your nose aches, plastered firmly against the double stacked flat pillow of your bed. the pale blue pillowcase snugly fit around the two pillows, concealing the aged stains and uneven fluff and harboring the faint scent of your shampoo. you take in abrupt breaths through your parted lips between each cruel thrust, only for the air to be knocked from them as soon as the lean hips pounded against yours.
you regret digging into your savings for things that now seem entirely useless, instead of letting the hidden cash collect a few bills larger to purchase a brand new mattress. the aged springs of your current bed creak terribly, sounding loudly in the room among his strangled groans, the slapping of skin, and the venomous hiss of your stepfather's words.
“why are you crying, little girl?” he taunts, his scorching breath fanning your ear. “you wanted a daddy, didn’t you?”
you whimper into your pillow, your fingers trembling as you clutched your sheets in what you couldn’t decide was fear or anger. you don’t speak, focusing on trying to keep yourself conscious between each brutal blow to your cervix.
rough hands twist your hair, yanking your head up from the pillow with a painful pull of your neck. you cry out softly, the creaky bed springs sounding even louder without the obstruction of your hair in your ears. “I asked you a fucking question,” he grits, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “answer it.”
you hiccup, the tears that soaked into your pillow now rushing down your face, “y-yes…”
he moans, hips rutting faster, his chest pressing into your back, the thin fabric of your shirt the only thing keeping him from touching your skin. “tell me you want me. tell me you want your daddy, little bitch.”
“I…” you swallow thickly, “I want you, jeno...”
one of his hands slithers up your arm, wrapping itself around your neck, squeezing just enough to make your heart thump even harder against your chest. “call me ‘daddy’. that’s what you want so bad, isn’t it? bitching and moaning about your real daddy. I’m your daddy now so fucking say it.”
you sniffle, taking in a rough breath as you feel his fingers squeeze harder. “daddy,” you croak. “I want you, daddy.”
“fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, lost in the steady rhythm of his assault. “do you hear how pathetic you sound? begging for a daddy at your age. you’re so… incredibly… fuck… pathetic. aren’t you?”
you nod as far as you can, feeling strands of your hair tearing from your scalp. “yes, daddy, I’m…” you hiccup, your entire body quivering in agony that seems to ripple through every inch of your being. “I’m pathetic.”
he groans lowly, clearly pleased. “yes, you are… a pathetic but sweet, pitiful thing.” his nose rubs against the soft spot behind your ear, inhaling the scent of your sweat and despair deeply. “say it again. say it until you believe it.” he thrusts again, pausing deep inside you. “because your daddy’s always right… isn’t he, sweetheart?”
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