#pariston hill x reader
[pariston hill x fem! reader]
summary: the relationship between you and Pariston is dysfunctional, to say the very least. after he humiliates you at dinner, you still manage to fall into his arms because you were practically made for one another.
warnings: 18+, nsfw, rough sex, public sex, humiliation, degradation, overstimulation, face slapping
word count: 2,510
Your relationship with Pariston started as love and grew into a bond of codependency. He’s always been toxic, manipulating, and self centered. As years passed, traits that were once just characteristics of his personality took over his entire being. Had you known that he would end up this way, you would’ve never agreed to marry him. Your marriage is dysfunctional to say the very least but it’s never uneventful, always keeping you on your toes and bringing excitement to your life. Let’s be honest… You’re clearly missing a few screws for becoming his spouse in the first place. He has a twisted love for you that stops him from letting you go. Perhaps it’s how well you dismiss his stupidity, or how quick you are to put him in his place. Whatever it is, he plans to irritate you for the rest of his life and you’ll allow him to do so in exchange for him fucking you in an anger fueled frenzy. The two of you have a twisted attachment to one another.
Pariston would never admit this, but he frequently invites you out with the goal of embarrassing you in a public setting. You’ve picked up on this long ago and adamantly refuse to go out with him on the days when you don’t have the patience for his shenanigans. This time you couldn’t say no since he made reservations to eat at a restaurant that you’ve heard amazing reviews about. The wait list for this place is usually booked 3 months in advance and you’ll be damned if you’re going to turn down this opportunity.
Dressed in a scandalous strapless black dress and heels higher than you’re comfortable walking in, you grab your purse and leave Pariston in the house to continue getting ready. After waiting in the car for what felt like forever, he finally walks down the driveway in the glittery suit that you absolutely hate. He gets into the drivers seat and notices the amount of skin you’re showing this evening. “Looks like you’re desperate for attention tonight.” His voice is smug and he has a smirk on his face that annoys you. Taking a deep breath to stop yourself from lashing out already, you retort, “Says the man that’s wearing a glittery suit right now.” He makes a comment about how good he looks which goes right over your head while you pray that the food will be worth the headache he’ll cause. He drives to the restaurant awfully slow, taking the longest possible route. Clearly he’s trying to get a reaction out of you already.
After arriving at the restaurant, Pariston hands the car keys to the valet and the two of you make your way in, arms interlocked while walking on a literal red carpet walkway into the establishment. A waitress escorts you both to a circular booth. The menu is simple, offering only the best wines and champagne to accompany the high end meals they serve. You request a glass of the most expensive red wine and a tomato bruschetta as an appetizer which you both agreed on.
Once you’ve both enjoyed the wine and appetizer, the waitress takes your entree orders and informs you that the chef will personally deliver them to your table when they’re ready. This is no shock to you since a lot of the reviews mentioned how delightful it was to be introduced to the head chef when the main courses come out. Pariston hasn’t bothered you too much yet, but you know his antics will begin any second now. Instead of being caught by surprise, you clear your throat and begin to probe, “Mr. Hill, what have you got planned for tonight? We’re having such a lovely evening so far but I’m sad to admit that you’ll end up ruining this somehow.” He shoots you a seemingly innocent smile and doesn’t respond to you. Right when you decide to pry some more, you’re interrupted by the chef bringing your meals.
Dressed in a signature chef’s coat and hat, you feel like the person in front of you is familiar when he begins to speak. He sets down both of your meals and introduces himself. His last name is the same as your old college friend, and his voice is similar to what you vaguely remember. He explains the details of each dish while thanking you for taking the time to dine at the establishment. The chef’s eyes linger on you a tad bit longer and Pariston notices immediately. As if not to embarrass himself by asking whether you’re the person he thinks you are or not, he opts not to ask, the same route you had chosen as well. Instead, he gives a small smile and a nod before he excuses himself. In a condescending tone, Pariston queried, “Chef, wouldn’t it be rude not to say hi to Y/N since you two clearly know one another?” You kick him in the shin underneath the table while shooting a death glare his way. “I believe he’s a friend of mine from college. I apologize for not saying hello sooner. I wasn’t sure if it was actually you and didn’t want to put you on the spot. This is my husband, Pariston Hill. We’re looking forward to enjoying the food.” Your old friend, put off by the hostility coming from your husband, ushers off at the speed of light after apologizing.
The rest of dinner goes by quietly except the waitress checking in on your table. You try enjoy your food and there’s no doubt that it’s tasty but the appetite you had before vanished because of Pariston’s stupidity. Even after all of these years, you’re still irritated, but not surprised, when he humiliates you in front of people. Signaling for the waitress, she makes her way over and clears your entree dishes. Pariston requests a dessert and you politely ask to have it packed to go. He pretends to be shocked, knowing very well that you’re ticked off and ready to leave. “Yes, please make that to go. My wife is eager to get in my pants after this lovely dinner. She’s a real slut for the luxury things in life.” The waitress simply nods her head, clearly taken back by his brazen remark and ultimately feeling embarrassed for you. You feel heat rising up to your face and the urge to scream is almost suffocating. For Pariston’s sake, you take the valet ticket and go get the car. He struts out of the restaurant shortly after and jumps in the drivers seat, driving back towards your home.
“Really Pariston? First, you frighten the chef who happened to be an old friend of mine from college. Second, you made the waitress uncomfortable with your tasteless remarks. Neither one of them deserved to deal with your bullshit.” Thankfully you put your seatbelt on beforehand because he swerves the car abruptly and pulls into a wide alleyway. He steps out quickly, slamming the door behind him and makes his way around to your side with a sinister look on his face. Before he reaches for the door, you push it open, hitting him in the process while you get out.
“I couldn’t help myself when I seen you look at the chef the way you did. For all I know you probably took his cock before like the nasty slut you’ve always been.” You suck your teeth, the scowl on your face is prominent and Pariston is happy to see you getting worked up. Truthfully, you and the chef were only platonic friends. You’re just pissed off because your shitty husband made a scene in front of someone who has only ever been kind to you. He continues, “Also, what I said to the waitress wasn’t a lie, was it? You’d let me take you right here if I tried to. Wouldn’t you, whore?” Brushing passed him to stand in front of the hood of the car, he follows you and grabs you by your throat from behind. His teeth and lips attack your neck, littering you in hickies while he holds you with an iron grip. If you were anybody else you’d be disgusted by him, but degrading you has become a guaranteed method for him to get between your legs. It’s routine at this point for the words Pariston throws at you to send arousal coursing through your body. He wasn’t always like this but as your relationship strengthened throughout the years, you became more familiar with his true colors. He has to uphold a facade because of the public eye but with you, he lets himself be exactly who he really is. A cunning, sharp man who thinks everything is a game.
Pariston grabs your arm and turns you to face him. Your face is flushed and the only smile directed towards him tonight is the one on your face right now. He presses a finger to your lips, signaling you to open with less force than you prefer. His other hand swiftly pulls your dress down, releasing your breasts from their confinement. The breeze makes your nipples perk up and he wastes no time squeezing the bud while you suck on his fingers. He can sense how badly you want him to pummel into you right here.
Not one to give into your desires without some teasing, he tuts his teeth while looking down at you in disapproval. “How shameless are you? Look where we’re at. A dirty alleyway.” Pariston knows that you don’t take his words seriously, but he wishes they would hurt you even a bit. You pull him between your legs, leaning back onto the car hood with him hovering over you. He’s been a troublesome prick the entire night and you show him no mercy while shoving his face between your breast. The deep groan that resonates from him makes your chest and shoulders vibrate. His mouth finds its way to your nipple, sucking passionately before biting down hard enough to make you cry out. You guide his hand between your legs, brushing his fingers against your clit that’s begging for attention. You knew the night would come to this and even though this is nothing new for the two of you, the exhilarating feeling rushing through your body is nothing short of intoxicating.
Pariston unzips his pants, already hard cock on display. Thankfully you wore the thinnest g-string you own, he easily moves the fabric to the side and fully sheathes himself into your slick heat. His hips unrelentingly slap against yours, making you wince at his long length hitting your deepest spot. You throw your head back and notice the apartment windows above you on either side. Some of the lights are on, some off. Anybody could look out of their window and see you right now, the wife of Mr. Hill, getting railed in an alleyway on top of a car that costs more than an average person’s house.
Your legs are wrapped tightly around Pariston’s waist. His hands are on either side of you, holding himself up while he thrusts into you hard enough to shake the car beneath you. Blonde hairs drape over his face, covering his eyes from your view. The only feature you can see are his lips that he’s biting because of how your cunt is sucking him in. For someone who’s always teasing you, it’s a pleasure to see him coming undone with every stroke of your walls. You yank his chin to look at you, grabbing his arm and positioning his hand to play with your clit. “Is my tight little cunt too much for you? Fucking make yourself useful Pariston. This isn’t just about your pleasure now, is it?” A devious smile adorns his face as he accepts your challenge.
Pariston pinches your clit, watching your face contort into a frown that quickly goes away once he starts to swirl his finger. Focusing on your climax now, he slowly pulls out of your soaked cunt before plowing back in. His free hand traces up your stomach, between your breast and soon finds its way to rest on your cheek. Your mind is in a daze from your orgasm that’s building and your legs start to tremble as his finger works rapidly against your clit. You grit your teeth because of the overstimulation and shoot him a glare that makes him slap you right across your face. The sting isn’t too bad, only being amplified by the breeze hitting your skin. When his finger presses against your clit at the right moment, you’re done for. The knot in the pit of your stomach snaps, making your walls clench around his length as he grinds into you. All of the built up tension from tonight leaves your body, you almost want to thank him for being such a pain in the first place. His finger still gently circles your clit even after your orgasm washes over, because any way of torturing you is amusing to him.
Pariston releases his finger from your clit and stands straight up, pulling you by your hips until your ass is hanging off the edge of the car. Your knees are resting over his shoulder and he presses kisses onto your ankles. He stops and looks down at your tight lips clutched around his cock that’s completely soaked in your essence. Too caught up because of the adrenaline flowing through him, he grabs you rather roughly by your arms and pulls you close to him with your legs still folded over his shoulders. In the blink of an eye your back is pressed against a brick wall and he’s rutting into you effortlessly while you’re folded into a pretzel, grabbing his shoulders for any semblance of balance. Sharp stinging pains pin through your back, you realize he’s thrusting into you so harshly that your skin is scraping against the brick wall. Repaying the gesture from earlier, you pull his head back by his hair with one arm and slap him in the face with your other hand. Like the unabashed man he is, the slap pushes him to his climax. He smiles brightly while spilling his seed into you, stroking your walls until every bit is released.
Pariston pulls out of you but doesn’t let you down. Instead, he carries you to the passenger seat and opens the door before setting you down softly in the seat. “Why would I ever stop messing with you if we always end the night like this? Seriously you’re perfect for me!” For the first time tonight, you agree with what he says. Really you are perfect for him, and vise versa. Not many people would be able to deal with his antics and he definitely has a few loose screws, just like you. The two of you might not be a normal couple but you’re both satisfied in your marriage and looking forward to spending the rest of your entertaining lives together. It’ll be fun, at least.
