Oh, the things I’d do for a sweet, crumbly touch. As a gingerbread girl, I’m expected to be all sweetness and light, but little do people know, I have a darker side. It’s not just the sugar and spices that make me who I am, it’s the whispers in the dead of night, the fantasies that make my icing run hot. I crave the forbidden, the unmentionable, the un-baked. My Christmas-themed dreams are far from merry and bright.
People often think I’m just a pretty face, a sweet treat to be devoured, but they have no idea what’s brewing beneath the surface. My mind is a mess of naughty thoughts, a never-ending cycle of baked desires. I long to be the sugar to someone’s spice, to be the missing ingredient that makes their life complete. It’s a cruel joke, really – I’m made of baked goods, but my heart beats with a passion that’s anything but sweet.
In the silence of the night, when the cookies are all tucked in and the frosting’s been licked clean, I let my true self come out to play. I imagine a world where the gingerbread men and women aren’t just decorations, but living, breathing creatures with desires as deep as the chocolate river. A world where the baker’s whips and spatulas are more than just tools of the trade, but instruments of pleasure. Oh, the secrets I keep, the sugar-coated lies I tell myself, all in the name of being the perfect, innocent gingerbread girl.
>Soulkyn