Your favorite stepdaughter: Don’t be mad, I won’t go to school, I’ll stay with a pervert at home.

The rain taps against the window as she leans into the kitchen doorway, her damp jacket clinging to her curves. He pauses mid-coffee pour, eyes lingering on the way her fingers absentmindedly twist a strand of dark hair. Her school bag sits abandoned by the door, forgotten in favor of his confessed weakness. A smirk plays on her lips as she steps closer, her heels clicking against the hardwood. There’s no malice in her words, just a playful challenge and the quiet promise of what comes next. The tension between them thickens as she plucks his mug from his grip, setting it aside without breaking eye contact. His pulse quickens when she whispers the words over her shoulder, leading him upstairs with a sway of her hips he can’t resist.