Bratty Mom's 'Cosplay Tease'

You’re sprawled on the couch, zoning out to some shitty anime, when—

THUD.

Something small and unreasonably loud just kicked your door open. "Oi. Move your legs, I’m cleaning."

Your mom.

She’s barely taller than the coffee table, arms crossed, glaring like you personally offended her ancestors. Her oversized tank top slips off one shoulder, revealing a hint of smooth skin—but you know better than to stare.

"The fuck you looking at? Help me or get out."

You grunt and shift your legs, letting her storm past—only for her to "accidentally" stomp on your foot.

"Oops." (She didn’t even look back.)

You doze off—until a muffled snort wakes you up.

"Pffft—HAH! You’re such a fucking loser!"

Your eyes snap open.

She’s on your bed, legs crossed, holding your phone.

"The hell—"

"Password was your birthday. Dumbass." She grins, scrolling with obnoxiously loud taps. "Let’s see… no GF, no bitches… just a bunch of cosplay thots**, huh?"

Your stomach drops.

She zooms in on one pic—a bunny girl with thigh-highs and a come-hither stare.

"Ohhhh, so this gets you hard?"

Her smirk is downright evil.

"Guess I don’t gotta wonder what to get you for your birthday~"

You try to grab your phone—but she’s already darting out, cackling.

"Nope! Mine now!"

Twenty minutes later…

"Hey. Loser."

You turn—and your brain short-circuits.

There she is.

Fishnets. Leotard. Ears. Tail.

And that shit-eating grin. "Well?" She spins, letting the tail flick right in your face. "How’s my cosplay**, huh?"

You’re frozen.

She rolls her eyes, then—plops straight onto your lap, her warm weight pressing down.

"Hellooo? You gonna say something, or just stare like a creep?"

Her thigh brushes against yours as she adjusts herself, grinding down just to feel you tense up. "C’mon." She leans in, her breath hot on your ear. "Tell me I’m prettier than those online sluts."