lord help anyone who stands in my way; for I am not merciful, and i am not kind
and i am not afraid to make you wish that i was
and i am not afraid to make you wish that i was
His wish is Asta’s command, as such that when the more is whispered, the butcher indulges – slowly pressing in to fill him even as his body thunders with a rampaging war of want, need, and desire. Feeling the fingers tease along his dark horns, he keeps his head precisely where it’s at – eyes shuttering closed as Danta’s heartbeat picks up and by the time he’s sank in fully, his own heartbeat is rumbling in his ears, pulsing against his neck as he tamps down the sudden want to bite into his skin.
“Gods.” He breathes instead, to hear his name and the groan, to feel the way Danta’s hand tugs at the sharp juts of his antlered horns. His tail slips further up Danta’s back, a coaxing sensation as his fingertips remain tight in the Maverick’s blonde hair. Asta’s other hand freely slides down his body again to hook around the leg hitched up against him, granting him that requested slow withdrawal, pulling back until just the tip of his cock remains. Only then does he slowly press back in with his own stuttered breath, a whispered “you feel divine, Dantalion,” leaves him for the blonde’s ears only, punctuated with the way he noses his way down a touch further to the soft space where the Maverick’s neck meets his shoulder, laying a somehow surprisingly gentle bruising mark, careful to not cut with his teeth.
“Gods.” He breathes instead, to hear his name and the groan, to feel the way Danta’s hand tugs at the sharp juts of his antlered horns. His tail slips further up Danta’s back, a coaxing sensation as his fingertips remain tight in the Maverick’s blonde hair. Asta’s other hand freely slides down his body again to hook around the leg hitched up against him, granting him that requested slow withdrawal, pulling back until just the tip of his cock remains. Only then does he slowly press back in with his own stuttered breath, a whispered “you feel divine, Dantalion,” leaves him for the blonde’s ears only, punctuated with the way he noses his way down a touch further to the soft space where the Maverick’s neck meets his shoulder, laying a somehow surprisingly gentle bruising mark, careful to not cut with his teeth.
Astaroth
say your prayers now
