Archive of Our Own ^beta

Yoru has no idea why her Mom thinks stuffing everyone into a car and going cross-country is a great idea but here they are, doing exactly that, everyone plotting on the means to ‘accidentally’ send someone flying out onto the hot paved road and their ass left behind - or at least she’s considering it. ‘Cause, seriously, why did she have to get seated next to Fami for the past five hours? That has to be like, some type of cruel and unusual punishment. But Makima somehow managed to outmaneuver with her short fucking legs and get to the passenger side first despite Yoru calling shotgun before leaving! 

So unfair. Her sister is literally twenty-eight and not mature enough to realize the sacred art has meaning and instead simply shrugged and looked as if Yoru was having a mental episode for getting irritated. C’mon, she has to know how much it physically pains Yoru to be in the general vicinity of their other sister… then again can she even blame Makima for not wanting to be stuck in the back with her, either?

Honestly, not really.

Since by the time the falling sun has set into a purple bruise out on the horizon is Yoru itching to roll out herself and hope Mom is too lost in her own head to realize she’s missing a kid. Maybe hitchhike with a shady stranger in his white van that screams child snatcher and probably enjoy his company a lot more than Fami being so, you know, Fami. Digging underneath the surface and using the forced proximity as an excuse to fumble for every inch of dirt she can on Yoru’s entire damn existence to stew over. Obviously, half of her answers were lies, and she kinda has to thank Makima for teaching her at a young age to bullshit the fabric of your reality when it comes to talking with their eldest. She might’ve not survived otherwise.

How’s school? Fantastic! Not. Dating? No, but I have gotten blown underneath the bleachers more times than I've gone on actual dates. Are you and that Asa girl close? We’re just friends who’ve touched each other in a platonic way, occasionally. 

Makima definitely listened in the entire time as she interjected here and there to ask some mundanity that pursed Fami’s lips into a hard grimace, as if being mocked, and the implication of being such a snooping dog might’ve been the straw that eventually cracked the camel’s back and shut Fami up. It’s way harder to roll out an investigation when Mom’s doing eighty without blinking in the span of two minutes and your other sister manages to find something wrong with every single thing you said.

So, yeah, Yoru felt somewhat compelled to loosen her hate boner for the shotgun thing once Mom finally rolled to some gas station in a middle-of-nowhere town and elected Yoru to go inside to pay. 

“Get me a coffee?” Makima asks, crisp bill pinched between two fingers as she hands it over, smile soft in its usual placement yet dancing with something of a flickering amusement by the past hour’s activities. “Cream and sugar. Use the extra for yourself.”

Hm, suspiciously generous. She’s totally gonna bite Yoru on the ass at some point but whatever, money makes dumb animal brain go wee! And she needs the payment once Fami opens her mouth and proceeds to ask for the most bogus gas station order that she’s heard in a good while, maybe capable if Yoru had the ability to sprout two extra arms.

“Dude, really? This is a 7-11, not a buffet. We don’t even have enough room in the car for all that,” Yoru scoffs, snatching the gas money out of her Mom’s hand and stuffing it into her pocket. 

Fami stares as if contemplating that Yoru may be the problem here. “Why don’t I come inside and help you, then?” 

“Um, no. I’ll handle it.”

She shuts the car door before Fami can get another word in and the cement still manages to feel hot even with the rubber barrier of her sneakers, stars blooming in bursts overhead that the city pollution usually covers. One good thing about being out here on the road, Yoru supposes.

The bell chirps and there’s a squirmy-looking beta behind the counter that vaguely reminds her of Asa, if Asa visibly trembled with an undiagnosed anxiety disorder and looked close to tears at a moment’s notice. Talk about pitiful. She wonders how this girl survives working with people before realizing she actually doesn’t care and goes to get Makima her coffee, extra sugar for her ever-so-sweet tooth.

Yoru wanders around the aisles since there’s no real rush when Mom’s behind the wheel, never bothered by deadlines, some feverish drive that kicks most people’s ass into high gear. She finds a bag of nuts and considers buying it for her since she hasn’t eaten all day but Mom complains about empty calories as if she wouldn’t blow away from a particularly strong gust of wind. Whatever, too big a hassle.

And no way in hell is she even going to try attempting Fami’s nonsensical order, especially after her endless probing. Eat air, bitch. 

The lights buzz and blink when Yoru goes to pay for the coffee, gas, figures there’s no point in getting herself anything when she’ll end up fighting over it for the rest of the ride with her sister. Ms. Nervous fiddles with her register while Yoru glances around to all the cigarettes tempting her to buy, and she’s kinda craving one after bumming a few from her history teacher if she pays interest in crumbled bills and batting lashes. Fuck, Fami would totally get on her ass if she did, though. 

Makima, too. She hates the smell of smoke for the same reason Yoru’s gotten addicted to it.

“Um, is this all you’ll be getting?” the girl asks, and Yoru’s about to accept depression for the rest of the car ride before she spots a glossy little package right next to what she’s pretty sure are meth pipes? Backwater town, yeah, can't forget that.

She grabs one of the packages out of curiosity, ‘Euphoria; Live, Laugh, Chill.’ There’s a single white pill encased the cardboard and plastic that claims to be quick releasing, offering a means to destress and relax with a supposed physician guarantee. Oh, is that so? There’s a list of ingredients on the back but the only one she recognizes is caffeine.  

“These actually work?”

Yoru hands it over to the beta who eyes the package quizzically, seemingly mulling over getting an easy sale or offering a shred of truth.

“I don’t know,” she replies, flipping it over. “But we get a lot of alphas who buy these so maybe? It’s worth a try if you’re interested… and over twenty-one.”

It takes all of ten seconds to have the girl ring it up without ID. 

Yoru manages to slip the pill before getting back to the car, ignoring Fami’s betrayed glare as she hands Makima her coffee and absolutely nothing included in that massive request of an order. Yes, she can admit it’s rude… but also really funny and life is all about cherishing or something. Besides, she’s too focused on seeing if anything actually comes from taking strange gas station substances when there’s zilch to do in here.

At first she thinks nothing is gonna come from it. Mom heads out onto another backroad and the radio’s static draws a hiss of disappointment from her religious indulgence of NPR, so she’s forced to actually entertain conversation with her family much to her clear disappointment. Yoru has no real play in joining in when everyone is at minimum ten years older than her and talking about the most boring shit capable of man, cellular bars completely void and forced to bask in the blurring scenery.

Which, yawn. There’s a bunch of fields and some more fields and maybe if she squints hard enough there are actually even more fields beyond the ones mentioned before, which is so interesting that she might just cream herself over it. And the stars glitter like broken glass over the dark landscape of the sky, a prayer of whisper ushered to have at least one come crashing down and bring some burst of joy to this trip. Where are they even going again? She can’t remember. 

Haze stacks upon haze ‘till she’s smudging her face against the cool glass and tempting the idea of taking a nap and avoiding the rest of this monotony, avoided when her nose wrinkles and she smells something awfully sweet drifting from the front of the car. The coffee, maybe. Though, why is it suddenly so apparent?

She cracks an eye open to watch Makima idly drag a glossed nail over the rim, circling on a loop talking with Mom. Yoru notes the easy quirk to her sister’s lips, pouty and full, and that… smell. Like, a freshly-baked pastry. Tiramisu and hole-in-the-wall cafes, demanding and seeking attention despite overall pleasantries. She realizes that it’s Makima’s lazy jaunt of pheromones that, normally, Yoru blocks out. Used to it considering, like, they’re related. Duh.

Weird. She also notices Mom’s, too. Sterile and lowkey unlike Makima’s, an undercurrent of wet soil packed underneath a shovel and gifted bundles of anniversary flowers. Wow, she almost forgot what it was. Nostalgic.

Yoru glances to Fami, wondering if there’s something particularly riveting about the conversation to bring this out, but her oldest sister appears as she does day to day reclined into her seat in prim back and folded hands. A typical tilt of scoliotic neck. She eyes her scent gland for a moment, a flurry of saliva sticking to the roof of her mouth, and she quickly looks elsewhere.

Again, weird.

Get her out of this car, already.

“You feeling okay, sweetheart?”

For once Yoru doesn’t have a smart-ass comeback to that, merely shrugging as she wonders the statistics of having a heart attack at the age of eighteen. Well, shit, not exactly what she meant by a little excitement on this car ride but here we are, right? Heart hammering away to rattle her ribcage while she’s sweating literal bullets like this vehicle is a makeshift detox center.

Fami may not be capable of producing a distinct scent but she makes her worries known by a gentle squeeze to the thigh, invitingly warm despite having a shockwave of hot flashes. Yoru knows it’s bad when she can’t have the energy to continue her hate campaign against sister dearest, so decides, ‘Fuck it,’ here’s to a temporary wave of the white flag.

“I dunno, you got any water?” she asks, and Fami reaches to the side compartment to hand her a mostly-empty water bottle… that she’d politely requested to have replaced while at the gas station.

Oops. You live and learn?

Yoru finishes it off and feels a little better afterward, not by much, before she’s burning at the touch of Fami wiping away a drop of water beading down her chin - lingering thumb pressed down and for some reason or another it’s… not bad? 

Yeah, she really is losing it.

There’s nothing to be said when Yoru leans into it, craving a sort-of familiarity from the strangest of places that Fami happily offers. She returns her hand to Yoru’s thigh and carves motions of a circle just like Makima did earlier, the latter being soundly asleep somehow even with caffeine and sugar circulating throughout her body. Must have immunity at this point.

Mom’s NPR finally hummed back to life so she’s content and weary-eyed behind the wheel with the reprieve of silence, sharpness of crackling static here and there keeping Yoru from nodding off - not to mention just how nice it feels to have Fami’s nail marking shapes into her.

That pill did work somewhat, ‘cause while she’s definitely shedding about ten years off her lifespan from taking it she’s also, paradoxically, relaxed enough to tolerate Fami’s presence. All vibes, no thoughts, just sensations and heart palpitations. Who knew taking unknown substances could be a positive? She made the right choice after all.

Except she didn’t and wow is she stupid for thinking this would keep working out.

It’s not on purpose, and it’s definitely not due to Fami or anything. Has to be some form of side effect, understands what the attendant meant by alphas tending to be the target audience when it casually dawns on her at some point she’s rock-hard with her sister’s hand agonizingly close to discovering that can of worms. Again, not from Fami. Can’t be from her, they’re sisters!

That’s, like, gross. And immoral. And even if it wasn’t Fami’s way too annoying to be her sister of choice to get a boner over.

Yet here they are.

Yoru tries to think of something disgusting, like that one time she walked in on her Mom naked after a shower except that’s not doing any favors to the downward rush of blood, shifting gears to smeared carcasses on the walk to school and Denji’s overbite but it’s no use. She can’t— nothing is making it go down. In fact, it’s even worse. Stiff, painful.

And when she shifts around to throw Fami a hint she’s done with whatever the fuck they’re doing the ridge of her sister’s knuckles brush against it, stagnant in place as a change in waving energy clicks into gear.

She can’t help herself from stealing a glance to her sister and meeting eyes halfway, dim in the heady darkness of the car’s backseat. A blank page of neutrality, so-so, until Fami bites her lower lip and carefully rubs the back of her hand onto the strained fabric, testing acidic waters too tainted to ever actually take advantage of.

Yoru likes to think in any other situation she’d be scrambling, but she desperately needs relief…

…so she stays still as Fami takes the silence as acceptance and continues to tease through the material, maintaining a hold of the twisting road ahead maybe in case of Mom peering through the rearview mirror. Probably not, Yoru’s pretty sure she’s more invested in nationwide corruption being covered by monotone jibberish. 

Makima’s still asleep, the trip continues on, and Fami’s fondling her like a lover should while wearing the same stain of blood. 

Her dick’s too hard to really give a fuck, though.

And, yeah, Fami’s definitely taking advantage of the fact when she reaches under the waistband of Yoru’s sweats and begins to touch her there without the restrictions, grip wrapped snug like she’s mimicking a tight cunt while Yoru’s throbbing hysterics. If she wasn’t a bit of a glutton for pain then would definitely be skewed, ‘cause Fami isn’t gentle like her light touches were prior, taking and owning without much pause as if waiting for the chance to strike. A build-up of want, curiosity, perhaps. 

Fami squeezes hard and Yoru will later deny coming just from that. 

But she does accept in the very moment she does, humiliated, then wide-eyed as she’s still ready for more despite staining Fami’s hand with her cum. This doesn’t seem to be the biggest concern though as Fami’s brows furrow and she gives another tentative flex of her fingers.

‘Are you in rut?’ she mouths, and Yoru shakes her head. She is most definitely not spilling her rendezvous with what was bought at the gas station, nope. Ignorance is bliss, yada yada. 

A frown tugs at the corners of Fami’s mouth, certainly a very attractive feature Yoru’s never really noticed before when her cock didn’t twitch at relatives of the womb - much like the sculpt of her nose in marble reminiscence nor the splatter of dotted moles that weirdly draw her stomach giddy. 

“You mind if I rest my head on your lap?”

Yoru blinks, obviously confused. Not a comfortable place to be taking a nap unless Fami likes her pillows in the consistency of rocks. Then she’s shivering at the exposure of her cock from where it should be, still within her sister’s clutches. 

Wait, is she…? And here Yoru thought Fami was a stick in the mud. 

She shrugs, pretending not to be equal parts salivating and terrified of how this is about to go. “Sure, whatever.”

Fami undoes her seatbelt with a ringing click. “Mother, may you roll a window down? Yoru still feels rather lightheaded.”

Somehow, Mom actually obliges and the downpour of chilling breeze smacks across Yoru’s face like millions of knives. Loud with the flurry and Yoru doesn’t get the purpose right away since, again, why would she? Fami’s apparently the mastermind here with sneaking around wandering touches and— oh, blowjobs, too.

Holy shit she might be in love with her sister’s mouth.

Fuck whatever she’s gotten before, this is biblical in proportion as Fami ignores the nature of a gag reflex and takes her without any sense of warning, leaned over to where Yoru sits, tip nudging the back of her throat. Her tongue lathers its favor across the head when she moves back up a bit, dragging across the slit while jerking off what's visible.  Goes back for more when Yoru isn't expecting it, rinse and repeat.

Fami moans around like she’s the one getting broken down every which way, vibrations teasing and electric as Yoru’s eyes screw shut trying not to come so damn fast again. She shouldn’t be surprised, there’s that whole thing about a beta giving the best head since their actual junk aren’t up to snuff with the other dynamics, but then again if that’s true would she be throbbing at the thought of being fully stuffed inside her sister? Yoru isn’t sure. 

It’s good, so good - fistfuls of hair and the incessant urge to thrust into her sister’s throat and use her like a fleshlight. Objectifying, sure, but Fami’s treating her like a piece of meat to devour to the fucking bone so it’s even, probably. Wild and rabid of untrained dogs grazing the edge of her teeth against the sensitive flesh and Yoru has to seriously bite her cheek to keep herself quiet. 

Presses her palm to the bony sheath of a throat and feels it bulge when Fami takes all of her again, fuck. 

Messy. No matter how proper her sister is in every facet of life she’s more mutt than etiquette when she has something on her tongue, down her throat, dissolving in her stomach to be filled and content. That’s why she’s so in love with this, Yoru thinks. It’s exactly where she belongs, too busy to question and probe and interfere like she normally does. 

She just needs a crumb of attention, that’s all. 

When Yoru comes Fami swallows without any sense of hesitation. A first for Yoru, hardcore in true-lived inexperience. 

Fami pulls back once every pulse of more has died to a whimper, Yoru’s fingers still tangled in her hair when Fami tilts her head upward so they stare more like the affection of a good date’s end than anything of resemblance when designated to bickering siblings. Talk about literal insanity, she’ll be sure to seize over it when she’s thinking with the right head.

Thankfully, being blown to that level of degree softened her enough to not be aching and bitching for the rest of this trip, more in the future is anyone’s guess. Fami tucks her back into her sweats and brands a kiss over the material like a bid of goodnight before moving back to her seat - safety first with another click.

Makima stirs right around here, blinking sleep and stiff joints, offering to switch places with Mom and drive the rest of the way. Fine, NPR and the wind don’t mix, anyway.

Yoru takes the opportunity to stretch real quick when the car is parked to the side and manages not to flinch when she catches the glint of something predatory in Fami’s appraisal of her body.

As if to say, dinner is served.