[It's a touch trickier than Mai would have anticipated, this lesson at relinquishing human sensibilities in exchange for the unbridled hunger of a beast. Curiously enough, she's half-fooled by her lover's gentleness with her, those lovely words and the beautiful pace she sets with her fingers thus far. There's not a single doubt in her mind that she has ended up with the best of the best, as far as teachers are concerned. Cellinia can walk both worlds without issue, appearing to live quietly amongst humans while still being able to thoroughly indulge in her natural instincts without leaving a trail of bloody ruin in her wake. Well, noâ in this case, the ruin that she would leave her lovers in is hidden within the longing she roots deeply within their bodies, melting them with such ease that they would do nearly anything to be caught, trapped beneath a wolf's sharp gaze one more time.
The more that Mai lets Cellinia lead her, the more she allows herself to observe without giving in thoughtlessly to the sweetness of their intimacies, the better she can see where her own path could entangle with that of a beast. She can follow the thread masquerading as the kisses that Cellinia is impatient to indulge in, despite how she seemed to enjoy the feel of Mai's mouth upon her ears. True, the greed is there, lurking, anticipating the moment where it can bask in all of its unhindered glory. But it wearsâ and convincingly soâ the image of something patient and yearning. This lesson of theirs demands more of Mai than might have been earlier considered. Perhaps it even demands more of Cellinia, her very guide. To love a human as a beast, to love a beast as a humanâ somewhere in the middle, they might find that each is more a reflection of the other than they would have ever fathomed.
Each step of this beautiful dance calls upon Mai to rise above the swelling waves of bliss that want to whisk her away. Cellinia, effortlessly, leads her across this stage of theirs with her touch, and when she hotly murmurs her sin-soaked adoration, it's as if she is orchestrating the very unrestrained reactions that Mai's body gives her. How she shudders and tightens reflexively around her when Cellinia praises her, calling her beautiful when she has her like this. Of course, Mai thinks, wants to blurt out, that Cellinia would be lucky if she'd ever have anyone more beautiful than Mai Zen'in holding her close, and closer still because she can't get enough.]
C-Celliniaâ
[But she doesn't utter whatever petulant remark she might've otherwise wanted to wind up her lover with. No, she can't reply with anything other than a breathless almost-laugh, and Cellinia's pretty name twisted into something akin to a plea. How will her good little pup answer her? Will she give her more, more of both her touch and her filthy praise, and feast her eyes on just how beautifully Mai can unravel for her? With every deep, possessive plunge of Cellinia's fingers into her wet heat, Mai stops trying to bite back the shaking whimpers. What good is there in denying this pretty display from what is hers? Let her hear this raw desire and unadulterated greed, let her taste the desperation in each kiss that Mai breaks prematurely with her clipped gasps.
Her sweet wolf enjoys how splendidly Mai takes the relentless pleasure that Cellinia builds up between her hips, does she? How terrible, utterly terrible of this beast, the way she ruins her with how sweetly she speaks to her, all the while her hands take their impatient fill of Mai's body. And she spoils her like this, Cellinia summoning the greed to devour on what she rots away with her devotionâ that which doesn't belong anymore in the prize she has claimed for her own.]
O-Only need me?
[Cellinia's breathtaking declaration is echoed in the strained notes of Mai's voice. Fiery pride flashes in her eyes, only tempered by the lapping tides of awe at hearing such words. Her lover's need competes with the touches she so deftly gives, and it's hard to say which of them causes Mai's body to react so hotly, a notable trembling in her limbs at the calloused fingertips explore their way up along her torso. And when they dance over her ribs, higher and higher, to then cradle the soft flesh of her breast, a soft mewl of approval is hummed into their kiss. It's utterly splendid, this attention fed to her without abandon, sending deeper rushes of pleasure in waves through her body just when she had acclimated to the bliss of the sensations. A sharp gasp is stifled in response to Cellinia's fondling, the way she teases at the nipple between her fingers stoking Mai's nerves and feeding the heat pooling in her stomach as Cellinia's ceaseless fingers are met with more of her dripping essence with every thrust.
Part of her wants to repay the careful tenderness, but when she drags her nails up along from Cellinia's hip, leaving rosy lines that only deepen in their hueâ is the sweetness that her darling wolf wants in return not this? Marking her in ways that, even if only temporarily, would remind her of the sting of Mai's ache for her. A shame, that these will fade, a shame that they'll have no choice but to offer themselves up to each other repeatedly until these marks of ownership become scars of love that stretch across their very souls.]
Tell me again. Tell me again, Cellinia.
[Praise, affectionâ whatever one wishes to call it, Mai wants it. Needs it, a more apt conclusion, or craves it. For this much, the greedy little animal inside of her that waits for its chance to shine, digs through her reluctance with claws too sharp. And they sink, deeply, deeper still, latching onto Cellinia though not drawing a single drop of blood. It finds its well-earned throne in the hopeless, passionately messy kisses that Mai steals from her lover, and it makes its demands in the hand she grazes over the scar on Cellinia's abdomen. Lower, lower, the greed simply won't be satisfied until Cellinia's pleasure is at Mai's mercy, as well. How excited does it make you, pretty wolf, breaking your lover down so adoringly? It'd be foolish to think that Mai's curiosity won't be getting the better of her, at the behest of this greedy shadow.]
Tell meâ [there, there is that undeniable begging in her voiceâ the one that no one else will ever get the privilege of hearing, just as Cellinia desires ] âtell me, and I'll make you beautiful.
[And she will, that's a promise. She shall flood your veins with a pleasure that'll feed your addiction, Cellinia, and leaves you in bliss only to suffer in misery when the thrill has worn off. It's not so different from the way you're calling upon Mai to sin with youâ she already knows she'll be tormented by the memories of this brief fling, and she loathes it. Wallow in the anguish with her, then, won't you? Her greed isn't as pretty as yours, not yetâ but that's fine, isn't it? Even those sharp eyes can find something beautiful in the way that Mai's fingers trail between Cellinia's thighs, stroking hungrily over sweetly sensitive places. Because that's how Mai longs to make Cellinia into something even more beautiful for her own eyes, sparkling with yearning and pleasure. Perhaps her wolf will have to enjoy her kisses while she can, Mai's greed might soon latch onto a craving for a different kind of taste⊠]
(lessons like this take time, effort. to be an expert means letting go of oneâs inhibitions to release what would be their deepest greed, their unspoken desires and everything. there are no winners when it comes to the matter of love, how it might as well destroy them for their existence. believing themselves above it, beyond it. what good has falling this hard done for any poor girls like them, who dreamed of freedom and the peace that it could bring upon weary souls? itâs done nothing. cellinia is something proud, something beautiful in all her scars, the ink, and the bestial air that comes from her. a threat of tearing apart others while displaying acts of tenderness that no beast should know about. sheâs so cruel in these affections, to herself, to others, and perhaps eventually mai as well while they begin to unravel and bind themselves to the fate of one another. nobody would rip away this lesson in greed, not even this love that would come of it.
love will be their doom. it is their ruin, the one thing that shall never be forgotten in the deep etchings of scars and pain within them. cellinia is slow, slow to lead this dance even with sweet words of longing, of offerings that should have never been spoken. she says them, regardless, she dances so beautifully as they lean away from something like fucking to making love. that terrible and ruinous emotion which fuels lovers into surrendering what little they have left to whatever heaven may exist. those words, so pretty, they were said without knowing that it was only another spell of their doom in which theyâd at the end never be the same as they were before. sheâd show her such delights, the whispers, while letting go of what had been their sanity. their mundane and pathetic reality, which fades further away the longer they spend in this carefully crafted altar. this sacred place, fending off the thoughts of how undeserving they are.
about how they never deserved this, love never was to be in their hands. but she calls her beautiful, she says so truly, the words that only drive the nail deeper into their mutual coffin that would be the future. i only need you, what tainted words could only ever be felt by them who never knew the beauty of it. being needed, being wanted. having a home, a place to belong to without fear of being shunned for what they are. theyâre only two foolish girls who made the mistake of telling themselves love was a game that would destroy their poor hearts further for trying to make sense of it. to chase it, even. the sound of mai crying out for her, that desperate plea in her voice as she says her name. not the last name she holds scornfully close as the only survivor, but cellinia. she wants to hear it more. taste it, even, on the lips of her goddess as she cries out such sinful sounds that would put even the most practiced of singers to shame. thereâs nothing more beautiful than this. to see it, to feel her unraveling before the sharp eyes of a wolf.
pull her nearer, even while they kiss so breathless and graceless.
whatever remark can stay silenced, they both didnât need to hear it. just looking at her is enough to stir her baser instincts. sheâs made that claim all the more personal with saying those tainted words, those words which hold to them something deeper. past what should have been a fling, a simple tryst. oh, they truly were foolish for them to not realize what theyâre getting themselves into by willing something like that into existence by how they play at ignoring the emotions that stir. love at first sight, ignorance at first sight with their pretending. the sweet wolf canât take her eyes off her dear goddess. what a beautiful sight, unraveling before sharp eyes that would commit every gasp and sigh and expression to memory. possession, want, and greed.
itâs wicked, how this devoted beast could be so hungry. so desperate itself in how she kisses this girl, this is what true devotion feels like. looks like. the plunge of her fingers deep into that wet heat, the feeling of her arousal dripping out more from each greedy thrust of them. there would be no restraint, not as long as mai willâs for that. she would be given every drop of greed and devotion. every taste of sinfully sweet and unholy words on her tongue, itâs solely hers to have, to cherish. there would be no other, nobody other than her. mai could count on that from cellinia, her ever devoted beast, who would sooner lash out were someone to try and suggest she needs to worship another.
the sweet music of maiâs voice straining is enough to stir up something fierce within her, that sound is only another part of the beauty in this sinful siren song. her hands are attentive, the unrelenting thrust of her fingers, the fondling of her breast with care, while maiâs voice causes this wolf to be unable to look away more than usual. that mewl of approval and how her body trembles is only all the sweeter for this beast of hers. isnât it so good of her, mai? sheâs giving you so much of her. sheâs even giving you more than any person could ever try to, nobody else could compare to your sweet wolf, can they? sheâs beyond a human in her reverence, donât you want to see the way sheâd treat your body so tenderly, treat you like all others couldnât compare to you?
she can feel it in how she scratches those rosy lines along her hip, she could even feel it in the way mai returns this tenderness with her own devotion. a wish to mark her wolfâs body in scratches and marks that would have to be renewed again and again. carving them past scars that were carried, crafting them carefully into a message of love or devotion of their own without acknowledging the pitiful truth behind it. that this is love. they wonât be returning from love, theyâd only die from it and be born again for their troubles.
ah, but her greedy goddess reminds her, sheâs not one to hold back when she pleases. cellinia is reminded quickly, especially when maiâs hand goes lower. brushing up against that nasty scar, against sensitive places of her own, while cellinia breathes out a shaky sigh in response in their kisses. the passionate and messy kisses, hopeless, but wanting more. more than anything, the utter wanton pleasure between them just waiting to be released from its shackles. the beast can only be in awe at seeing how her goddess loves most to hear those words. the ruinous words that were proclaimed.
should she say it again for you, mai? the sweet touch of your fingers is torture, in how her own voice strains. more, give her more. give her everything, give her this devotion of your own. give her this greed thatâs running through your veins, sink your claws into her like she wonât belong to another herself. donât hold back, lovely goddess. this wolf has a taste for you and your sweet affection. this poison that you give her as it rots her down into this devoted monster that she will be for you.)
I only need you.
(does she need to say it louder, mai? because she might, she might if she demands it. the way her voice strains from pleasure, the drip of arousal and how wet she is for her. it would be so easy to slip her fingers inside if mai wishes to, cellinia wouldnât stop her from doing what she wanted. her lover can touch her freely, they could let go together if she really desired it for this show of sinful devotion on their makeshift altar. her greed didnât need to be a thing of beauty, cellinia would still be awestruck by it. it would get there in time, and even if it did not, cellinia would always find it beautiful. she can taste her as much as she desires, itâs only fitting that the wolf doesnât demand any less than that. she wants to be tormented, to be haunted by it. from this pure agony of knowing they would for a time be apart. so feed your desires, mai, she wants that more than anything.
[Oh, how they please Mai, these words repeated at her insistence. And how they almost suffocate her, stealing her breath away and leaving her yearning to hear them againâ just once more, and one more time after that, to feed a soul-splitting void that she wished she could have ignored forever before Cellinia waltzed into her life and tempted her with the promise of devotion. To be needed, in any manner of the word, is all Mai had ever truly wanted. For someone whose existence hardly meant a thing to anyone, being needed was everything. Because who else in her life held her in such esteem, nowadays? Those numbers, already embarrassingly small, have long-since dwindled into practically nothing. A few friends, maybe, who very well might leave her, too, somedayâ in life or in death.
Or maybe Mai would be the one to disappear, unceremoniously and without mourning, cast to the monsters as she has been. She'd die without ever being needed again, she figured, an empty loneliness that was befitting of a soul half-formed.
But in the same twist of fate that had birthed her into that family, Mai Zen'in has found herself being desiredâ neededâ by a beautiful monster.
It bewilders Mai, as she takes in the ragged and strained voice that utters such desires to her, while her own hands slip ever-closer to where she really longs to be. It bewilders herâ it's as though she is staring Death in the eyes and it demands that she lives. Cellinia is a paradox, a beautiful anomaly, and if Mai had any sense she'd run from her, as far as she can from those mesmerizing eyes. Instead, she holds her closer, because the only sense Mai can make of things is that being needed mattered far more than surviving ever could.]
That's right.
[A softly groaned approval, her own voice trembling from a poor attempt at maintaining composure while taking Cellinia's sweet touch. Mai breathes out sharply when her fingers delve in especially deep, and she decides to steal another graceless kiss from her lover's lips, foolishly hoping that she could steal the very air from Cellinia's lungs to make up for how breathless the wolf has left her from this declaration.]
That's right, Cellinia.
[What a good girl she is, better than Mai could ever try to be even at her most sincere. She hums her praise between their kisses, the desperation mutual and the sensations of their hands upon one another leaving their nerves in a frenzy. This is it, this is the feeling that Mai is so greedy for, giving herself up so wantonly to be cherished. It feels as mind-numbingly splendid as it did the night before, and she lets the sounds of her pleasure fall more easily from her lips when they part for air. Mai pants raggedly whenever Cellinia's fingers sink into her, her walls tightening around them reflexively, and she gives a low whimper whenever her lover draws herself free, even if it's only for a moment before plunging back inside.
It nearly drives her mad, practically to the point where she'd be content to let her mind drift in favor of the ecstasy daring to consume her, but there's something she wants to say while she still has her wits about her.]
And IâŠ
[But there's a split-second of hesitation, a wavering somewhere in the back of her mindâ reason daring to make her second-guess her real feelings. Mai kills it swiftly, that loathsome and unsurprising notion, treating it as if it were a trifling little curse at the end of her revolver. If only life could be so easy, if only she could really be so strong, so honest. Out there, in the real world, Mai knows exactly what she is. But here, atop this altar made of their entangled bodies, she wants to be as precious as Cellinia makes her feel. Reason has no place in whatever this whirlwind affair will lead her to, or will leave her in, once they finally part ways.
Mai's whole existence is unreasonableâ shall these feelings not be unreasonable, as well?
So, she kisses Cellinia again, hard and deep, their tongues slick against one another's. Mai groans hungrily when her fingers find another place where her beautiful wolf is sticky and slick for her. Her heartbeat quickens, a sense of pride and desire blooming hotly across her chest as she glides her fingertips teasingly between those lips. Savoring just how hot Cellinia feels, Mai caresses along her slit, dragging her knuckles softly along the soft flesh and marveling at how soaked her fingers become without even entering yet. Then Mai draws back just a bit, her gaze locked onto Cellinia's. A deep flush graces her cheeks but her eyes carry an unmistakable spark of boldness.]
I only need you, too.
[This vow, Mai breathes against Cellinia's lips, hushed as if a secret for her ears only. They've done well, these two foolish girls, crafting this makeshift sanctuary where they can entertain an even more foolish feeling, dancing around it, nurturing it with pretty words and prettier promises. They know exactly what they're doing, they know that this shall spell their ruinâ but haven't they already agreed to endure this beautiful fate at the other's hands?
Mai hasn't forgotten. She doubts that she ever could, no matter how shameful anyone else might have found her secret pleas to the beast she had willingly let herself be ensnared by. Here, together like this, her greed is allowed to burn away the shame etched into her bones.]
Just like this. Just for me.
[Her voice is a soft coo, alluring and yet needy, before she takes another kiss for her greedy self. Craving something more after letting her fingers have their teasing fun, Mai slows them to a halt against Cellinia's entrance, pressing two fingertips there for a moment. Her own body shudders and melts at the pleasure gifted to her by Cellinia's own hands, but the idea of the two of them eventually losing themselves to ecstasy together clings eagerly to her, and Mai eases her fingers into her lover without much resistance. She sighs in satisfaction at the feeling of being enveloped in her slick heat, wasting no time building a slow and steady rhythm of slipping in and out. Mai adds a third finger, partly out of impatience though mostly because she knows that her pretty wolf can take it. She doesn't hasten her pace, instead relishing the sensation whenever she sinks herself in deeply.]
CelliniaâŠ
[Oh, Mai could sigh her name like this foreverâ but, 'forever' would be too greedy, even for her, no?]
(how fitting is it that the beautiful monster is the one to look upon her like she means something. the wolf is tender, cruelly so in how she makes a girl feel so special. devotion is such an interesting idea from a woman like her, isnât it? when one has so little, itâs only unsurprising that the monsters themselves would find an appeal in souls that were rotted down to being poison themselves. half formed or not, there was such a sweet appeal in what cellinia reaches for with darkly sworn oaths of blood and despair. what better a lover, a match, than someone who knows the sting of hatred toward her own name? legacy does little, honor was only seen by those as a convenient excuse to behave as they pleased. desiring justice of a twisted sort while telling others that they were simply wishing to help those in need, playing at being human for the sake of appearances. except they werenât human, they werenât anything remotely close to human by demeanor alone when given the chance to feast like wild savage animals.
but irony is such a delicious thing, cellinia is no saint, and thereâs proof of it in her choice to sin here and now with a girl who provoked ruin. whispers on a makeshift altar whereupon they choose what may or may not come of this union of theirs and how the other monsters might believe them to be something so terrible in their willful ignorance about the way something like love works. it would only be seen as a foolish endeavor, a game to those bastards who would never understand the way their hearts seem to react. what a funny thought that is, that they might even be able to make something of themselves in their eyes. the pretty wolf doesnât seem fazed by this position they found themselves in, not that sheâs had time to think about it and what it entails. what could possibly go wrong in this love which they ignore the makings of to play pretend. they arenât delicate maidens, but something more cruel than that in their own way. which makes this wolf saving this girl amusing. she doesnât seek to end this by rapidly devouring her, sheâs savoring the hunt and chase that it offers.
how it stimulates her mind, holds her attention without trying from how they both flirted, though cellinia never was a good flirt. that she might have been doing it more naturally speaks some volumes of what kind of presence that mai in her half-formed heart has by words alone and devious whispers of ruin. beautiful anomaly, paradox, it didnât matter what cellinia is at the end of it. if she could go against whatever the world, fate, anything such as that desires, then why not make it so for a pretty goddess while sweet death sought to originally take her for itself? itâs only fitting for a monster to rip away a poor wayward soul from deathâs very own icy grip by making the choices that change such a fate by taking her for herself.
so she whispers it, she needs this foolish girl. though they both are fools, were she to be more honest in that regard. fools who were so twisted into what they are now. there is no soul clean of anything between them. cellinia is transfixed on her, the pretty wolf, which has her eyes glimmer in darkly ignited pleasure. those eyes which are mesmerizing and pretty, sharp as they take in any details. like staring into the soul and deciding that theyâre not leaving. so pretty, so unwilling to look away.
she didnât have to.
all she had to do was listen to the way mai groans out so softly, her sharp breaths like music to the wolf who feels herself sighing out breathlessly sweet notes in response to the kiss. it was easy to steal away her breath by this goddess, theyâre both making mistakes that anyone sane would have avoided. that was far from mind for the wolf, not even until after this would cellinia start to think about it. if only slightly, she might not even bother to consider then until itâs too late that she had promised something more than most would have dreamed of for a girl who had nothing left except precious little that her greedy hands would have held tightly on to. something that cellinia understood too well, as she had been in a precarious position which would have ended her if not for one kind soul.
their kiss bruised lips and breathless sighs, moans, whatever they might call it are proof enough that theyâre only going to lose what grasp of reason and sanity that remains for them. having such things were only pointless when it comes to the affairs of monsters. it wasnât worth the energy to maintain that part of themselves with this kind of storm that entangles them. theyâll never be the same, that is true for cellinia. in the way she touches mai, itâs only another part of this carnal desire mixed with love that they willfully ignore.
she didnât need to think, she only needed the taste of her lips and the sound of her voice with each plunge of her fingers. the whimpers, her ragged breathing while her walls tighten around her fingers. how perfect is she for her? the wolf sees her as a lovely goddess, her own little red riding hood. just look at how pretty she is while with a deep flush across her beautiful face in response to pleasure being granted to her for her own reward in enduring for long enough for one of them to get her hair washed. for even hanging on tight as the wolf called her, hers, in response to the taunting she did.
itâs too perfect, especially in how she breathes out shaky sighs of her own between stolen kisses and their bodies having a deep craving on this makeshift altar. forget about reality, itâs done so little for them. itâs never been kind to girls like them, once bright-eyed and pure. cruel reality, it only offers another poison meant to tear them to pieces with doubt, hesitation, and darker thoughts about what offerings they gave in demeaning ways directed at themselves and their cursing of their vulnerability as though it were a worthless thing. unfortunate how it doesnât work that way with wishing it might disappear, the parts of themselves that could only ever long to be healed like wounded children that are deep within them.
children who didnât deserve the future given to them, though one had risen above the way it intended to destroy her for the crime of living past a night that would have killed her had she not be so fortunate. so lucky that their intentions, that the silver wolf and others within her life hadnât decided to allow her to live. she was worth more dead than alive in the old country to most. but not to them, them who thought her last name and the wretched way it carries a weight to it was worth that effort.
sheâll make her miserable existence, her going against reason, worth something more. more than those monsters had ever taught mai, this is a lesson in living freely. taking as she desires, saw fit, with an offering of a beastâs body and very own leash for a girl like her. itâs an exquisite gift, isnât it? her own beast, something she can mark solely as belonging to her and no other in these spoken words and whispers like theyâre keeping secrets from some manner of outside presences that could be listening. she wants that greed, she wants everything her goddess has to offer without realizing how much that sweetness would destroy them when the day comes for it to collect its due price.
the price of love in how she whines for her goddess, the caress of fingers along her wet folds. that tease of it is enough to make cellinia feel as though she would lose her mind without her touch, sheâs burning so hotly for her between that and the ever deepening kisses. the slick movements of their tongues. her body needs her touch, wonât she give her it? from the low whimper, the hungry groans they share between kisses, one would think she would die without her. without this in how it makes her feel, her own fingers are deep inside mai. they slow. almost as though to match mai while theyâre like this and restrain herself from pushing so soon to bring her red riding hood to the edge.)
Mai....
(so pretty, so lovely how her voice strains when maiâs own fingers sink into the wet heat. how she says her name, itâs so beautiful. her body didnât resist, it welcomes her in how she looks at her lover. beautiful ruin, her free hand finds itself reaching for mai. bringing them both nice and proper on their sides, close, so close and able to see one another better as they both made a choice. they wonât fall to ruin alone. mai desired cellinia to fall with her, then itâs only fitting her rhythm matches that of hers. sheâs being so good for her, as amusing as it is that they both could be only when their hands are preoccupied with their bodies.
her walls tighten around her fingers on reflex when mai adds a third finger, she could take it. she is taking it, so easily and even moaning breathlessly for her, such pretty sounds. into their kiss that her greedy lover takes again for herself. she almost melts from need. forever might be too greedy, but it might even be too greedy were mai to desire to keep hearing the way cellinia might moan her name in kind. the wolf already likes too well how her goddess loves to say her own name. what wonderful music they make while giving these prayers on the makeshift altar, she might never stop praying if it means she can see her again.)
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Date: 2025-07-09 09:43 am (UTC)The more that Mai lets Cellinia lead her, the more she allows herself to observe without giving in thoughtlessly to the sweetness of their intimacies, the better she can see where her own path could entangle with that of a beast. She can follow the thread masquerading as the kisses that Cellinia is impatient to indulge in, despite how she seemed to enjoy the feel of Mai's mouth upon her ears. True, the greed is there, lurking, anticipating the moment where it can bask in all of its unhindered glory. But it wearsâ and convincingly soâ the image of something patient and yearning. This lesson of theirs demands more of Mai than might have been earlier considered. Perhaps it even demands more of Cellinia, her very guide. To love a human as a beast, to love a beast as a humanâ somewhere in the middle, they might find that each is more a reflection of the other than they would have ever fathomed.
Each step of this beautiful dance calls upon Mai to rise above the swelling waves of bliss that want to whisk her away. Cellinia, effortlessly, leads her across this stage of theirs with her touch, and when she hotly murmurs her sin-soaked adoration, it's as if she is orchestrating the very unrestrained reactions that Mai's body gives her. How she shudders and tightens reflexively around her when Cellinia praises her, calling her beautiful when she has her like this. Of course, Mai thinks, wants to blurt out, that Cellinia would be lucky if she'd ever have anyone more beautiful than Mai Zen'in holding her close, and closer still because she can't get enough.]
C-Celliniaâ
[But she doesn't utter whatever petulant remark she might've otherwise wanted to wind up her lover with. No, she can't reply with anything other than a breathless almost-laugh, and Cellinia's pretty name twisted into something akin to a plea. How will her good little pup answer her? Will she give her more, more of both her touch and her filthy praise, and feast her eyes on just how beautifully Mai can unravel for her? With every deep, possessive plunge of Cellinia's fingers into her wet heat, Mai stops trying to bite back the shaking whimpers. What good is there in denying this pretty display from what is hers? Let her hear this raw desire and unadulterated greed, let her taste the desperation in each kiss that Mai breaks prematurely with her clipped gasps.
Her sweet wolf enjoys how splendidly Mai takes the relentless pleasure that Cellinia builds up between her hips, does she? How terrible, utterly terrible of this beast, the way she ruins her with how sweetly she speaks to her, all the while her hands take their impatient fill of Mai's body. And she spoils her like this, Cellinia summoning the greed to devour on what she rots away with her devotionâ that which doesn't belong anymore in the prize she has claimed for her own.]
O-Only need me?
[Cellinia's breathtaking declaration is echoed in the strained notes of Mai's voice. Fiery pride flashes in her eyes, only tempered by the lapping tides of awe at hearing such words. Her lover's need competes with the touches she so deftly gives, and it's hard to say which of them causes Mai's body to react so hotly, a notable trembling in her limbs at the calloused fingertips explore their way up along her torso. And when they dance over her ribs, higher and higher, to then cradle the soft flesh of her breast, a soft mewl of approval is hummed into their kiss. It's utterly splendid, this attention fed to her without abandon, sending deeper rushes of pleasure in waves through her body just when she had acclimated to the bliss of the sensations. A sharp gasp is stifled in response to Cellinia's fondling, the way she teases at the nipple between her fingers stoking Mai's nerves and feeding the heat pooling in her stomach as Cellinia's ceaseless fingers are met with more of her dripping essence with every thrust.
Part of her wants to repay the careful tenderness, but when she drags her nails up along from Cellinia's hip, leaving rosy lines that only deepen in their hueâ is the sweetness that her darling wolf wants in return not this? Marking her in ways that, even if only temporarily, would remind her of the sting of Mai's ache for her. A shame, that these will fade, a shame that they'll have no choice but to offer themselves up to each other repeatedly until these marks of ownership become scars of love that stretch across their very souls.]
Tell me again. Tell me again, Cellinia.
[Praise, affectionâ whatever one wishes to call it, Mai wants it. Needs it, a more apt conclusion, or craves it. For this much, the greedy little animal inside of her that waits for its chance to shine, digs through her reluctance with claws too sharp. And they sink, deeply, deeper still, latching onto Cellinia though not drawing a single drop of blood. It finds its well-earned throne in the hopeless, passionately messy kisses that Mai steals from her lover, and it makes its demands in the hand she grazes over the scar on Cellinia's abdomen. Lower, lower, the greed simply won't be satisfied until Cellinia's pleasure is at Mai's mercy, as well. How excited does it make you, pretty wolf, breaking your lover down so adoringly? It'd be foolish to think that Mai's curiosity won't be getting the better of her, at the behest of this greedy shadow.]
Tell meâ [there, there is that undeniable begging in her voiceâ the one that no one else will ever get the privilege of hearing, just as Cellinia desires ] âtell me, and I'll make you beautiful.
[And she will, that's a promise. She shall flood your veins with a pleasure that'll feed your addiction, Cellinia, and leaves you in bliss only to suffer in misery when the thrill has worn off. It's not so different from the way you're calling upon Mai to sin with youâ she already knows she'll be tormented by the memories of this brief fling, and she loathes it. Wallow in the anguish with her, then, won't you? Her greed isn't as pretty as yours, not yetâ but that's fine, isn't it? Even those sharp eyes can find something beautiful in the way that Mai's fingers trail between Cellinia's thighs, stroking hungrily over sweetly sensitive places. Because that's how Mai longs to make Cellinia into something even more beautiful for her own eyes, sparkling with yearning and pleasure. Perhaps her wolf will have to enjoy her kisses while she can, Mai's greed might soon latch onto a craving for a different kind of taste⊠]
no subject
Date: 2025-07-25 05:13 pm (UTC)love will be their doom. it is their ruin, the one thing that shall never be forgotten in the deep etchings of scars and pain within them. cellinia is slow, slow to lead this dance even with sweet words of longing, of offerings that should have never been spoken. she says them, regardless, she dances so beautifully as they lean away from something like fucking to making love. that terrible and ruinous emotion which fuels lovers into surrendering what little they have left to whatever heaven may exist. those words, so pretty, they were said without knowing that it was only another spell of their doom in which theyâd at the end never be the same as they were before. sheâd show her such delights, the whispers, while letting go of what had been their sanity. their mundane and pathetic reality, which fades further away the longer they spend in this carefully crafted altar. this sacred place, fending off the thoughts of how undeserving they are.
about how they never deserved this, love never was to be in their hands. but she calls her beautiful, she says so truly, the words that only drive the nail deeper into their mutual coffin that would be the future. i only need you, what tainted words could only ever be felt by them who never knew the beauty of it. being needed, being wanted. having a home, a place to belong to without fear of being shunned for what they are. theyâre only two foolish girls who made the mistake of telling themselves love was a game that would destroy their poor hearts further for trying to make sense of it. to chase it, even. the sound of mai crying out for her, that desperate plea in her voice as she says her name. not the last name she holds scornfully close as the only survivor, but cellinia. she wants to hear it more. taste it, even, on the lips of her goddess as she cries out such sinful sounds that would put even the most practiced of singers to shame. thereâs nothing more beautiful than this. to see it, to feel her unraveling before the sharp eyes of a wolf.
pull her nearer, even while they kiss so breathless and graceless.
whatever remark can stay silenced, they both didnât need to hear it. just looking at her is enough to stir her baser instincts. sheâs made that claim all the more personal with saying those tainted words, those words which hold to them something deeper. past what should have been a fling, a simple tryst. oh, they truly were foolish for them to not realize what theyâre getting themselves into by willing something like that into existence by how they play at ignoring the emotions that stir. love at first sight, ignorance at first sight with their pretending. the sweet wolf canât take her eyes off her dear goddess. what a beautiful sight, unraveling before sharp eyes that would commit every gasp and sigh and expression to memory. possession, want, and greed.
itâs wicked, how this devoted beast could be so hungry. so desperate itself in how she kisses this girl, this is what true devotion feels like. looks like. the plunge of her fingers deep into that wet heat, the feeling of her arousal dripping out more from each greedy thrust of them. there would be no restraint, not as long as mai willâs for that. she would be given every drop of greed and devotion. every taste of sinfully sweet and unholy words on her tongue, itâs solely hers to have, to cherish. there would be no other, nobody other than her. mai could count on that from cellinia, her ever devoted beast, who would sooner lash out were someone to try and suggest she needs to worship another.
the sweet music of maiâs voice straining is enough to stir up something fierce within her, that sound is only another part of the beauty in this sinful siren song. her hands are attentive, the unrelenting thrust of her fingers, the fondling of her breast with care, while maiâs voice causes this wolf to be unable to look away more than usual. that mewl of approval and how her body trembles is only all the sweeter for this beast of hers. isnât it so good of her, mai? sheâs giving you so much of her. sheâs even giving you more than any person could ever try to, nobody else could compare to your sweet wolf, can they? sheâs beyond a human in her reverence, donât you want to see the way sheâd treat your body so tenderly, treat you like all others couldnât compare to you?
she can feel it in how she scratches those rosy lines along her hip, she could even feel it in the way mai returns this tenderness with her own devotion. a wish to mark her wolfâs body in scratches and marks that would have to be renewed again and again. carving them past scars that were carried, crafting them carefully into a message of love or devotion of their own without acknowledging the pitiful truth behind it. that this is love. they wonât be returning from love, theyâd only die from it and be born again for their troubles.
ah, but her greedy goddess reminds her, sheâs not one to hold back when she pleases. cellinia is reminded quickly, especially when maiâs hand goes lower. brushing up against that nasty scar, against sensitive places of her own, while cellinia breathes out a shaky sigh in response in their kisses. the passionate and messy kisses, hopeless, but wanting more. more than anything, the utter wanton pleasure between them just waiting to be released from its shackles. the beast can only be in awe at seeing how her goddess loves most to hear those words. the ruinous words that were proclaimed.
should she say it again for you, mai? the sweet touch of your fingers is torture, in how her own voice strains. more, give her more. give her everything, give her this devotion of your own. give her this greed thatâs running through your veins, sink your claws into her like she wonât belong to another herself. donât hold back, lovely goddess. this wolf has a taste for you and your sweet affection. this poison that you give her as it rots her down into this devoted monster that she will be for you.)
I only need you.
(does she need to say it louder, mai? because she might, she might if she demands it. the way her voice strains from pleasure, the drip of arousal and how wet she is for her. it would be so easy to slip her fingers inside if mai wishes to, cellinia wouldnât stop her from doing what she wanted. her lover can touch her freely, they could let go together if she really desired it for this show of sinful devotion on their makeshift altar. her greed didnât need to be a thing of beauty, cellinia would still be awestruck by it. it would get there in time, and even if it did not, cellinia would always find it beautiful. she can taste her as much as she desires, itâs only fitting that the wolf doesnât demand any less than that. she wants to be tormented, to be haunted by it. from this pure agony of knowing they would for a time be apart. so feed your desires, mai, she wants that more than anything.
sheâd never stop chasing her if she did.)
no subject
Date: 2025-08-17 08:47 am (UTC)Or maybe Mai would be the one to disappear, unceremoniously and without mourning, cast to the monsters as she has been. She'd die without ever being needed again, she figured, an empty loneliness that was befitting of a soul half-formed.
But in the same twist of fate that had birthed her into that family, Mai Zen'in has found herself being desiredâ neededâ by a beautiful monster.
It bewilders Mai, as she takes in the ragged and strained voice that utters such desires to her, while her own hands slip ever-closer to where she really longs to be. It bewilders herâ it's as though she is staring Death in the eyes and it demands that she lives. Cellinia is a paradox, a beautiful anomaly, and if Mai had any sense she'd run from her, as far as she can from those mesmerizing eyes. Instead, she holds her closer, because the only sense Mai can make of things is that being needed mattered far more than surviving ever could.]
That's right.
[A softly groaned approval, her own voice trembling from a poor attempt at maintaining composure while taking Cellinia's sweet touch. Mai breathes out sharply when her fingers delve in especially deep, and she decides to steal another graceless kiss from her lover's lips, foolishly hoping that she could steal the very air from Cellinia's lungs to make up for how breathless the wolf has left her from this declaration.]
That's right, Cellinia.
[What a good girl she is, better than Mai could ever try to be even at her most sincere. She hums her praise between their kisses, the desperation mutual and the sensations of their hands upon one another leaving their nerves in a frenzy. This is it, this is the feeling that Mai is so greedy for, giving herself up so wantonly to be cherished. It feels as mind-numbingly splendid as it did the night before, and she lets the sounds of her pleasure fall more easily from her lips when they part for air. Mai pants raggedly whenever Cellinia's fingers sink into her, her walls tightening around them reflexively, and she gives a low whimper whenever her lover draws herself free, even if it's only for a moment before plunging back inside.
It nearly drives her mad, practically to the point where she'd be content to let her mind drift in favor of the ecstasy daring to consume her, but there's something she wants to say while she still has her wits about her.]
And IâŠ
[But there's a split-second of hesitation, a wavering somewhere in the back of her mindâ reason daring to make her second-guess her real feelings. Mai kills it swiftly, that loathsome and unsurprising notion, treating it as if it were a trifling little curse at the end of her revolver. If only life could be so easy, if only she could really be so strong, so honest. Out there, in the real world, Mai knows exactly what she is. But here, atop this altar made of their entangled bodies, she wants to be as precious as Cellinia makes her feel. Reason has no place in whatever this whirlwind affair will lead her to, or will leave her in, once they finally part ways.
Mai's whole existence is unreasonableâ shall these feelings not be unreasonable, as well?
So, she kisses Cellinia again, hard and deep, their tongues slick against one another's. Mai groans hungrily when her fingers find another place where her beautiful wolf is sticky and slick for her. Her heartbeat quickens, a sense of pride and desire blooming hotly across her chest as she glides her fingertips teasingly between those lips. Savoring just how hot Cellinia feels, Mai caresses along her slit, dragging her knuckles softly along the soft flesh and marveling at how soaked her fingers become without even entering yet. Then Mai draws back just a bit, her gaze locked onto Cellinia's. A deep flush graces her cheeks but her eyes carry an unmistakable spark of boldness.]
I only need you, too.
[This vow, Mai breathes against Cellinia's lips, hushed as if a secret for her ears only. They've done well, these two foolish girls, crafting this makeshift sanctuary where they can entertain an even more foolish feeling, dancing around it, nurturing it with pretty words and prettier promises. They know exactly what they're doing, they know that this shall spell their ruinâ but haven't they already agreed to endure this beautiful fate at the other's hands?
Mai hasn't forgotten. She doubts that she ever could, no matter how shameful anyone else might have found her secret pleas to the beast she had willingly let herself be ensnared by. Here, together like this, her greed is allowed to burn away the shame etched into her bones.]
Just like this. Just for me.
[Her voice is a soft coo, alluring and yet needy, before she takes another kiss for her greedy self. Craving something more after letting her fingers have their teasing fun, Mai slows them to a halt against Cellinia's entrance, pressing two fingertips there for a moment. Her own body shudders and melts at the pleasure gifted to her by Cellinia's own hands, but the idea of the two of them eventually losing themselves to ecstasy together clings eagerly to her, and Mai eases her fingers into her lover without much resistance. She sighs in satisfaction at the feeling of being enveloped in her slick heat, wasting no time building a slow and steady rhythm of slipping in and out. Mai adds a third finger, partly out of impatience though mostly because she knows that her pretty wolf can take it. She doesn't hasten her pace, instead relishing the sensation whenever she sinks herself in deeply.]
CelliniaâŠ
[Oh, Mai could sigh her name like this foreverâ but, 'forever' would be too greedy, even for her, no?]
no subject
Date: 2025-08-18 07:26 am (UTC)but irony is such a delicious thing, cellinia is no saint, and thereâs proof of it in her choice to sin here and now with a girl who provoked ruin. whispers on a makeshift altar whereupon they choose what may or may not come of this union of theirs and how the other monsters might believe them to be something so terrible in their willful ignorance about the way something like love works. it would only be seen as a foolish endeavor, a game to those bastards who would never understand the way their hearts seem to react. what a funny thought that is, that they might even be able to make something of themselves in their eyes. the pretty wolf doesnât seem fazed by this position they found themselves in, not that sheâs had time to think about it and what it entails. what could possibly go wrong in this love which they ignore the makings of to play pretend. they arenât delicate maidens, but something more cruel than that in their own way. which makes this wolf saving this girl amusing. she doesnât seek to end this by rapidly devouring her, sheâs savoring the hunt and chase that it offers.
how it stimulates her mind, holds her attention without trying from how they both flirted, though cellinia never was a good flirt. that she might have been doing it more naturally speaks some volumes of what kind of presence that mai in her half-formed heart has by words alone and devious whispers of ruin. beautiful anomaly, paradox, it didnât matter what cellinia is at the end of it. if she could go against whatever the world, fate, anything such as that desires, then why not make it so for a pretty goddess while sweet death sought to originally take her for itself? itâs only fitting for a monster to rip away a poor wayward soul from deathâs very own icy grip by making the choices that change such a fate by taking her for herself.
so she whispers it, she needs this foolish girl. though they both are fools, were she to be more honest in that regard. fools who were so twisted into what they are now. there is no soul clean of anything between them. cellinia is transfixed on her, the pretty wolf, which has her eyes glimmer in darkly ignited pleasure. those eyes which are mesmerizing and pretty, sharp as they take in any details. like staring into the soul and deciding that theyâre not leaving. so pretty, so unwilling to look away.
she didnât have to.
all she had to do was listen to the way mai groans out so softly, her sharp breaths like music to the wolf who feels herself sighing out breathlessly sweet notes in response to the kiss. it was easy to steal away her breath by this goddess, theyâre both making mistakes that anyone sane would have avoided. that was far from mind for the wolf, not even until after this would cellinia start to think about it. if only slightly, she might not even bother to consider then until itâs too late that she had promised something more than most would have dreamed of for a girl who had nothing left except precious little that her greedy hands would have held tightly on to. something that cellinia understood too well, as she had been in a precarious position which would have ended her if not for one kind soul.
their kiss bruised lips and breathless sighs, moans, whatever they might call it are proof enough that theyâre only going to lose what grasp of reason and sanity that remains for them. having such things were only pointless when it comes to the affairs of monsters. it wasnât worth the energy to maintain that part of themselves with this kind of storm that entangles them. theyâll never be the same, that is true for cellinia. in the way she touches mai, itâs only another part of this carnal desire mixed with love that they willfully ignore.
she didnât need to think, she only needed the taste of her lips and the sound of her voice with each plunge of her fingers. the whimpers, her ragged breathing while her walls tighten around her fingers. how perfect is she for her? the wolf sees her as a lovely goddess, her own little red riding hood. just look at how pretty she is while with a deep flush across her beautiful face in response to pleasure being granted to her for her own reward in enduring for long enough for one of them to get her hair washed. for even hanging on tight as the wolf called her, hers, in response to the taunting she did.
itâs too perfect, especially in how she breathes out shaky sighs of her own between stolen kisses and their bodies having a deep craving on this makeshift altar. forget about reality, itâs done so little for them. itâs never been kind to girls like them, once bright-eyed and pure. cruel reality, it only offers another poison meant to tear them to pieces with doubt, hesitation, and darker thoughts about what offerings they gave in demeaning ways directed at themselves and their cursing of their vulnerability as though it were a worthless thing. unfortunate how it doesnât work that way with wishing it might disappear, the parts of themselves that could only ever long to be healed like wounded children that are deep within them.
children who didnât deserve the future given to them, though one had risen above the way it intended to destroy her for the crime of living past a night that would have killed her had she not be so fortunate. so lucky that their intentions, that the silver wolf and others within her life hadnât decided to allow her to live. she was worth more dead than alive in the old country to most. but not to them, them who thought her last name and the wretched way it carries a weight to it was worth that effort.
sheâll make her miserable existence, her going against reason, worth something more. more than those monsters had ever taught mai, this is a lesson in living freely. taking as she desires, saw fit, with an offering of a beastâs body and very own leash for a girl like her. itâs an exquisite gift, isnât it? her own beast, something she can mark solely as belonging to her and no other in these spoken words and whispers like theyâre keeping secrets from some manner of outside presences that could be listening. she wants that greed, she wants everything her goddess has to offer without realizing how much that sweetness would destroy them when the day comes for it to collect its due price.
the price of love in how she whines for her goddess, the caress of fingers along her wet folds. that tease of it is enough to make cellinia feel as though she would lose her mind without her touch, sheâs burning so hotly for her between that and the ever deepening kisses. the slick movements of their tongues. her body needs her touch, wonât she give her it? from the low whimper, the hungry groans they share between kisses, one would think she would die without her. without this in how it makes her feel, her own fingers are deep inside mai. they slow. almost as though to match mai while theyâre like this and restrain herself from pushing so soon to bring her red riding hood to the edge.)
Mai....
(so pretty, so lovely how her voice strains when maiâs own fingers sink into the wet heat. how she says her name, itâs so beautiful. her body didnât resist, it welcomes her in how she looks at her lover. beautiful ruin, her free hand finds itself reaching for mai. bringing them both nice and proper on their sides, close, so close and able to see one another better as they both made a choice. they wonât fall to ruin alone. mai desired cellinia to fall with her, then itâs only fitting her rhythm matches that of hers. sheâs being so good for her, as amusing as it is that they both could be only when their hands are preoccupied with their bodies.
her walls tighten around her fingers on reflex when mai adds a third finger, she could take it. she is taking it, so easily and even moaning breathlessly for her, such pretty sounds. into their kiss that her greedy lover takes again for herself. she almost melts from need. forever might be too greedy, but it might even be too greedy were mai to desire to keep hearing the way cellinia might moan her name in kind. the wolf already likes too well how her goddess loves to say her own name. what wonderful music they make while giving these prayers on the makeshift altar, she might never stop praying if it means she can see her again.)