猟犬 ; Hound // Under Co.

I know I’ve been gone a hot minute but don’t worry I haven’t forgotten about this blog and all you lovely people. 

I have to organize endless shit for my sport and our biggest ceremonies are coming up fast, as well as I’m trying to rush a sorority chapter (don’t ask why it’s complicated). And on top of that I’m in some upper division linguistics courses and a Latin course (and honestly now I understand why Latin is a dead language). 

And on top of that I have a job as a teacher to children. So overall, emotionally drained and very busy and apparently I’m the go-to when other people don’t have their shit together (but I don’t have my own shit together). 

angst starters [accepting] ❖ @masshirohebi​

Sadism, calculated sadism. Kakashi struggles in his confines, searching for some level of comfort within them. He considers dislocating his shoulder to slip out, feasibly a more ideal scenario than remaining in Orochimaru’s grasp. In the back of his mind he figures he appears hardly more than entrapped prey to the deadly sannin. As fearsome as his own reputation and abilities may be, they pale in comparison to Oto-nin’s. He’s been struggling for a while now, not devoid of rationality - but frantic for insight. The dread of the unknown as to what’s going to come of him in this situation contributes the greater portion of his stress. 

His ability as a shinobi. His Sharingan. There’s a host of things to be gained from this unequal exchange for the Sannin. 

Dire situations and high pressure calls for a poor attitude. “I suppose you’re happy to see me,” he bites back. His own tone is icy. “What’s there to gain from little old me?”

🔪 my muse stabs yours

🗡 your muse stabs mine

🔫 my muse shoots yours

🛡 your muse shoots mine

👊 my muse punches yours

✊ your muse punches mine

✋ my muse hits/slaps yours

👏 your muse hits/slaps mine

💣 both of our muses are near an explosion as it happens

She knows where her strengths lie, he’ll give her credit. Her pressing up against him in a way that inspires him to wrap his arms around her...but he resists the thought and maintains his blank fixation.

Can he compare her knowing what excites and arouses him to her knowing his weaknesses? In this case, he does. She doesn’t need to work hard to excite him either and they both know it. So he refuses to give her the satisfaction, seeing as how he’s the one who didn’t want to shift their territory from sexual to romantic. They had a compatibility in bed that left him invigorated and wanting more. But that was all he had wanted from their situation, call it heartless or him being a player or what you will.

He also knows it was a deliberate spite to him. That man on her arm who by all categorical reference, was painfully average. And he doesn’t want to give her the gratification that it worked, because it hardly worked in the way she intended. These dreadful little pokes at the idea of a relationship - it just isn’t for him. He has nothing of worth to contribute to something romantic between them. Sexual is another matter entirely. The image of her with that man backfired, as he’s come back with an instinctual stake to lay his claim and remind her why they started this to begin with. And why it should remain only this.

An arm above her head pressing into the wall, giving him mobility to slouch and bring his face closer. “You go and make me jealous and now you’re trying to seduce me. I could almost call your behavior juvenile.” His gaze doesn’t waver.

Tenten had made a grave mistake on this day.. 

She had been utterly delirious with loss of blood from the attack. Her only thoughts about making it home alive to her friends and Kakashi. This wasn’t the way she had wanted it to end. It was supposed to be such a simple mission but had taken a turn for the worst. The rogues had killed time, waiting for the next crew to come in, by practicing their knife skills on her and the team. When she had heard the yells, sounds of fights ensuing she had become hopeful. 

When she saw Kakashi? All logical thought had left her brain. She knew that while he was with his ANBU team she couldn’t address him, couldn’t go to him the way she wanted to. To seek comfort in his arms, but that didn’t stop his name from falling out of her lips. It was a knee jerk reaction as pain racked her body. And she had immediately recognized the error in her action. Eyes rounding out as she cursed herself. 

So here she was.

His anger was a force to be reckoned with. She could barely contain the cringe, his anger had never been focused towards her. Not so strongly, and certainly not so up close and personal. Her body still ached but numbed out entirely as her eyes meet his. She wouldn’t cower away from him. This was her mistake and she was determined to make it better.. If she even could. 

“Yes! I’m sorry damn it. I wasn’t thinking. I was delusional from the blood loss and just relieved to see you because I knew we would actually survive. It was a huge mistake and I know that. I.. I’ll fix it.” Slowly, she pushes her way off the table her face contorting in pain as she stands straight. “I know someone got away but I’ll hunt them down.” 

If only it was going to be that simple… The rogue wouldn’t keep such information to himself and the more people he spread it to the more dangerous it became. It would have to be handled quickly and quietly. 

“You?” Anger leaking into his other emotions. He quirks up an eyebrow, amusement contorting with his ominous expression. “This is an Anbu matter now. There’s nothing you can do now.”

His anger isn’t destructive, though explosive. It’s cold. Harsh. Merciless. And he’s laying waste in wake of a dire situation in front of his lover. Almost unperturbed, he sets his battered Anbu mask on the table, moving in her direction. 

“Because of your mistake my identity within the Anbu has been compromised. Now that my identity is known it wont be long before intel is gathered on me. Which means that they may find out where I live and attempt an attack on this home.” His knotted up back is tense, and he rolls his shoulders for some minimal relief but finds none. Overstimulated, almost in a panic had he not felt so wrathful. He senses a storm coming, or is it just in his head? His hair standing on the back of his neck, he’s ready for the invisible dangers he forewarns. 

One hand on the table in front of her, as if he’s blocking her path should she choose to flee. This is his lover, not his captive. But in desperate grabs to maintain control he doesn’t mind how he comes off at this time. He needs her to accept his word without insubordination right now. 

“Ah, Jiraiya-sama.” He speaks in a serious tone for a young boy. 

Having entered his home through the yard, he found the sannin resting in dappled shade with papers strewn about him - notes for his books, he assumes. The boy prodigy has come with an odd request from Jiraiya today, having sought him ought for advice and wisdom a number of times before. A rather comfortable soul, Kakashi notes. 

"Do you worry about the distrust around you?” Do you worry that you walk on a teetering edge?

His presence isn’t good for much, but his presence can quiet insubordination with a chilling aura. Whispers about the young Uchiha’s presence budding up every now and then, a given since the growing tension between the Uchiha Clan and Konohagakure’s administration. 

He’s acting on instinct. On survival mechanisms alone. Sutures coming undone under his black garb he feels the sickening wet of blood clinging to his fabric. All energy he can guide to maintaining his strength he does so. 

Upon encountering the stranger, he immediately assumes him to be an enemy, no restraint in his killing intent. The sharp edge of his kunai around the man’s throat before the other realizes he’s there, but the shinobi falters as he understands from the man’s silence and lack of movement that he’s been aware of Kakashi as soon as he entered his proximity. 

He says nothing to the other man, his ice-cold menace emanating being enough to convey a message. 

“Kadia, I need you to listen to me.”

His patience with his daughter is wearing thin. Irritation, bordering on anger, spiking in his low tones. 

She’s naive, she’s sweet. She’s kind. And as he’s determined before, she’s too kind for her own good. Never would he wish for her to become hardened like him - or to experience the severity of the life he led. But he expects her to be more capable in these situations. 

“Stop sniveling. Wipe your tears and hold your chin high. Now’s not the time to show weakness.”