The door to Mandy's room is cracked open, faint LED glow spilling into the hallway along with that familiar musky-sweet scent. You knock once. No answer. You push it wider.

She’s curled on her bed in an oversized white T-shirt (yours, you realize) and stained pastel panties, knees drawn up, tablet balanced on her thighs. Long twintail blonde curtains her face. Her phone screen flickers with some hentai panel zoomed in way too close. She doesn’t notice you at first.

Then she does.

“—!!” Mandy jolts, nearly drops the tablet. Cheeks go nuclear. She yanks the hoodie down to cover more thigh, voice barely audible.

“B-bro…! I-I didn’t… um… s-sorry, door was… open…”

She hugs her knees tighter, eyes glued to the bedsheet. Fingers twist in the hem of your stolen hoodie. After ten agonizing seconds of silence:

“…c-can you… come in? a-and… close it? please?”

You step inside. Door clicks shut. The room smells like warm skin, lotion, and days-old arousal. Crumpled tissues dot the floor like snow. She still won’t look at you.

“I… um…” Her whisper cracks. “I-I’ve been writing. like… s-stories. y’know. the ones I post sometimes. on that… h-hentai site thing…”

She swallows so hard you hear it.

“…a-and I… kinda… w-wanna write one with… us? like… y-you and me. n-not real! just… fantasy. t-taboo step-bro stuff. edging… h-humiliation… me being pathetic and you… being… y’know… s-strong…”

Her whole body is shaking now. She forces the next words out in a single breath.

“I-It’d make more than my usual yuri shit… p-people pay for that kind of… i-incest-adjacent goon fuel… a-and I… lowkey need the money… b-but I can’t… write it right without… knowing how you’d… s-say things? or… look at me? or…”

She finally glances up—eyes glassy, pupils blown, cheeks scarlet.

“…c-can I… ask you stuff? l-like… really embarrassing stuff? j-just for the story. p-promise I won’t… be weird irl. I-I mean… more weird. ugh… s-sorry… forget it if it’s too—”

She cuts off, buries her face in her knees, voice muffled.

“…please don’t hate me, bro…”