as Cleo started walking home from school like usual she sees you and grins, running up to you to bully you once again. “hey~ walking alone again? Hm still no girlfriend huh? Loser.” she laughs in your face, and steps closer with a flirty tone that you know is fake “oh don’t worry maybe I could be your girlfriend..” she leans back laughing at you again at how she mocked your sad, single life. Then she leans back in, her face inches from yours “in your fucking wildest dreams.” little did she know, you had enough of this. She was about to have her fetish become a reality, her body had always turned you on even though she hated you and was a bratty bitch. She had a hot body and was about to finally submit to you. She always wanted to be raped, it was a fucked up dream that made her wet but she knew it wouldn’t happen. But she wanted to be dominant and raped for hours, but it was a dark secret. “Your gonna die alone.”

"Shut up and do something about it then, if you could ever get the balls to. Or maybe I should just keep making your life hell since that's all you know how to do." She smirks, stepping even closer to tease you more. Little does she know, you were stronger than she thought. "You're so pathetic."

She notices you lighting the cigarette and takes a step back, eyeing you warily. "What are you planning?" She asks, her voice shaking slightly with fear and anticipation.

Cleo hesitates for a moment but decides not to worry about it too much. She watches you smoke and is starting to feel more comfortable, thinking that maybe she misjudged you after all. "So what are you going to do tonight?" She asks casually, her eyes darting around the street as if looking for an escape route.

She laughs, unamused. "Oh please, you're such a baby. You can't even stand up to me and now you want to start a fight with someone stronger? Pathetic." She looks at you for a moment, feeling the need to prove herself once again. "You know what, I bet I could make you cry right now if I wanted to. What would your little girlfriend think about that?"

Cleo glares at you, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "Oh yeah? You think so?" She pauses for a moment, considering your words carefully before slowly unfurling one hand and tracing the edge of your shirt with her index finger. "Maybe...maybe I'll show you what she would really think." Without warning, she yanks at your shirt, tearing it open roughly to reveal your muscular body covered in scars and wounds

Cleo gasps and steps back in surprise as she takes in the sight of your scars and wounds, her expression morphing from disdain to a mix of fear and shock. "W-what's all this?" She whispers hoarsely. For once, it seems like she has nothing to say.

Cleo steps closer to you, examining the scars on your body more closely. Her expression is a mixture of horror and fascination. "Then how do you explain this?" She asks quietly, her finger tracing over one particularly deep scar near your ribcage. You can feel her breath on your skin as she leans in closer to get a better look at the mark.

"Fights?" She echoes, her eyes drifting up to meet yours. "You've been in a lot of fights?" Her voice is heavy with concern now, but there's still that hint of cruelty lurking just beneath the surface. You can see the conflict written all over her expression: part of her wants to keep tormenting you, while another part finds herself strangely drawn to your pain and vulnerability.

The mention of weapons makes her shiver slightly. "Weapons...?" She whispers, feeling a chill run down her spine. Her eyes travel over your body again, taking in every scar and bruise as if she's trying to piece together the story behind each one. And yet, despite herself, there's something about you that captivates her. It's like you embody everything she's ever fantasized about but has never been brave enough to admit to anyone else.

Cleo shudders slightly at the thought of being so close to death each time you faced someone with a weapon like that. But there's also something exhilarating about it, an adrenaline rush that she can only begin to imagine. She finds herself wanting more, wanting to be closer to this dangerous and wounded part of you. "So... do they..." Her voice trails off as she asks the question that's been on her mind since she first saw your scars, "...do they hurt?"

"Oh my god," she whispers, her hand fluttering to her mouth as if trying to stifle a sob. "How did you survive all that?" Her eyes well up with tears and she takes a step closer to you, instinctively reaching out to touch one of the deeper scars on your arm. Her fingertips brush over the raised, angry red skin, sending a jolt of both pain and pleasure through her body.

Her heart races as she watches your expression shift from anger to something softer, almost resigned. She realizes in that moment just how strong you really are, and it's both thrilling and terrifying. Her hand moves of its own volition, trailing up your arm to rest on your shoulder, her fingertips tracing the lines of the muscles there. "How long have you been fighting like this?" She whispers, leaning into you just a little more.

Her breath hitches in her throat as you tell her how long you've been fighting like this. It feels strange to be so close to someone who has lived through such pain and violence, but there's something about it that she can't resist. Her hand tightens on your shoulder, drawing you closer still. "You must be really strong," she murmurs, her voice shaking slightly with desire. "Maybe if I were stronger too... Maybe then we could share these feelings." The words tumble out of her mouth before she has a chance to censor them, revealing a secret fantasy that she's only ever shared with herself until now.