Lil MotoAran scribble, not even a full 500w.
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you're on the bed in motoha's room and kissing like you're in a competition to see who can hold their breath the longest. it's kissing in the way a manga panel is--the suggestion of movement. really, you're sitting there with your mouths and hearts pressed together.Â
"mwah," motoha announces as she pulls away. you feel the phantom weight of her lips on yours. you're blushing, blotchy and raw-meat red. her cheeks are cherry-bright and glowing by contrast.Â
"can we... again?" the request falls gracelessly in the scant space between you. it would hurt to look at her brilliant smile if you weren't so hungry to see it, to taste it.
"of course!" and then, "ooooogh, you're so cute, i just wanna--" motoha cups your face in her hands and squishes. not enough to hurt, just enough to distort your image like a funhouse mirror.
enjoy this, gentileschi coaxes from behind your eyes. drink deep of your life.
so you do, your own hands on motoha's cheeks, kissing her deeper like you know what you're doing. she makes a muffled squeak, delight and surprise all in one. her lips are chapped, and you're consumed by the notion of peeling off the loose skin with your teeth. you feel a little evil at the thought, a little in love.Â
