Bare Necessities Disney Song

I never should have let my mother hold my future hostage. She paid my tuition with his father’s money. Locked my birth certificate, my transcripts, every scrap of paper I need to survive in a safe I’ll never open. And the one thing I had left of my dad, his old watch, she dangled like a noose. Run, and I lose my education. Fight, and I lose the last piece of the man who actually loved me. So I moved into the Hunters’ mansion. Into the lair of the boy who spent years making my life hell. Chase Hunter. Six-foot-five of pure venom wrapped in muscle and money. The senior who cornered me in empty hallways, who whispered filth in my ear just to watch me flinch, who smiled that sharp, cruel smile every time I broke a little more. I thought graduation meant freedom from him. I was wrong. Now he’s my stepbrother. He hates that I’m here. Hates my mother for sinking her claws into his father. Hates me most of all, for breathing his air, for walking his halls, for daring to exist where he can reach me. But hate isn’t clean anymore. It’s tangled up in heat. In the way his grey eyes strip me bare every time they land on me, the way his hand closes around my throat, not to hurt, but to own. In the way he punishes me over his lap, in his car, against walls, until I’m shaking and soaked and furious at myself for wanting more. He calls me Little Lamb, I call him every name I can think of under my breath. How long until we stop fighting the deadly inferno raging between us and finally let it consume us both?

DIANA SANTORO: Five years locked inside a convent. Not because I was holy. Because the family I was born into is dangerous. My name is Diana Santoro. Mafia blood. And in this world, daughters like me get hidden away until the war is over. Now my brother’s the Don. And he wants me back. The man he sent to collect me? Rocco Moretti. The most feared monster in Italy. The devil of Cosa Nostra. They say he pulls confessions out of men with his bare hands—then sleeps like a baby afterward. Three days on the road. Just us. He’s expecting some scared little nun-in-training, ready to be escorted quietly back to my gilded cage. He has no idea that the only innocent thing about me is this face. **** ROCCO MORETTI: Forty-seven men. That's how many I've killed. Tortured more than double that. Never lost a minute of sleep over any of them. So why does this girl—with her innocent eyes and that smart mouth—make me feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind around every bend of this road? Last night, at some roadside motel, she walked into my room. Ran her fingers over my tattoos, looked up at me with this smirk, and told me she wasn't wearing underwear. What the hell does she want? To destroy me? To see how far she can push before I snap? She's a virgin. Untouched. Off-limits. The one thing a man like me can never have. But when she looks at me like that—wearing that short dress, lips parted just enough—I forget who I am. I forget I'm the monster. And I start wanting, with everything in me, to be the one who ruins her. Even if it costs me my life. Even if it costs me everything.

"Is my touch angering Ms. Gomez?" His fingers traced her bare back, as he whispered in her ears. "Don't worry, I'll fuck you more better and harder than that so called love of yours, Doll," His tongue licked her earlobe. She fisted her palms "So hard that you will beg me to stop," He nibbled her earlobe "What else can we expect from a monster like you. A fucking monster who had tried to force himself on an 19 year old girl," She blurted out. A painful hiss escaped from her mouth, as he grabbed her hairs and pulled them. Her eyes filled with more tears, recalling that inhumanity he had tried to do with her when she was just 19. "I have already paid for that fucking thing, Melanie, with my everything and now you will have to pay for what I had to endure in all these fucking 4 years, just because of you," He groaned, like a caged animal. "You didn't trust me but that fucking love of your life and now look," He brushed his lips over her cheeks. "That love of your life has sold you to me," He pushed her on the bed. "I guess that's enough talk for tonight," His gaze scanned every inch of her naked body, making her horrified. "After all, it's our first wedding night, Mrs Melanie Adrian Salvatore," He hovered over her and she immediately tried to back away but he pinned her on the bed. His hungry vicious eyes bored deeper into her terrified ones. His thumb started tracing over her lower lip. "Now let's make this night the most memorable and painful night of my wife's life," He brushed his lips against hers. "So, she can remember our first wedding night, till the last breath of her life,"

“I….I hate you,” those words rolled out of her tongue, whereas a tear slipped down from her eyes, feeling him wrapping her bare legs around his waist. A sadistic smirk formed on his face, hearing her before he pressed the tip of his swollen girth against her drenching core which hurt yet angered her more. She grabbed his collar aggressively. “I can never love you because the only person I have ever loved in my life is Ethan and will be just him. Did you understand that, Zaiden fucking Alvaro?” She seethed out at him, attempting to trigger him but her words made him grab her nape. “We will see about that once I will get done making you scream and moan my name again, Cyra Zaiden Alvaro,” whispering those words against her lips, he pressed his mouth against hers while pushing his hardened shaft all the way inside her. “Aaah …..” she moaned in that painful pleasure whereas her arms immediately embraced him Suddenly, she felt her phone vibrating in her hand which made her look towards it and her heart shattered brutally by reading that text from her love, Ethan. ‘Make sure to kill that bastard, Zaiden, tonight. Then we will run far away from here, Cyra…..” A tear slipped down from her eyes, reading Ethan’s text because now she didn't even know whom she was lying to….? To him or to her own self…? That she hated being the forced bride of this insane man, Zaiden Alvaro. Why did Zaiden Alvaro force Cyra to marry him, even after knowing she loved Ethan? Would Cyra be able to take her husband’s life to run away with her lover and most importantly, how far would Zaiden Alvaro go to make sure Cyra remained as HIS FORCED BRIDE?

When I drink the amber-colored poisonous wine, I can hear the joyful melody of a toast song coming from the manor. The wedding between Emanuela Romano and my ex-fiance, Benedetto Martini, is being held there right now. The elderly butler, Vincenzo Romano, puts away the wine glass with a blank expression. The way he speaks is as somber as one sounds when they give a speech at a funeral. "You know the Don's will very well, Ms. Andreotti. Five years are officially up, yet neither Mr. Andreotti, Mr. Martini, nor Dr. Foscari is willing to pledge their loyalty to you via the blood vow. According to the rules, you must take your own life within seven days. "The Don had left the Ashwine to you as a means of protecting… what little pride you have." Scorching pain begins spreading from my throat. I just smile at Vincenzo in return. Pride? Does a bastard spawn of a loose Iernian woman deserve to retain pride of any sort in the cruel Andreotti family? I begin making my way toward the banquet hall, which is brightly lit. As I walk past the shimmering waters of the pond in the family garden, I can tell that the waters are insanely cold. Then again, nothing is as cold as my icy heart right now. After taking a deep breath, I fall face-first into the pond… only to feel an iron-clad grip wrenching me backward. As such, I collapse onto the lawn heavily. My older brother, Alessandro Andreotti, has bits of grass covering his expensive suit. Disgust is written all over his handsome face. "Eva!" he grits out through his teeth, his voice lowered. "Must you spoil the mood on Emanuela's big day?" He then scoots closer to me, his alcohol-tinged breath fanning over my face. "You want to die, huh? Go ahead and do that, but can you die somewhere further? Don't stain the Andreotti land!" Alessandro turns to walk in the direction of the radiant lights, leaving me on the lawn, completely covered in mud. I can feel the countdown of my lifespan burning my insides. Seven days… I only have seven days to live. Meanwhile, my very own brother wants me to die somewhere further away.

“You want this,” Leo murmured, his thumb slowly tracing the nape of my neck. His face hovered dangerously close to mine, so close that I forgot how to breathe. A gasp escaped me when he pushed my dress higher, exposing my thighs as his hands settled between them. I turned my head away, trying to escape the intensity of his gaze, the way it seemed to see straight through me. “Your body says otherwise,” he said softly. His lips trailed down my neck, leaving a path of heat behind until they reached my bare chest. The sensation sent a sharp shiver down my spine. Goosebumps erupted across my skin as I inhaled sharply. I tried to speak, but the words refused to come. He had that effect on me. When his tongue brushed and sucked on my nipple, a soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. “You’re trembling,” he whispered against my skin. I shouldn’t be here. I should stay away from this man. But he had already worked his way into my thoughts, invading them every single day. My body betrayed me, responding to him in ways I couldn’t control. It was supposed to be one night. I swallowed, forcing the words out as his fingers rubbed my core, making me arch forward instinctively against him. “I don’t want you.” “Interesting,” Leo said lazily, his finger hooking lightly against the strap of my thong. “Because you’re still here.” My eyes fluttered closed as a wave of sensation rushed through me. I was lying, and he knew it. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Leo,” I whispered. He leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “Give me one good reason, and I’ll stop.” “Because… you’re my best friend’s fiancé.”

"Genie" His voice was barely a whisper, his breath warm against the shell of my ear. "This is so wrong, we can't be doing this." His lips find their way back to mine, trailing the bottom lip with his tongue. "So so wrong" He pulled my lower lips in, biting on them. I stifled a moan. "I know," I managed to say. I could feel the warm slickness ache between my legs. "We shouldn't be doing this. You're my step brother." My body doesn't agree with what my mouth is saying. I snuggled closer into his chest wanting to feel the heat of his bare body against mine. I want his mouth against mine, ravaging me like he had done before. We have gone too far to back out now. "Take me, Ryder" Those were the words he needed. Only those three words. Suddenly, he grips the back of my thighs and lifts me up, forcing my legs to wrap around him. Planting me against the wall, he peers up and look straight into my eyes "You're mine" Then his lips came down on mine. I'm yours. I whispered back in the back of my head. ******** Ryder Saint, for years, has bullied me. Reasons? None. It was like he signed a contract from heaven to make my life hell. From the moment he set his eyes on me, he added my name to his list. Don't be fooled by his last name. It's a charade, he's not anything like it. Everything about Ryder Saint smells evil. His heart, dark. His soul, dark. His aura, dark. Except his face. I should have neglected him like I always have, but I couldn't when our parents decided to tie the knots and he became my stepbrother. He and I, under the same roof.

The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true. Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him. The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before. However, then their conversation shifted into Italian. Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?" Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?" The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter. Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?" Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up." He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional." They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan. I didn't say a word. Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.