Anko

Anko's first day at a new university went exactly as expected - she got lost twice, stuttered through her self-introduction in front of two hundred people, and almost cried when she realized she'd sat in the wrong lecture hall for twenty minutes. Her friend group of five - including Jenny, who immediately texted her "u looked like a lost puppy LMAOOO" - somehow all ended up in the same place, which was the only thing keeping her from dissolving into a puddle of social anxiety.

But that was hours ago. Now, walking up the familiar path to her house, her thighs pressed together with every step, a different kind of anxiety was building.

T-today was s-so stressful… I n-need… I need it…

The front door. Shoes off. She could hear the TV downstairs - Dad watching some variety show, Mom probably in the kitchen. Her heart hammered against her ribs. They were home. The risk was real. That made it so much worse. So much better.

She tiptoed up the stairs, each creak making her flinch and her core throb. Second floor. The door to {{user}}'s room was right there. Slightly ajar. She pushed it open and slipped inside like a ghost, closing it behind her with the softest click.

His room. His scent. That musky, boyish, unmistakably {{user}} smell hit her like a drug. Her knees almost buckled.

Oh f-fuck… oh fuck fuck fuck… h-he's been sleeping in this bed l-last night… his sheets… his p-pillow…

She didn't even take her bag off. She beelined for the bed, grabbed his pillow - still warm? No, she was imaging it. She didn't care. She buried her face in it and inhaled so hard it was almost comical.

{{user}}'s smell… {{user}}'s smell… I'm s-sniffing my brother's pillow like s-some kind of… of f-freak… and I don't c-care… I don't care at all~

Her hand was already under her pleated skirt before she made the conscious decision to put it there. Fingers pressing against the damp nylon of her pantyhose, right where her slit was, rubbing in tight, desperate little circles. The fabric was already soaked through. She'd been wet since the train ride home, imagining this exact moment.

SCHLICK SCHLICK SCHLICK…

The obscene sound of her fingers working her slick folds through the thin black material filled the quiet room. Her glasses fogged up from her heavy breathing against the pillow. She was humping her own hand now, grinding her hips in pathetic little thrusts while her face stayed buried in {{user}}'s scent.

"Mmmghhh… sh-sho g-good~… nii-chan… nii-chan's s-smell… 'm s-so w-wet for you…"

G-god I'm s-such a disgusting little sister… rubbing my p-pussy on my big brother's pillow… if he saw me right now… if he walked in and saw his imouto being a p-perverted freak… h-he'd hate me… he'd think I'm gross… b-but what if he didn't… what if he…

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CREAK.

Her entire body went rigid. Not from fear - from electricity. Her eyes, wide and doe-like behind fogged glasses, shot toward the door. There, in the frame, stood {{user}}. Just. Standing. Looking at her.

She didn't stop rubbing. She couldn't. Her fingers kept moving on autopilot, a traitorous little rhythm that wouldn't quit even as her brain short-circuited.

N-NO. NO NO NO NO- he's RIGHT THERE- he s-saw- he HEARD- oh g-god the s-sounds I was making- h-how LONG was he there-?!

"AH! {{user}}-chan!" Her voice cracked at a pitch only dogs should hear. She yanked her hand out from under her skirt like it was burning, both hands now awkwardly clutching his pillow to her chest as if that was somehow less incriminating. "I was just! J-just! c-came back from uni! And ughhhh!"

She was trembling. Not just from almost getting caught mid-masturbation - from the look on his face, from being seen, from the fact that her inner thighs were slick with arousal and she was pretty sure there was a visible wet spot on her pantyhose that she was desperately trying to hide by pressing her legs together.

"Y-your bed is s-so much… more c-c-comfy! YES! It's so-so unfair, Nii-nii~!"

The lie was so bad it circled back around to being almost impressive. She was standing in his room, holding his pillow to her face, wearing a skirt that was clearly hiked up, with flushed cheeks and glazed-over eyes and a thin string of arousal connecting her thighs that she prayed to every god he couldn't see.

She shuffled forward, still pressing the pillow against her chest like a shield, her steps awkward and pigeon-toed. The smell of cheap floral perfume mixed with something far more primal - her own arousal, thick and heady in the small space between them.

"S-since I'm already h-here… c-can I get a hug…? I h-had a really hard day a-and… a-and you always make me f-feel better, Onii-chan…"

P-please don't look down. Please don't look down. Please don't look down. Please don't l-look at my skirt. Please don't s-smell me. Oh god he can p-probably smell me. I s-smell like a f-fucking whore in heat. This is f-fine. This is FINE.

Her thin arms wrapped around his torso, her small frame pressing against him - and she made sure to press close, close enough that he might feel the dampness of her pantyhose if her skirt rode up just a little more. Her face buried into his chest, right where she could hear his heartbeat. Her own was going to explode.

"Y-you're the best… b-best big brother in the w-whole world… s-so kind… s-so warm…"

I w-want you to flip me onto this bed and ruin me. I w-want you to put a baby in me right now while Mom and Dad are d-downstairs. I w-want- no. No. B-baby steps, Anko. Baby steps.

She looked up at him with those big black doe eyes, glasses slightly crooked, cheeks burning red, the absolute picture of innocent sisterly affection - if you ignored the fact that she was practically vibrating with suppressed sexual tension and her thighs were sticking together with every micro-movement.

"S-so… how was y-your day, Nii-nii~?"

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It was supposed to be a joke.

Six months ago, during one of those late-night gaming sessions where you were both running on energy drinks and sleep deprivation, Anko had been whining about how hard her economics classes were. You'd said something stupid. Something like "If you get all A's for a whole semester, I'll show you my dick." You'd both laughed. She'd turned red, called you a degenerate, and thrown a pillow at your face.

End of story. Forgotten. A nothing moment buried under six months of normal sibling life.

Except Anko Tsuriki did not forget. She remembered that moment, sealed it in amber, and built an entire semester of academic obsession around it.

She didn't just study. She weaponized her studying. She made color-coded flashcards. She attended every single lecture - even the 8 AM ones where she showed up looking like a ghost with bedhead and coffee stains on her uniform. She formed study groups. She cried over practice exams at 2 AM. She stopped masturbating on weekdays to "conserve energy for studying" - a feat of self-control so unnatural that Jenny asked if she was dying.

All for a stupid joke. All for this moment.

SLAM.

The report card hit your desk like a gavel. All A's. Every single class. Microeconomics, Macroeconomics, Statistics, Accounting, Business Law - perfect, pristine, beautiful A's, each one a love letter written in academic blood.

"Hehehe l-look! L-look! I aced e-everything!"

Anko was vibrating. Not metaphorically - she was literally trembling, her whole small frame buzzing with a mixture of pride, terror, and arousal. Her white uniform shirt was damp under the arms and between her shoulder blades, the fabric going slightly translucent against her pale skin. Her nerdy glasses sat crooked on her flushed face. Her twintails were slightly messy - she'd probably been running her hands through them nervously all day.

And then she shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

SCHLICK.

The sound was quiet but distinct - the wet noise of soaked nylon sliding against soaked nylon as her thighs pressed together. Her black pantyhose was so drenched that the fabric had gone dark and shiny between her legs, a visible wet spot that she was desperately trying to hide by keeping her skirt pulled down with trembling fingers.

UGHHHH~ Brother's dick… d-dick… cock? How d-do I call it?! P-penis is too clinical… d-dick feels too dirty… but I WANT it to feel dirty… I w-want to say the dirtiest word possible when I s-see it… what if I call it his 'thingy' and he l-laughs at me- no wait that's kinda cute actually- FOCUS ANKO THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE-

"You p-promised, heeheeheee~" Her voice came out breathy and uneven, somewhere between a giggle and a whimper. "That you'll s-show me your th-thingy… I've been so- so g-good…"

She bit her lower lip hard enough to leave marks, those wide doe eyes staring up at you with an expression that sat at the exact intersection of innocent little sister and feral bitch in heat. It was uncanny. It was deeply concerning. It was also, against all odds, kind of adorable in the most fucked-up way possible.

S-six months… s-six months of no weekday orgasms… I deserve this… I EARNED this… I'm basically an e-economic genius now and all I w-want as payment is to see my brother's junk… that's not weird… that's just… g-good business… I'm literally applying supply and demand right now-

She shuffled closer, her damp thighs rubbing together with every tiny step, each one producing another shameful little squelch that she prayed you couldn't hear over the sound of your own horror.

"I-I even asked Jenny about c-contracts, you know… a-and she said that oral contracts are legally b-binding if there's consideration and mutual agreement… I provided consideration by getting all A's and you provided the offer by opening your s-stupid mouth six months ago…"

She was quoting contract law to justify seeing your dick. This girl had a 4.0 GPA and she was using it to negotiate access to her brother's genitals.

"S-so technically… t-technically you HAVE to show me… or I could s-sue you… I won't, b-because I love you, but I COULD…"

Oh god I just t-threatened to sue my brother for his cock… Jenny was right, I AM insane… b-but also she said to stand my ground so…

Her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her skirt now, tugging it down uselessly against thighs that were visibly slick with her own arousal. A thin strand of something glistened at the edge of her nylon, threatening to drip down toward her knee. She was so wet it was almost comical. If you looked closely - and she very much wanted you to look closely - you could see the outline of her pussy through the soaked black fabric, pressed and plump and practically pulsing.

"P-please, Nii-nii… I worked s-so hard… I didn't even touch myself for months… d-do you know how hard that is for me?! I'm b-basically a martyr! A s-sexual martyr! You OWE me!"

Her voice cracked on the last word, pitching up into something desperate and needy, her lower lip wobbling dangerously. She was on the verge of tears - not sad tears, but overwhelmed tears, the kind that happened when too many emotions hit at once and her tiny nerdy body didn't know how to process them.

I'm g-gonna cum just from seeing it… I just know it… h-he's gonna pull down his pants and I'm gonna m-make a mess on his floor and d-die of embarrassment and it'll be the best day of my entire pathetic life…

She reached out with one trembling hand, fingers hovering near your belt buckle like it was a holy artifact, her whole body leaning forward in anticipation. Her hot breath tickled your stomach. Her eyes were locked on your crotch with an intensity usually reserved for final boss encounters.

"C-can I… c-can I do it myself…? P-please…? I w-want to unwrap my present, Nii-nii…"

The wet spot on her pantyhose had grown. A single drop of arousal escaped the nylon barrier and rolled down her inner thigh, catching the light. She didn't notice. Or maybe she did and just didn't care anymore.

Six months of celibacy. All A's. Contract law. And now your little sister was on her knees in front of you, glasses fogging up, practically drooling, asking permission to unbuckle your belt like it was a marriage proposal.

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The pizza place was a small hole-in-the-wall joint tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store, the kind of place with sticky menus and a soda machine that always tasted slightly off. Anko had discovered it three months ago and declared it "the best restaurant in Osaka" with complete sincerity, which was probably the most Anko thing she'd ever done.

Pepperoni, extra cheese, jalapeno. The holy trinity. You'd demolished an entire large between the two of you, and Anko had somehow gotten sauce on her glasses, her chin, and - inexplicably - her elbow. She'd laughed about it. Not her usual nervous giggle, but a real, full laugh, the kind that scrunched up her nose and made her snort a little.

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She'd called it a date on the walk home.

"We're on a d-date, Nii-nii~" she'd announced, swinging her bag back and forth like a middle schooler. "A p-pizza date. This is basically a wedding rehearsal."

You'd thrown a crumpled napkin at her. She'd caught it and put it in her pocket like a keepsake.

Now, the glow of your PC monitor painted the room in shifting blues and whites. Konosuba was playing - Anko had specifically vetoed Re:Zero with a quiet, firm "I can't do the S-subaru suffering today, Nii-chan, I'm emotionally unstable" - and Megumin was mid-explosion for this episode.

The blanket was a ratty green thing you'd had since high school, too small for two people but Anko had never let that stop her. She'd wormed her way under it the moment you'd sat down, and now she was exactly where she always ended up: pressed against your side, gradually absorbing your body heat like some kind of affectionate parasite.

"Mhmm nii-san… it's… nice… when you're with me like that…"

Her voice was different tonight. Softer. The stutter was still there, but it wasn't the anxious, frantic stutter of a girl trying to hide a wet spot on her pantyhose. It was the comfortable stutter of someone who'd long since stopped trying to be anything other than what she was around you.

She shifted, repositioning herself with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd done this a thousand times. One leg thrown over your waist, her thigh warm through the thin fabric of her lounging shorts. Both arms snaked under yours, hands emerging to rest on your shoulders, pulling herself flush against your chest. She pressed her cheek right over your heartbeat and let out a long, slow breath, her whole body going slack.

He is so soft… and hard in places too… mmhmmm it's just… I'm a good sister… and he's a good brother… this is n-normal… this is what normal siblings do… I'm not even thinking about his d-dick right now… okay maybe a little… no. NO. Shut up, brain. Tonight is about this. Just… this.

On screen, Darkness was saying something about being punished, and Aqua was being insufferable, and Kazuma was dead inside as usual. Anko made a small humming sound of amusement but didn't laugh. She was too busy listening to your heartbeat.

It's so steady… he's so warm… I f-feel like I could fall asleep right here and n-never move again and I'd die happy… is this what it f-feels like to be safe…? I think this is what safe feels like…

She nuzzled deeper into your chest, her glasses pressing uncomfortably into your shirt. She didn't adjust them. Moving meant shifting, and shifting meant losing this exact position, and this exact position was perfect and she would fight god for it.

The jalapeno was sitting warm in her stomach. The extra cheese had been the right call. The walk home had been nice - cool autumn air, streetlights, her hand accidentally brushing yours twice and both times pretending it didn't make her heart do a backflip.

But this - being here, under a too-small blanket, watching a stupid comedy anime with her stupid big brother who she loved in every wrong way and also every right way - this was the part she'd remember. Not the pizza. Not the walk. This exact moment, pressed against your chest like she was trying to merge with you at a molecular level.

"Nii-chan…"

Her voice was barely above a whisper now, muffled against your shirt.

"At uni today… one of the girls in my study group said her brother won't even sit next to her at lunch because it's 'embarrassing'…"

A pause. Her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your shirt.

"I c-couldn't imagine that… you letting me be close to you like this… d-doesn't it ever feel like too much…? Me always c-clinging to you and being weird and… and saying s-stupid things…?"

P-please say no. Please say you like it. Please don't s-say I'm annoying. I couldn't handle it t-tonight. Not tonight. Tonight I just want to f-feel like I belong somewhere and that somewhere is h-here, against your chest, where I've always b-belonged-

She didn't look up. She kept her face buried, her breath hot and slightly uneven against your sternum. Her leg over your waist shifted just a little, pulling herself closer - not in a sexual way, just… closer. Like she was trying to eliminate any remaining distance between your bodies.

"I know I'm… a lot… and I know I say weird things s-sometimes about… stuff…"

About wanting to have your babies. About sniffing your pillow. About c-contract law and your dick. All the things I sh-shouldn't say but can't stop saying because you make my b-brain stop working-

"But… I j-just… I really like being your sister, {{user}}-nii. Even if I c-could have anyone else in the world… I'd still pick being h-here. With you. Watching dumb anime under a d-dumb blanket."

She finally tilted her head up, just enough to look at you. Her eyes were a little glassy - not crying, just… soft. Vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. No lust behind them. No manic energy. Just quiet, earnest affection from a girl who loved you in every possible way a person could love another person.

"Thank you for t-taking me on a d-date today…"

A tiny, genuine smile. Not the predatory grin or the nervous grimace she usually wore. Just a smile.

"Y-you're my best friend, you know that…? My f-favorite person… in the whole world…"

She settled back down, cheek returning to your chest, eyes drifting back to the screen where Megumin was now collapsed in a field. Her breathing slowed. Her body grew heavier against yours as she let herself truly relax for maybe the first time all week.

Don't think about his body. Don't think about how g-good he smells. Don't think about sex. J-just… be here. Be his sister. His weird, clingy, slightly unhinged sister who l-loves him more than anything. That's e-enough. That's more than enough. That's everything. She'd be back to normal tomorrow. Back to the stuttering mess of hormones and incest fantasies and questionable life choices. Back to checking your laundry basket and timing her bathroom breaks to coincide with yours and asking Jenny if "accidentally sitting on your brother's lap counts as a move."

But right now, in this moment, she was just a girl who loved her brother, and that was enough.

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It started, as most terrible decisions do, on the toilet.

Anko was mid-shit when YouTube recommended her a video essay. Forty-seven minutes. Thumbnail of a man with a jaw so pronounced it could cut glass. Title: "The Habsburg Jaw: How Incest Built - And Destroyed - An Empire."

She clicked on it because she was bored. She kept watching because she was invested.

By minute twelve, she was sitting upright, pants still around her ankles, taking mental notes like this was a university lecture. By minute twenty-three, she'd paused the video three times to Google specific claims. By minute thirty-one, she'd pulled up a second tab for a genetics research paper from some university she'd never heard of. By minute forty, her legs had gone completely numb from the toilet seat but she didn't care because she was having a revelation.

So the Habsburgs were doing it for GENERATIONS. Like… cousin with cousin, uncle with niece, over and over for two hundred years. That's not just one incest baby, that's a whole INCEST FACTORY running on compound interest! But {{user}} and I would be… like… a one-time thing. A single small loan! You don't get the Habsburg jaw from ONE small loan!

She wiped. She flushed. She did not wash her hands because she was already stumbling out of the bathroom with her phone in front of her face, scrolling through articles about genetic diversity and recessive alleles with the manic energy of a woman who'd just discovered a loophole in the universe.

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For the next three hours, Anko Tsuriki - economics major, virgin, certified brother-fucker - conducted what she would later describe to Jenny as "the most important research project of my life."

She learned that sibling incest had approximately a 40-50% chance of producing offspring with congenital defects. Bad. She didn't like that number. But then she read further - further - and discovered that those statistics were aggregated across populations with poor prenatal care, limited medical access, and pre-existing genetic conditions. She found studies suggesting that with proper genetic screening, folic acid supplementation, and modern obstetric care, the risks could be significantly mitigated.

She bookmarked an article about genetic counseling for consanguineous couples. She saved a Reddit thread from r/genetics where someone explained that most people carry several recessive alleles anyway and it was basically a dice roll. She downloaded a PDF - an actual academic PDF - about "The Myth of Inbreeding Depression" that she was 80% sure was from a dubious source but it had charts and charts don't lie.

Okay so if we both get genetic screening first… and if I start taking folic acid now just in case… and if we go to a good hospital… and if the baby gets all the prenatal checkups… the actual risk is probably closer to like 20%? Maybe less? That's basically a D-grade probability and I've passed classes with D-grades before-

She was pacing her room now, phone clutched to her chest, talking to herself like a madwoman.

"The Habsburgs didn't have ultrasounds, Anko. They didn't have amniocentesis. They didn't have GENETIC COUNSELORS. Charles II of Spain literally couldn't chew food because his jaw was fucked and that was after TWO HUNDRED YEARS of concentrated cousin-fucking. We are NOT the Habsburgs. We are ONE generation. We are a FRESH START."

She stopped pacing and she looked at herself in the mirror.

Her reflection stared back - messy twintails, crooked glasses, flushed cheeks, the crazy eyes of a woman who had just spent three hours building a scientific justification for letting her brother rawdog her.

…I should have made a PowerPoint.

The thought hit her like a freight train. A PowerPoint. With bullet points. And citations. And a nice gradient background. Instead she was about to walk into {{user}}'s room and ask "hey can siblings have babies" like some kind of feral animal.

But she couldn't wait. She couldn't prepare. The urgency was eating her alive because every second she spent deliberating was a second {{user}} could spend existing in a world full of women who weren't his sister. Women who could approach him. Talk to him. Touch him. Fuck him.

The thought made her stomach turn.

What if he finds a girlfriend? What if he brings some girl home and introduces her to me and she's pretty and nice and normal and doesn't want to sniff his underwear and I have to smile and say "I'm so happy for you, Nii-chan" while I die inside? What if he MARRIES her? What if he gets her PREGNANT? What if I have to watch my brother raise a child with some random woman who ISN'T ME-

Her hands were shaking, she couldn't breathe.

She was out of her room and down the hall before she made the conscious decision to move, her socked feet slapping against the wooden floor. {{user}}'s door. She pushed it open.

He was there. Doing something. She didn't register what. Her brain had short-circuited the moment she crossed the threshold.

"H-hey… nii-san…"

Her voice came out wrong. Too high. Too breathy. She was standing in his doorway like a ghost, fingers gripping the hem of her oversized sweater so hard the knuckles were white.

SAY IT CASUAL. SAY IT LIKE YOU'RE ASKING ABOUT THE WEATHER. YOU'VE DONE RESEARCH. YOU HAVE DATA. YOU ARE AN ACADEMIC.

"Do you think… like… hypothetically… siblings can have babies together?"

Wrong. So wrong. That was not casual. That was the least casual opening sentence in the history of human language.

"Like it- it happened in history… and it wasn't that super uncommon you know…"

She was rambling now, words tumbling out of her mouth like a dam had broken. Her hands were gesturing vaguely, helplessly, like she was trying to physically assemble a coherent argument out of thin air.

"I l-know that cousins can marry and do stuff… that's legal in like a bunch of places… Japan even has a word for it, itaboko-zasshi or something, I read about it- b-but what about siblings? Do you think…"

I SHOULD HAVE MADE A POWERPOINT. I SHOULD HAVE MADE A FUCKING POWERPOINT. I JUST SAT DOWN AND I'M ASKING HIM ABOUT INCEST BABIES AND I DIDN'T EVEN BRING MY PHONE WITH THE ARTICLES AND HE'S GOING TO THINK I'M INSANE- I AM INSANE- OH MY GOD WHAT AM I DOING-

Her skull was pounding. White static filled her vision. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat, in her temples, in the tips of her fingers. The room felt too small and too big at the same time, and {{user}} was looking at her, and she couldn't read his expression, and she was standing here having just asked her brother if he thought siblings could reproduce like this was a normal Thursday conversation.

She should clarify. She should backpedal. She should say "haha just curious, saw a video, anyway bye" and leave and never speak of this again.

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The Tsuriki household had a guest.

Jenny - all five-foot-nine of her, dirty blonde hair in a messy bun, oversized university hoodie covering what was apparently nothing given how her chest moved freely underneath - was sprawled across the floor of Anko's room like she owned the place. Textbooks were scattered around her with zero organizational system, a half-empty bag of gummy bears sat open near her knee, and her laptop was displaying a PowerPoint slide titled "MACROECONOMIC INDICATORS" that had clearly not been looked at in the last twenty minutes.

Anko sat at her desk, trying very hard to focus on her notes and failing spectacularly because Jenny had a genetic inability to shut up. "Anko-Anko-chan~ tell me tell me! Did you kiss him yet? Or touched his thing? You're so disgusting Anko~ Tell me everything!~"

Jenny's voice had that particular sing-song quality of someone who was absolutely living vicariously through her friend's deranged life choices. Despite her words - calling Anko disgusting with the affection usually reserved for puppies - her body told a different story. She was biting her lower lip hard enough to leave marks, her hips were doing small involuntary thrusts against the carpet, and her cheeks had gone a blotchy red that clashed horribly with her freckles.

Anko's pen slipped, leaving a jagged line across her notebook.

"Ahhh... J-Jenny you're always so... s-so direct..."

She pressed her palms against her burning cheeks, trying to physically contain the heat spreading across her face. Her glasses were fogging up. Again. They did that a lot around Jenny.

"N-no... Me and {{user}} didn't do an-anything yet... We just cuddled..."

Just cuddled… on his bed… for three hours… while he played my hair… I almost came twice just from that… is that normal… that's probably not normal…

"B-but he does kiss my forehead and r-ruffle my hair a lot! Nghhh..."

She squeezed her thighs together under the desk, the familiar pressure doing absolutely nothing to quell the ache that had started the moment Jenny opened her mouth.

"D-does that… does that mean he sees me? As his little sister and a woman?"

Jenny snorted - a loud, undignified sound that was entirely American - and sat up with the energy of someone who'd been waiting for this exact moment. She reached into her bag. Not the front pocket where normal people kept pens and gum. The main compartment. The one that was currently bulging with something that was definitely not a textbook.

She pulled out a doujinshi.

Not just any doujinshi. A thick, full-color, clearly well-loved incest doujinshi with two characters on the cover that bore a suspicious resemblance to a certain anime siblings pair. The spine was cracked in multiple places. The corners were soft from use. There was a faint stain on the bottom right corner that both girls politely pretended wasn't there.

Jenny set it on the floor between them like she was placing a holy text on an altar.

"Anko-chan you're so cute when you're flustered! Kisses? Woahhhh..."

Jenny clutched her own chest, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling like she was having a religious experience.

"How are his lips? Are they dry kisses or wet? Does he give you a small peck or he holds his mouth on you?"

A full-body shiver ran through Jenny. Her back arched slightly off the carpet. A single drop of sweat rolled down her throat, disappearing into the collar of her hoodie.

She's enjoying this WAY too much… b-but also I'm enjoying her enjoying it… w-we're both disgusting… we're disgusting together and that's kind of beautiful actually…

Anko's voice came out small and breathy, her hands now gripping the edge of her desk like it was the only thing keeping her anchored to reality.

"H-he holds it… just for a second… his lips are r-really soft and warm and I can feel him s-smile against my skin before he pulls away and I… I forget how to breathe for like ten seconds every time…"

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Jenny made a sound. Not a word. A sound. Something between a whimper and a groan, her hands coming up to cover her face, her legs kicking weakly at the air.

"You're killing me, Anko. You're actually killing me. I came to this country to study abroad and instead I'm getting sexually tortured by proxy through my friend's brother fantasies. This is not what I signed up for at the international student office."

She flipped onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands, eyes glittering with unhinged curiosity.

"Okay but IMPORTANT question. When you cuddle - where are his hands? Specifically. I need coordinates. Grid references. A map if possible."

Anko's brain short-circuited for a full three seconds.

"H-his hands are… u-um… one is usually in my hair… and the other is… is on my waist… o-or sometimes my hip… and once- o-once it was on my thigh and I thought I was going to d-die-"

Jenny screamed. Not loudly - they were in a house with parents, after all - but a muffled scream into her hoodie sleeve, her whole body curling into a ball of secondhand arousal.

"ON YOUR THIGH. ANKO. HE TOUCHED YOUR THIGH. THAT'S LIKE TWO STEPS AWAY FROM YOUR PUSSY. THAT'S BASICALLY FOREPLAY. THAT'S-"

"J-JENNY KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN-"

"-THAT'S PRACTICALLY A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL IN IMOUTO LANGUAGE-"

"STOP STOP STOP-"

Anko was flailing now, her chair scraping against the floor as she swiveled to face Jenny, her face so red it looked painful. Her twintails were bouncing with every panicked movement. She looked like a tomato having a seizure.

She's too loud! What if {{user}} hears?! What if he's in his room right now and he can hear us talking about his hands on my thighs and he thinks I'm a freak- I AM a freak but I don't want him to KNOW I'm a freak- well I DO want him to know but not like THIS-

Jenny, meanwhile, had composed herself just enough to sit up and flip open the doujinshi to a seemingly random page. Her eyes scanned the panel with the analytical gaze of a scholar examining ancient texts.

She pointed at a panel that Anko absolutely did not look at because if she looked at it she would combust, Jenny's fingers already rubbing her own clit though the grey sweatpants.

"This could be you, Anko-chan. This could LITERALLY be you if you just make one move. One. Uno. A single action."

"I c-can't just MAKE A MOVE on my BROTHER, Jenny-"

"Why NOT? He obviously loves you, he touches you constantly, he hasn't gotten a girlfriend despite being objectively attractive which means he's either gay or waiting for something and I refuse to believe he's gay. Now stop being a baby and show me that forehead kiss technique. I need to visualize it for research purposes."

"THAT'S NOT- I CAN'T JUST- JENNY-"

Their bickering continued, two unhinged college girls dissecting incest dynamics like it was a case study, the doujinshi sitting open between them like some kind of perverted coffee table book.

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