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Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 8, 2013 3:09:55 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Honestly, mister Séverin wasn't all that bad! You just had to know that he liked being petted - especially on his cheek and hair, and brush through your fingers against the nice strands! In addition, he bet that he'd just keel over and purr if you maybe scratched him behind the ears, too - like a nice, little kitten. Lune was feeling quite superb about the fact that he'd 'tamed' his professor, beaming, until the other decides to totally give the white-haired kid an impromptu heart-attack, making him tremulous in his wobbling chair.
He has a hard time keeping up his crimson gaze with the other's golden, but in that moment, he can totally see the kitten inside of his professor; and honestly, he doesn't even squeak out an apology like he probably would have. "F-Fine," he says, voice trying to not quake as he chews on his lips, worrying them further, "little Axew. Is that better, tiny dragon?" Then, as if he's gained some sort of courage, he reaches out a hand and pets at the other's shapely nose, petting, patting, stroking, "what a good little dragon you are!"
It comes out more as an inquiry than a question - but hey, he tried! [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 8, 2013 3:40:45 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; Séverin is not pleased with being called 'little', but it's millions better than that infernal feline. He doesn't realize how much resemblance he has to the furry creature, but he's not willing to admit the similarities any time soon. Besides, this insolent little human doesn't even apologize, the nerve! - ...Wait, is that more petting?
Awkwardly, Séverin leans his nose towards the boy's shy hand. He nuzzles the hand curiously, flicking his tongue out to lap at the boy's palm. He whines in complaint, "I'm hardly a tiny dragon. I'm twice your size, you little - " He has to take a moment to pause to stop his foot from thumping in sheer pleasure. Deviously, he leans in to lick at the boy's fingertip, slowly engulfing the finger in his mouth and suckling sweetly. "...You're rather sweet for a little brat," he decides with a satisfied little grin.
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Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 8, 2013 4:09:04 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] It seemed as if he'd succeeded, again! Maybe he wasn't cut out to be this studious, serious English major - no, maybe he'd just go and major in animal caring and speech, if that even existed! Grinning, he pets the other's head slowly, only jerking back quickly when he feels a warm tongue flick over his hand. Confused, he merely pushes his chair back and rests against it when he's a space away from his devious little dragon, but his mister séverin baudelaire seemed to have different ideas, engulfing his fingertip into his mouth.
"U-Uh," he doesn't know what else to say, crimson eyes yet again blown wide as he stutters, eyes fixated on the other's lip that seems to devour his finger, pulling back his hand as briskly as he can, wiping it the saliva off on his pants before looking up at his professor, cheeks aflame with a peachy hue, "s-stop that, bad little dragon! If you do that, I-I won't give you those poffins that I've made. And you want those poffins, don't you?" Smiling, Lune presses his other hand at the other's head, stroking through those silky locks again like it's an addiction, before leaning close and kissing him on the top of the head.
"Good Axew," he repeats, topping it off with a sweet, dulcet smile, "thank you!" [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 8, 2013 20:07:34 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; Obviously displeased, the dragon scowls when the boy sharply withdraws his finger. He's quickly about to seize the wet digit back with force, but the small boy is learning quickly and he smartly returns to stroking Séverin's silky locks of hair, which he is really quite fond of. He's just waiting for the boy to reach the little spot behind his ear and the boy has Séverin wrapped around his tiny finger. The tension loosens in his broad shoulders and he quickly resigns to Lune's sweet affections.
He arches an eyebrow as he brings one hand to rub against the spot the boy kissed on his head and he pauses in thought to tilt the boy's slender chin with a single finger as he leans in to sample the boy's lips with his own, swiping his warm tongue over the bottom lip almost territorially. "Forget the poffins," he breathes, golden eyes fiery and burning into the other's gaze, "I much rather have these kisses."
"You're so sweet," he observes, running a slim finger over the boy's jaw. "You'll give me a cavity at this rate."
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Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 9, 2013 3:03:13 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Right, he'd have to get those poffins! He'd had them on the counter for some time, wanting them to cool off whilst he got ready for classes; honestly, couldn't mister séverin give him some extra credit for something like that? He hides his hand behind his back, because he doesn't want the other to know that he'd burnt that specific finger whilst baking, and merely continues petting with his right. He was about to comment on how mister sév's shoulders had relaxed shoulders, but the next thing he knows is being pulled close, super unsuspecting, before the other's lips meet his. He doesn't understand fully of what's going on, merely just fluttering his lashes, before he opens his mouth in a small, delicate circle of 'o' in realization.
He honestly thinks he's dreaming, or something along that line, but the warm puffs of breaths against his lips are too much to pass by, and he merely blinks, red eyes full of confusion and sentimentality that's too hard to explain. He swallows thickly when he feels a finger line up against his jaw, showing the little bob of his Adam's apple, before trying to give the shyest smile he can handle. "C-Cavity? T-That's not g-good, is it? Can't be. U-Uh, mister, I-I ... I'm not ... A girl. I-I'm sorry. I-I uhm, uhm. ... I-I can't ... P-People will say b-bad things about you, mister Séverin! I-I'm not worth that."
[/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 9, 2013 22:46:26 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; Being the sadistic soul he is, Séverin is seemingly pleased with the boy's reaction. He pins the boy underneath him, pale hands pressed on either side of the boy, as he leans in to simply nip at the soft flesh of his bottom lip. Effectively silencing the boy, Séverin presses a trail of gentle kisses from the boy's lips to his throat, suckling at the flesh. "You're my partner now. No need to worry about failure now. I'll make certain you're the top student in my class," he breathes hotly as he reluctantly pulls away from the sweet throat. "There's no need for you to be concerned for me. Other people don't matter. Only you matter now."
He notices the boy only strokes his hair with his right and he frowns. "If you're going to pet me, you have to pet me with effort. Not just one hand," he reaches for the tiny hidden hand. "Put your back into it," he smiles ever-so-slightly as he licks the tip of the wounded finger, kissing the petite knuckles as a knight would bear reverence to his princess. "Best take care of yourself, little one."
"Because you're mine now."
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Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 10, 2013 3:31:25 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Lune merely swallows thickly, feeling his own Adam's Apple bob sharply in his throat as he looks upwards with widened eyes, shocked and absolutely content ( inwardly, anyway, dear arceus ) - so much, in fact, that he can't even look at his English professor, choking out a few breathy giggles when the teeth that were attacking him stop. "I-I thought those only came out in the movies and television," He says, but it's obvious that he's not complaining, voice thin and tremulous, "b-but I can't be top student, mister Séverin. That'd be lying. B-Besides, what if students ask about how odd it is that the stupid French student became the best of their class in less than a semester?"
Even though Séverin had pulled away, the white-haired student lay there, still breathless and frozen as ever, feeling his fingers twitch in response to the other's words and the sweet kiss on his knuckles, before smiling softly. "Mm. I've taken good care of myself until now, I promise. I can cook and clean, and I can read. That's wh- oh, and I ... Je'taime," He says, looking down and having a rouge little tinge on his cheeks and nose, reaching up to pet the other on the head with both hands this time, "je'taime."
He didn't know French, right? [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 10, 2013 21:40:33 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; The breathy little laughs, the delicate smile ... Are insolent little boys even capable of laughing like that? Goodness gracious, Séverin mentally slaps himself for even attempting to think romantically. What the hell, brain. Go away, fate. This is not the time for you to soften the hardcore dragon-in-the-making. Most unfortunately, his fingers seem to have a mind of their own. Séverin playfully taps the tip of the other's nose. "Oh, you'll earn that title, no worries. I'll work you to the bone," he grins devilishly. After all, Séverin certainly doesn't have a job for nothing.
His grin is replaced with one of almost apathy as he leans tentatively into the boy's nice stroking. He appreciates the slim fingers running through his silky hair as he turns his head to kiss the wounded finger's knuckle this time, nuzzling it gently. Curious, he tilts his head, holding the tiny finger. "...I don't suppose you hurt yourself due to working so diligently on your essay, now have you, Mr. D'Eclair? - ...Oh?" His eyes widen in surprise at the sudden French. Did Lune just - He totally just ... What?
"Lune, did you just swear at me in French?"
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Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 10, 2013 21:58:18 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Oh, no. He hadn't meant for the other to hear what he was saying - or to even hear wrong and think he had said something rude or inappropriate. He knew it. Why had he even tried to say it in French? Covering his bitten, red lips with his small hands, he merely tries to smile it off, his oculars turning a folded crescent as he does so, before he leans upwards, struggling to sit himself up with the dead weight on top of him, before pressing a kiss against the other's head. He just strokes the other's hair, combing through his silky strands, before looking up at him with still-crescent-shaped eyes as he speaks. "No, I didn't, professor. But I didn't know you were so bad at French!" Lune, as if he just realized what he had said before, stops speaking, instead lying back down with tousled, mussed-up hair.
"Je'taime," He says, with absolutely no intent of offending at all, still covering his mouth and looking absolutely secretive as he reaches upwards, arms outstretched for a hug, "I love you." [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 10, 2013 22:56:56 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; He knows Lune is much too innocent to dare swear let alone swear at him! Honestly, the sight is too much for him to handle. Silently, he decides that Lune is the equivalent of a shy little kitten. Those hands, tiny and delicate, are too much for him to bear. He's stunned when he hears the sudden confession of love and he freezes, going deathly still. He doesn't know how to handle confessions of love. He's just gotten to know the boy really and maybe he is slowly starting to love him too. Something about Lune changes him and that's what scares him the most.
Unable to deny the little creature with outstretched arms and crescent eyes, Séverin willingly wraps the boy with his own arms: strong and stable as he rests his head atop the other's snowy cloud of hair. "...Thank you, I think," he attempts, voice strained and painfully awkward. He can't stand to break the boy's heart even though he's threatened to break his pencil only moments earlier. "I'm not ...used to affection. I ...don't know how to react well," he tries, but it sounds like he's making excuses. "Let's make a deal, shall we? I teach you English; you teach me how to love."
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Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 11, 2013 2:41:14 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Anyone could have criticized the other on his awkward, strained tone, wagging tongues that he wasn't being natural enough, but Lune was just happy - no, he was elated - of how things had turned out. Instead of just throwing his hands up in the air and threatening him that a peep of this conversation would net him a suspension, he had actually returned the affection, in his own way. And to the French-speaking exchange student that had only been learning the language called 'English' for a couple of months, now, that meant a lot. Besides, to Lune, it felt better to be told the truth - that he didn't know how to react well to affection - than to be told anything else.
... Because that meant that there were plenty of space left for development.
His arms can't really reach fully all around the masculine professor's back, but he does his best to elongate his limbs, locking his fingers together as he presses his ears up to the other's torso, "okay. You can teach me English, and I can - or rather, I'll try! - to teach you love." Something doesn't feel right, though, so he rephrases his sentence, still listening to the calm, placid thumps that Séverin's heart produces, tilting his chin to look upwards with loving, affectionate crimson oculars that shows every sign of trust that searches for something alike that in his gijinka's -
"I can't teach you how to love, mister Séverin," he whispers, "but I'll do my best to show you. So you can feel it, and so you can understand. Love isn't something like un, deux, trois-" He smiles, tapping the other's nose with each number, "it's hard to learn love. You have to feel it!" Then, looking a little abashed after his speech, he continues, cheeks being tinted with a nice color of pink and hiding his face with his small hands, "s-so that your heart beats as quickly as it does mine whe-when I see you."[/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 12, 2013 1:19:25 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; Séverin is quiet with his thoughts as he tilts his head slightly, golden gaze set on the small boy clinging to him as if he was his lifeline. Calmly, he strokes the other's back, tapering fingers just combing lazily through the snowy tendrils of hair as if thoroughly captivated. His eyes widen slightly in surprise in response to the proficient three taps on the tip of his nose and involuntarily, his lips crack into a helpless smile. His arms rest around on the other's slim hips, pulling him flush against his own warm body. "Tell me, little one. Why in the world do you ...love me?"
"I've been nothing but cruel to you so frankly, I don't really understand," he explains. Does his own heart even beat at all? Does he even have a heart? Gently, he takes the other's wrists and pulls the tiny hands away from his blushing face. Still holding the wrists, he leans in to kiss gently, relishing in the soft sweetness. "Does this elevate your temperature?"
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Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 13, 2013 5:34:09 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Honestly, that was the question. Why did Lune stick with the rude, crass English professor of his, when he could just become best-friends with the French professor? That question had been lingering in his own mind for a couple of weeks, really, but the only answer he could come up with was that he had some sorts of sentimentality that held him close to a certain Séverin Baudelaire. Thinking about it now, he was nothing but this lovesick, seriously mental schoolboy that had a crush on his least-favorite-plus-worst-at-subject-professor, which was ludicrous in every sense of the word. Or rather, words.
And once again, he swears that his heart almost full-on stops when he feels a pair of firm lips press against his wrist, pulse elevating to such a skyrocket that he gulps down a few breaths of air, eyes wide and circular, as he sheepishly tries to tug his wrist away. What kind of a question was that? 'Heck yes' would be the answer - now and forever. Pausing in his efforts to go ahead and move his arm from the other's grasp, he looks up, soft smile still on his lips, parting the other's hair with his other hand. "Yes," he answers, without any sort of hesitancy, "it does. I-I only hope that I do too," Lune can't help but to add, but the end comes out more like a whisper as the words tumble from his lips. [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 16, 2013 0:43:00 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; Séverin's lips curl into a small smile in response to the soft affirmation. Firmly, he holds the wrist with the curl of his hand and rubbing his warm thumb over the tender skin absent-mindedly. His gaze is soft as he studies the snow white of the other's eyelashes. He's easily changeable; from one moment, he's brusque and the other, he's gentle. He doesn't quite understand it himself. This 'tenderness' he feels? What is 'tenderness'? Why should he affected because of one lovesick school boy?
Curious, he tilts the other's chin forward. "You're a strange one," he observes with a small chuckle. He runs a hand through his hair. "You know what? Just ...forget the assignment. Just this once. Don't make this a habit." He sighs, finally surrendering. "Don't tell the others. And also, I secretly enjoy cake pops. So ...are you particularly occupied right now?" It's official; he must have lost it. He's clearly lost it. He knew he shouldn't have eaten an entire tiramisu cake before going to sleep last night, but he just couldn't help it. "...By the way, I'm sort of asking you on a date."
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Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 16, 2013 2:24:51 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Oh, mon dieu. He feels like doing a couple of roue - or rather, cartwheels - even though he doesn't know how to ( and would probably seriously injure himself in the process ). He could skip the assignment? Although his first reaction is flip out, wondering what he'd done at the moment ( and what else would become a punishment, ) but when Séverin looks slightly defeated, the smile that had been extinguished just comes right back to life, expression bright and incredibly uplifted, as he gets right up from his lying position. Instead, he sits up this time, curling his arms around the other's neck and pulling him close, before peppering him with tiny kisses against his temple and cheek. "Oh, monsieur! Merci beacoup! You won't ever regret this, I promise!"
Then, he hears him mention something about cake pops, and he can't help but to giggle, pulling back to hold Sév's chin in his small hands - something that looks really ludicrous, but he doesn't seem to mind. "Alright, petit serpentaire, we'll go get some sweets! Or rather, I will - I can make some mean cake pops, monsie-mister! Just give me a ch-" But oh, something worries him. He's asking him of the date!? W-What if he didn't know the date!? Panicking inwardly, he swallows, trying to look around the classroom for the date. Oh, woe was him! "... Ah! January! The ... fifteenth of January, of two thousand-thirteen!" Triumphant. Monsieur Séverin was going to be so super proud of him!
How could anyone chastise his face? He was smiling, absolutely alight with joy, cheeks tinted with pink, small fingers interlocked - all the signs of a ange, really.
J-Just joking! Juste plaisanteries! [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
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