hold you to the light, let you shine

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

The hand flinches against his scarred chest, enough sensation that the butcher can feel it. And with the threat for what it was, heard loud and clear, Danta would feel the way his lips curl into a sharp smirk against his neck. “I look forward — fuck — to it, darling.” Cut off by the curse moaned from his lips and pressed into Danta’s neck, Astaroth’s stomach muscles clench beneath his shirt, his cock immediately throbbing hard with the tight sensation that’s almost there and gone again with how quick Danta’s hips are moving.

It might be a record of time, the butcher used to the playful casualness, the slow moments of preparing, the savoring the stretch before his thrusts become a brutal pace. Danta’s intentions work, though, dragging him up and over multiple hoops to where the spark becomes a fire engulfing his chest. The possessiveness sparks tenfold, hands at his sides and hips twitching before digging in and helping Danta with the fast pace. “And you always take me so fucking well, don’t you?” He growls out in the husky Whitebrim tone, sharp teeth scraping and leaving tiny red lines against Danta’s neck, before he takes a notion learned from Flora sorry babe, where his too sharp teeth are replaced with his lips, sucking a dark mark to match the others in against his throat.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //