He's So Feral

He's so feral

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!!!!!!

100%!!!

Reblog if you think fanfiction is a legitimate form of creative writing.

Meeeeee

It's frustrating that you can come up with the plot of an entire fic in just a few seconds, but writing it all down can take anywhere from never to forever.

a bit of a redraw, didn't exactly capture the 'against the wall' in this perspctive but i think the trouble is still understood :)

A Mary Goore commission for the very lovely and talented @da-rulah!! This particular Mary stars in “The Mayor’s Daughter.” It is such a delicious read—do yourself a favor and check it out. Excerpt under the cut. ♡

“Wanna try something new. Get over here, doll,” he instructed, beckoning you over. You rose from your seat, closing the distance between you both. He leaned back onto the sink, folding his arms over his chest as you got a little closer than necessary, stood between his feet and leaning your hands on the edges of the sink. Mere inches separated you, and you waited for him to continue.

“That’s a pretty shade of lipstick you got on tonight,” he flirted, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb and inspecting the red residue that lingered on it when he pulled back.

“You should recognise it, not the first time I’ve worn it for you.” If he remembered right, he’d know you wore it the first time he’d snuck in through your bedroom window; the same pretty shade of blood red. “You asked me back then if I thought it would look good on you, and then you kissed me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he mused, feigning thoughtfulness. “And it did look good on me...” You giggled at that, and it damn near sent Mary to his knees right there and then. He would never get fucking tired of that giggle. “Have you got it on you?” he asked, before he could get too distracted by that pretty little sound.

“Of course,” you said, patting the little purse hanging from your shoulder and down by your hip.

“Good, you might need a touch up when I’m done with you,” he smirked. “Think you can make some pretty little lipstick marks for me?” You nodded, moving in to kiss him immediately but he stopped you, his finger on your lip. You pouted, sagging your shoulders.

He pulled his finger from your lips and pointed it to his cheek bone, where the black met the white of his thin and chalky paints. You took the initiative, and stood up on your toes to reach, planting a very deliberate kiss to the area. When you pulled back, you marvelled at your work; the prettiest lip stain sat where you’d pressed your lips against him. Mary turned his head to look sideways into the mirror behind him, smirking at the transfer.

“Perfect, need more though,” he said, turning back to you and pointing now at his jawline on the other side of his face. You obliged eagerly, lingering just a little longer this time and pressing your body against his where he leaned on the sink. You could feel his body tense under you, like he was trying to act cool and aloof but fighting an urge rising inside him...

“Can I choose a spot?” you teased by his ear, letting your breasts press into his chest just a little...

“Choose wisely, doll...” he warned, with no real warning behind it whatsoever. But you already had a spot in mind...

Read the rest here! Don’t forget to leave comments and kudos! ♡

hi !! can we get ifrit having fun with phantom please ?

He gets along with everyone, immediately. There's no dancing around any of the others, no need to dip his toes into the water gingerly when it comes to getting to know them. Aeon is simply summoned and welcomed and finds it terribly easy to hit his stride from the get go.

You fit in well, Ifrit tells him at mass one night, eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles and somehow still manages to seem dangerous even when trying to appear friendly. Perhaps it's the proximity that throws him, the closeness with which Ifrit sits on the pew beside him when he's sure there could be more space. He knows very little- well, is given very little information about Ifrit, who spends more time in the back rooms and shadows of the abbey since packing away the guitar. At some point, they'll all learn what a curious creature Aeon is, prone to exploration by any means possible. It's but a small shame that it will take them a moment to catch up with how quickly Aeon is prone to explore his interests.

By the time Aether actually has a moment to tell Aeon that Ifrit is an older summon, less refined, less patient- more prone to giving in to wants with no hesitation-

Well. The warning would have gone unheeded before, but by the time it happens, Aeon's already let the curiosity steer him down a dimly lit corridor. Into a dimly lit room.

He allows curiosity to pull him into Ifrit's lap, allows curiosity to force him as if controlled by strings to run his hands up Ifrit's arms, feeling and squeezing the muscles. Indulgent, Ifrit smiles that same, unsettling smile, and adjusts so he can flex his bicep for Aeon to feel.

"How strong are you?" Aeon asks, caressing. His tone is amused and relaxed, for now. He's just so interested, excited at the thought of discovery. The nerves will come later, but they aren't here now. Later, his breath will hitch in his chest and his eyes will go wide and worried while he pants out harsh breath and his body will tremble with fear and uncertainty- of this, Ifrit will make sure. But for the next few moments, Aeon is sweet and easy prey. Food to toy with, and utterly pleased with that role. He continues feeling his arm, smiling a crooked little grin with crooked little teeth. The smile only grows when Ifrit's other hand lands heavy on his thigh.

"Stronger than you," Ifrit murmurs, nostrils flaring while he scents the air on his next inhale, breathing in the electrical sparks of arousal rolling off Aeon, so close. It would be easy to push him to the ground and take him. Easier still when that's what Aeon wants him to do.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Aeon says, pleased. "But how much?" He draws his hands to Ifrit's chest, rubs flat palms over him there, and Ifrit allows it. Fights the urge to grab and grope and take and instead- like a gentleman, allows Aeon to feel and explore and grind against his thigh enough to work himself up more. "Bet you could carry me pretty easily, huh? Even if I tried to make it difficult."

Ifrit takes a deep, slow breath in and inhales the smell of the blood rushing through Aeon's veins and doesn't bother to hide the way it makes his mouth water.

"If I wanted to," Ifrit says in a low, measured tone, "it wouldn't matter what you wanted."

Aeon hums, pleased. Gaze dropping to Ifrit's mouth, and then he ducks down for the briefest tease of a kiss, the softest most maddening excuse for one, but enough to seal his own fate.

"Prove it."