so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
So inherently pleased to know he succeeds, it almost outweighs the exhaustion clinging to his features. Exhaustion that vanishes the second that he opens his own gift, radiating happiness in all the ways he can without his glamour and without the typical means of showing his appreciation. The fingers that drift through his hair are a welcome touch, especially around the space his horns typically resided, and when he makes his request, it’s with an almost tender gleam to his gaze.
“Perhaps it does. Perhaps that is why I cannot heal quickly.” He suggests, pointing out the obvious as Danta’s pressing the kiss against the top of his head, quelling the dramatics for the moment so that he can remain still enough for his lover to remove the earrings and replace them with the beautiful gifts.
Once he’s done and drawn back, the butcher’s smile is soft as it is tired, gentle when he finds his lover’s face again. “They feel quite comfortable.” He comments softly, before a dark brow lifts when Danta brings up something else. The fixed muzzle, notably, and subconsciously his gaze flits toward the arm he’d bit however long ago (three and a half, Asta, as Danta has said), before he nods. “Sounds lovely, darling.” He hums, leaning in to greedily snag another soft and chaste kiss from Danta and drain his mug so that it won’t get cold while they try it on.
“Perhaps it does. Perhaps that is why I cannot heal quickly.” He suggests, pointing out the obvious as Danta’s pressing the kiss against the top of his head, quelling the dramatics for the moment so that he can remain still enough for his lover to remove the earrings and replace them with the beautiful gifts.
Once he’s done and drawn back, the butcher’s smile is soft as it is tired, gentle when he finds his lover’s face again. “They feel quite comfortable.” He comments softly, before a dark brow lifts when Danta brings up something else. The fixed muzzle, notably, and subconsciously his gaze flits toward the arm he’d bit however long ago (three and a half, Asta, as Danta has said), before he nods. “Sounds lovely, darling.” He hums, leaning in to greedily snag another soft and chaste kiss from Danta and drain his mug so that it won’t get cold while they try it on.
Astaroth
so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
