Archive of Our Own ^beta

Akito Shinonome likes ignoring the way he feels, because it’s easier that way. He likes working himself to the bone, sweating buckets, and tripping over himself in front of his unit members, but excusing it until it hits him right where it hurts. There’s some masochistic desire inside of him that loves the pain of working hard, because to him, it makes him feel powerful—in control. He’s doing this to himself, after all, and it’s all part of the routine until it makes him physically ill.

Akito Shinonome is nothing without his voice, and when he’s too nauseous to speak, he’s too nauseous to sing. And then, just like that, he’s nothing all over again. It feels like working hard hasn’t gotten him anywhere at all. Kohane fetches him water, Toya asks if he’s alright, and An—even An gives him a look over and suggests he go home, for his own good. Her words born out of concern sometimes strike him as anything but. Fuck. His unit would be better off without him. Maybe he should just take the whole month off—or maybe a year. Go off the grid and see who gives any less of a damn about Vivid BAD SQUAD without the only member holding them back.

Their popularity will skyrocket. Akito was never anything at all. It’s that sort of harsh reality that he and his narcissistic delusions are better off ignoring, because when he doesn’t, it hurts. There’s no greater pain to Akito Shinonome than the reminder of what sort of useless bastard he really is. Eventually, the knowledge will kill him, but until then… He’ll only suffer, and maybe he deserves it.

If only he wasn't dragging his group down with him. They want him there. They see him skip meals and wake up drowsy from training into the darkest hours of the night, yet they act like they don't give a damn. He wouldn't feel like this if the people around him were a little more selfish. He's sick of constant niceties, and An's jabs don't count in the slightest. Maybe that's why Rui is so refreshing to talk to once every blue moon; just a talented upperclassman looking down at him like the bug he is, nothing more and nothing less. It keeps him in his place, and motivates him to try until his throat is sore. He can't do the only thing he's ever loved doing in life, a useless fucking shell of a human being that has to hang his head and leave practice early, and when he hears the others speaking well wishes his way, he clenches his fists so hard that his nails start digging into the flesh of his palms. 

Running scares him more than whatever unknown fucking God is out there somewhere, because he could do it for real. He could escape from this routine of self-fulfilling misery that leaves him feeling hollow, broken, and just stop. Impress his father by focusing more on art, alienate his batshit sister, use the final years of his youth to suffer. 

Alienate Ena? Bullshit. That’s not going to fucking happen, and he knows it. He knows his mind is spouting the most impulsive, antisocial bullshit it can come up with, because it isn’t the first time, and if he doesn’t cut the shit, it won’t be the last.

On the train ride home, it feels like everybody is watching him, all of a sudden. Taunting him, looking at him like the filth he is, forced to suffer in silence as he watches the force of his life dry over his calloused hands. He’s in a rush to get home, but he almost misses his stop. There’s so many eyes on him, after all. Eyes of strangers, eyes of people that want to see him break for the fun of it. Sleep deprivation is always prime for feeding his self-important psychosis, but he never learns. Instead, he wonders what part about his misery is so much more interesting than whatever’s happening on the many onlookers’ phones.

He swallows the bile in his throat, adjusts his posture, and silently thanks his mother in advance for never seeming to bother him when he needs it. It makes pretending a hell of a lot easier.

.♡.

"Ah… K… Thank you. For calling me, just—I can't believe it. You really liked the rough sketches that much?"

"...Yes, yes, of course! And, you're right. There's parts I can make stand out more, and I'm hoping adding color will do just that. I already have a palette picked out, actually. I just couldn't help myself. Listening to you sing is the best inspiration there is, you know?"

"...Oh, K, that's… You really mean it?"

"It's just…"

"...Inspiring someone that you admire more than anybody else in the world, it's a really special feeling. You're really important to me, Kanade."

"...Ehehe. Thank you. I'll talk to you later! Don't forget to eat dinner, alright?"

The call ends. He hears her toss aside her headphones with more care than she treats her brother, but that isn't saying very much, now is it?

To be completely honest, he feels like he's going insane. It's getting under his skin, listening to her talk like that, and yet he was the one that decided to stand at her door like the beast he is just to hear a conversation that feels like fucking salt in the wound that is his smear of an existence on life itself. The last thing he should be seeking out is another thing to make him feel like shit, but he doesn’t have to. It's just as easy to convince himself that he needs a breather outside of his sister's door as it is for him to listen like the pervert that he is. He isn't so numb to the growing nausea in his stomach anymore; her voice makes him want to scream.  

It's beautiful, and that disgusts him so. How sugary sweet she vocalizes, almost like candy, but only when others deserve it in her eyes. How funny. He once hated it, equating it to being talked down to like a child when he was younger, but he's craving it in some grotesque way at the ripe age of fifteen. Fuck. He bemoans a swear under his breath as he all but collapses against the door behind him, a knock that will surely catch Ena off-guard. She's not wearing her headphones anymore, after all. His instinct to laugh at the pure irony of the situation is stifled by the sudden taste of sick on his tongue again. He needs—he needs to cough, needs to expel this disgusting mess of sticky bile from the back of his throat, and he needs to do it in a place that isn't here. Not in front of his sister's door, not in front of her, oh, fuck. And he really thought he was hiding his episodes better than this.

The heart wants what it wants, he guesses. The heart wanted his stupid little sister, and he's getting it. "Akito?" She calls his name, grip on the doorknob. Fuuuck. It goes from being ironically hilarious to just straight up embarrassing. He'll never be able to look her in those pretty chocolate eyes ever again. "Akito, what—"

It's disgusting. Just because it would stink worse if he had food in his stomach beforehand… That fact doesn't make this any less wretched, and Akito would know. He's the one smelling the brunt of it with an impulsive hand held up to cover his mouth. He coughs and gags until his head begins to throb, and his stomach starts to churn in time with the situation finally dawning on the one who would rather be dead than bear the consequences of his actions.

He's at his knees, and he's bowing to her like she's a Goddess with syrupy sick in his palm. Akito doesn't look up, can't. There's yellowed drool running down his chin, the grays beneath his eyes more apparent than ever, but explaining himself away has never done him any good in front of his sister that knows him better than he does himself. She'll take in the evidence and make the same conclusion that he so badly wants to hide from her; trying to be something in this world isn't working out for him, and at this rate, he never thinks it will. All he ever seems to do is fail, again and again, until it leaves him numb and visibly yearning in front of his sister. Like he's an infant, and she's his mother; like he'll die without her validation, or worse, stop being human altogether if he tries moving forward without her.

Ena will be the death of him, and quite frankly, maybe she deserves to be. Instead, she kneels to his level, grabs the hand on his knee, and holds it in her own. He almost flinches at her warmth. "Akito," she says, her voice hurried, anxious. Poor fucking thing. He can't breathe. "Akito, you're…" An obvious insulting observation is cut short in favor of his beautiful sister quieting down altogether. He barely notices the girl pulling him up by the bloody palm, yet his body moves without thinking twice about it. "You're a mess. Oh, God, what am I going to do with you?"

"Leave me outside in a cardboard box to die like a stray, probably." He hates the sound of his own voice, but especially now. It's hoarse and unattractive, showing everything wrong with him without even having to try. He hates feeling seen. "You'd definitely be doing everyone a favor."

"Oh, shut up, will you?" Ena's tone is gentler than her words. She isn't going to beat him when he's down, is that it? Alright. "Come on. I'm going to clean you up in the bathroom. I didn't realize you needed to be sick in front of your older sister in order to ask for help, but… You hardly got anything on the floor, so I'm not going to chide you for it. Don't let go of me."

Maybe that's what he was doing, after all. Not like Akito would know. He likes the numbness overtaking him as he lets his sister pull him along in a way reminiscent of how she does when he's taken against his will as a lackey to carry her bags. It's almost comical how she begs him to hold on, to never let go, as if he could ever fathom the idea of doing so. As if she doesn’t know that better than anyone.

The persistent girl has him in a trance. He breaks it when there's a toothbrush being shoved into his mouth, naked form shivering on the toilet seat with his sister's face looking down at his own pathetic one. Too deep, too deep, he wants to beg, but she's bad at this, and cleaning his tongue only gets him choking up and gagging. An abrupt pull of the rug, so to speak, isn't enough to help the nauseous man who feels more like a boy than ever before.

The toothbrush is covered in sticky yellow mucus as Ena finally removes it from his mouth. He isn’t sure what that pull at his heartstrings is. She’s worried, and it’s all his fault, but… Fuck, there’s nothing he can do about it. It isn’t his fault that he’s such a fucking mess, it’s Ena’s for expecting better of him.

“You can’t hold anything down at all…” He doesn’t reply. She probably isn’t expecting one, anyway. “At least you aren’t puking anything solid, but… that’s even more concerning, you know? Did you eat anything today at all?” He doesn’t know why she’s bothering to ask when she already knows the answer. Akito shakes his head.

She looks like she wants to slap him. Instead, she rests a hand on his knee, and forces him into a kiss so ungodly that it even manages to catch Akito off-guard—more than likely, herself as well. Her taste is so sugary sweet that he coughs into her mouth, but all she does is scrunch up her nose in dissatisfaction before going in again. Her tongue is unraveling him at the seams, and his eyes are bleary. 

He’s too selfish to cry from the immoral sincerity of his sister’s kiss, yet his eyes are bleary. He doesn’t have the energy to guard his heart anymore. Punishment piling atop of punishment, he’s like a tower ready to collapse, and into his sister’s arms he does. 

He wonders how this miserable case of her asshole brother is treating her. He wonders if the corpse that covers her in sick and only responds in near incomprehensible, self-loathing quips is better than the one that pretends he doesn’t need her at all. He’s never needed her more than he does now.

“Isn’t this,” he begins, taking a deep breath and trying to handle his sister’s whims, “a bit much.”

“I say this a lot, but this time, I actually don’t know what you’re talking about.” At least she isn’t treating him like a fucking baby. He feels like it, drifting in and out of consciousness as he’s finally set onto his sister’s bed, leaned up against her pillows with his head lolled to the side. He’s still naked, but apparently, he’s dressed for the occasion. He’s only noticing now how undressed she was, barging through her door and taking in the pathetic sight of her brother.

She looks really good in those shorts. Fuck. He’s going to be sick again, and it’s all because of her natural musk and her perfect little form combined into one little package for his indulgent desires. Only thing is, he can’t do a single fucking thing like this. Everything happening to him right now is only taking place because of how much of a useless piece of shit he’s turned himself into. No amount of desire coursing through his veins is going to make the idea of devouring her any more appealing in practice.

Ena always has something in mind that isn’t mindless, horny sex, and now is no different. Then again, maybe he had it coming, seeing as he can hardly blink his hazel eyes open without wanting to wince. Breathing in smoke seems like it’d make for a more pleasant experience than taking in her overpowering floral scent right now. She gets closer, and he takes a whiff of her neck. It’s a learned impulse of his, and it’s currently biting him in the ass as he starts to gag. She looks upset for a moment, but only for a moment, sitting at his side and stroking a hand down his chest.

“You’re never going to feel better if you don’t listen to your sister for once. Will you let me take care of you?”

“If I say no, you’ll do it anyway.” He clenches his teeth until it hurts, but the control it gives him over his pain feels good. “It’s fucked for a sister to keep acting like a mom to her little brother when we’re this close to becoming adults.”

Being around her makes him feel like he’s going to die, but being without her, it’s—it’s scary, and that’s one part of this moment he can’t shake. Without her, he’d be in his own head again, walking the last stretch home with a latent urge coming up to jump in front of a moving vehicle. He’d claw at his inner arms and pretend his nails were sharp enough to break skin, pretend it was her punishing him for wanting to die instead of himself, and that would be the only fucking thing keeping him from going out and doing it. And it’d be fine, because Ena was never there at all.

She’s too good to be real, too necessary. The very crux of his being. The reason he’s pushing himself so hard in the first place.

She taught him that feeling pain was better than feeling nothing at all. His persistent numbness fades with her every touch, fire to ice, life support in the form of adoration that just won’t allow him to die. She’s an angel that Akito will never deserve, but he’ll live for her, and maybe that’s enough. 

.♡.

She catches him drifting off again. There’s a spoon at his lips, and— fuck, she’s feeding him as if he’s an incapable toddler. Maybe he hates it this much because it’s the truth, and he knows it, but acknowledging it? On his deathbed, maybe, but not now. He doesn’t want to open his mouth, he doesn’t—

Ena is straddling his thighs. The scent of what he’s assuming is pudding of all things made that hard to realize. It’s so commonplace, after all. What’s so unexpected about a girl sitting on her brother’s lap? Especially when he isn’t wearing clothes, oh yeah. Totally normal. For all his luck, she’s probably naked from the waist down, too. Nothing cures a sick heart like older sister pussy, except… He can’t even tell if that’s a sarcastic thought or not. All he knows is that being conscious in her grasp feels a little bit better than being knocked out, and fuck, she probably tastes better than this shit, too. He doesn’t want to eat, and he really doesn’t want to puke on her again.

"Eat. It." Ena speaks slowly. Like how she would talk to a baby, of course. Akito can't stand the fact that she's put him in a position where even attempting to verbally defy her will get his sister exactly what she wants. "Be a good boy for me, Akito. Open your mouth and eat it. Okay? You love chocolate pudding."

What a terrible day to love chocolate pudding. She knows every way to his heart. He doesn't like how invasive it feels.

He opens his mouth.

Why does that make her so happy? What the hell does Ena gain from keeping him alive? They're questions he'll never quite know the answer to, and he's sure of that, but… At least the pudding on his tongue doesn't make him instantly want to hurl. It's closer to being a liquid than a solid, and that's probably why she reached for it instead of his put away leftovers. Her thoughtfulness and how far it extends never fails to make Akito feel like a complete and utter jerk. He swallows it, and his stomach hurts, but he’s fine. Thirsty as hell, though. He wonders how far she’ll go for this.

His horror when she brings over her water bottle to his lips, straw and all, is palpable. Ena can see the confusion in his face. He doesn’t understand.

“Is it so hard to believe that I care more about you staying hydrated than keeping your pukey backwash out of my bottle? I can just wash it. Better yet, you can when you’re feeling better. Just—ugh, don’t look at me like that, Akito.” She sighs, delicately so. She’s frustrated, but she gives less of a damn about it than she does Akito. Fucking hell. “You know that I’d prioritize you over anything else in the universe. You’ll always have me to take care of you.”

Over anything–-over anyone, too? Really? Even over K? Some part of him wants to respond in a way that’ll piss her off, have her clawing at him on the defense for calling her out, but he keeps his lips shut for now. He can thank his lacking stamina, and his selfishness, because… God, he really doesn’t need her running out on him now. He’s nothing without her.

“I know.”

She pulls the cup away slightly when he coughs, but he suppresses an upheaval of his stomach, and she takes it as a sign to offer another.

“Little sips,” she reminds, reminding him so well of how pathetic he really is. Maybe he'll never starve himself or work his voice and his body for hours at a time, just to avoid this happening again. Anything to feel more in control of himself, right? "I'm glad you're getting something down."

"I'd tell you to stop being so considerate if you weren't basically sitting on my dick." He closes his eyes, and feels the way Ena stiffens. There's definitely a pout on her. He's memorized the way she looks. "It's fine. You don't have to move."

"Then why would you say something?" Oh boy. "Like I was even thinking of trying to turn you on when you're feeling so ill!"

"...Weren't you?" Akito uses all of his energy to shrug. Ena's second spoonful of pudding is pressed with a lot more force than before to his lips. When he opens his mouth to oblige, he ends up with the sides of his lips covered in it. Getting this bite down feels a little easier than before. Maybe it's because fucking with his sister is a better distraction to his impeding doom than anything else. 

Ena doesn't ever dignify him with a response, not until she leans in to kiss the mess off of him. It's forced, and awful, and not even a kiss. His sister is licking him clean until she's satisfied, but she isn't, because she's suddenly forcing her chocolatey tongue into Akito's mouth all the same. The aftertaste of bile doesn't dissuade her now, but it would in any other circumstance, he's certain. Intentionally ignoring her squicks just to pin him with her body and stick a tongue down his throat, it's oddly familiar, and Akito knows why. Fucking hell. 

This shit is turning her on. Infantilizing her brother and swaying him with her charms all the same, damn his condition, is like some fetish for her. Not because she likes him being sick, but because she likes being the only cure for his ailment, a selfish desire masked by the selflessness of her care. He can't say he'd go to the effort of doing something similar, but at the same time… They really are related. Only, he's the sort of bastard that gets turned on from watching her cry.

"I'm gonna puke all over you if you make me finish all that before you try getting my dick wet." His words are breathy, forced, hating himself for speaking the moment he manages out his words again. His throat hurts like hell. Even pudding hurts getting down, but his sister's tongue fits against his own like a glove. Because of fucking course it would. "...Wonder what you're gonna do to me when I can't keep my eyes open for shit."

"This is just another one of your self-fulfilling prophecies. If you want me to touch you, you should try asking instead of playing mind games. You're really unbelievable…" Her anger is tempered, if he can even call it that. More like… her absolute distaste for the little brother she's coddling, drool on his lips from kissing her and expecting another. Ena disagrees, and makes him eat another spoonful of sweetness before she places the half-eaten cup aside. An act of mercy that he'll be kicking himself in the ass for later, but really, who can blame him? His sister is like a fucking drug. His body might be in a state of unconscious limbo, but he'd have to be fucking insane to not be in the mood for her. The smell of her is enough to make him gag, but it's so much better than the unbearable sweetness of a beautiful girl forcing a spoonful of dessert down his throat. "What would make you feel better, Akito? Because you're acting like you'd rather me play the role of a sexy nurse than to do anything productive. How much is your sister just sitting here and looking pretty actually helping you?"

"...I'd probably be dead without it, actually." It's too genuine a response. He chuckles, but it sounds horribly pained. Ena lightly digs her fingers into his bicep, a show of care, no matter how she scowls. "Seems I just can't fuck myself over enough to stop your kisses from keeping me on life support." Gag. He's so damn pathetic, and the proof is in the pudding, so to speak. He regains a little energy, but all he can manage to do is wax poetic about how much he loves his bitch of a sister. He has three entire days of sleepless nights behind him, and that's as good a scapegoat as any—better, even, because it's true, and he doesn't have to go searching in the depths of his heart of void to explain it otherwise. 

It's so damn cute how her cheeks heat up like she's a little girl, or something. Guys hit on her all the time, and Akiyama probably reciprocates his older sister's hate-crush in full. It's not just that leader of hers that makes her weak in the knees, but him, too. She can take the heat from anybody else just fine, of course she can. She's his damn sister, yet she doesn't stop him as he grabs hold of her ass and pulls her closer. It's vile, but familiar, and sends heat coursing through his veins. The touch of her skin is like a concentrated shot of adrenaline. 

"You're insane." She breathes it out against his lips, and her voice is a little shaky. Keeping Ena on her toes is half the fun of whatever this fucked up mess is between them, even if she's usually the one taking control. "You project all your horny thoughts onto me and expect me to do something about it… Even when you're like this."

He grips her harder. She's only wearing panties, probably patterned to look more like a little girl's than a near adult's. His hazel eyes are half lidded as they stare into the pretty browns in front of him, and the moment she leans in, he pulls her the rest of the way. Getting his feet back on the ground is fucking useless when the only thing he can ever stomach is her. Every single one of his favorite foods remind him of the girl he's kissing, and the sickeningly artificial sweetness of her lip gloss. He'll never forgive her for wanting to infantilize him to hell and back, treat him like some sort of helpless child, but he's the only person to blame for acting that way in the first place. Here and now, he'd truly be nothing without her. How pathetically his weakened body starves for his sister.

When he closes his eyes, he doesn't want to open them. He can hear Ena unbutton her top, but the poor bastard that he is can't even appreciate the good show she's giving for the dire sake of his health. What a fucking loser he is, and yet he feels like a God right now. She gives in to him so easily, even as he tugs her away by a few strands of her hair—like a cat grabbing its offspring by the scruff, only meaner, because pain gets Ena off.

"S'not fair if you're only putting my mouth to use." What's the point in being good if he doesn't get anything in return? Ena sits on her knees, and stares at the ugly stain having formed in his boxers. Nothing this innocuous has ever felt so much like edging before. "Shove something down your own damn throat instead."

She looks like she's on the verge of wanting to slap him, but her actions speak louder than her daunting expression.

"You talk big, but you wouldn't even be able to speak in the first place if I didn't force some sugar into you." She tosses her pajama shirt to the side, exposing the entirety of herself to Akito, but it's not something he can fully appreciate right now. His entire focus is on the way she lies onto her stomach and pulls down his boxers. Breathing hot air onto the tip gives him a full-body shudder. "If you were still on the verge of puking your guts up, you probably wouldn't even be able to get hard. You should be more appreciative of me."

"Bullshit." Like he hasn't done enough. He wants to enjoy some of this, and he won't get anything out of pretending to be Ena's bitch. They're damn well aware of who eats out of the dog bowl in this dynamic. "Fuck. Don't—play dumb. Nobody will ever love you like I do."

"...Hah." Something sick like that is all it takes her to audibly moan on his cock. It's only now that he allows himself to relax his muscles entirely and fully indulge in the feeling of his sister's comfortable feather pillows behind him. Of course this would be the cure to all of his issues. Hell, maybe all that sulking was to be expected, depriving himself of this simple pleasure that only he deserves. He's a horrible person, but Ena loves him with her entire heart. She doesn't have a damn choice. "I like how sweet you can taste down here." She takes the tip of his cock into her mouth, lapping at the slit until there's white on her tongue.

"You act like I plan my entire diet around thrilling your tastebuds." Just about the only thing he's done is shower. Working up a sweat to hell and back requires it. "Haven't eaten shit this week."

"Then at least you can't say I'm promoting bad habits if you really care that little."

"Mhm."

The sight is downright pornographic for him. He's half considering doing the job of feeding himself another bite, if only to regain a little more energy in having his hazel eyes fluttered open to bask upon the girl between his legs. Her tits are barely just poking out, flat as a board, as she starts a rhythm that she's only ever begun with him. Her first and her only, and Akito can't get enough of it. No man will ever find a way into her obvious preferences, but Akito isn't just a man, he's her baby brother. The kind she sees as smaller than he really is, even when he's this overwhelming, his cock having grown out to be just the perfect size to make her gag. Her little brother hitting puberty was the best damn thing to ever happen to Ena.

"Nngh. You look so much younger than me whenever you do this…"

Ena rolls her eyes, and he sees it happen. He almost lets himself laugh. She's gripping the base with one of her perfect little hands while her tongues trail over the ugly veins along the side and underneath his cock. He's pathetic enough to drop to measuring himself, but he's never gone through with it. The only thing he knows is that they're a perfect fit for each other. Like his sister, so weirdly obsessed with her little brother's sickly bile, he's dying to taste the pretty drool covering her lips. It almost looks like shoddily drawn on lip gloss. God, she'll always fit the messy girl aesthetic better than Akito will. He's a fucking mess, but it's practically an aesthetic for her, no matter how embarrassed she is about it. It's fine, Ena. It doesn't matter what our dad thinks. The only one you need is me.

He wants to do terrible things to her. Thrusting his hips until she takes him further down her throat isn't enough, he wants to properly fuck her, yet he's stuck this way. Lying in his sister's bed while she has her way, tasting him like a fucking dessert, it's infuriating and hot all at once. He grabs a fistful of hair, but she doesn't relent.

"You gonna make me jizz down your throat? Selfless."

Ena furrows her brows.

"What do you mean?" Oh, so that gets her pulling off. "You're not an old man. You shouldn't need to worry about stamina."

"So fucking cum-brained you forgot how we got into this situation." The look of realization dawns on her. "You'll make me pass out. Which… S'fine. Could imagine worse than falling asleep inside of you."

"You better not," she sighs, and she's pissed, but it's half-hearted and so ungodly cute that he almost smiles. "Guys only do that when they're fucking ugly girls. Do you think I'm ugly, Akito?"

“That’d be kinda like calling myself ugly. We’re siblings.” It’s such a terrible answer that it makes her cheeks turn red—he likes it when she scowls at him. Her lips aren’t bruised enough to his liking, but her figure looking this impeccable is doing something to him, too. “You already know the answer. I don’t know why you even bother asking the shit you do. Something’s definitely fucked in that brain of yours.”

“Of course there is; I like you, and find you attractive.” She sticks out her tongue. “It’s not fatal, but I almost wish it was.”

“Damn.”

A burn like that doesn’t need a reply. She’s satisfied, and he won’t ruin it with a quip he isn’t in the right headspace to think of. He wants her, and he doesn’t want her dainty little hands in the vicinity of his stomach, but he’ll take what he can get. She’s too self conscious of her ass to show it off to him in favor of her face, even if she hates her chest for the very same reason. Maybe if he was nicer to her, she wouldn’t hate herself as much, but… Nah. She would. For better or for worse, of course. He likes her when she’s sane, but those goddamn nails… He kind of regrets complaining so much over the years.

She’s mastered the art of lowering her hips, at least. There’s the little things that she points out about herself that she genuinely likes, but it’s rare she believes Akito if he tries doing the same. That’s just Akito, though, with his compliments absolutely dripping in sarcasm that he doesn’t intend. Ena fucking hates it, but it’s not like he can change. She’ll take his “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Sarcasm” and deal with it like she decided to the day she kissed him for the very first time. 

She hisses under her breath as she stretches herself out onto his cock, but she’s used to it. It hurts, but she’s soaked, and desperate for more. He loves the way she always sounds slightly pained, however, and loves it even more when they go too long without actual penetrative sex to leave her tightened right up again. If Ena can like caring for him like he’s her fucking son, he’s allowed to find the sexual agony of the only person he’s ever loved as sexy as he damn well pleases.

“You’re too biiig…”

“Mhm.” That’s genetics. He took after their father, and Ena reminds him every day of how much she hates that she loves it. “You fucking love it.”

“But it huuurts…” Whine, whine, whine. He’d tell her to stop fucking crying about everything if it wasn’t, at least in some regard, sexy. Right now, his sister is the dictionary definition. He doesn’t have the energy, nor the heart, to slap that pout off of her face. “You still—make me bleed, sometimes…”

“‘Cause you’re so goddamn eager. Not like I can stop you.” He wonders, objectively, how much worse that really is than what she’s doing. He’s just barely conscious, energy depleting by the second, yet she’s determined as hell to take advantage of it. He’s woken up to the girl fondling him, begging for the touch of her younger brother, after all—none of this is a surprise to the replacement she’s made for Dad. Maybe it’d piss him off worse if he didn’t despise the guy’s guts just as proactively. He’s better for her. If he’s ever touched her, it wasn’t enough to satisfy her, and Akito knows that fact as well as he does himself. “Watch out for my stomach… Last thing I can handle is you pushing all of your weight into me during this…”

Ah, wait a second. Her weight. That wasn’t what he meant.

“Are you calling me too heavy for you?” Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. What disorder does this woman have, and why does his dick twitch regardless whenever that sense of doubt overwhelms her psyche? A hand lowers onto his abs, threatening to move. “Would…” She trails off. “Would a lighter girl be able to ride you without having to worry about you puking out all that pudding?”

“D-Don’t do this shit—” Fetish be damned, he is not in the mental state to handle this. He never is, but especially now. “Any fucking girl or—God forbid, guy, would probably leave me and them at risk of ruining this entire thing. You know what I mean.”

"Do I, now." Don't do it. Don't fucking do it. Ena. "Have you ever heard of a Freudian slip?"

"Yes, now shut the hell up and ride my cock." It'll burn some of your calories anyway. He's genuinely surprised at his own restraint in holding that comment back. Anything to get his rocks off, but really, he gives her enough shit about eating so many desserts to rub salt in this pretty wound of hers. He squeezes her hips, forces her down, and watches as her discontent shifts into something else. She’s so damn addicted to how he feels inside of her, even now.

She leans down, closer and closer, begging Akito to fuck her with his hips instead. If he’s able to gather the stamina, maybe he’ll even treat her. Instead, he’s too focused on wrapping his lips around her nipple, biting down without remorse and feeling her squeeze down around his aching cock. Much like Ena makes exceptions, these might just be the only pair of tits he’ll ever find attractive in his goddamn life. Her utter flatness gives him life—nobody can blame him for losing himself in the methodical motions of their bodies grinding together, the heat gluing them together and making them sweat. Other than Akito, of course. 

This fucking habit of letting his guard down around his sister needs to stop. Feeling so ill has only made what already lies within him worse, and that is a complete and utter disregard for his sister’s ways. She’s like an angel in his mind, only worse, because she isn’t. His hazel eyes are closed when Ena decides to test her luck and make him suffer. She places two of her soft and dainty hands lower than before, until they’re resting on the one fucking place he warned her about. To make things worse… She pushes, and she pushes hard.  

There goes his silent bliss.

"Fuck—" The pressure building is starting to make him queasy. It's instantaneous, his stomach going from quelled to churning all over again. Suddenly, the water and pudding in his stomach doesn't feel very settled in the slightest. It was bound to happen anyway. Like it was actually going to stay when he's acting like a horny maniac. Silly Akito. He can practically hear his sister's teasing without her having to part her glossy and innocent lips at all. "What the fuck, Ena, I'm—"

"What's the matter?" That bullshit hint of genuine concern makes him want to vomit. Everything about this moment does. She lifts her hips, and finally starts a proper rhythm. No easier route to a man's heart than wrapped around his dick. "Say something."

He's going to puke. A mutual exchange has turned into something so much worse. He remains as hard as a fucking rock, pulsating inside of her as she expertly moves, but—fuck, he doesn't want this, he doesn't want this at all. He doesn't want her doing this to him. Beneath the girl tempting the bile at the back of his throat, he's lost every ounce of control even the sickest version of himself was able to cure.

Love is awful. Love is fucked up, and twisted, and neither of them deserve the good that comes with it at all. People like Akito, and people like Ena, aren't meant to be like this with anyone, and maybe that's why they're here—why they're like this.

If they don't deserve a thing, the Shinonome siblings rotten to the core, then maybe they have no choice in feeling like they deserve each other.

There's nothing quite like the act of expelling the contents of his stomach as he stares into his sister's beautiful eyes. The embarrassment, the misery, the pure romance of it all, it's something Akito never wants to experience again. It's too much. Ena is too much for him. Ena is all he'll ever need in life, because fuck, he deserves it. He deserves this. The sickening color of watery brown escapes his lips, tears clouding his eyes, yet he feels it all. Her nails digging into his shoulders instead of pressing at his stomach, and her pussy wrapping tighter and tighter the more he loses himself to her sickening whims. He's vomiting, and it's going to make his older sister cum. The idea of it makes him wretch even harder.

"Good boy, Akito, shh…" She coos like she's his fucking mother. They never deserved better than their mostly absent parents after all. "It's okay. Let it all out. I'm here to take care of you, remember?"

He's suffocating. Akito is suffocating, and Ena is in a state of bliss. She wipes his tears away, fucks herself when Akito won't, and moans as he writhes pathetically in her grasp. No doubt that the added friction of their connected bodies from his discomfort is like a drug to her. "I love you, Akito."

Ena kisses him. Dizzy and weak, his oncoming orgasm is prime for saving him from this pink-colored hell. She tastes his regurgitation, leaves a trail of the stuff connecting their lips, and sighs with the contentedness of a needy girl filled with her brother's cum.

When he finally wakes in her hold again, water bottle and her share of their favorite maple cookies for his indulgence placed within his reach, he second guesses if he's learned his lesson after all.

He takes a bite.