#kinling

terms/flags by us. tagging @radiomogai and @dimensen.

i know fictlings are pretty common. maybe it’s just because none of us are very interested in most fictional media, and not truly invested in any. but we don’t mind being brain-made! some of us just suddenly begin existing involuntarily (like vanille and evie) and some of us were slowly developed through trial and error and what felt right (koda). and i love that for us :)

© Uchiha Shiro

for @d3stroia and myself c:

                                      careful creatures, tantalizing trebles tipping each scale for the other. a touch, a pull, an ivy’d creep glance in everglade exchanges in the eden of each other. there were games meant to be played,and she had always intended to play them well.                                                                         line of lips thin in the levy of a cross-carved smile, hiding it away in the pocket of a dimple. his hands rake and mold, but she is not clay to melt. she is marble for all intents and purpose. lips - however - doth protest in such sweet sigil patterns into the fabric of her blouse. book becomes an extension; bound pages masquerading a cover for the grin growing in the gale. but he is quick work of such small buffs of intimacy. she wants to giggle,bell-tone chirps of laughter bubbling forth from the brook of babble lost in her at such opportune moments. like child that had been caught, he sees so through such ruses. hands do as lips, lattice bridges built on the plane of her stomach between each perfectly slotted finger. she lets leg uncross as he pulls her in, letting the waters stir only as much as she dared. hips sway and she is crossing leg again, a slow drape of velveteen milk in the sashay of silken skirt and delicate ruffle. knuckles glide oe’r knuckles, bringing hand to lips and letting preened petals gather what remained. ‘ have i disturbed you? you simply looked so lonely here I was compelled to fly to your service. ‘  lips rise in corners against the rough flesh of a hand she so adored, innocent breath feigning oe’r the hills and valleys of palms she so intricately studied. ‘ do you want me to move? ‘ double-edged questions-not quite daggers, but sharp all the while.

Shiro & Onao

                                         ❝ I’m sorry to say you’ve heard of me, what little pleasure that might be. I encourage you                                                                                   to seek a heart another place, you will find no home in mine. ❞