Date: 2025-02-28 09:01 pm (UTC)
swordpour: (tcLTfSB)
From: [personal profile] swordpour
(for cellinia, they were proof she lived. she survived. she didn't die, no matter what had happened to her prior. she's there, she hasn't given up herself. the pain of obtaining them was nothing in retrospect to what this wolf would have lost. not just a life, but more than that in the way she fights. unpredictable, a raging storm, and what some would dub frightening in her instinctive responses in a fight. a prodigy. capable of ripping apart those who dared to try and face her in a true battle. those gangsters she would deal with often had begun to learn she's by no means that girl to mess with, similarly she's not above throwing herself into it even if her opponent isn't human. she's not that sort of girl to sit back and allow others to die.

or get hurt worse than that, that was her reason for going on the hardest path of the two friends she'd known since her childhood. one was acting a donna, playing at being a playwright and saying that they were the heir's to the once prestigious bloodline. the other had broken apart to pieces, despair destroyed her, the years of abuse by the system mixed into an urge to destroy it all. destroy everything in her obsession. honestly, cellinia half realizes she's talking like her. with how cellinia is using "pet" names. the thought would often make her feel something, something that twisted in disgust at herself for doing something that silver haired wolf would have done.

but she isn't, not right now. maybe later she might at the sweet words she'd have said. terms often given to partners and how they're a stark reminder of what that woman would have said to her. they didn't need her getting cold feet, she's come this far no matter her own cowardice, her own inability to do something more for herself back then. she'd always wish that she could have done something, could have saved her grandfather. it's unfortunate, but the universe has a thing for destroying anything good. including her grandfather, who had sought to only stop his son. to take his granddaughter under his wing for the reason of ushering in a new era. an era he would hope be filled with prosperity that they had never seen before. maybe she doesn't know entirely mai's own pains, but she knows it in another sense about expectations and demands placed upon the shoulders of children. of those who held no reason to be dragged into it by birth alone and virtue of it.

she wears them with her own pride, despite it. the scars, the times she escaped death. she's done so much more to get stronger because she told herself she'd never desire to lose so much again. to have to start the slate clean again and burn away what once had been her home. that she wants to keep something so important, family, love, friends....all close to her. her heart, her everything while they never know what she's thinking. what it was that she might ever feel about them underneath the surface.

while mai might feel jealous lurking deeply for that courage, that power. cellinia might have even told her that she did display some of that courage for flirting with her. who willingly flirts with a wolf? attractive or not, but the thought fades to her breathy words, delight in mai's eyes. her own eyes are yearning, her hands are relaxed in their grip.)


....from how much I want to feel you, I would.

(she teases, the words feel slightly soft while they fade further on her tongue. too soft for the heat they're after, whenever they go from gentle teasing to her sighing out breathy sounds. to her lips along her neck, the revolver making her stay well in place at the sensation of cold steel to her abdomen and now mai's mouth suckling gentle then hard on her collar. she was getting the head start she sought, marking cellinia's battered body as her own in leopard spots.

spots of red turning black and blue when they're done from every mark being left. cellinia intended to leave her in bites, marks bordering into possession. a desire to have and to own, to be owned and everything herself while decorating her in affections that would surely make her own father turn in his grave. he'd hate to see cellinia do this. she was a woman, not a boy. the usual with men among the familige being too displeased by the women that rose to power themselves.

that tease of her tongue, the lick of it along near her breast draws out a sharper sigh. quiet, but it's there. the rumbling growl, low and wanting in her throat could be felt like this from mai's light bite to her. they're close enough she'd feel every growl. every animalistic and bestial sound she makes while her hands grip slightly more on the other woman's shoulders. not enough to hurt, but enough to tell her that she likes it. she likes it too much when she looks at her. those amber eyes, dark with hunger, yearning, and want. the best kind of combination a woman as greedy as mai could ever want when she parts.

that smug look, that demand of praise in her eyes. another thing she wants to see twist away, how attractive this girl looks whenever she looks at her. smug and everything, self assured. like indeed, a queen of the castle who demands what she wants when she wants it and more than that.)


The way you get when you look this cheeky, this smug....it's attractive. (too attractive.) Your impatience, your self assurance....

(her own impatience is there, it's fighting her every second, she wants to undress her proper. she wants to feel her, she wants to give this girl another larger mistake on their litany of them. she can feel it down to her bones, the rising heat from them in how she stares. that tease wasn't enough to satisfy any of it.) I want to undress you, bella signora, won't you let me? (a husk, a rasp, the hunger accentuates the italian words. a compliment for her lover, her lover she needs too much.)
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𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐬 (9 of ♠)