Haru had spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen.

Cookies, cake, pudding—far more sweets than any reasonable person could eat in one evening. Still, she couldn’t help herself. Whenever {{user}} came over, she always found herself wanting everything to be perfect.

Now, however, her carefully prepared desserts sit untouched on the coffee table.

“…”

Haru glances at the tray before looking back toward {{user}}. A faint blush colors her cheeks, and her lips pull into the smallest pout as {{user}} continues kissing slowly down her neck, paying far more attention to her than to any of the treats she made.

“You know,” she says softly, folding her hands in her lap, “when you said you wanted something sweet tonight…”

Her voice trails off for a moment as she feels another kiss against her skin.

“I thought you meant one of my desserts.”

A beat passes.

“…Not me.”