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meyousing · 1 year

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𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: pariston + prompt 19 “it was more than just a one time thing for me. do you not feel the same way?”

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after coercing you into a one-night stand, pariston fails to realize that you do not want things to go any further than that. of course, not only will he refuse to listen, but he also refuses to not get his way.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: yandere pariston hill x reader, mentions of past coercion, manipulation and gaslighting, mentions of alcohol, mentions of nsfw (starts but doesn’t escalate fully), all sexual nsfw will be below the cut.

How awful. Glancing at the clock, your face melted in displeasure as you had already been sitting here for half an hour longer than you were scheduled to be. You wouldn’t have cared about putting in some overtime today if it had been anyone else who requested it, the image of Pariston’s mischievous smile still lingered in your mind. He brought a pile of extra papers to your station a mere minute before you were off the clock, his expression furrowing in faux sympathy as he hesitantly asked if you could finish them off for him. The poor employee that was originally meant for the job had to leave early due to an emergency, he couldn’t just say no to them!

You glared daggers at the blond, watching his face morph from “sad” to utterly smug the longer you did. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind too, your grip on the pen between your fingers almost becoming painful, but then one of your superiors walked past you two, trudging tiredly behind Pariston. You shifted your gaze to them momentarily, following as they paused and turned to you, subtly sending a look that said you did not want to cause a scene or put up a challenge. Not with Pariston, lest you give him a second form of victory aside from accepting his job. Both exhaustion and past experience made you agree that your superior was right and you could only sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat as you ripped the stack from Pariston’s grasp and dropped it carelessly beside your monitor. He thanked you with the most sticky-sweet enthusiasm you had ever heard, graciously patting your shoulder before sauntering off. You wished that he’d been off for good.

Everyone else had gone home already, and somehow Pariston hadn’t come to bother you since his initial proposal. While the extra silence in the office was nice, you envied anyone who wasn’t stuck here with another person they couldn’t stand in such close proximity.

Perhaps if you stopped letting him invade your thoughts you would be able to get the work done faster.

Sifting through the papers, you noted that only a few sheets were left for you to finish filling out; relief was waiting for you, just a couple of short minutes away if you really cracked down. Straightening your posture, you stared the bright paper down and twiddled your pen around your fingers.

Let’s do this.

Just as the first sleek stroke of ink transferred onto the page, subtle but notable footsteps crept up on you from behind. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was, his walking pattern was recognizably peppy. Your motivation faded in an instant, being replaced with annoyance as your eyes fell closed in dreadful preparation.

“Y/N, I just had to come and thank you again for doing this for me. You really are a model employee!” Pariston’s voice approached sooner than you would have liked, you could even hear the conniving grin in it. Unfortunately, keeping your eyes forward wouldn’t be enough to avoid him, as he had no issue taking a seat on your desk with one leg crossed over the other, his hand landing awfully close to yours to support himself.

“You’re welcome” you spoke civilly, though the glare in your eyes as you looked up at him was as hostile as it could be. On the other hand, his expressive response could only be described as utterly delighted. His lips pursed and his eyes studied you for a lingering moment before he reached beside himself.

“Say, we’re the only ones here now, surely we won't get in trouble for sharing something like this after hours?”

You watched as he briefly meddled around at his side, turned away from you only for a second before he turned back and presented a bottle of wine. You were perplexed as to how you missed the two glasses that he placed near the second pile of papers you had managed to get through; perhaps exhaustion had begun setting in sooner than you realized.

“You would have that here.” Ignorance is bliss was what you continued to tell yourself, averting your eyes back down to the sheets before you and planning to leave your statement at that. His fake laugh recaptured your attention, making you grimace, looking up to watch the way he threw his head back.

“Oh, you say the silliest things, that’s part of why you’re my favourite. So, what do you say?” his smile widened so that his eyes squinted shut, his head tilting as he picked up a glass and twirled it around temptingly.

You could only blink slowly, having difficulty detecting just how serious he was being. The longer you glared, the more curiously he stared back at you. Not confused, of course, simply curious. Perhaps he was asking himself why you took so long to answer because your agreement obviously should have been instant.

“Hmmm…” he started, placing both the glass and bottle down so he could physically ponder with a dramatic hand to his chin, the other supporting his bent elbow. Thankfully, with his eyes thoughtfully pointed up to the ceiling, you were able to roll your own undetected, cringing for every second he continued to hum. He stood suddenly, making you jump as he let out a triumphant laugh. “I bet you just need to loosen up a little bit! How rude of me not to take that into consideration, especially after throwing even more work at you.”

It was time for your nerves to spring to life when he began to walk, doing so until he was directly behind you. You couldn’t see him, not good. Your muscles wound up when his hands landed on your shoulders, thumbs sliding down your blades so he could start to rub circles into your skin.

“I can feel how taut your muscles are, Y/N. Just relax.”

How dense would he act?! There was absolutely no way that he didn’t realize how he was the cause of your agitation, he lived for being the cause of everyone’s daily suffering, being the bitter cherry on top of a job that already made them so miserable. If he was just tormenting you with false airheadedness, he was doing a damn good job of playing the part.

You were usually better at allowing yourself to detach from his antics before they could get you anywhere near a boiling point, though the concoction of your exhaustion from such a long day made even longer by Pariston himself, and the knowledge that nobody else was here–so you were simply a free-for-all toy to him–was a mixture to guarantee the shrivelling of your will to fight or avoid.

“There, just like that” his breath was by your ear then, making you jump and tense right back out of a subconscious relaxation that you were disgusted to have fallen into in the first place–especially by his hands. His hands, which massaged for a little longer before his palms flattened and began to slide to your front, your body was frozen because he was moving too quickly before you could react as they moved to hover over your breasts–

“Okay, we’re not doing this–” Thankfully you were now fast enough to catch him off guard, shoving your chair back and listening to his soft groan of pain as you stood, turning to watch him back away from the seat that you had pushed into him with a hand on his abdomen and a theatrical frown on his face.

“What’s the matter, Y/N? Have I not apologized for giving you that extra work? Are you still upset with me? Well, then I’m sor–”

“No, Pariston!” Now that you two were alone and there were no superiors to tell you that engaging in an argument with Pariston was a bad idea, you couldn’t hold back for much longer when he constantly had you teetering at the edge for such an extensive duration. “I know you’re not stupid, so could you stop acting that way? Just leave me alone when we’re at work, please. Enough of this.”

His eyebrows lifted, head tilting ever so slightly, and you watched his lips as they began turning upwards once more. That caused you to miss the way his eyes darkened within milliseconds.

“It was more than just a one-time thing for me. Do you not feel the same way? I thought we had something special.”

Stop.

You just wanted to pretend that it never happened, as if it were a fever dream (or a fever nightmare, more accurately) that you could have forgotten about as soon as you woke up. Waking up from it while being in the other person’s bed and seeing his blond head of hair on the pillow beside yours was an immediate and gut-wrenching reality check. No, there was no dream to remember, only a true memory. One that your recollection of was minuscule, except for the parts you wished to forget. Your inability to remember what landed you naked in Pariston Hill’s lavish bed with him buried inside of you, squeezing your hands above your head and whining your name was what made it worse because you knew that you would never do something like that of your own volition, especially with someone as despicable as him.

“I don’t.” Being forced to face these memories once again because he brought them up made you feel anxious, you wished to shove them away and move on with your life. But you knew that Pariston would never allow you to forget, the first mistake was already made once you two held eye contact at that party. What had you done?

“What a shame. An absolute shame” he began stepping closer to you. You stepped away, though the backs of your thighs met with the edge of your desk much too soon, effectively keeping you trapped as Pariston walked close enough for you to feel his soft breaths against your cheek when he leaned even closer to you. His palms met with the top of your desk then, his sudden proximity forcing you to pull back, but it didn’t help much, he had no issue with resuming such closeness by inching even nearer.

“It would be even more shameful for Ms. Y/N to lose her job, all because she refused to listen to her boss.”

“You’re not my boss” you countered, turning your head away from him and despising the way that he followed the movement.

“The polls speak for themselves, Y/N. It won’t be long.” His hand found your cheek and you flinched, unable to move any further–so you had to deal with the way his thumb rubbed over your cheekbone, the way his lips inched closer to yours.

Just as your lips were about to connect, your body reacted before you could stop it, instinctively placing your fingertips on his mouth to stop him from getting any closer.

The movement did cause Pariston to pause, but it only lasted for a second because he took your hand in his and friskily bit your middle fingertip with a cheeky grin (how you wished to put down every finger except for that one and give him what for).

“Come on, I just want to play around for a bit! It’ll be our little secret. Besides, it would be quite sad to lose such a well-paying job over a matter as trivial as this” he interlocked your fingers and roughly shoved them back down to the desk, instantly attacking your neck with little nips and bites in the time it took for you to recover from the slam of your appendage. His tongue grazed over your sensitive skin in a way that was tender enough to send a chill down your spine and cause a stir in your gut, legs quivering slightly at the intimacy.

The sudden instability in your footing was taken care of promptly, Pariston’s knee knocked yours apart so he could press his thigh against your clothed clit, the material of your skirt bunching up above where your bodies met so the sight was on full display. Your legs twitched from the newfound stimulation, betraying your internal desires to shove him off of you and run out of the building once and for all, paycheque be damned. Something about the gentle rock of his muscle and its flex against you only drew you in further, and when he pushed in a little harder your legs collapsed, making you grab onto the desk for support.

Pariston lifted his lips from your neck and smirked when he felt the loss of your control in your lower body, pressing his chest against yours and forcing you to lay back flat on the desktop. His hands found your hips so he could pull your lower half onto the desk as well, maintaining his grip there so you’d be stuck in place as he replaced his knee with his hardening cock instead, thrusting against you in a way that was slow but hard and horribly intimate. Your chest heaved up against his, lungs expanding to breathe in the humid air as he made you hotter and hotter with every roll.

Stop. It was going too far.

You moved to put your hands on his chest and push him away, which did nothing because of how heavily he was dropped against you. In retaliation Pariston captured your lips successfully this time around, kissing you roughly with a swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip. The swiftness of it all made you gasp and he took advantage immediately, his tongue moving then to explore the inside of your mouth without any resistance on your part. A sensory overload was imminent, but the senses were all good, a numbing feeling of pleasure against your clit with absolute submission in your mouth, and your hands being trapped between your bodies leaving you defenceless only made you crave more. You craved a peak, to reach the edge and let all of these feelings combust and spread through the entirety of your body; to allow Pariston to take you there.

“Please,” you had parted from him with a gentle pop, your plea was almost inaudible, spoken under your breath as if the sigh you then tried to disguise it with would have passed. But nothing like that could ever pass by Pariston, even if you merely mouthed it he would still know. You looked up at him with heavy eyelids and wet lips, feeling heat rush to your cheeks when you took in his uncharacteristically dishevelled hair and the newfound glow to his skin from the heat that was causing you two to burn up.

The knowing smirk he gave had you reeling your head back with a throaty hum, gripping the collar of his suit jacket with trembling fingers, and his immediate response of placing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on the newly exposed column of your neck made you squeeze his hips with your thighs, pulling him closer.

“I told you, you just had to loosen up a bit. See how much better you feel now?” so rhetorical, almost condescending as if he were really asking you what took you so long to just submit, to admit that you loved how he made you feel before, and how many days you had to suffer through craving his touch but being too afraid to ask for it. How good for you that he made the first move since then!

You nodded your agreement, licking your lips that started to dry out with how many breaths you were taking in through your mouth to help you through such intensely growing pleasure.

“Do you want me to make you come now, Y/N?” His voice was noticeably lower than usual, less playful, and more seductive as he purred these words directly into your ear.

You nodded once more, head moving rapidly to indicate your desperation as you let his jacket go in favour of wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him impossibly closer, complete skin-to-skin contact. He chuckled darkly and pushed his hips into you harshly, knocking the wind out of you as he pressed in as hard as he could before stalling suddenly, fingernails digging into the plush of your hips in earnest.

“Let that be your incentive to finish your work.”

With a nip to your earlobe, a rush of cold air flew over you as Pariston lifted himself off of you completely and walked away. Your brain seemingly stopped working then, every pleasant and tingly feeling that was once flooding you now completely dissipated as you registered the gentle slam of the office door closing.

Sitting up dizzily, your double vision barely caught the disappearance of his brightly coloured suit through the glass of the door as he turned a corner, officially deeming him out of sight and out of this room. No longer touching you, no longer tending to your needy body which was now crying out for him, that would do anything to return the ministrations of his hands and his mouth.

Your legs shook as you sat in silence, the only sound in your ears being the thudding of your racing heart and the soft pants you let out in attempted recovery from such a previously flustered state.

If you wanted Pariston to make you come… you had to finish the extra work from him first. The throbbing between your legs didn’t cease and wouldn’t seem to be any time soon, so with unsteady footing you managed to clutch the armrests of your chair and plop down into it with a thump, weakly reaching for your pen with one frail hand, then the now slightly wrinkled pile of unfinished papers that you were working on before his emergence with the other.

Swallowing dryly, you stared intently at your previous, sleekly written line at the start of the page. Moving your hand now, you finished the first letter of the first word with noticeably wonkier lines, your handwriting resembling that of a child’s. Glancing over at the bottle of wine that was still on your desk, you sighed deeply and couldn’t believe your contemplation of helping yourself to a glass. Or two. This was going to be a dreadfully unbearable night of overtime.

If only it had been anyone else who requested it, you’d have never been reduced to such a pitiful state in the first place. A pitiful state that was going to be teased at and exploited for as long as Pariston continued to be in your everyday life, which you knew he was going to be for a very, very long time.

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