The Taste My Little Sister Makes ♡
I came home with Romi. She was watching TV alone in the living room. I scratched my head. Who would've thought. Was this really okay?
But Romi chose it herself.
It was unexpected. I'd figured she'd want to hit up some dating spot or fun place. I'd even scoped out manga cafes thinking she might be into that.
Nope.
Never saw that coming.
I glanced toward the kitchen. Couldn't see much, but it sounded chaotic. Clatter, clang, clang. Thud!
She okay in there?
I scratched my cheek and sighed, feeling unnecessarily worried. After our date, what Romi wanted was this event. She'd insisted on making something for me herself. Probably picked up some killer recipe from YouTube.
YouTube's got everything. Except the really filthy stuff.
She hadn't said what it was. Probably food.
If a yummy smell hits, I'll know it's done.
Still cooking, it seemed. More noise from the kitchen now, even louder. Rattle rattle rattle! Clang, crash!
Was that safe? I tilted my head and stood up. Hesitated a sec, then called out.
"Romi, need a hand?!"
"Huh? Nah!"
"Want help?"
"I said no!"
"O-okay, okay."
I sat back down and stared at the TV, second-guessing. Should I really help? But I decided to respect her space. She was an adult, after all.
She's doing this for me. Don't ruin the vibe.
And don't forget—Romi was my girlfriend.
I watched TV. Right on cue, a variety show came on.
"Hello! Welcome to Esports 100! Today, we're holding the Player Challenge to scout promising pro gamers..."
I crossed my arms and watched. These days, every kind of variety show was out there. Plenty were serious ones like this, aimed at showcasing real talent.
You know the type.
Hidden masters with skills but no luck breaking out.
It started with stuff like Masked Game King or whatever. Evolved from there to now. I'd probably applied through one of those routes.
Just knew it wasn't some showboating gig.
Zombie Rep's pushing their org hard right now. Tons of folks gunning for founding member spots.
But Korea's reality was grim. Sports still lagged behind neighbors. Soccer, baseball, MMA—same story.
MMA especially: infrastructure grew, but nothing changed. Winners hit WFC; losers play high-pay pretend tigers in third-rate orgs.
As if that'll fix shit. Like cumming in a menopausal womb.
Ooh, kinda hot.
Next door in Japan, they even made pro wrestling boom. Korea? Stuck in time. That's why I never got serious about MMA from the jump. No real rivals anyway.
But a wind blew through my heart. Gonna trust this feeling.
Could I find a shining rival like Seung-hee? Shine like her?
Then my phone buzzed. A text.
I chuckled softly. Probably only Seung-hee could make me smile like this. After my divorce, wandering lost till I hit the gym. She welcomed me brightest there.
First sight shocked me. A pretty girl as manager? Like some manga.
That bond lasted. Might not have clicked so easy if not same age.
Soon she texted again.
I sighed like I was venting. I wasn't a genius. Why'd she keep saying that?
She shot back.
I smirked. Nice to have cheer like that. Might end up rivals later in the same org.
Korea's MMA scene had that vibe.
Don't challenge for the belt if your gym mate holds it.
Bad habit? Unspoken rule. Even if qualified, no challenging gym family.
No growth like that. We're competitors. Screw ethics. Not like sword fights.
I clicked my tongue and shook my head. Anyway, grateful to Seung-hee. Blunt me vs. her always smiling—lit me up too.
Real cool friend. Pretty one too. Hmm.
I scratched my head, sighed—then froze. Yummy smell wafted in.
Ooh, margarine or butter in bread? Cake?!
No baking expert, but this screamed delicious. Heart raced. Swallowed hard, waiting.
Finally.
"Oppa, c'mere!"
"Coming!"
I shut off the TV and headed to the kitchen. Blown away. Oven open, Romi pulling out a perfect pound cake. Icing it with cream—when'd she buy that?
Whoa. Serious face still cute? Hot damn.
I stared blankly. She noticed, sighed, pouted a bit. Eyes still soft.
"What're you spacing out for? Sit."
"Whoa, cake outta nowhere?"
"Said I'd make something tasty."
"Thought ramen."
"Wanna die? What do ya take me for?!"
I watched her work. Icing sloppy, deco messy. But the effort made me wanna dig in.
I smiled quietly; she finished, sighed.
"Ugh, look at that dopey grin."
"'Cause you're pretty."
"Quit it."
"Nope. C'mere, girlfriend!"
I approached, scooped her slim frame easy. She startled but melted in. Kissed her forehead. Her scent stirred me deep.
"Cake looks bomb."
"Duh. Who made it?"
"Thanks. Must've been tough."
"This much for my bf? No biggie."
"Haa, you're too lovable."
Gazed down, kissed her. She stroked my chest, returned it. Teased her tongue. Licked sticky, provoking. Hers spun wild like a propeller.
So slutty. Total bitch in heat!
Over three minutes, she pulled back, whined.
"Ugh, gonna suck forever? Mom'll see."
"Fine, let's eat. Looks delish. Hehe."
"Hmph."
Stared at the cake. Half whipped cream, half chocolate—split perfect. She handed bread knife.
"Here, cut fair slices."
"Digging in!"
Sliced neat, plated. Photoworthy. Forked careful bite. Cream burst alive in mouth. Syrup-soaked strawberry seduced. Chewy soft, warm slide down.
Whoa, better than expected?
Well made. Romi eyed nervously.
"How's it?"
"Delicious. Damn, pro level. Charge for this."
"Flatterer."
"For real. Thanks, seriously."
She ate too. Eyes widened like a cat's. We chatted over cake. Bliss.
"Ugh."
"What?"
Romi sighed, poked cake with fork.
"Bread side not moist enough?"
"Nah, tastes great."
"'Cause you're clueless, loser. Need more practice."
"It's good now. Girlfriend too cute."
"Hmph, wonder whose fault."
She scooped chocolate cream pro, licked slow with tongue, eyes wet staring hungry-like, swallowed whole. Pure lewdness.
A girl doing this for me?
Bio mom flashed; I shook it off. No more like her. Hid wry smile, kept eating.
Footsteps behind. Stepmom.
"Oh my, what's this? Cake?"
"Ah, Mom."
"Heh, Mom. I made it."
Romi smirked proud at Yu-jin. Stepmom gawked at cake, us, cake.
This scene shocked her.
"And eating all buddy-buddy? Hehe."
"Uh, well."
Romi tsked at me. My lame reply?
Casual: "Been self-teaching baking. Had the loser rate it."
"Hehe, my girl's talented."
"Try some, Mom."
"Sure."
Stepmom tasted. Master chef, house's pinnacle. Wouldn't lose to bio mom cooking-wise. Tried both halves, shocked.
"Tasty! Wow, my girl's a star! My daughter rocks!"
"Heh, right?"
Then her eyes curved sly.
"But bread's a tad dry. Temp control off. Cream's melting already."
"Eek."
I grinned. Pros see through. Still backed her.
"Mom, first try this good? Tasted great."
"Aww, really? So happy you two get along. Hehehe."
"Hahaha."
Her enchanting laugh. Milf hypnosis every time.
Ate cake entranced. Romi's taste was top-tier.
Honestly, wanna savor forever.
Stepmom chatted with Romi up front. My gray days now colored by this family.
"Girl, what wind blew this baking kick?"
"S-sorta thing!"
"Got it. Boyfriend?"
"Wha? No! What?!"
"Hehe, sure. Fun times. Who's the guy? Know him?"
"Ugh, dunno!"
Stepmom's teasing giggles, flirty probes. Romi hid face, shot me hot glances.
Wanna live this daily. For real.
Ever craved family bliss like this? Shocked at myself. Good change. Smiled.
I'm changing.
Bzzz. Cake gone, cleaning up. Text came.
From someone I knew. World froze.