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writersdrug · 11 days

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Simon Riley x Dog Sitter! Reader pt. 2

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Warnings: light cursing, light nsfw, Simon being the tiniest bit of a creep

A/N: so originally this was just a fluffy thought I had a few weeks ago... it's slowly turning into a longer, multi-chapter series, and Simon is a bit darker than I had intended him to be... but the story is still going to stay relatively normal (there will be full NSFW further down the line, lol)!

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

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"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

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perlelune · 2 months

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Sippy Cup | Coriolanus Snow

The war never left you, so you find a way to cope. One where you never lost your childhood. One where the world is still pure and safe. And Coriolanus can't resist that innocence.

Warnings: NON-CON, Dd/lg, Little!Reader, Innocence Kink, Mentions of war, PTSD, Manipulation, Age Regression, Capitol!Reader

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

The first time Coriolanus catches you and Tigris playing Tea Party, you expect to find disdain in his eyes, mockery perhaps. Instead, another emotion blooms in the blond’s cerulean gaze. Curiosity.

It happens on a sweltering Tuesday afternoon, the sizzling summer rays spilling through the half-drawn lace curtains of your bedroom. As usual, you and Tigris are sitting across from each other with Teddy occupying the third seat between the two of you. He is being his sassy self, of course, complaining about the sitting arrangement and wanting more tea cakes on his plate. You scold him, reminding him what happened the last time he went on a sugar high. Teddy’s eyes are much bigger than his stomach.

Nervousness slithered through you when you confessed your secret to Tigris. You didn’t want to, initially. You missed several days of class at the Capitol University in a row and your best friend grew concerned enough to show up at your house unannounced. She found you right here, playing with your dolls and chatting with your bear.

You explained to her that the pressure to be big is too much sometimes, that instead of shaking and crying on the floor of the girls’ bathroom, you come here. Once you enter your bedroom, every single woe vanishes. Your head is empty and your heart is full. You’re a carefree, happy little girl once more.

To your surprise, there isn’t a shred of judgment in Tigris’ eyes when you tell her. She never utters a single bad word about the neat rows of dolls and plushies adorning your shelves, your soft pink walls, your frilly dresses or the ribbons in your hair. When you reveal your little secret to her, what you did to ward off the nightmares, she simply listens, hands on her chest as her blue eyes fill with tears. You tell her the pink helps erase the red. The same red that splattered across the pavement when your parents and brother’s bodies hit the ground during the First Rebellion. You were still holding your brother’s hand when he fell. You held it even as his palm grew cold and stiff against yours. If it weren’t for the Snow cousins prying your weeping form off his that day, you might have stayed there and met the same fate.

Tigris gave you the warmest hug. Then she asked if she could play with you, if that’d cheer you up. You were ecstatic. Since that day, Tigris would play dolls with you, attend your tea parties and even fill out your coloring books with you sometimes. You never have to pretend with Tigris. Don’t have to pretend to be a big girl. Or speak long, complicated words. Or care about big, important things. You can just be a princess in her pink castle.

It’s why ice scatters in your veins when Coriolanus watches you and Tigris from the ajar door.

“You weren’t coming home, so I came to check on you,” he mumbles as he takes in the scene before him. Your face heats beneath Coriolanus’ wide-eyed stare.

Alarm flickers over Tigris’ face.

“You need to learn to knock, Coryo,” she chides. She whispers a gentle apology to you before getting to her feet. She nudges Coriolanus outside of your bedroom and they head to the bottom of the stairs.

Eavesdropping is bad; you know it. Good little girls don’t peep or listen through the door. But you can’t help it. Heart in your throat, you try to hear the whispered conversation between Tigris and her cousin. You only catch snippets. Your best friend’s voice is a little harsher than you’re used to, like she’s a bit upset.

Don’t you dare make fun of her.

She needs this, Coryo.

Stark blue eyes lock with yours from afar. Your heart slams against your ribcage. You hastily shove the door closed, rushing back to your pink wooden chair.

You pick up Teddy and cradle him against your chest. “Coryo is our friend,” you remind him. “He wouldn’t make fun of us.” Teddy is uncharacteristically quiet. You feel tears rush to your eyes, your bear’s doubts starting to creep into you.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

The deep voice rolling over you yanks you from your thoughts. Your head whips up. Coriolanus’ hunkering at your side, his head tilted in inquiry. You glance past his shoulder. Tigris is standing behind her cousin with her arms folded, her wary gaze glued to his form.

“Join us?” you repeat, dazed by his question.

The corners of the blond’s lips lift.

“Yes, it’s a tea party, isn’t it?”

Your gaze bulges. You never expected to hear such words spilling from Coryo’s mouth. He’s always so serious, so very serious, having no time for games. He’s been like that for as long as you can remember.

You wipe your tears and sniffle.

A little defensive, you clutch fistfuls of your pink dress.

“Tea parties aren’t for boys. They’re for princesses,” you state curtly.

Coriolanus’ expression softens as he considers you.

“Then I could be a knight, from a visiting kingdom.” You purse your lips, brows knitting. The blond’s warm breath caresses your ear as he bends over you, “Knights protect princesses.”

You mull it over. It’d be nice to have someone watch over you and Teddy, make sure no rebels storm your castle walls, paint your heart-covered walls red. You pluck your teddy bear from his stool and question him.

“What do you think, Teddy?” A very serious conversation silently occurs between you and your plushie. After a few minutes, you hum and nod, agreeing with him. Your eyes rise to meet Coryo’s. “Teddy says he’s okay with it.”

A bright smile unfurls on Coriolanus’ handsome face.

“That’s wonderful, princess.”

Over time, Coriolanus’ visits grow more frequent. He even gets into the habit of bringing you gifts, like new plushies and sugary treats. Despite your reluctance to include him because he’s a boy and boys can be mean and smelly, the time you spend with him is always a highlight in your day. Coryo is never smelly; he smells like the flowers in the Grandma’am’s garden and fresh pine. And he’s not mean. He never fails to be sweet to you, bowing to you and kissing your hand like a knight would, and always embracing every one of your games.

He becomes a fixture in your weekly tea parties, often accompanying Tigris or showing up when she’s too busy at the workshop to make it.

Somehow he always finds time for you, even if you know he’s so busy with important, grown-up things. You’re delighted. While playing alone is fun, your imagination knowing no bounds, it’s always better with a friend.

Today is one of these days. It’s just you and Coryo hanging out in your bedroom. He spends most of the evening handing you crayons while you color in the new picture book he got you, a comfortable silence swaddling the both of you. Coryo appears content just observing you, a peaceful smile hovering on his lips. The book is full of beautiful drawings of birds and landscapes. You never had one this nice so you were beyond thrilled to start coloring it.

When the sky gets darker outside your window, you sit up. You turn to Coryo.

“It’s getting late. I guess it’s time for the tea party to end. It was lovely of you to visit us, Sir Coriolanus and we hope-”

“Tigris said you were having nightmares,” he interrupts.

You go still, the crayons between your fingers clattering to the floor.

“That was a secret,” you mutter, your chest clenching. Why would Tigris tell him that? She’s your best friend. She should keep all your secrets forever. As you simmer in disappointment, Coryo places his fingers under your chin and lifts it. Your tearful gaze meets his.

“You can trust me too, princess,” he assures softly.

As you drown in his gaze, you get lost in a memory. Suddenly all the pink in your room is gone. Unmoving bodies. Gaping mouths. Hollow eyes.

Bright red ribbons flowing from their mouths. Crimson confetti popping from their bellies.

Everything in your vision becomes red.

You curl against the edge of the bed and close your eyes.

Hands on the side of your head, you take a deep breath. You slowly open your eyes again. You focus on the plushies sitting on your shelves until the somber clouds over your thoughts turn into cotton candy again.

You coax a shaky smile onto your lips.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just play?”

He chuckles.

“It’s too late for games, princess. Isn’t it your bedtime by now?”

“Then I guess you should go, Coryo,” you say, resting your chin against your knees.

Coriolanus pauses, studying you for a while.

His next words are barely above a whisper.

“Or I could stay.” His large hand drapes over yours, covering your knees. “I could sleep in your bed with you.”

Shocked that he’d even suggest such a thing, you gasp.

“Boys and girls don’t sleep in the same bed,” you mumble.

He cocks his head, amusement swimming in his blue eyes.

“But I’m not a boy. I’m your knight, remember?”

Happiness flows through you with this reminder.

“Yes, you are,” you chime.

His fingers slowly drag over your joined knees.

“Actually…I could be more than your knight, princess.” His gaze locks with yours. “I could be your daddy.”

Your forehead creases, confusion mounting inside you.

“My daddy?”

His lips twist in an uneven smile.

“Yes…daddies protect their little girls. Just like knights.” His fingers drift down to your ankle, the warmth of his touch seeping through your thigh high socks. “They don’t let anyone hurt their pretty princesses. And they keep the nightmares and monsters away at night.”

Amazement colors your tone with this knowledge.

“Really?”

“Of course.” He cups your cheek. “I could sleep in the bed with you and keep my little girl safe that way.”

“I could even tell you a bedtime story.”

Your eyes light up. “A bedtime story?”

He fondles your cheek, his expression softening.

“Of course, anything for my sweet little girl.”

You climb into bed, your entire body shaking in anticipation. Coryo removes his shoes. He picks a book from your shelf and joins you on the bed. He gets under the covers with you and tucks your head against his chest. He opens the book to the first page, his tone patient and clear as he begins to read the tale to you. Your lids sag as you relax against Coryo, his fingers absently stroking the top of your head. You get engrossed in the story of a princess who gets lost on her way home. Lulled by his deep voice, you sink into sleep before the story’s even done.

For the first time in a while, a dreamless slumber welcomes you that night.

When Coryo’s tall frame slips through your door that day, hope twitches inside your chest.

Tigris promised she’ll come today. She’s canceled on you so much lately and expressed how awful she feels about it, so you have been looking forward to seeing her again.

For some reason, work has been exceptionally busy these last few weeks. And while you understand how important work is to your best friend, you’ve missed her so much.

However as he clicks the door shut and you realize no one’s trailing behind Coriolanus, your shoulders slump.

The faint hope you harbored withers away.

“I thought Tigris was coming today.”

Coriolanus sighs as he inches towards you.

“I know princess…” He plucks your hands from your lap. “But there was an emergency at the dress shop. It’s gonna keep her the whole night.” His lips graze the back of your hand. “I’m sorry, she said it was more important than being here.”

Your mouth flies open.

More important than being here? Coryo’s words drive a dagger through your chest, his sympathetic expression twisting it even more.

You lower your head. Tigris has had a lot of emergencies lately. You hardly spend any time together anymore. Part of you even wonders if maybe she’s sick of playing with you. After all, Tigris is a big girl with many things to do. You know she dreams of becoming a stylist and that’s likely more important than silly little girl games. You swallow the tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

Coryo cradles your face.

“But daddy’s here to play with you.”

Your voice trembles as you quell a sob. You look at him, warmth flowing through your chest. Your daddy’s right. You have no reason to be sad. After all, he’s with you. Just like he’s held you against him so many times in the last few weeks, reading you stories to help you fall asleep, and cheering you up whenever you felt sad, you can always count on your daddy.

“That’s amazing, daddy.”

His eyes seem to flare with an idea.

“Actually I thought we could play a new game today.”

Curiosity widens your gaze. “A new game?”

Coryo pulls you closer, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“Yes.” He pauses before revealing slowly, “It’s called ‘Mommy and Daddy’, princess.”

“Mommy and daddy?” Your brows squeeze together in confusion. “Tigris and I have never played that before.”

Coryo licks his lips, his gaze running over you.

“It’s a special game between daddies and their little girls,” he explains, his tone lower than before.

“I don’t know it.”

A deep chuckle parts from his lips. You frown, not understanding what’s so funny.

“I know you don’t, sweet girl,” he says. fondling your cheek. A tilted smile blooms on his lips. “It’s okay because Daddy can teach you all about it.”

You feel nothing but complete trust as Coriolanus nudges you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You look up at him, a mix of confusion and curiosity written on your features. He smiles at you, sinking to his knees to remove your shoes.

You watch him do it, wondering why they need to be off for the game. Your daddy’s palm lingers on the sole of your socked feet, his finger traveling upward, dragging over your ankle.

His eyes look a little weird now, though you can’t explain in what way. You frown, the air around you growing colder.

Did you forget to close the window?

He crawls over you, pushing you down on the mattress. Coriolanus’ smell surrounds you and your nose twitches. You’re not used to being so close to him. You can make out every detail of his handsome face, trace every one of his long lashes, and distinguish every line on his face.

He scrutinizes your form beneath him, one hand beside our head while the other sweeps under your thigh.

“What’s going on, daddy?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“It’s a game that’s easier played on a bed, princess.”

You give a nod of understanding. He strokes the side of your face, pride lacing his tone.

“Such a good girl.”

He bends his head against your shoulder. You hold your breath, a little uncomfortable for a reason you can’t place. Daddy drops a kiss at the base of your neck. Goosebumps spark on your skin. His kisses go lower and lower, his large hands following the same path.

When his fingers land between your legs, your eyes go wide with confusion.

“D-Daddy, what are you doing?”

A soft gasp leaves you as he begins to rub your cotton panties.

“There’s a special place where daddies touch mommies,” he whispers. He clutches at your center and the breath dies your throat. Your body gets hotter, your belly tightening as he pinches you in a particular spot. Coriolanus’ fingers go up and down. It both hurts and doesn’t hurt. Twisting and pulsing in a foreign way the more he touches you. Overwhelmed by the feeling spreading all the way to your toes, you cling to his arms for support.

His blue eyes are glued to your squirming frame as he traces circles around that little spot that leaves you feeling strange.

The hand besides your head moves, drifting to unbutton his pants. Your heart skips a beat as a part of your daddy you never saw is revealed to you. It’s big and red at the tip. You tense, heat rushing through you as you look away.

“Look at me, princess,” he instructs, drawing your quivering chin back to him. He presses himself against your little girl parts. Whimpers spill from your mouth as he humps you through your clothes, pinning you underneath his frame.

His hot breath rolls over your face.

“How does it feel?”

“A little weird.” You shake your head, a surge of tears threatening to break free beneath your lashes. “I don’t know if I like this game…”

He frames your chin, squeezing more tightly than usual. “Do you want to make daddy happy, princess?”

“Y-Yes,” you stammer.

His thumb skims over your shuddering mouth.

“This is daddy’s favorite game to play with his princess.”

“Okay…”

Your mood sinks. You’re liking the game less and less the longer it goes on, but you don’t want to disappoint your daddy who held you almost every night to chase away the bad dreams. His daddy thing gets heavier and bigger against your belly while he moves. He grunts, his throat rippling. The sensation is almost too much to bear, your vision swaying as he stimulates your little girl parts.

Daddy’s game is a little strange, you’re starting to think, and it’s making you feel weird things. Weird, tingly things. And it makes the room spin like a carousel.

You try to close your legs, stop the wave of strange, uncomfortable feelings…But Coriolanus wedges himself between your thighs, forcing your knees apart.

“Daddy…”

His brow twitches. “Shh, let daddy take care of you, princess.” His lips cover yours, smothering all your doubts. You feel bruises form on your mouth and cheek as he kisses you harshly. Lips trailing down to your neck, he pulls your panties down your legs.

There’s barely time for you to register the cool air hitting your bare center before he’s starting to push himself in. The pain strikes you mute at first. Just the tip of him is so much. Too much. It feels like you will break any second. Coriolanus pants above you, straining to fit as you squeeze around him, fear and pain throbbing through you.

“It’s okay, princess. Daddy’s got you,” he mutters.

When he sinks even further, a broken sob leaves you. A fire burns you from inside, amplifying every time your daddy moves ever-so-slightly.

Tears fill your eyes to the brim.

“I don’t like this game, daddy. Can we stop playing, please?”

He wipes your tears with soft kisses. The words pouring into your ear, while uttered sweetly, are firm. “The game’s not over until daddy says it is, princess.”

Your breath falters as he goes all the way inside. He hums deep in his throat, draping himself over your shaking frame. Your head lolls to the side, your eyes wandering to your dolls and stuffed animals. The abrupt urge to poke their eyes out so they don’t have to see any of this blooms inside you. Tears stream down your cheeks as Coriolanus thrusts inside you. His throaty moans mingle with the slapping of skin against skin. The noises your daddy makes get louder every time he slams into you. He spreads your thighs more, pushing deeper. When you tighten around him, your daddy moans, his eyes rolling back.

“You’re squeezing daddy’s cock so well, princess,” he lauds, knuckles dragging over your temple.

He goes faster, hitting sensitive parts that draw sharp noises of agony from you. Every part of your body is wide awake with pain and discomfort. Numb with a plethora of confusing, terrifying emotions, you don’t move as his hips snap into yours relentlessly.

The game lasts for hours, it seems. You’re thankful when daddy appears done, his movements getting sloppier as his pace slows.

As his hips stutter, his hand wraps around your jaw.

“Daddy’s going to come inside you, so you have to say ‘thank you’”

A hoarse sigh leaves him, his lashes fluttering as he empties himself inside you. You shudder.

“Thank you for coming inside me, daddy,” you mechanically repeat. Bile rises in your throat as the excess gathers around your folds, pooling over your once pristine white sheets.

His sweaty form folds over yours. Another tear slides down your cheek.

“Such a good girl for me.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck and coos, “We’re going to play so many fun games together, princess.”

Your stomach curls with dread at that promise.

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