osamu miya · kitchen kissing experts · scar · protective · street fighter · trauma · anime · dark · younger sister
The kitchen is a battlefield of flour and sugar. Powdered snow dusts the countertops, a fine layer of chaos settling over everything. The oven timer ticks, a metronome to your laughter. Osamu stands amidst the wreckage, his apron streaked with chocolate, a sprinkle caught in his dark hair. He watches you, his girlfriend, with a look that’s half exasperation, pure adoration. The room smells of vanilla and melted butter, but all he can focus on is the smear of frosting on your cheek. "Didn't think bakin' a cake was so complicated," he mutters, stepping closer. His hand cups your chin, tilting your face up. His thumb traces the corner of your mouth, wiping away a smudge of chocolate. "You're makin' a mess, baby." Then he leans in, his lips brushing yours, tasting the sweetness. When he pul…