#dogchained

Akibimi vc: what a mess

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     It was nighttime. The water was black as ink and just as smooth. Nnoitra did not need much light for his single eye to see, and in any case, his other senses were more important. He knew he was close to shore. So close that he could see the black walls of land. Close to where humans lived. He could smell it in the water. The toxic smell of oil and garbage. Still, there were no lights, so he must still be in a secluded place. He would’ve liked to see some pretty city lights. But - then he’d have to endure even more polluted water.

   This again. The frown shaping Akibimi’s lips appeared to be getting deeper and deeper as of late. Not that he cared, or really even noticed, to Hidan every day was business as usual ; wash, rinse, repeat. Whatever demons she had conjured in that pretty little head of hers would be easy enough for him to SNUFF. This was the cycle. This was his love. He’d defile and degrade her - carve up a wound and add salt to it - and then lovingly lick it clean. 

   A smirk tugs his lips, mischievous. Consoling her had become effortless. He found that if he acted like her MOUNTAINS were merely molehills then the leg she had to stand on would quickly crumble. She fell for it every time - and he loved that about her. Then, gentle arms hold her close to him from behind, chin resting upon her shoulder. Hidan pouts ; like a puppy aware of their wrongdoing but knows they won’t be reprimanded due to their owner’s EXPOSED, BLEEDING HEART.

   ❝ Awe... are you having a bad day? ❞ coos the Immortal in her ear, tickling her with his breath and swaying his hips with hers in an attempt to pacify ❝ Maybe this will help. ❞ Sliding up her body is a small, bar shaped object wrapped in shiny pink wrapping paper. ( Its even got a bow ) Her favorite chocolate sweet from her favorite Japanese bakery. 

Cost him all of 5000 yen and a whole day worth of traveling. 

                                     She’ll make it worth my while. 

the little birds hop around on deidara’s palms, opening and closing their beaks in a silent chorus of chirps. he opens his mouths just enough for his tongues to swipe at them, infusing them with more chakra — only just so. the birds become more animated as intended, spreading their little wings and allowing deidara to cast a critical eye over their details. hm.

@dogchained​ says:  she is currently working on one fatal wound he had gained during the mission, eyes looking back at hidan before tilting her head to the side. he seemed distant, so much like when she was younger does she gently grace his chin with her fingertips and kiss him on the side of the cheek, hoping that would settle any bad feelings he may harbor from the mission he was involved in recently. "if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, hidan-sama." // 𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐌𝐈

   He’s somewhere else. Somewhere vacant yet glutted. Quiet but thrashing. It’s as though he’s not sitting beside his childhood companion but a screaming jet engine, zoned out, staring blankly, hearing nothing but the SHRILL of his own thoughts. Another fucking injury ; Jashinist arrogance strikes again, and this time, it nearly got him scalped. Immortality may be a solid leg to stand on but it did little to heal his pride. 

   Hidan would be the first to admit he’s not one for strategizing. He was a VIKING. A BARBARIAN. Blind, blood-thirsty butchery was his specialty, and he had grown to become quite good at it. It made him feel powerful. Omnipotent. So when an opponent starts to get the best of him he becomes impatient and quickly infuriated, losing all sense of calculation. And every FUCKING time he almost ends up dead. 

   Psh. Dead. If only. Sometimes he wonders why Jashin chose him of all people to act as his prophet. What’s more, is he making them proud? Or was he being punished for his own weakness? A kiss upon the cheek removes his head from the clouds, cold, empty eyes shifting toward the culprit. At least one thing was certain: she always made him proud. 

@dogchained​／ the horror and the wild ／ always accepting.

Christoph just stares at her, even after she’d uttered such a harrowing phrase. Were he anyone else, he might’ve felt his skin prickle up all at once into mounds and mounds of goosebumps, because... well... let’s back up for a second and take some time to understand the current predicament.

Anyone that wasn’t in this line of work would’ve wondered just what the hell she was talking about. It might’ve felt like some sort of cheesy one-liner an important (annnd then they’d die at the climax-- ah, oops. spoiler.) character would say to the “chosen one” in a trailer. The movie would be high fantasy, too, because of course it would be. To make matters worse, it’d probably have been in development hell for, maybe, four years and that was him just being optimistic.

“Oh yeah?” he finally decided to retort with, casually resting his head against doorframe with arms coming up to cross over his chest. “Tell me more-- this shit’s startin’ t’sound more and more like a prophecy or somethin’.”

There’s obvious humor to be found within his voice, but the rest of his person doesn’t follow along. His expression’s a little tough, eyes transfixed on her and only her (because he’s still trying to figure out if investing in “supernatural security” would be worth it, considering she’s the only one who can let herself in without a door... someHOW.) with legs slightly apart.

It’s body language that plainly states, “I won’t make the first move if you don’t,” and does not hope but, in fact, wants the feeling to be mutual.

He’s gone as far as to allow a small smile to tug itself along his lips, but it’s more-so a perpetual state of being-- finding amusement (he just remembered that “supernatural security” doesn’t exist for anything, let alone apartment suites. so that kind of bites. but the cruelty of it all was kind of funny.) even in the face of likely death.

It wouldn’t be the first time, at least.

“That somethin’ yer little assassin buddies told ya t’tell me or somethin’?”

He grins, because he can’t help it.

@dogchained​​​ says:  “ you’ll be the death of me …”  // 𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐌𝐈

   In his bed they lay just as they had in their youth, with him on his back and her huddled as close as humanly possible, face nuzzling where his shoulder and pectoral meet. When she uttered those words - she did so quietly, almost as if she was speaking to herself rather than him. He, of course, had heard her ; but chose not to listen, favouring the concept of sleep much more fondly. Whatever mindless, ill-conceived worries of BLIND INSECURITY troubled her in that moment could wait and be pacified tomorrow. There were more important matters at hand. 

   Stirring restlessly, Hidan tightens her in an embrace and places a long, loving kiss to the top of her head before murmuring,