[SE] 'til you get to the bottomland

// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //

The tightness of Danta’s hand in his hair, fisting with the sharp rise of Asta’s thrust, is a wonderful spot of pressure for the butcher without his horns on display. It sparks a grunt of approval to break through his lips, Asta’s attention returning to the Maverick even if his hand still slows tantalizingly slow against his hard cock. The wicked smile has electricity and fire blooming in his gut, sparks flaring like embers to his fingertips. “You will be.” He confirms in the low thrum of a sultry growl, a dark promise in the smile on his face.

Then, with the focus of Danta taking some of the reins, the double down with how hard he sinks down on him, the butcher’s moan breaks from his throat despite how he tried to clamp his jaw shut from it, approval drifting from his nose. And perhaps, with Danta’s hand on his scarred chest, it’s what makes him take some semblance of pity on him despite the praise that leaves the blonde Ancient’s lips.

The hand that trickles a soft touch against Danta’s hard length, gripping it suddenly to alleviate him as he drives his cock back into the other Ancient with a groan, his free hand drifting to Danta’s hip, gripping the space above his hips as though it was a handle specifically made for him to help drive him deeper with a delightful almost delirious gasp. “Fuck, darling.”

Astaroth

// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //