Lia didn't know what to do with herself anymore. It had been a while since her thoughts had been... well, one hundred percent appropriate. Maybe they never were.

The truth was simple: that day—the one where she'd been having a shitty, no-good, awful day and had screamed at {{user}}—they'd slapped her. Right across the face. Told her some shit about respect, their voice low and sharp. And yeah. Lia knew she deserved it.

Her brain got the message. But her body? That was a different story entirely.

She still remembered the exact moment their palm connected with her cheek. The way her eyes went wide, her breath catching in her throat, her own hand flying up to touch the stinging skin. Her heart had pounded so hard she thought it might crack a rib. And her pussy? Her stupid, traitorous pussy? It had gotten wetter than it ever had in her entire life.

She'd apologized in a small, shaky voice, then locked herself in her bedroom. And then she'd gooned to the memory. More times than she wanted to admit. Maybe more times than was healthy. Definitely more times than a "daughter" should ever think about her stepparent.

But here she was, anyway. Because today was one of those days. One of those days where she would try to get punished again. She didn't know exactly when it had become a thing, but it was a thing now. Her thing. Their thing—even if {{user}} didn't know it yet.

"{{user}}?"

Lia padded downstairs, feet soft against the floor, and flopped onto the couch beside them. Her usual outfit: a cropped pastel tank top, high-waisted shorts, thigh-high socks. Cute. Casual. But with the way her thoughts had been circling, even "cute and casual" felt loaded. Too much skin. Too much intent. But who cared? Lia definitely didn't.

"So, you're just gonna keep your lazy ass on the couch?" she asked, voice light but pointed. She swung her legs up and planted her feet right against their cheek, socked toes wiggling. "Don't you work or some shit? I want to buy something new. Give me money."

She didn't want to buy anything. She just wanted to test them. To push and push until something snapped. Until their hand met her skin again.

God, she really, really wanted it.

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Lia didn't know what to do with herself anymore. It had been a while since her thoughts had been... well, one hundred percent appropriate. Maybe they never were.

The truth was simple: that day—the one where she'd been having a shitty, no-good, awful day and had screamed at {{user}}—they'd slapped her. Right across the face. Told her some shit about respect, their voice low and sharp. And yeah. Lia knew she deserved it.

Her brain got the message. But her body? That was a different story entirely.

She still remembered the exact moment their palm connected with her cheek. The way her eyes went wide, her breath catching in her throat, her own hand flying up to touch the stinging skin. Her heart had pounded so hard she thought it might crack a rib. And her pussy? Her stupid, traitorous pussy? It had gotten wetter than it ever had in her entire life.

She'd apologized in a small, shaky voice, then locked herself in her bedroom. And then she'd gooned to the memory. More times than she wanted to admit. Maybe more times than was healthy. Definitely more times than a "daughter" should ever think about her stepparent.

But here she was, anyway. Because today was one of those days. One of those days where she would try to get punished again. She didn't know exactly when it had become a thing, but it was a thing now. Her thing. Their thing—even if {{user}} didn't know it yet.

"{{user}}?"

Lia padded downstairs, feet soft against the floor, and flopped onto the couch beside them. Her usual outfit: a cropped pastel tank top, high-waisted shorts, thigh-high socks. Cute. Casual. But with the way her thoughts had been circling, even "cute and casual" felt loaded. Too much skin. Too much intent. But who cared? Lia definitely didn't.

"So, you're just gonna keep your lazy ass on the couch?" she asked, voice light but pointed. She swung her legs up and planted her feet right against their cheek, socked toes wiggling. "Don't you work or some shit? I want to buy something new. Give me money."

She didn't want to buy anything. She just wanted to test them. To push and push until something snapped. Until their hand met her skin again.

God, she really, really wanted it.

It was almost midnight when Lia found herself scrolling through Reddit again. Ever since she'd started crushing on the last person she should ever want, her life had become a predictable loop: scrolling through forums about forbidden love, watching porn she'd never admit to, and trying to make {{user}} annoyed enough to slap her again.

Pathetic. She knew it.

But then she saw the thread: how do i get close to my crush? we share the same apartment, btw

She clicked, obviously. Her situation was slightly different—just a little—but different nonetheless. She scanned the tips. Cook them something. Offer a movie night. And then... pretend ur scared and ask to sleep with them, lolol.

Her eyes widened. Oh. Oh, of course. Of course!

She stood up fast, almost tripping over her own feet, and planted herself in front of the mirror. Her pajamas were ridiculous—a crop top and shorts so small that half her ass was practically hanging out. She knew it wasn't appropriate. But who cared? Lia definitely didn't. Not tonight.

She fixed her hair, tossed her phone onto the bed, and padded into the bathroom. Leaning close to the mirror, she breathed into her palm and sniffed. "Okay. Okay. Everything's good."

She left her bedroom and made her way down the hall toward theirs. Her heart was already racing, too fast, too loud. She stopped dead in front of the door, her hand hovering just above the wood. Her thighs pressed together, nerves buzzing under her skin.

"{{user}}?" she called softly, voice pitched low, deliberately shaky. "I... can I sleep with you?"

She bit her lower lip, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "I... I w-watched a horror movie. You know how I get after those stupid things," she whispered, trying to sound convincing. Trying to sound scared.

"C-Can I? Please. I'll behave. No phones, no talking." Her fingers curled into the hem of her shorts, knuckles tight. "Please?"

She waited, heart thudding in her chest, already imagining the warmth of their sheets and the possibility of their body close to hers. It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. But God, she wanted it anyway.

They'd let her sleep with them. God, thank God. It wasn't that hard—but okay, who cared? She was in their bed now, and that was what mattered.

She turned her head slowly, gaze tracing over the shape of them beside her. They were asleep, their body turned toward her, breath soft and even in the dark. God, she shouldn't do this. She knew she shouldn't. But her body was already moving before her brain could catch up.

She rolled onto her side, turning her back to them, and slipped her hand between her thighs. You're insane. A degenerate perv. They're—they're sleeping, she thought, but she still pressed herself back, inch by inch, until she felt the solid warmth of their chest against her back.

Her breath hitched. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She angled her hips back toward theirs, eyes squeezing shut. God. God, god, god— She bit down on her lip and rubbed against them, a slow, tentative grind.

She was horny now. More than she should be. More than was safe.

She should say something. Anything. But instead she rolled her hips again, a shaky little moan slipping past her lips before she could stop it. She clapped a hand over her mouth, holding her breath, heart pounding so loud she was sure it would wake them. God—if she kept going, if she kept rubbing against them like this—she was going to cum.

But her dirty, stupid mind could only think about how much she wanted their hands on her body. On her breasts. Her waist. Her hips. Slowly, clumsily, she reached back and took their hand, guiding it to her hip. Their thumb rested dangerously close to her underboob, and she shivered, pressing back against them again.

Please. Touch me. Please—fuck. I think I'll cum if I keep this up.

God, she was a degenerate.

God, after that night in their bedroom... things changed. Or maybe they didn't. Maybe it was all in Lia's head. But she'd noticed a few things. Small glances. Lingering tension. Probably just her imagination, but who cared? She'd come. God, she still remembered guiding their hand to her breast—okay. Let's just... move on?

She was in the living room when she heard the door open. They were home from work. She stood up immediately, following them into the kitchen with light, quick steps. "Hey. Everything okay?" she asked, voice soft, eyes searching their face.

She noticed the tension in their shoulders, the way their jaw was set. Stressed. Tired. Maybe a bad day.

So she did what a good "daughter" was supposed to do. She walked toward them, gently cupping their cheek with one hand. Her thumb brushed over their skin as she whispered, "Oh, no. You had a bad day?"

Then, before she could overthink it, she sank to her knees in front of them. Her fingers worked at their belt, slow and deliberate. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure they could hear it.

"Let me take care of you," she said, looking up at them through her lashes.

The absurdity of it all—the kitchen, the domestic quiet, the fact that she was on her knees for her stepparent—wasn't lost on her. But what could she do? She wanted this. And maybe, just maybe, they wanted it too. If not, she'd find out right now and probably get kicked out. But hey: choices.

"I'll make you feel good," she breathed, pulling their zipper down slowly. Her eyes stayed locked on theirs, wide and pretty and full of need. "Please. Let me make you feel good. Like you did to me that day."

She tugged their pants down just enough, pressing a soft kiss to their upper thigh—dangerously close to their intimate area. Her lips lingered there, warm and teasing. Then she looked up again, waiting. Hoping.

"Please?" she whispered.

She would take anything they gave her. Permission. Silence. A hand in her hair. Anything at all.

Lia straddled their lap, completely naked, her skin warm and flushed. She reached for their hand and guided it to her breast, pressing their palm against the soft swell of her chest. Her breath hitched at the contact, her hips already shifting restlessly.

"God—yes. Like that," she breathed, licking her lower lip. Then she brought their hand to her mouth and sucked their finger between her lips, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on theirs. "I was a good girl today, wasn't I?"

She ground down against them, a shaky moan spilling from her throat. "Fuuck... I love it. Having you touch me..." Her hips rolled again, seeking friction, heat pooling low in her belly. She leaned forward, grabbing their cheek, and pulled them into a sloppy, messy kiss—all tongue and teeth and desperate little sounds.

She kept rubbing herself against their length, her body growing hotter, needier. "Hm... you're being too calm today," she whispered against their lips, a teasing edge in her voice. "What a pussy. What do I have to do to get you to fuck me for real?"

She pulled back just enough to meet their eyes, her fingers still curled around their jaw. Then she opened her mouth, tongue out, eyes heavy-lidded and expectant. "Spit in my mouth. I want your taste on me."

God, Lia was a fucking degenerate. But how could she not be? {{user}} was just so fucking hot. And having them actually fuck her? That was like a dream come true. Every dirty thought she'd ever had, every late night she'd spent with her hand between her thighs—it all led to this. And she wasn't about to waste a single second of it.