumb attempt at boosting my self-esteem. When I met you, you turned on the charm almost immediately: the pet names, the cheesy pick up lines, the obsolete slang you thought made you sound world-weary and well-read. You seemed cocky and sure of yourself to a point my rational side found repulsive. In hindsight I was desperate for attention, any attention. Despite the fact that I didn’t particularly like you as a person, my submissive side was drawn to your aggressive confidence and slimy charm and I desperately wanted to feel loved. Within weeks of hooking up, you asked me to be your ‘bird.’
I can’t pin point when it started to get bad. Maybe it was when I moved in and you started treating me like your maid. Maybe it was when you started taking out your frustrations and huge feelings of inadequacy on me. Maybe it was when you grew angry at the thought that you weren’t ‘getting enough’ sex, so you started taking it from me. I’m not sure. It felt like I woke up one day and realized I was trapped in a terrible nightmare that I couldn’t escape from. I still don’t understand how it happened.
Did you plan it from the start? Have you always treated girlfriends this way? Your disgusting behaviour towards the majority of your friends and family, and your utter contempt for almost everyone you encounter would suggest that this is your standard mode of operation. It certainly seemed that over the course of our two-year relationship, you became increasingly angry at the world. You seemed to feel that everyone was ‘wrong’ all the time, that if only they would listen to you, subscribe to your bizarre line of thinking, the world would be better off. I could see you becoming more tightly wound and withdrawn. I saw you doing poorly at uni. The frustrations with the job you had but didn’t want. The flippant comments about how you didn’t really care about your law degree, to hide the fact that deep down you knew you weren’t achieving the grades you needed to succeed, weren’t up to standard, weren’t doing as well as your class mates, who you wrote off as wankers and conformist idiots. You were obsessed with the idea of non-conformity, as if to hide the fact that you never really fit in. They say, if you meet one asshole in a day, you met an asshole. If you meet ten assholes in a day, you’re the asshole. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you are a major fucking asshole. If everyone you meet is in constant disagreement with you, you’re probably wrong. And yet you persisted in acting as though you were the authority on every subject in the book. You were constantly angry. You made a big show about being a hippy, a bohemian, a happy stoner, yet you’re one of the most tightly wound, aggressive and malicious people I know. You took out your bad feelings on me and it made my life a living hell. Maybe you really meant to hurt me. Maybe I was just a convenient target, an innocent bystander who got caught in your cross hairs. I don’t care and it doesn’t matter—what you did to me was, and always will be, inexcusable and unforgivable.
What you did to me was abuse. Emotional, physical and sexual abuse. When you made fun of me and belittled me, that was abuse. When you isolated me from my friends and family, that was abuse. When you told me nobody cared about me, that nobody would care if something bad happened to me, not even you, that was abuse. When you constantly lied to me, manipulated me, confused me, gaslit me, that was abuse. When you undermined my self-esteem, my sense of self, my sense of reality, that was abuse. When you preyed on my obvious eating disorder and told me I should lose weight, that was abuse. When you told me I was crazy, that I was making everything up, that was abuse. When you screamed in my face, that was abuse. When you called me names like ‘stupid bitch’ and 'cunt’ and 'pathetic,’ that was abuse. When you punched the wall next to my face, that was abuse. When you told me it was my duty as a girlfriend to have sex with you, that was abuse. When you bullied me into having sex with you when I didn’t want to, that was abuse. When you threatened to throw me out of the house if I didn’t have sex with you, that was abuse. When you continued having sex with me while I was crying and saying 'no’ and 'stop,’ that was abuse. When you told me you couldn’t enjoy sex if I was crying so much, that was abuse. When you gave me a vaginal infection caused by repeated injury and forced penetration, that was abuse. When you repeatedly threw me out of our house and told me to pack my bags, only to 'allow’ me back in after a few hours, that was abuse. When you made it so that you were the only person I had left, that was abuse. When you made it so that I had no one else to turn to, nowhere else to go, that was abuse. When you lied and told me I was going insane, that I needed professional help for my mental issues, that was abuse. When you forced yourself into my psychologist’s office and demanded to know why she hadn’t 'fixed me’ yet, that was abuse. When you humiliated me in front of my friends and family, that was abuse. When you called my friends and family and told them I was a lying whore, that was abuse. When you told me I was a broken, worthless, pathetic person who could never be saved, that was abuse. When you made it so I didn’t care anymore, that was abuse. When you made it so I wanted to die, that was abuse.
I know this now. I’ve spent the last two years healing myself, reading, researching, receiving therapy, talking, listening, growing. I see now, clear as day, that what you did to me was wrong. Categorically, fundamentally wrong. I see now that I was vulnerable. Lonely. Unsure. Naive. Eager to please. Desperate for love. I was the perfect victim just waiting for you to swoop in and pick me up. To charm me. To blind me. To use me and discard me. Maybe it was inevitable, unavoidable. Maybe it was meant to be, if not then, than at some other time, some other place. If it wasn’t you, perhaps it would have been some other man. If it wasn’t me, perhaps it would have been some other woman. I know now that you’re a narcissist and a bully. You display the classic symptoms of a person so disordered in their thinking, they cannot comprehend the notion that they could ever be wrong, that the entire universe doesn’t revolve around them. All I ever was, was a side character in the drama of your life, playing the role of whatever you needed me to be to maintain your ridiculous fantasy. Back then I was your perfect princess, the only one who truly understood you. And you needed me to be perfect, because you needed me to be a reflection of you. You wanted to look into my eyes and see yourself staring back at you. The perfect man must have the perfect wife. And with a girlfriend this lovely, no one can accuse you of being mad. You told me you were attracted to my wit, my humor, my intelligence and my ‘moxxy’. Pretty and with brains to boot. The shiny trophy to hold up for everyone to see, and say, “see? I told you I wasn’t crazy!”
But that’s not how relationships work. You can’t ask another human being to be the support act in your bullshit fantasy. You can’t shove someone in a box and tell them to shut up and play nice, pulling them out now and then to wipe the dust off and play with them until you get bored, before chucking them carelessly back in the corner. You can’t get mad when it turns out they have their own story to tell, one in which they’re the protagonist, with their own dramas, their own desires, hopes and fears. You can’t act surprised when they’re not a perfect princess. Suddenly, the things you used to love about me drove you to despair. I was a little too opinionated, a bit mouthy in fact, and why was I talking so much anyway when there was dinner to be made? So you wore me down. You wore me down over months and months until I was so red and raw I couldn’t stand it anymore. You wore me down until I caved, until I knew it was easier to relent than face another round in the ring with this infamously argumentative nightmare of a person. Until I was a shadow of the person I once was. When you picked me out all those years ago, when you told me I was the special one, the chosen one, you wanted me to reflect the sparkling self-image you so desperately projected. By the time you were through with me, I had started to look a lot like the person I now know is hiding deep, deep down inside you, where you pray no one will ever find him: broken, scared and miserable. And now that you’d played with me so much that all the veneer had worn off, you threw me away for good. It’s classic narcissism. The pattern of abuse is undeniable. I was shocked, when, in the months and years that followed, I would read books about narcissistic personality disorder and discover the abuse you’d enacted upon me described with frightening accuracy within their pages. When listening to a friend confess that they too had been caught in the throes of an abusive relationship with a narcissist, I heard your words echoed back to me almost verbatim in the statements of another abusive man. It all made sense now. It fit the pattern to a T. After all that effort, you’re not even original.
But I’m not here to pathologise your behaviour or rationalise your excuses. That’s not what this is about. After all, you’re not even going to read this. In the end, it doesn’t really matter why you treated me the way you did. The important thing, for me, after so many months and years of denial and guilt is to finally speak up and say: yes, this happened to me. It wasn’t my fault, I’m not ashamed, this has hurt me and changed me but it hasn’t killed me. My spirit hasn’t been broken. This is an opportunity for me to make a radical statement- to myself, to you, and to the world- that I’m still alive and I’m still here. And I’m not going away.
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