there's an angel on your story and a demon in your bed
feels a bit surreal, feeling bad, don't feel it yet
feels a bit surreal, feeling bad, don't feel it yet
Oh, he’s in for a surprise the second they get out of this room. The muzzle collecting dust in their nightstand will soon likely have to make an appearance again. But the butcher’s thoughts on the matter are far from his front and center, especially when he has Danta right where he wants him — and doesn’t have to fight off customers that are a litttttttle too friendly.
He picks up the splotch of red that blooms across Danta’s cheek, the gruff mumble one that has the butcher leaning a bit closer, watching as his lover’s lips press a kiss to the inside of his wrist after the playful nibbling, pressed up against a portion of his arm that boasts the braided crow charm and the pale line of scarring from the cuffs he’d been restrained with all those years ago.
And for all of it, his eyes are only on Danta’s face, the way the muted light he allows in spills against his hair and horns, sparking a rainbow prismatic effect in the interior of their den, almost as if the forest prince vibe he’d had before just hadn’t quite left. The compliment to himself in turn is one that sparks a small but still sharp smile, even as he drops another series of kisses to Danta’s sternum, brushing his nose against the center of his chest as he peers back up again. “What an atrocity for everyone else who cannot indulge in us, mm?” He purrs, tail still weaving through in lazy lines. “Yet how lucky I am to have you allllll to myself.” His accent drapes over the words thicker, that near grittier Whitebrim tone escaping without his notice.
He picks up the splotch of red that blooms across Danta’s cheek, the gruff mumble one that has the butcher leaning a bit closer, watching as his lover’s lips press a kiss to the inside of his wrist after the playful nibbling, pressed up against a portion of his arm that boasts the braided crow charm and the pale line of scarring from the cuffs he’d been restrained with all those years ago.
And for all of it, his eyes are only on Danta’s face, the way the muted light he allows in spills against his hair and horns, sparking a rainbow prismatic effect in the interior of their den, almost as if the forest prince vibe he’d had before just hadn’t quite left. The compliment to himself in turn is one that sparks a small but still sharp smile, even as he drops another series of kisses to Danta’s sternum, brushing his nose against the center of his chest as he peers back up again. “What an atrocity for everyone else who cannot indulge in us, mm?” He purrs, tail still weaving through in lazy lines. “Yet how lucky I am to have you allllll to myself.” His accent drapes over the words thicker, that near grittier Whitebrim tone escaping without his notice.
Astaroth
it's a roulette kinda deal, black and red is what you get
