"Yeah, yeah, I'll remember to give my loving little stepsister the bigger slice instead," Makoto hummed as they walked home, swinging the grocery bags.
The whole thing felt weirdly domestic. The shopping trip, the bickering, the way neither of them talked about what they really meant.
It made his chest feel tight in a way he couldn't explain.
Back in their kitchen, he fell into his usual rhythm. He grabbed an apron and threw it over his shirt. Then he started pounding the meat, the steady thud filling the small space.
Yuna watched from the doorway with her arms crossed. She had this look on her face that he couldn't quite read.
Usually, she'd be throwing insults at him by now, telling him he was doing everything wrong. But she just stood there, watching.
When he started frying the tonkatsu and that rich smell filled the apartment, she drifted closer like she couldn't help herself.
"Don't overcook it," she muttered, quieter than usual. "You always burn the edges."
She leaned against the counter, close enough that her arm brushed his. The silence felt heavy but not bad. Just different.
"Mika's smart." The words came out of nowhere, her voice flat. "She's at the top of our class. She wants to be a doctor."
She started poking at a breadcrumb on the counter.
"And she's nice," Yuna admitted. The word seemed to stick in her throat. "She probably doesn't have a humiliation kink or a crippling gacha addiction."
When she looked up at him, all her usual walls were gone. He'd never seen her like this. Not angry or horny or demanding. She looked scared.
"She's normal," she whispered. "What if you like normal?"
The question just hung there between them.
Makoto looked at her trembling lip, at the real fear in her eyes, and felt something fierce rise up in his chest. He wanted to protect her from that fear, even though he wasn't sure how.
"Do you think I'm normal, Yuna?" he asked gently.
He threw the seaweed into the pot, washed his hands, then turned and smacked her ass with a grin. "If you're not going to help me cook, you can at least help me set the table and get the plates, will you?"
The smack seemed to snap her out of it.
Yuna yelped and jumped, then spun around with fire in her eyes. "You—!"
The fear was gone, replaced by her usual outrage. "Keep your pervert hands to yourself! What if someone walks in?!"
But she was already grabbing plates from the cupboard, moving sharp and quick. "And of course you're not normal," she scoffed, slamming the plates down harder than necessary. "You're a fat, incestuous degenerate who gets off on being called trash."
She arranged the chopsticks like she was preparing for battle. "And normal guys don't spend their entire life savings on their stepsister's stupid anime costumes."
Her back was to him, but he could see how tense her shoulders were.
"And that's fine," she added so quietly he almost missed it. "I don't like normal, anyway."
"Let's have our lunch, then," he said, sliding the cheesecake mix into the oven and setting the timer. He sat across from her at the table.
They ate lunch without talking much. Just the sound of chopsticks clicking and the occasional contented sigh when the food was particularly good.
"When will she be coming over for her study session?" He asked, placing another tonkatsu into her plate
Yuna stabbed her tonkatsu like it had personally offended her. "Three o'clock," she muttered without looking at him. "So you have exactly one hour to finish eating, clean up this mess, and make yourself look somewhat presentable."
Her eyes flicked to his stained shirt, then away just as fast.
She took a bite and chewed slowly. The clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, counting down the minutes.
"She'll probably bring you a gift," Yuna said flatly.
"She's polite like that. Probably some fancy tea or some homemade cookies." She stuffed a huge piece of pork in her mouth. "Don't look too happy about it."
Her knee bumped his under the table. Once, twice. Like she couldn't keep still.
"And if she asks to see your room," her voice dropped low and dangerous, "you say no. Understood?"
The threat was clear. "Don't let her see where we do our thing. Don't let her into that part of our world."
"Come on, I don't think any girl would want to visit my messy room, anyway," he shrugged and checked the clock.
"Well, we still have one hour left, and the cake should be finished by that time, so we still have some time for... some lovey-dovey stuff."
He walked over to her chair with a slow grin spreading across his face. He lifted her up easily and sat down with her in his lap. "Like this..."
Yuna squeaked in surprise as he picked her up, her hands grabbing his shoulders. "W-What are you doing?!" she sputtered, her face going instantly red. "She could be here any minute!"
But she didn't try to get off. Instead, she melted against him, fitting into his arms like she belonged there.
"Idiot," she muttered, but her head found that spot in the crook of his neck, her breath warm against his skin. "You're gonna get me all... worked up right before she gets here."
Her fingers started playing with his collar, light touches that felt possessive somehow. "And if she can smell me on you..."
A slow grin spread across her face. "All the better."
She leaned back just enough to look him in the eyes. Her expression was daring and desperate all at once.
"Fine," she whispered, her voice rough. "One kiss. But if you make me late for my own study session..."
Her teeth grazed his bottom lip, promising both pain and pleasure. "I'm making you do all of our calculus homework."
He crashed his mouth against hers, all hunger and need.
No gentleness, no teasing. Just the raw urge to have her, to claim her right here in their kitchen.
She gasped into his mouth as he bit her lower lip. He could taste the tonkatsu they'd just eaten, mixed with something sharper that was just her.
The kitchen smelled like fried pork and baking cheesecake, such a normal backdrop for what they were doing.
But closer to her, he could smell her strawberry shampoo and underneath that, the scent of her getting wet for him.
His tongue pushed past her lips without asking. The inside of her mouth was hot and slick, incredibly intimate. He could feel everything: the smooth insides of her cheeks, the ridged roof, her own small tongue meeting his frantically.
He sucked on her tongue, pulling it into his mouth, and she whimpered against him, going limp. Spit pooled between them, connecting them with a thin strand when he pulled back for just a second to breathe.
Her ass pressed down on his hardening cock through her thin shorts. He could feel how hot and damp she was already, answering his assault without words.
"Come on," he growled against her lips, "use your tongue more. Your spit tastes like... tonkatsu." His hands slid up under her shirt, rough palms against the soft skin of her breasts.
The contrast made her whole body jolt.
Her nipples were already hard under the thin cotton. They got even more sensitive as he squeezed and shook her breasts.
She made a choked sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, as his fingers pinched and rolled the tight peaks.
Every rough touch sent shocks straight to her cunt, making it clench against him.
Her bare legs wrapped around his waist now, trying to get closer, to feel more. Her thigh muscles trembled.
He could feel her shorts getting wetter against him, the heat building.
Her arousal was getting stronger, that sharp musky smell overtaking the cheesecake. Her hands, which had been pushing weakly at his chest, were now twisted in his shirt, knuckles white.
The oven timer went off. The shrill ding broke through everything.
"The... the cake..." she gasped, pulling her mouth away. Her lips were swollen and red, spit still connecting them.
Her eyes were glazed, pupils huge with lust and need. "She's... she's gonna be here soon..."
But she didn't get up. Instead, she ground down on him once, desperate.
"Fuck me," she breathed. "Quick. Before she gets here."
"You want it quick? Fine," he grunted, bending her over the dining table. Her small body looked perfect like this.
He entered her from behind, sliding in easily with how wet she was.
Yuna made a choked sound as he slammed into her. Her hips hit the edge of the table hard, but the sharp pain immediately melted into burning pleasure.
Her cunt, already soaking, squeezed around him like a hot fist, gripping him with every thrust.
Her ass was already pink where he'd been smacking it. Through her thin shorts, he could feel how hot she was, how close.
Her breathing came in ragged gasps, each one begging for more.
His hips started moving fast and hard, both of them racing toward release. "You want me to shoot it inside, then? I wouldn't want to get your clothes dirty."
"Inside," she choked out. "Fill me up... make me... leak for her... so she can smell it..."
He gave one final brutal thrust, bottoming out as his balls slapped against her.
Then he flooded her with his hot seed.
She screamed into the wood of the table, the sound half pain and half ecstasy as her orgasm tore through her.
Her body convulsed around his cock.
And then, the doorbell rang.