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The open bottle of cinnamon bounced off Choso’s head. He shook the spice out of his hair, creating a golden halo cloud before sneezing. You bit your lip to keep from smiling. Maybe a break was in order. The apartment was a mess, but most of the chaos was contained in the tiny kitchen: a stovetop rumbling with pots, a sink invaded by dishes, and countertops covered in seasoning packets.
“You should go rest,” You said, stir-frying a pan of cabbage and carrots. “I can take care of meal prep.”
Your boyfriend checked his phone, the sixteenth time tonight (yes, you counted), for any text updates from his brothers before peering over your shoulder. He frowned at the limp vegetables. “It’s missing peppers.”
“Choso,”
“Kechizu doesn’t eat enough greens.”
“You told me Eso doesn’t like peppers. And Yuji—”
“We can make another batch without peppers for Eso. It’s not a big deal.” He was already grabbing a bell pepper out of the fridge and chopping it up.
You sighed and went back to stirring. Choso’s stress permeated the house; the end result was a freezer jam-packed with ready-made meals and the lingering smell of burnt coffee. To say you were anxious was an understatement. You got jumpy every time he adjusted the wall art hanging in the guest rooms. You knew it wasn’t Choso’s intention to be overbearing. His family was coming to town for the holidays, and he was preparing for their stay the best he could.
When you heard the news, you were ecstatic. Meeting the people he loved was another huge milestone in your relationship. So last week, you two embarked on a whirlwind shopping spree, buying enough groceries and toilet paper that no one had to leave the cramped apartment if they had to.
Choso was onto the last half of the bell pepper when he accidentally sliced open his index finger. He didn’t even flinch. He just glanced down at the cut like it was a nuisance before washing the wound.
“Give me that,” you grabbed his bleeding hand before he could hide it from you and led him out of the kitchen.
“You act like it’s the end of the world,” he muttered.
You ignored him and extracted a first-aid kit from the bathroom cabinet. He’s so worried about looking out for others, but he never stops to consider his own well-being.
“How did you survive this long without me?” You asked him when you reached the living room. The two of you take a seat on the sofa.
He smirked. “I dunno, maybe because I’m half cursed spirit?”
You sprayed his cut with a saline solution, and he hissed in pain. “Smart-ass.”
Choso watched you wrap his finger in a band-aid in silence. He seemed to pick up on your frayed nerves because he spoke. “I want my brothers to like this, to like you. Which I know they will.”
“They don’t even believe I exist.”
It was true, sadly. Choso’s younger brothers weren’t convinced that within a year of moving to a new city, he got himself a girlfriend, even after showing them a picture of you.
“I know. That’s why we have to make everything perfect.”
You wiped your sweaty hands on your pants. Perfect. Well, with the way things were going… no, you two still had time to straighten up the place. They were arriving tomorrow morning. You hugged your boyfriend without thinking.
He stiffened. “I’m covered in cinnamon.”
“I love it, though. It’s like I’m holding a warm cookie that just came out of the oven.” You nuzzled your face against his sweater-clad chest. “Gosh, I’m so nervous and excited about them coming, I could bounce off the walls!”
“Well, don’t. I hate rearranging the furniture.”
“Why are you lying?”
Your teasing made him blush; Choso might act unbothered, but he was still a man. Some nights when he liked to blow off steam, he would keep you up until dawn, until your voice was hoarse from calling his name in the dark. You chafed your thighs together in memory. When was the last time you two did it? He’s spent so many evenings fussing over holiday decorations… it had to have been at least three weeks ago.
He studied you and his gaze, warm and brown like spilled spice, softened with a rare kind of tenderness. “What if we had… a bigger family?”
You stared at him, slowly processing the weight of his words.“A bigger family? Like children?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” his arms tightened around your waist. “I look at you and I feel so complete it hurts.”
“But I’m just your girlfriend.”
“No, you’re not. You’re more than that,” he said fiercely. “You’re the oxygen in my blood. The circulation that keeps my heart beating.”
You cupped his face in your hands. Your body wanted him; that never changed, and your feelings for him grew stronger as time went by. But you didn’t want to be his rock. You wanted to be irreplaceable. Anything less than that would never satisfy you. To hear him verbally affirm how badly he wanted you to be a permanent person in his life made you want to kiss him.
Choso would never force you to do something without your consent. The thought of him taking control as he filled your womb one thrust at a time made you dizzy, though. Maybe he’d never actually follow through with it. Maybe he’d chicken out at the last minute, withdraw. Or maybe he doesn’t, and nine months from now, your stomach is round, carrying his baby. There was so much risk involved.
And that’s what made loving him so worthwhile.
Your knees turned to goo when he bent down and kissed your lips. You straddled his lap. His fingers teased inside the waistband of your leggings, found the lace of your panties, and gave them a playful tug. Your clit swelled at the roughness, but you smacked his hand away. “The food. We need to finish it.”
“Fuck meal prep,” he kissed the hollow of your throat, and you moaned.
He grabbed the back of your knees and lifted you to carry you to the bedroom. No words were exchanged, not as you tugged off each other's clothes and threw them on the floor. You were ready to use your tongue to lick a trail down Choso’s rippling abs until you found your favorite part of his body, but he stopped you before you could even kneel.
“Touch yourself for me,” he whispered hoarsely, coaxing your hips back until you fell back on the bed.
You opened your knees and snaked a hand between them. Choso’s gaze tracked your fingers as you spread open your folds, exposing your needy cunt. He inhaled sharply. When you were wet and glistening, he got on his knees and worshipped you, but this time he restrained himself. You drew a line from your entrance to your bud. With a middle finger, you cast shapes across your cunt like a sorcerer, drawing his attention to every shiver running across your body, every sigh and roll of your hips.
With each stroke, you primed yourself to take his cock.
“D-damnit,” you moaned when you curled a finger inside you a little too deeply than you intended.
Choso’s hand strayed to his hard erection. He spread the precum from the tip, used it to pump his fist across his considerable length. “Don’t hold back,” he said, beginning to edge himself by slow thrusting. He looked so hot masturbating.
With added pressure, your tight walls sucked in a second finger. You got on all fours on the bed. There were two reasons for this. One was so you could ride your fingers deeper. Two, it was because your face was aligned with the head of Choso’s cock, so when he climaxed, his cum could shower you.
“Keep going,” you begged him. “I think I can catch your load with my mouth if we get the angle right.”
He hesitated, like he was actually considering before he made up his mind. But he pushed you on your back instead, spread you out so you were open for him. You raised your legs toward your chest in a full-body surrender. This was it. The closest position of submission you could give him before he took you.
He leaned over to align his length to your weeping entrance. There was no more talking. Not after making his decision. You shivered under his gaze. His origins were cold and ancient, contrasting the warmth of his body as he slid inside you. Tears pricked your eyes. He was so deep like this. Choso moved slowly, driving in and in and in until his entire cock was inside. He felt snug inside you. You were made for him. You felt it.
Choso didn’t waste time. He meant to leave something permanent in you. He pressed his weight down, penetrating you deeper until you cried. Slow, gradual pressure left you breathless. You and him… You were one like this.
Outside the bedroom, the smoke detector went off.
“The—”
“If you mention the food one more time,” Choso cut off, hair falling in his eyes. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk right for a week.”
You swallowed. He wasn’t joking. Sweat beaded his skin. He frowned in concentration, the muscles in his arms that caged you bulging from exertion as his thrusts quickened. Your eyes rolled back. Fear coiled in your gut. He was strong enough to rip you in half if he wanted. The pleasurable ache building between your thighs made you feral.
“Come on, Choso… give me twins!”
A guttural growl wrenched from his throat. He doubled his efforts, pressed you into bliss.
Smoke singed the air. You smelt it before you saw the tendrils curl into the room. You flung your arms around Choso and held him tight, not giving a damn anymore. If you had to make another batch, then so be it. Cum. There was so much of it leaking from your entrance, thick and promising. If Choso kept this up, you two might be having triplets.
The smoke alarm rang out in loud repeated three beats. Choso cursed. “Damn alarm,” he muttered under his breath. “Take that!”
You cried. The last thrust sent shockwaves rippling through your body. Hot cum flooded in you. He now intertwined fingers with you, hands clasped as you melted.