/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain
i promise honey, i can feel your pain
“I haaave and what a shame it was to result in nothing.” He drawls, all dramatics as he nestles into the window nook as rain continues to screech outside in sharp loud wailing cries. “Unfortunately, however, that is true.” He tacks on – because while he wasn’t afraid or worried about the rain or thunder for that matter, it was a scream that shook the bones. And while Asta was typically a fan of those kinds of screams, the luster did wear off after a time.
Tilting his head into the press of fingers along the scruff of his cheek over a relatively worn spot, the butcher’s arms sweep around Danta to keep him close as his tail winds around him in turn. The subject of just how they would be murdered is one that the butcher latches onto, snorting to hear Danta’s utmost refusal before he’s leaning in enough to press his bearded chin to his lover’s shoulder as his fingers sweep up his chest to start undoing the waistcoat. “A pact, then.” He hums, his hands stuttering a touch to feel Danta’s hand sink into the dark strands. “I could be convinced for sunshine. I suppose it would depend on just how we are to be murdered, no?” He asks, rousing himself enough to continue to unbutton the waistcoat, then his shirt, if only so he can feel the heat of the Maverick’s skin.
Considering it for a few moments longer, Asta loosens a soft laugh. “So, my darling, how might we be murdered?” Was there a thoughtful story behind it or would it be based purely off vibes? Or, a spooky story perhaps to coincide the feeling of being murdered in the sunlight?
Tilting his head into the press of fingers along the scruff of his cheek over a relatively worn spot, the butcher’s arms sweep around Danta to keep him close as his tail winds around him in turn. The subject of just how they would be murdered is one that the butcher latches onto, snorting to hear Danta’s utmost refusal before he’s leaning in enough to press his bearded chin to his lover’s shoulder as his fingers sweep up his chest to start undoing the waistcoat. “A pact, then.” He hums, his hands stuttering a touch to feel Danta’s hand sink into the dark strands. “I could be convinced for sunshine. I suppose it would depend on just how we are to be murdered, no?” He asks, rousing himself enough to continue to unbutton the waistcoat, then his shirt, if only so he can feel the heat of the Maverick’s skin.
Considering it for a few moments longer, Asta loosens a soft laugh. “So, my darling, how might we be murdered?” Was there a thoughtful story behind it or would it be based purely off vibes? Or, a spooky story perhaps to coincide the feeling of being murdered in the sunlight?
Astaroth
and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///
does that make me insane? ///
