s4crificial-a

[s4crificial-a]

archiving.

hi all. so updates—i'll be archiving this blog and not remaking so thanks to everyone who interacted with me.

i'm currently job hunting after being laid off and i just don't have the mental bandwidth to keep up with a multimuse anymore.

that said, i made a very low maintenance, single muse here @cxffed. i'll be there when i need some downtime in the midst of this chaos. feel free to follow, and if not, then i wish you well. bye!

#{ ooc } — it be yara. #/ i won't be deactivating this bc hello it's a gem???

[s4crificial-a]

why does she not scold him? he expected a violent reaction to being embraced from behind, but she receives so easily, and like a domesticated bloodhound, gradually, his muscles uncoil, wishing to kiss her cheek as their fingers intertwine again.

it's an odd desire, freely manifesting in his heart. quiet, he listens to her ideas, attuned to the excitement in her lilting voice. the corner of his lips quirk, amused, and touched.

she would want someone like him in her space, tending to something so precious to her? eating the food he prepared and washing her hair? it all sounds so. . .vulnerable. intimate. his head clouds, but he pushes it aside, the fear and hesitation. the repulsion.

can't he be greedy for one night?

before he has the chance to answer, she turns to him, and the scent of alcohol wafts into his nose. maybe it's his own buzz, but he wants to kiss her again, barely processing her question. trouble? him? it's not the simplest answer.

yes, he's a dog owned by another, but he's also a prized possession, and his mere presence is enough to thwart enemies. beyond that. . .it's not as if he can escape. they know, goto knows, that his pet will always come crawling back—because he has no where else to go. so, this? leaving in the middle of an insignificant protection job?

it means nothing. he'll be in his rightful place come morning.

instead of answering outright, mika slips off his leather jacket and drapes it over her shoulders. "let's go. i've got plants to water." / @vulpesse

　𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 / 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐒 ▬▬ he had been oh so tremendously unpredictable since the very first moment, s. o how could she be truly certain that he would have followed her ? the emptiness beside her is almost even maddening, it makes her muscles stiffen and compels her heart to sing a song much less merry and jovial than the one that had formerly set her whole being ablaze [ ... ] but then she feels him, she feels the muscles of his arm as it slithers around her lithe shoulders to bring her closer and that atrocious knot that her tightened her throat into bitter quietude melts away.

a hand instinctively raises to find his own and it is with almost embarrassing ease that she intertwines their fingers together. it is only in such fleeting moments, when their bodies are somewhat linked to one another, that she feels that he is truly there, that he is not the result of burning alcohol drunk with too much careless haste. she hums at his query, but does not conceal her delight at the sudden absence of subtle hints and unspoken thoughts. ❝ mmh, my place ! so you can water my very precious plants, make me something delicious to eat, maybe even wash my hair like those very romantic dramas that i sometimes see on the tv. ❞ she's undoubtedly teasing him, or is she ? but her voice is soft - lilted and chipper, even whilst the customers and the other employees throw dubious glances towards them.

once beyond the golden doors of the exclusive pub, the frigid air of the night is a grim reminder of the jacket that she has carelessly abandoned inside just to tease him. a closer nuzzle, she further burrows herself into his side. ❝ tell me, will you get in trouble ? ❞ ahri turns around then, lifting her chin to try and look at him directly. ❝ you're still in time to go back inside. ❞ @s4crificial

#vulpesse #{ mika ; ic } — focus on what is real. leave me. #{ v ; current } — stay one step ahead of death.

[s4crificial-a]

warm. . .as she burrows into his chest, scarlet eyes glaze, unconscious of the way his hold tightens around her. fingers entwined, carefully does he breathe in her scent, filtering through the noise to hear her stream of giggles, to feel the vibrations from her ribcage.

in the back of his mind, as he curls around her, he wonders—how is a degenerate like him making her so happy? guess it doesn't matter when her heated skin practically burns through his leather jacket.

experiment together. . .? the words echo. reflexive dread unfolds in his stomach, almost regretting his choice to stay together. if it ended here, she wouldn't find out how. . .strange he is. if it ended here, he wouldn't feel the eyes on his back, underlings and superiors watching for his next move.

as the warmth vanishes, his head drops, teeth gritting. bailing on a shift when he's only three hours in? and for what? the answer lies in sashaying hips leaving him behind, and he laments his own weakness.

quickly, he sends an update from his phone, eager to close the distance. arms slip around slender shoulders from behind, leaning on her with all of his weight. "my place or yours?"

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒, instead it does become tighter and firmer once he does mention to leave together. an unexpected response, especially coming from someone who had seemed to be oh so professional and resolute on being on his best behavior ; she knows not what the consequences for him may be and truth to be told, she has neither the energy nor the time to ponder on them.

after all, his low guard is all she needs to quite literally envelope herself into his arms, building a home in the vacancy of his chest. his hand is still in hers, even as ahri forces his limbs to become her new coat ; from this position, her back against his chest, she grieves the inability to witness his facial expression. ❝ if you want to know what gets me hot and bothered, we could experiment a bit together. ❞ her response is one interwoven with coquettish giggles and thunderous purrs: it matters not how cold he may be when compared to her fire - kissed soul, she beams in his arms all the same.

for a moment longer the foxette remains like that, a minute so fleeting and ephemeral that coats the expanse of her tongue in a thick layer of bitterness. finally, she does let go of him, allowing him to freely move once again ; where his arms touched her bare skin, she can feel the lingering touch of frostbite. ahri smiles then, a smile that is sharp and dulcet in equal measure. ❝ i don't think that i've got what i came for ... i got much more than that. ❞ a mayhap vague response, but one that is wholly and entirely truthful. one last glance to their empty glasses, to the counter where his gun had been placed, to the abandoned dessert [ ... ] and she is sauntering forward, impatiently waiting for him to fill the emptiness beside her once more.

@s4crificial smol tag because tunglr has ruined the notification system, sobs.

#vulpesse #{ mika ; ic } — focus on what is real. leave me. #{ v ; current } — stay one step ahead of death. #as he reciprocates the touchiness

[s4crificial-a]

the moment she begins speaking, his eyes never move, falling into unintentional stillness. everything processes at a gradual rate, distilling the advice and remaining attentive.

"hm. . ." a deep hum, impressed with the depth of her expertise. "so, the combination provides contrast, and by infusing old elements with the new, we essentially refresh our identity rather than trying to birth a new one."

his eyes brighten. "ah, and our design portfolio will remain cohesive. i believe the design team will certainly enjoy this development." sinking into thought, he tries to focus only on the work ahead, acknowledging the flickering flame of excitement in his chest.

". . .by retaining some of our old elements, we could reduce costs, and allocate that money elsewhere." a nod. "yes, you're right. the older demographic is prized here, and we do not want them to feel unwanted in their own country. we would appear negligent."

taking a pen, tsurya marks up his own notes in a leather binder. "i'll have to take this to the board, but they will be quite pleased. that should be enough for now. would you like to get lunch with me?"

          She was glad it seemed her hunger went unnoticed... or ignored in this case as it would’ve been more difficult to notice an elephant in the room than her loud stomach rumbling. Ignoring it herself, she nodded as she listened to his vision of grandeur. Honestly Ica hadn’t expected to get an answer that was more than ‘the paperwork says it all’ and so she was pleasantly surprised. Her expression revealed such as she grinned and her blue and pink eyes widened with excitement. 

        “Personally I find contemporary designs can get boring.. they’re all about ‘breaking the mold’ as you say but they tend to follow the same blueprint,” she paused and laughed. “No pun intended.” Ica had learned about puns not too long ago... this was probably one of few times she used one correctly.

"There’s too much minimalism involved. Since tradition is important to the culture here I would recommend combining old elements with new...” Of course the eater had done her research, part of what she loved about her job was that it brought her insight on cultural differences in the various places she worked. 

“This way your older patrons may still enjoy the comforts of what they know but also be impressed by how the architecture has evolved! It’s all about balance.” 

#ghoulxn #{ tsurya ; ic } — if only your hatred matched mine. #{ v ; modern } — these horrid nightmares never cease.

[s4crificial-a]

"is that what gets you hot and bothered? gun violence?" mika can hardly suppress his amusement, poking through her false disappointment with a disbelieving smirk. woman sure knows how to put on a fucking show, huh?

though silver brows rise at the mention of more kisses, eyes cautiously sliding away. he doesn't have a quip charged at the ready for that, a barely perceptible pout hanging on his lips. her whining, however, regains his attention, warmth returning to his features at the mention of her hanging around until long after the sun rises.

paired with being called a foreigner, a term that has always made his skin bristle, leaves him confused. what is he supposed to do now? entertain her for the rest of the night? sounds exhausting, if he's honest with himself.

or maybe it's this loud place, pushing him to the edge of sensory overload. there's too many scents and sounds, too many auras clashing. thoughtful eyes watch her lips ghost over his knuckles, a smile tugging as he deliberates.

"....let's get out of here. you look like you got what you came for."

𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 and she ensures that not even a droplet goes to waste. there is resentment in his words, a sense of un - belonging that she is also greatly familiar with: to be existentially homeless despite the passing of time, to have neither deep roots to grow nor warm hearth to eventually return to [ ... ] to forever be the other, the different, the one that is both incomprehensible and never comprehended. the spark of genuine understanding is ignited within the otherwise hollow / hallow depth of her ribcage but ahri does not dwell on such intimate matters for long.

❝ oh ? so you were just pretending to threaten him ?! ❞ her exclamation is high - pitched, its cadence muddied at the edges where the warmth of the tequila is still blazing bright. there is an infantile moue unfurling 'pon cherry - hued tiers now, an expressionism heavily and theatrically laden in faux disappointment. a sigh, her shoulders slump in overly dramatical defeat. ❝ i can't believe i even thought that you were oh so cool that you deserved even more kisses. i might never recover from this, my poor heart. ❞

foxette speaks through a string of petulant whines, at least until he poses a question that she had not been expecting. she had come to this lounge to hunt and feast on the heart of some foolish man, never before would have she expected to become so enthralled in the presence of another. head cants to one side, her index finger taps her lower lip in a pensive gesture. ❝ mh, i was actually willing to remain here for the entire duration of your shift. but my sixth sense tells me that this foreigner might have a better idea, ❞ she speaks in the tongue of tricksters and enchanters, her voice kindred to golden bells chiming at dawn. her hand finds his own, captures it in a gentle hold and brings it to her face so that she may leave a soft kiss 'pon each of his knuckles ( it is sickeningly alluring, the desire to take a bite almost manages to overwhelm her ) .

a purr, another kiss. ❝ so, what's our next move ? ❞

#vulpesse #{ mika ; ic } — focus on what is real. leave me. #{ v ; current } — stay one step ahead of death.

[s4crificial-a]

if she doesn't fall for him by the end of this, it'll be a miracle. with evasive eyes, out of a trained peripheral, she watches his lips meet the back of her hand and shivers.

her heart rises into her throat, lips sealed, struggling for the right words. first, has he always been this terrifying? when he resigns to doing something, is he always this intense and determined?

second, what if she loses her mind with possession? what if she wants more after this? how does she handle these ancient needs, buried long after ishiguro, suddenly bursting through the surface?

and last, why doesn't she want to eat him? at least that hunger is familiar. the monster dwelling inside, the predator waiting to pounce, sits dormant, disinterested in consuming him. aren't all men supposed to lie crushed beneath her soles?

isn't she supposed to dominate them, and show that she could never be conquered? shouldn't his earnest nature be the most annoying thing she's ever come across? men can't be genuine. men can't be selfless. all they care about is healing their own woes while tossing everyone else aside. but he wants to please her.

"yes. . .yes." taking his hand, kagura leads him out of the lounge without a second to spare, up to her executive, modern suite. nothing else matters until she flicks on the lights inside, removing her shoes.

"let me freshen up. my room is there. make yourself at home, kiryu-sama!" she points to a door on the left side of the main living area and steps away into the bathroom.

「 KAGURA 」ㅤ𝙎𝙐𝘽𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙔: lady of the night.  

if she simply wants…pleasure? green eyes widen, stunned. she didn’t expect such an easy acceptance, especially when her behavior is less than ladylike. holding his gaze, shock settles into fondness, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“i won’t force you to pretend then.” how can she not want him? he’s so cute. she just wants to grab his face and press his cheek against her bosom. a man who will give anything of his own deserves everything of the world, right? is that how ishiguro put it?

the change in tone summons her full attention, lids fluttering as she tries to process what he means by wild things. her lower lip juts in a pout.

“are you saying that because i’m a hostess? do you expect me to prefer whips and chains? cuffs?” kagura leans closer, shaking her head. “i just want to be treated like a woman. softly. but if you do too well, i may have to claim you.”

taking a complete hold of his hand, she wonders if he has any resistance toward public displays of affection. “come up to my room with me.”

his mind is finally put to rest with mutual understanding to shirk and forgo any pretenses from here on out. there would be no fronts or affectations. if she wanted him to indulge her, he was going to fulfill that request.

the reaffirming squeeze of the hand holds his attention first, his gaze on her steady, intense, penetrating. this woman will not be discouraged or swayed otherwise, and he found little use denying himself any further. he takes it into his own, raising it up to tenderly press his mouth on it, but first...

‘ ㅤ may i kiss your hand? ㅤ ’

with his assumptions corrected, he gives a slow nod. ‘ ㅤ of course not. just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting yourself into. ㅤ ’ 

it was aimless to delay this any longer if she truly insisted. if they were to truly go through with this...

‘ ㅤ please allow me to take you to bed and pleasure you. ㅤ ’

#4doji #{ kagura ; ic } — resistance is the enemy. #{ v; default } — nothing will be taken from me again. #/ i can easily see kagura crying and begging for him to love her #/ are u ready for angst-

[s4crificial-a]

mika doesn't let up, a coiled predator staring at the bar tender as if waiting for a rebuttal. but it doesn't come, as expected, and his muscles relax once they're left alone.

"little bitch, i hate these fleshbags. see me getting soft with a woman and think they can try it." words laced with a growl, his attention switches back to her fingers on his gun. maybe he should scowl her for touching a weapon, but the fact that she has the gall to inspect it impresses him.

"it's unloaded. mag is in my pocket." lips curl into a smirk. "only an idiot would throw a loaded gun down on the counter. if it discharged, we'd be in trouble. had to make a statement, though."

with a sobering expression, he adds, "because i'm a foreigner, people think i won't do anything to the natives. they're wrong."

a brow raising in disbelief, mika scoffs at her claims. "give me a break. you could probably rip my head off if you wanted to." he retrieves the gun and slips it into his waistband at the base of his spine, meeting her eyes again.

"anyway. what's the move after this? you're not gonna spend all night in this shithole, are you?"

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄, the sort that leaves one's simpering cheeks flushing in strawberry reds and that reminds one's heart that even the tedious act of beating may actually become a source of delight. and delighted she is, for she becomes bolder and braver with each taunt that he either embraces or reciprocate, until the voices rising from all around her are quietened into naught but barely audible background noises ; it is quite unusual for her attention to remain settled 'pon a single person for an elongated amount of time but she finds herself now becoming more and more fascinated with his unpredictable demeanor, with his bitter edges and his saccharine core.

and once more, does he manage to inspire genuine surprise within her. the loud thump against the counter comes first, soon followed by the sight of a handgun that looks ominous and menacing enough to embitter the alcoholic beverages spilled and swallowed by those around them. there is silence then, a fear that encumbers men and women in equal measure and that now weighs both words and gestures down: it is easy to perceive the smell of fear as it permeates the entire lounge, instantaneously conquering any other sentiment and dulling demeanors that had just recently been oh so brazen and bold.

the bartender trembles and ahri can see how the corners of his mouth twist into an unspoken complaint, words of violence rising from his throat only to wither on the edge of his tongue. soon enough, he - too - has left that side of the lounge to find safety far from this man whose mood epitomizes the destructive passion of fierce and all - destructive storms.

her index finger idly traces the breadth of the handgun, its metallic surface oh so very cold against her heated skin. ❝ you have scared him, ❞ chimes the she - fox in sing - song lilt, but there is neither compassion nor empathy for the poor bartender in the malicious expression that brightens the lineaments of her simpering visage. the murmurs have started again, mika's threat becomes an acrid memory in the ocean of luxuries and pleasures. ❝ i hope you do not intend on using this against me. i am a fragile little thing, after all. ❞

#vulpesse #{ mika ; ic } — focus on what is real. leave me. #{ v ; current } — stay one step ahead of death. #/ omf i love that reaction #/ he's so violent and rude #/ and she's like O: !! love!! #/ obsessed-

[s4crificial-a]

he feared his sudden affection would be off-putting, but she seems to be eating it up, literally. that's. . .dangerous. why is she so receptive?

her flurry of giggles is almost haunting, and he knows if he doesn't get any sleep tonight, he'll hear it in his mind. charming, carefree laughter, beautiful and feminine, independent of the grunge scene around her. like. . .flowers.

she smells like a mid-spring meadow hidden away in a forest. contrasting with his leather, booze, and nicotine. they couldn't be more opposite of one another. and yet, he still hasn't let go, heeding her whisper against his loud pulse, echoing inside, sensitive to the touch on his neck. his throat.

if only they were alone in his room, and not in this stupidly crowded lounge. he senses eyes from all around, climbing up his spine and pricking at his neck.

but before he can react, sweetness fills his nose, blinking in confusion. her laughter eases him back into focus, but nothing grips him like the feeling on her tongue on his lips. she's a mischievous little woman, isn't she? unpredictable, and thrilling, but that doesn't stop him from stealing a kiss right off her lips.

he wants her terribly, but he can't escape the feeling of someone staring. pulling back, mika reaches behind, and slams a handgun onto the bar counter, locking murderous eyes with the barkeep.

go find something to do before i blow your motherfucking brains out. he doesn't say a word, but the threat is clear for him, and anyone else who can't mind their damn business.

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐆𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒, her breastbone becomes a sound - board for a jubilant melody wrought of delight and glee. his frustration is as palpable as his desire, and it is in her intentions to weave them together: to lead him towards madness and damnation, far from the strict rules of the world he is part of, to a place between the body and the soul where every desire is a flower and where she is the greedy damsel who plucks them one by one ( he loves me, oh he loves me not, he loves me again ) .

it is shameless the way she presses against him with every kiss, each low purr louder than the previous, until even the sound of her coquettish laughter is quietened by the notes of this song that she sings for him and him alone. her hand has moved, it has abandoned the back of his neck and now rests against the side of his throat: palm is pressed against his pulsing veins and ahri can feel how his heartbeat does not return to its former cadence but remains caught in a thunderous bastille of ravenous lust and impatience, of anticipation and love - struck anxiety.

❝ i am actually on my best behavior, for i could be so much worse than this. ❞ a promise and a threat, whispered in dulcet lilt against the side of his mouth. she - fox can perceive the eyes of the bartender 'pon them and from the corner of her eye, she recognizes the hues of envy and irritation in the arteries and ventricles of his heart. it does not surprise her, how many more must have by now taken notice of the wildfire that now threatens to devour them whole ?

her free hand reaches out, effortlessly finds the dessert that she had asked for. it is a cake roll, with generous flurries of whipped cream on top [ ... ] and it is towards that heavy frosting that her fingers move, stealing a thick layer of white cream for the unique purpose of smearing it across his lower lip. once more, she laughs. and once more, she leans forward to languidly brush the tip of her tongue against his skin and thus clean the mess that she has purposely made. from beneath fluttering lashes, ahri looks at mika with the glint of mischief in the depth of yellow eyes. ❝ i never said that i was going to give up on dessert. ❞

#vulpesse #{ mika ; ic } — focus on what is real. leave me. #{ v ; current } — stay one step ahead of death. #/ he's like a bloodhound to everyone else #/ and lovesick puppy with her #/ i love it

[s4crificial-a]

why is it all the more arousing when she cuts him off, without any hesitation whatsoever, as if his luck abruptly ran out?

mika reels, head spinning, trying to register what the hell just happened between them. never has he surrendered to another so quickly, and while he expected resentment and hurt to surface, heat envelops him instead, cheeks absolutely reddened, blending with evading eyes.

features settle into a begrudging pout. what is he supposed to do now? restless, bothered, and helpless against her continued caresses?

"you. . .little shit." a half-hearted insult, if it can even be called one, as his arms remain around her, apparently resigned to becoming a plaything for the night. jesus, he can't picture her doing this to any other poor sap here.

they'd probably die.

...on second thought, he doesn't have to put up with this teasing of hers. "yeah, yeah, quiet you."

but his actions don't quite match his tone, leaning in and tenderly kissing her forehead, down to her cheek, fingers curling in through layers of fabric at the small of her back.

"i told you to behave and you're fucking messing with me." nearly every word comes with a kiss to her little heart-shaped face, slow, pointed, ignoring her lips. "nah, i don't need any dessert. i've got my hands full."

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐓 [ ... ] but there is no sneering laughter tickling her ears, no taunting remark to deride a desire that had set her heart aflame and that now colored the sharp edges of her visage. he gives into the kiss with almost complete abandon, and she allows him to claim ownership of her body with each pull and push, with each motion meant to bring her closer and into his orbit ; she feels the tightening of muscles, the soft quivering of his ribcage with each ragged breath that he takes, his struggle against two bar stools that do not allow them to properly dive into each other ( if he only tore his chest asunder, she would crawl inside and there she would grow the most beautiful of flowers ) .

a more passionate kiss transforms her purrs into a dulcet sigh, a moan that slithers out of her open mouth and lingers between them like a ghost ▬▬ a memento of this ephemeral passion, a divination of greater passions to come.

this time, the kiss is abruptly ended. rather than offering him a sweet ending, she - fox suddenly turns her face to the side, thus eluding the hungering touches of his lips and leaving him with naught but the stale air of the pub to caress his swollen tiers. it is a cruel gesture, she is certain of it, but mischief is a sin that she has not yet learnt how to exorcise: 'pon reddened lips, a trickster's simper unfurls. it is from beneath the shadow of fluttering lashes, that she observes him. curiously, attentively, with the hunger of a predator that has taken a bite off a luscious prey and is now impatient to taste more, to kiss more, to bite more [  ... ] to swallow him whole.

a girlish titter bubbles forth, she is now licking what remains of his taste off the plush flesh of her lower lip. her tight grip against his stray locks becomes a caress, an idle motion of her thumb against exposed skin. ❝ eager, are you ? ❞ she does not conceal her amusement, nor her victorious sentiments at having heard him plead for a kiss. finally, the foxette leans closer once more, placing a butterfly kiss 'pon the edge of his mouth before nuzzling against him. ❝ i suppose you will no longer need to eat that dessert, now. ❞

#vulpesse #{ mika ; ic } — focus on what is real. leave me. #{ v ; current } — stay one step ahead of death. #/ clingy fox meets secretly affectionate dog

[s4crificial-a]

samael pauses, taking in atticus’ reaction to his mildly inappropriate comment with suppressed glee. he cannot help the lack of fear this time around, leaning forward and lowering his voice, gaze steady. “you cannot imagine how attractive you are when you order me around.”

of course, he will obey, leaving his misbehavior to the wind, as the conversation turns to his abilities. the flash of impudence crumbles, contemplative.

how much should he tell…?

“yes. well, i can split myself in different ways. i must keep tabs on every human nearing my realm, and sinners, so i can accuse them once they die. i also must execute and torture the worst sinners…and i’m doing it all right now…”

he blinks, focusing on another piece of fruit in his hands. “it’s like dancing. if you think about it, you’re prone to interrupt the flow. i also try to compartmentalize my other halves. there’s me the angel, there’s death, whom you’ve seen getting rid of your trash, and then there’s the evil part of me. i keep him far below, so there is no need to be afraid. in short—i am omnipresent.”

he makes a face, uncertain. “it used to be a point of pride, but now i am ashamed for my lack of interference. it is why i went after haru’s assaulter, and that fool’s angel had the nerve to try and protect him. he may bring that up in father’s court, but i stand by my reasoning.”

another pause, glancing up. “by the way, how are you? i don’t think you’ve slept in a while.”

i suppose he wouldn’t like seeing me in a dress and tight eithers? or was that supposed–

“ ahem! ”

loudly and pointedly clearing his throat to cover up the terrible words coming out of samael’s mouth, a terrible heat giving away the nature of his thoughts crawled up the skin of his neck as he glared.

“ we are in public, if i need to remind you. please keep the topic of conversation suitable for this setting. ” the last thing he needed was to be thrown out by one of the staff due to having perverted conversations with samael. but, in the very least, samael seemed to be happy enough to shift gears. gladly chattering on, in this hospital cafeteria, it felt oddly domestic.

sitting together, having breakfast, idly going back and forth…

the thought was purged from his mind, and forcibly did atticus refocus himself.

“ difficult how? ”

more than glad for the change in subject, atticus did not seem to notice samael’s quiet, picking up a piece of sliced strawberry.

“ other ‘selves’… as in, you can split yourself…? ”

hadn’t he read that once in a fantasy novel?

#lionfanged #{ sam ; ic } — i am good and evil. i am all and nothing. #{ v ; now } — careful i see all.

[s4crificial-a]

when was the last time he begged for anything, besides relief from his chains? he’s supposed to be ruthlessly hardened, strict against his code, loyal only to his superiors, but as her hand slides up his chest, a thick haze clouds his mind.

disarmed, mika forgoes the fear of touch as her fingers claim his nape, wildfire melting ice. later, if he’s ever freed from her encompassing grip, he’ll mull over the irony of her covering the sole marker of his inhumanity. twenty-two, his identifier, and yet, he doesn’t have the time to warn her.

he’s not real.

not a man, barely a person.

he’s just a thing.

so, why is she treating him this way? making him want? with enticing canines, and honeyed words pulling him closer, their lips meet, and her tenderness obliterates the last of his guard.

desires screams for more, rendered docile, still, impatience simmering. as she leans in again, his excitement is immense, sensing the shift, falling prey to possession. she breathes new life into him, fervent in his reciprocation, arms swallowing lithe curves, pulling closer, chest to chest.

how could he not want more of this? pushing back, laying his own claims, as he commits her burning sweet taste to memory through entangling tongues, he wonders, fantasizes. of kissing, biting bare flesh, and consuming her beneath until she’s a quivering mess against his mouth.

he has to let go, he has to, or risk defecting, abandoning everything he’s been trained to know, to follow her wherever she goes. 

𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐓, 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 [ ... ] almost all of them, at least. for her mischievous taunts now materialize in front of her eyes and was it not for her hastened swiftness in exchanging one mask for the other, he would have certainly witnessed how her eyes widened and her lips fell ajar in alcohol - induced surprise. his touch, his vicinity, his heart - beat as it echoes against her ears ... words lose their meaning, and as if she was naught but a doll attached to the golden strings of temptation, ahri lifts herself from his hold just enough to feel his warm breath tickle the sensitivity of her pale skin.

there is a smile unfurling across her man - eating maw, less gracious than it had been mere moments prior for she is now proudly and carelessly unveiling the inhuman canines whose sharp tips sink into the plushness of her lower lip. her content purrs deepen their cadence, almost entirely swallow her voice once she speaks. ❝ mh, you're not on your knees. ❞ it is in jest that she responds, each syllable reduced to naught but a honey - drenched sound ▬▬ she is close enough to brush against his lips with each word that she vocalizes and she wonders, can he already taste the bitterness of the stolen tequila on her ?

her hand moves, languidly slithers up his chest and comfortably settles against the back of his neck. to anchor him there, to anchor him against her. the first kiss is a tender one, the sort that leaves one's heart quivering for more, with lashes fluttering below half - mast and the ghost of a satisfied smile to accompany each touch. but ahri has never been truly tender, it is not in her nature to touch without scratching and thus, once she leans against him once more, it is with the selfish intent of claiming him as her own. the second kiss is a passionate one, open - mouthed and hungry and possessive in its amorous urgency, it makes her fingers curl against his hair and steals all the oxygen from her shrunken lungs.

he tastes bittersweet, and he reminds her of the infamous tea of heaven / so addicting with its floral undertone yet so deadly for the poison laden beneath its saccharine flavor.

#vulpesse #{ mika ; ic } — focus on what is real. leave me. #{ v ; current } — stay one step ahead of death. #/ KNOCKS EVERYTHING OVER AND RUNS AWAY

[s4crificial-a]

is she. . .blushing? sure, they've only known one another for about half an hour, but the faint red on her cheeks ignites something within. or. . .is it the alcohol? rendered silent, mika follows the curve of her exposed shoulders, and he wishes he had the power to look away, to scan their surroundings and ensure no other man could see.

but he can't, not until she brushes up against him. blinking through broadening confusion, a million questions rise in mind. who is she? was her earlier behavior, that coquettish, simpering, man-eating person, an act? he plays witness, in disbelief, as she nuzzles against him, like a cat claiming her owner, or a wild lioness playing with her prey.

but he hears the vibrations in her chest, amidst all the noise, and crimson engulfs his features. purring. she's. . .purring. and whining.

...what the hell is he supposed to do with her? as she grips his arm tight and stares up at him, fearless in her smile, knowing he'll do anything she asks. ...and she is not wrong in that assumption. grateful for their proximity, mika pulls free of her hold and wraps his arm around her waist. unthinking, leaning closer until he picks up the sound of a fluttering pulse.

tracing the outline of painted lips with his eyes, he focuses on her breathing, the heat of her body, the sweetness of her taunting voice. "do it, then." low, reserved only for her ears. ". . .please."

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 - 𝐁𝐔𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, for it is in the brazen hues of lavish, mortal pleasures that her cheeks are now dusted ▬▬ the former pallor is set aglow by fluttering thoughts and fluttering heart - beats, its edges made mellow and soft by the ghost of a mirthful titter that never ceases to reverberate where the body meets the soul ( she a berry ready to be plucked, ripe enough to taste saccharine 'pon another tongue but even now her sharp thorns neither wane nor wither and impatiently wait for a fool's selfless immolation ) . there is a fire burning somewhere beneath her skin, or so does she tell herself to silently excuse the elegant motion that accompanies the eventual drop of her fur - coated jacket from her slender and bare shoulders ; it is hot, her voice echoes within her mind, it is too hot for all these useless garments.

it is only the sudden vicinity that somehow manages to quieten the sneering laughter of the burning flames within. his words are registered with ease and her golden gaze does follow his movements with the same obsessive interest that she has showcased throughout the entirety of their time together [ ... ] but her lips do not part, there is no taunt nor challenge slithering out of her fanged mouth. instead, vulpine - she leans towards his side and nonchalantly places almost her whole weight onto him: it is less comfortable than she had expected, and for a moment she nuzzles against him for the unique purpose of finding a better position but soon enough, her breastbone is aflutter with low - toned and content purrs.

❝ let me tell you that you are missing out, ❞ whines in protest the woman whilst her arm slithers around his own and her free hand idly turns the pages of the menu ; there is nothing truly alluring written in ink 'pon the breadth of synthetic pages, for her hunger lays elsewhere and she doubts that the bartender in front of her would be ever willing to [ literally ] offer his heart on a golden plate.

her head tilts towards him, an impish attempt at looking at mika despite the way she has burrowed into his side / an impish attempt at making sure that he knows that her smile has yet to falter. ❝ let's get something sweet ! hey, pretty boy, get us the best dessert you have. ❞ she - fox buries herself closer now, the tip of her nose almost manages to touch mika's ear whilst she speaks. ❝ so you will know that i'm even sweeter than that, once you'll finally beg on your knees for a kiss. ❞

#vulpesse #{ mika ; ic } — focus on what is real. leave me. #{ v ; current } — stay one step ahead of death. #/ his weakness is clinginess welp <3

[s4crificial-a]

she downs the shot with such mesmerizing ease. for a split second, scarlet eyes fix on her throat, mind filling with the image of—biting her? it's a passing thought, but to act on it? he can't, especially when she's about to be drunk off her ass.

mika double takes at the mention of a kiss. nope, no, he's not going to give her the satisfaction of blushing again, swallowing fluster as he nudges the second shot glass closer with his index.

"can't, it's yours now. so is this. and. . ." he glances back at the margarita, a small pang of guilt prodding his heart. she's already drinking with a total stranger, huge lack of judgment there, and to make her do this alone would be fucked up.

bah. it's fine. he can drink a few bottles of tequila and still function.

snatching the remaining shot, he throws back his head and empties it. at this point, there's a bit of a burn. nothing he can't handle.

"here, since you wanna talk about kissing 'n shit." leaning toward her, a strong hand grabs under her bar stool and pulls it closer with a sharp scrape over the floor. fluid, mika swipes a laminated menu of pub foods from the counter and slides it in front of her.

"choose something. it's not good to drink on an empty stomach." he makes a face, indignant. "i'm just saying because you have more shots incoming."

turning away, he gestures for the attendant. "yo, bar boy, one more round!"

𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃, that she perks up at his unexpected demeanor. ahri had always prided herself in being capable of comprehending the hearts and the souls of all those she encountered with disgusting ease, but he seems to defy everything that she had thus far learnt and experienced on her own skin: whenever she believes that she has indeed managed to position all the jagged pieces of his enigma in a shape that is both whole and coherent, he shifts into something entirely new and diverse ( she knows what it means to be shape - less and color - less, and mayhap this is what lures her towards him with the strength of an all - devouring wildfire ) .

but although she has indeed managed to maintain a gracious and flirtatious posture at his sudden outburst, teasing him with naught but the song of song - bird titters and girlish giggles, the vulpine - she knows not how to hinder her doll - like visage from molding into an expressionism that is genuinely surprised at his sudden challenge. it is not in her nature to lay herself bare to the eyes of another, not when it comes to the arduous and incomprehensible mechanisms of her own fragmented heart.

a voice warns her against it, a voice surging from times of olde and reminding her of the imperfection laden within this ephemeral vessel of flesh and bones. but ahri has become a proud creature and thus does not listen to the voice of her instincts before seizing the shot in the tight grip of lithe fingers. a self - satisfied glance is thrown at mika before she swallows the burning liquid with deceitful ease ( her throat burns, her stomach clenches in distaste ) . when she - fox settles the glass between them again, there is a crimson lipstick stain on its otherwise transparent surface.

plush tiers part, tip of tongue brushes against the supple flesh with languid motions whilst she ensures to maintain a direct eye - contact with him. ❝ do you want a taste, since this was actually supposed to be your drink ? i can give you a little kiss, if you say please. ❞

#vulpesse #{ mika ; ic } — focus on what is real. leave me. #{ v ; current } — stay one step ahead of death. #/ askdlsajlda is he gonna have to carry her back to his condo or somethin

[s4crificial-a]

"overdo it? hm, you don't say." a pointed remark, only to wince as king's fingers dig into his back muscles. squirming, tsurya grips the tub's edge to hold himself in place while his knots are worked through.

one by one, and he exhales, allowing himself to wince, a string of murmured dialect from years past slipping through. is it obvious that he's rarely touched?

"forgive me, it's been a while since i was. . .underneath a man." not that king asked, but he supposes an explanation is in order. by the end, he finds himself sinking deeper into the water, lifting his hands to observe wrinkling skin.

"take a nap. . .?" although he thought of it earlier, for such a thing to be suggested confounds him. "i cannot rest while you're working. it's rude."

waiting as seo moved, once he settled again, atticus resumed. both hands came forward to gently work down from the middle of his back to lower, thumbs working especially hard as they pressed in, kneading each knot found until feeling it slowly melt. moving on to the next spot, he hummed in acknowledgement of seo's question.

" a man may have the greater strength to do what you want, but they may also overdo it... " he fell silent for a beat, contemplative. " ... i go to this spa routinely, and have yet to have a poor experience. i am sure if their recommendation is asked for, they will not lead you astray. "

seo certainly needed more than atticus working on his back, as he was far from experienced enough to do what he asked.

" don't think i didn't notice you stopping a yawn. it is still early, after this, you can take a nap while i make arrangements. "

#lionfanged #{ tsurya ; ic } — if only your hatred matched mine. #{ v ; modern } — these horrid nightmares never cease.

[s4crificial-a]

following her sultry order, the barkeep's eyes linger a little too long, and irritation flares in sharpening eyes. "the hell are you looking at?" he scolds. "get to it!"

was it for the employee's safety? nothing good can come out of earning her attention, but he can't ignore the swirl in his chest, this need to protect another apex predator. still, human men are dogshit idiots, and he doesn't need any of them getting dumb ideas.

the grip around his arm disappears, and his gaze follows, softening at the sight of her. what is he? some rabid creature on a collar, snapping at unwelcome stares? why is he so concerned? but then, he feels her fingers on his arm, and he stops himself from grabbing her hand.

how is she able to touch him so freely? isn't she disgusted?

brows tangled, mika mulls over her reasoning, expression brightening as their orders are set. what did she get? some kind of korean drink? it still has tequila in it, right? with a devious smile, he pulls her margarita behind him and pushes his shots toward her. "know what? you're right. and since i have to be alert, why don't you start off with these?"

she's here with all her feminine, man-eating bravado, but can she hold her liquor?

𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇, 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 - 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐃 '𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 - 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐖 ? she follows him with docile steps, and although her hold around his arm never ceases to be tight and demanding, her attention is quick in re - directing its main focus towards the countless men who howl and shout in boisterous laughter. a poor sight, an ever poorer scent rises from emptied glasses and oily stains across garments once intended to elevate one's social status and existential stature ; it is an instantaneous realization, albeit a saddening one, the fact that only few of them would be deserving of being devoured by her ( a feast for the beast of olde, a communion in blood and marrow ) .

it is with petulant displeasure that she lets go of his arm so that she - fox may take a not so comfortable seat beside him at the bar. never one to indulge in the warmth of alcoholic beverages unless strictly necessary, she hastily scavenges through a myriad of memories [ some belong to her, others were merciless stolen ] in search of an order to make. ❝ i will go with a makgeolli margarita, thank you. ❞ the vixen's cadence is naught but a mellifluous strings of purrs, each syllable rolled 'pon the tip of her tongue to deepen its sound. the bartender's smile does not go unnoticed and vulpine - she is generous in reciprocating his attention with a most dulcet, coquettish giggle.

at least until she can turn around and reach out to her favorite prey once more. hand slithers towards him, but she only touches his arm with the pad of dainty fingers. an almost tender gesture, was it not for its mischievous undertones. ❝ are you sure that you should be drinking ? i thought you planned on keeping a keen eye on me, and this does not seem to be very professional of you. ❞

#vulpesse #{ mika ; ic } — focus on what is real. leave me. #{ v ; current } — stay one step ahead of death. #/ he goes from annoyed to teasing her in 2 seconds #/ this is cute af

[s4crificial-a]

i'm here to babble about tsurya. my defeatist, self-hating, deeply traumatized, beautiful muse. he's special to me because he's the absolute opposite of characters i usually portrayed. instead of being unbreakably fierce and i'll kick your ass if you mess with me, he's been beaten into submission by his never-ending punishment.

tsurya has the mindset of someone who was enslaved for a long period of time. he's been reduced to such a state of critical helplessness that if someone freed him, he wouldn't move. why? because he's conditioned to believe that he is always in hell.

his time in jigoku was beyond any suffering anyone on earth can imagine. being flayed, assaulted, killed and revived, boiled alive, bones crushed. and it was endless. he did not get breaks. going through such horrific abuse for hundreds of years? how could it not show up in every interaction he has?

he is terrified of everything. terrified of feeling, of letting himself hope, of getting attached. he's constantly warning people don't rouse me. because he knows that he operates in a dormant, dissociated state of mind most of the time. he's never completely there. this is his brain's way of protecting him, it's a defense mechanism. because if someone forces him into feeling anything, he snaps.

and it is usually irrational and murderous and violent because he's like a cornered animal. all of his suppressed anger, grief, and fear explodes and he doesn't know how to regulate it because, again, it's centuries of repressed emotions rushing to the surface all at once. then the cycle of shame, and self-hatred starts again and he can't find his way out !!

tsurya is amazing to me because what about the characters who go through hell and don't come out stronger?

what about the characters who have been abused and stay in that victim mindset for the rest of their lives? they're not good, but they're not evil. they're powerful in theory, but in practice, they're weak and fragile. the characters who are just old, tired, and ready to die? but for some reason. . .they keep going?

a ghost of their former selves, broken beyond repair, and they're still able to love? they're still able to be kind? if that's not strength, if that's not lone warrior energy, then i don't know what is. and i find that so tragic, and so heartbreaking.

#{ tsurya ; study } — and so he raises himself in darkness. #/ he's literally my favorite #/ when you meet him and you're like 'who's the hot guy with the sad face' #/ and then you learn everything and you're like #/ oH- #/ welp i'm hungry gbye #/ tw // abuse mention

[s4crificial-a]

ah, he probably didn't choose the best position, turning away for king to have easier access. muscles tensing upon initial touch, with a slow exhale, he relaxes, biting back a yawn.

he holds all of his stress in his lower back, rigid from years of suppressing grief—and anger. the tease meanwhile, so innocent in tone, earns a smile, a deep chuckle rising from his chest.

"hn, should i? or perhaps i'll get massages regularly." he glances toward the ceiling, voicing his thoughts aloud. "speaking of, is it better to book a woman or a man as my masseuse today? in the east, women are known to be more precise, but i want someone to break me and put me back together."

his head tilts. "hm, but that sounds more like a chiropractor."

smiling, atticus had to try and not look too pleased with himself. some part of him expected seo to scoff at being told to come closer and tell him to do it himself, given this was supposed to be a benefit to seo. looking a smidge more red than he had just by the heat alone, atticus took a beat to admire seo's delicate features now colored a beautiful red.

" i will keep that in mind, " atticus assured him, and curled an arm about his waist.

without outright forcing seo to sit on his lap or adjust uncomfortably, he settled it to be simply easier to reach around from where they sat side-by-side. beneath the warm water's surface, he--as gently as promised--kneaded slow into the taut, tense muscles of seo's lower back, obviously sore and tight from his relentless, brutal assault upon him.

" perhaps next time, you should do some stretches, " he murmured, half-joking, and half-serious. did he normally leave his partners in such a state?

#lionfanged #{ tsurya ; ic } — if only your hatred matched mine. #{ v ; modern } — these horrid nightmares never cease.