#mary goore fanfiction

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 14th

Orgasm Denial, Mary Goore x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Orgasm denial; Mary’s a sadist wbk; established relationship; all of this is consensual; naked woman, clothed man; face-slapping; praise kink; degradation kink (is it really written by me if it doesn’t have at least one of these?); fingering; no lube; cunnilingus; dacrophilia; use of sex toys; dry humping; biting; pain kink; vaginal sex; piv sex; unprotected sex; choking; squirting;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Mary liked to make it hurt but the hurt was always so good you would forgive it every single time. He did things to you that you never thought you’d enjoy and opened up a whole different side of yourself you didn’t know lay dormant. Of course, you weren’t innocent like most people assumed, you did have a dark side. But Mary somehow managed to take that dark side and twist it until it had become darker and hungrier than before. And you loved every second of it.

Outside of the bedroom, Mary was the most beautiful human in the world. He was sweet, kind, caring, attentive, somewhat a golden retriever. Between the sheets, he was evil, downright demonic. And tonight was no exception. Apparently he’d gotten into a fight with one of his bandmates, and you were going to pay the price for it. He’d sent you a text before leaving his friend’s place: you better be naked with your legs spread by the time I get home or else. Or else what? Remember the safe word?

Lemon.

Good.

That was the last you heard from him. Anticipation grew in your stomach as you completely undressed and did as he asked. You knew what would happen if you were caught slacking, and given the mood he was in, you didn’t really want to risk it. The last time that happened, you couldn’t sit down for an entire week - because it wasn’t just your ass he beat. The guilt he felt afterwards was crazy and you had to keep reminding him that you wanted it.

You were scrolling on your phone, laying on the bed with your whole body on display when you heard the front door slam shut. Immediately, you threw your phone across the room and put your hands above your head, exactly how he liked. Not even three seconds later, the bedroom door swung open. Mary’s expression was dark, and he was filled with such a rage you rarely saw. He was scary when he was angry - the kindest people usually were. You felt arousal flood your cunt at the sight of him.

“Finally,” he said, “someone who does as I ask.” He placed his guitar on its stand before turning back to you, his eyes roaming the entirety of your body until they stopped on your exposed centre. “I half expected I’d have to come back and punish you. I’m disappointed.”

“I’m sorry.” You said, quietly.

He moved to the side of the bed and sat next to you, cupping your cheek in a moment of worrying calm. “For what, my angel?” He asked softly. “For being an obedient slut for me? For letting me find you with your legs spread like a fucking whore?” The same hand that was gently touching your face disappeared, only to strike your cheek with enough force to sting, but not enough to leave a mark. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

His other hand moved down your body and immediately began playing with your clit - he didn’t bother gathering any wetness from your hole, at least to begin with. His middle finger ran circles around it, and despite the friction being enough to start a fire, it felt good. You bit your lip at the sensation, trying not to let out any moans without permission. Mary just laughed and pulled it out from between your teeth. “No, baby. I want the entire fucking neighbourhood to hear me fuck you dumb tonight. Hide those pretty moans from me and I’ll make you suffer, got it?”

“Yes!”

“Good girl.”

You felt his index and ring fingers slide inside of you, again without any additional lubrication beside your own wetness. The stretch wasn’t too painful, more uncomfortable, but he didn’t give you any time to think about it - instead he began hitting your g-spot over and over again, putting his entire wrist and hand into the roughness of his work and immediately hitting you with intense pleasure. The more he moved, the more wetness got onto his hands and the better it felt. But things really felt better when his second hand came into play, when he used his finger to play with your clit. The look of concentration on his face and the way he bit his lip was enough to make you almost blow right there, but you hadn’t gotten the permission to cum yet, and you knew that cumming without permission would have landed you in serious trouble. Though, Mary could feel how tight you were getting, how needy you were when you bucked your hips to chase that feeling.

“Are you close?” He asked, his voice teasing and bordering on condescension.

“Yes!”

“And what do we say when we’re close?”

“C-can I cum?”

“Can you cum… what?”

“Please! Can I cum please.”

“Good girl.”

You could feel it creeping up on you. It felt so fucking good. His masterful hands brought you so close you could almost taste it. Yes! Yes! Right there. Right there!

He pulled his hands away, his fingers and thumb covered in your slick. You watched him as he admired the shine you left on him, pulling his fingers apart and watching the string snap in between them. All the while you felt that orgasm ebbing away. You clearly looked dejected, and this made him laugh when he saw the expression you wore. “You were a good girl for asking, but I still didn’t give you permission, did I? Let’s go again, shall we?”

His hands went right back in to the exact position he was in beforehand. This time, however, he’d moved down the bed and was sat in between your spread legs, his tongue replacing his other hand on your clit. The same middle and ring finger that he used before, he used again, but this time he added his index finger to stretch you a little more, once again not bothering to slick it up and making you wince at the burn.

Mary would sometimes lick your clit, but he knew the real pleasure you experienced came from him sucking on it. He suctioned his mouth around your pebble and began to suck hard, stealing your breath as he did it. Your hands almost moved from your spot above your head because you were so desperate to touch him. You needed to at this point. “P-please, Mary.”

“Please what?”

“Let me t-touch you!”

“Aw,” he cooed, “is the pleasure too much for my little angel, hm? Does she need to pull on my hair?”

“Yes!”

“Go on, then.”

As soon as he dove back in, your hands flew down to his hair, grateful for the permission. You were always overly touchy during sex - the desperate need for closeness and affection too much for your body to handle, and your hands always took on a mind of their own. Mary loved it. He loved the way you pulled on his hair when he ate you out, how you cupped both of his cheeks when you kissed him while he was deep inside you, how your nails would scratch down his back when he hit that sweet spot, how your hands would always clutch onto his thighs or hips when his cock was down your throat. The constant need to be as physically close to him as possible made him feel loved and wanted. And so he would only begrudge your touch as a punishment.

Your hands tangled in his hair, the strands a little harder than usual because of the styling gel he used, but still you pulled at the roots. You heard him groan in response, no doubt growing harder in his pants the tighter you pulled. The harder you pulled, the faster his fingers moved and the harder he sucked. Again, you were so close, and you announced it only to have him pull all the way back again, completely remove all his touches. You whined and pouted.

“Now, now, angel.” He scolded. He held your chin between his thumb and index finger, swiping the tip of his thumb over your pouted lip. “Don’t do that. Don’t brat out on me now or there will be consequences. Take what I give you.”

“I wanna cum so badly.” You said. Your throat was tight from the disappointment, and you could feel tears begin to brew.

“Poor baby. Suffering so much. I know what could make it better. Close your eyes.”

You hesitated for a second, eyeing him suspiciously. But once he made it very clear he wasn’t moving until you closed your eyes, you obliged. You felt the bed shift beneath him as he reached over you, the roughness of his jeans rubbing against your soft, naked thigh. The bedside drawer opened slowly so as not to immediately alert you to what he was doing, but you had a sneaking suspicion he was reaching for one of the toys you kept in there. You didn’t hear it close, nor did you hear him grab anything. Instead, you felt something big and bulbous sit at your clit before it sprang to life at the flick of a button. Your wand. You didn’t even hear him plug it into the wall. Even on its lowest setting it was torturous enough for you to scream out, both in surprise and sensitivity. Your eyes opened entirely and you saw him kneeling between your legs, wand held tightly in his hand and a devilish smirk on his face as he watched you writhe and attempt to escape from the feeling.

“You like that?” He asked. When you didn’t answer him, he turned the vibrations up a little more and pressed the wand further into you, applying more pressure to the area and intensifying the feelings. “Fucking answer me when I’m speaking to you!”

“Yes! I like it!”

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it? Have I fucked you brain dead already, hm? I haven’t even touched you with my cock yet and you’re already fucked up. You should see yourself right now - you look so fucking pathetic.” He laughed at your whimpers and the way your hips were moving at the sound of him being so fucking vile. It always turned you on to hear him be an asshole in the bedroom, given the polar opposite personality he displayed every other day. You knew deep down that he didn’t mean any of the things he was telling you, but he always said it with such conviction, especially in the moment you believed him - and it felt amazing.

Mary lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, making it parallel to his body. The back of your thigh was resting over the top of his incredibly hard cock, that was trapped still underneath the layers of cotton and denim. His composure always made you feel like he wasn’t quite as affected as you were by all this. If it wasn’t for the blown out irises of his eyes and the way he was now rubbing himself up against you, you’d think he wasn’t bothered at all. But he took his pleasure from you as he tortured your body, humping the back of your thick thigh as if he were desperate for relief. The look of you, red-faced, sweaty and desperately wailing like a bitch in heat had him far more affected than you realised, and he needed to get it out of his system one way or another. Right now, your thigh was the closest thing he could use.

“M-Mary, I’m gonna c-cum!”

He removed all contact again, even holding your ankle to get your thigh away from his body, denying himself pleasure as he denied you. He waited, wordlessly, for you both to calm down, before he attached the wand to you again, but this time two times more powerful than before. You screamed at the feeling and your hand immediately went to the wrist that was holding the vibrator, nails digging into the white skin and leaving red scratch marks. He went back to humping the back of your thigh, with a little more vigour given the loudness of your moaning. He couldn’t wait to bury himself deep inside you, to spear you on his thick cock and take his own pleasure out of you. He couldn’t wait to make you cum, to shatter your entire world around you and make you think only of him as you tried to breathe. He’d been thinking about it all day. With every frustration he felt he was going to deny you an orgasm. Three so far. Another two to go.

You felt his lips on your calf, kissing the skin there until one particularly hard thrust against your thigh had him groaning and sinking his teeth into you.

“Cumming!”

He pulled away again before you had chance to. You were so close that time. You would have taken any punishment he dished out if it meant you could have cum there and then. But he stopped you before you had chance to tip over the edge and you screamed in frustration, punching the bed beneath you. The tears you shed at the beginning of the session were nothing compared to the tears you shed now. You watched through blurred vision as Mary’s eyes lit up at the sight of you crying in frustration. He turned the vibrator off and threw it to the side, pulling himself out of his confines and lining himself up to your entrance.

“That’s it, you fucking slut. I fucking love it when I make you cry. You’re always so pretty. Gets me so fucking hard.” The last sentence he said through gritted teeth and directly into your ear, his body lying down on top of you and trapping you between himself and the mattress beneath you. He gave you a chaste kiss to your lips, ignoring the tears you were shedding, before pushing himself all the way in, stretching you out even more than before. The tongue that had been licking your cunt earlier was now licking away the tears you shed, and a groan escaped his lips when the head of his cock kissed your cervix as his tongue registered the saltiness.

He thrust gently at first. He may have been acting like a monster but he definitely wasn’t one, even in his anger. While he thrust in and out of you shallowly and tentatively, his lips ran down your cheeks, across your jaw and down to your neck, where he licked, kissed and sucked at a sensitive spot of yours. “I fucking love this tight cunt.” He commented, his voice muffled by your skin. He pulled out and slammed back into you. “I love the noises you make when I fuck you.” Pulled out again and slammed back in. “I love hurting you and making you remember who this pussy belongs to.” Pulled out. Slammed in.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, holding him as close as possible. The feel of his loose, grey vest softly dragging against your very erect nipples only added to the heightened sensitivity of your body making you cry out every time they rubbed against you. His jeans bit into your bikini line and thighs as he slammed into you, hitting your cervix every. Single. Time. Fuck it hurt. It hurt so fucking good.

He picked up the pace and the roughness, but he took this opportunity to attach his lips to yours, knowing how desperate for affection you’d become now. You were still crying - partly out of frustration for your almost orgasms, but also because of just how good he felt. Mary kept groaning and grunting into the kiss, his own voice coming out involuntarily from how good you wrapped around him.

He broke the kiss and sat up onto his knees, still thrusting away inside of you, his pace never faltering. “Fuck!” He grunted as he watched your body jiggle with the force of him. He always loved how your body moved,how you ricocheted off every thrust. He looked down at where you both were connected and saw a string of white around the base of his cock where you’d creamed all over him. “Fucking Hell!” He cried out. “Look at the state of you! This slutty pussy creaming all over me. Does it feel that fucking good?”

“Yes! Feels so good, Mary! You fill me so good.”

“Let the neighbours know who’s filling you this well, angel.”

“You are!”

“Say my name.”

You moaned at one of his thrusts. “Mary!”

“Again.” He slapped your thigh.

“Fuck! Mary!”

“What a good whore for me.”

He reached over to the neglected vibrator and turned it back on, setting the intensity back up to where it was the last time he used it. You visibly winced. “Mary, no!”

“Do you need to use the safe word?”

You shook your head in response.

“Then you’re gonna fucking take it, aren’t you?”

He placed the vibrator over your clit again and continued to fuck you as hard as he could. His grey vest shirt was now dark in most places from the sweat that coincided with the exertion. The sight of him wet and determined had your cunt tightening around him, earning you an appreciative, “fucking slut.” Then, with no warning, the vibrator’s intensity was turned up again, causing you to scream out loud and tears to start falling again. The stimulation bordered on painful, teetering on the edge of delicious and unbearable. You didn’t think he’d ever let you cum - that he’d keep you dancing the line until he finished and that he’d leave you. The thought of it was hot, of course, but by this point you were exhausted. Tired of being brought to the precipice but never quite falling over it. Mary watched your reactions intensely, drool practically slipping from his mouth. You were getting closer and closer by the second.

“Mary, I’m gonna cum.”

This time, he didn’t move the vibrator away. Instead he kept the speed and pressure exactly the same. You could feel it building and building, your entire body tingling in anticipation. He was finally going to let you cum. You were going to cum. You were so fucking close. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

And then he moved the vibrator away.

“No!” You screamed. “Mary, you piece of shit! You fucking asshole! Let me cum, please!” You moved your hand down and began rubbing at your clit working yourself desperately to release. But you didn’t get much time as his free hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it away. “I fucking hate you!” You didn’t. Not really. But in this moment you couldn’t help it. You began thrashing against him, trying to fight against his strength but now he was putting his full weight onto you and you were having trouble winning this fight. He let go of the vibrator and slapped your face again, this time a little harder and timed with a particularly hard thrust.

“You wanna fucking fight me? You little bitch. Do you want me to tie you to the fucking bed and keep edging you all night, hm? Acting like a bitch in heat. So desperate to cum. So fucking embarrassing.” His thrusts were getting rougher and rougher. His free hand now came to your throat and began squeezing at the sides. Your breath didn’t escape you, but he was restricting the blood flow. You felt like your eyes were going to burst any second. “I should punish you for that. Remind you your place.”

“I’m sorry!” You said quietly. “Mary, please.”

He bent down and gave you another kiss, his hand still restricting your throat. When the kiss ended, he released you from his grasp and picked the vibrator up, turning it onto its highest setting. “You wanna fucking cum? That’s fine. Cum whenever you want.”

He placed it to your clit and had you screaming at the intensity, more tears falling from your eyes and wracked sobs shaking your entire body along with his insane thrusts. At this point you were practically screaming through it: babbling incoherently, screaming his name, expletives, anything just to take the intensity away and relieve some of the tension. His other hand that was once restraining yours now rest at your hip and allowed him some leverage to continue to rail you into the mattress. He was exhausted, you could see it from the look in his eyes. You wondered how many times during this whole ordeal he almost came too.

One of your own hands moved to the one on the vibrator, and you grabbed hold of his index and ring fingers. He let you, wanting nothing more to lock hands with you and provide you the comfort you were craving. But he was so focused now on getting you both to orgasm he would let that slip today.

“Mary, I’m close! Please.”

“It’s okay, angel.” His voice was soft now. Gentle. He wasn’t the same, angry, crazy man who was ramming into you just moments ago. “Cum for me. I’ll talk you through it. Just don’t forget to breathe, okay?” You nodded. “Such a good girl for me, hey? Feel so fucking good around my cock. I got you, angel. Let go. Cum for me.”

And you did. Oh hells, did you cum. All five of the orgasms you missed now came charging through you at full speed, freezing every muscle in your body and stealing the air from your lungs. Your eyes glazed over and for a second went black, the violence of your orgasm now taking all of your senses for you and numbing your brain until all you became was nerve endings reaching climax. No noises were made, no thoughts were thought, no breaths were taken. It wasn’t until eons later when you felt Mary’s hand tapping your cheek you were brought back down from wherever the fuck you’d gone. His voice faded back into focus, finally reaching your ears.

“Hey. Hey, angel. Come on, come back to me.”

You blinked. “Mary?”

“Hi, baby. Bear with me a little longer, I’m almost there, okay?”

You couldn’t say anything, instead you just nodded. You felt him enter you again, unsure when he pulled out completely, and after a few intense and oversensitive thrusts, you felt him still and cum inside you. His own orgasm wasn’t quite as intense as yours, but it still nearly wiped him out. He lay on top of you for a few seconds, his own body unresponsive to his wants, but once he had regained his own strengths, he gave you a chaste kiss and headed to the bathroom. He always made an effort to clean you up a bit, even if it was only a brief wipe down, it was enough. When he came back, you looked at the state of him. His black jeans even blacker around his crotch and thighs, and it looked like he’d pissed himself.

“What happened?” You asked weakly.

The smile that Mary returned made your heart skip a beat. “You came so hard I was forcibly ejected from your cunt.” He said climbing back onto the bed. “And you squirted everywhere. We’re going to have to change the sheets.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen. I wanna make you do it again.”

“Not tonight, love. I’m tired.”

Mary laughed. “You’re fucking incredible, you know that?” He placed the wash cloth on the bedside table and lay down next to you again, scooping you up and holding you tightly, allowing you to bury your head in his bare chest now that his shirt had been removed. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You replied, placing a little kiss over his heart.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

#mel writes #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ghost kinktober #the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #ghost the band #mary goore #mary goore x reader smut #mary goore fanfiction #mary goore x reader #smut #ghost fan fiction #ghost fanfic #ghost fandom #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #repugnant #repugnant band

[ramblingoak]

Naps With Copia Mary

Napping With An Outlaw

For @da-rulah 💙 who requested a special nap with cowboy!Mary Goore

Mary Goore x GN Reader

While obviously not Copia this is similar to the Naps With Copia series. Just a nice soft nap with the cowboy!Mary Goore from my fic The Cardinal's Bride. You do not need to read that at all to enjoy this!

Warnings: Brief descriptions of blood and stitches, Mary is a terrible patient (and a tease), sfw, 1,400 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

“What the hell, Goore?!”

You had finally finished with your shift in the saloon.  A long day of filling drinks and slapping hands away when they got too close.  All you wanted was to wash off and crawl into bed.  A bed that you had been daydreaming about for most of the day.  Except right now your bed was occupied with the last person you wanted to see.

Especially since they were bleeding everywhere.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Goore.  Why are you here?”  You took a few steps closer, your eyes widening a bit when you saw the gash on their head.  “And what the fuck happened?”

“Ran into an old friend.”  When you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him Mary sighed,  “We had a little disagreement.”

“I can tell.  So, why are you here ruining my sheets?”  Mary looked a little sheepish then, picking at a tear on their pants before looking back up at you.  “The pout isn’t gonna work on me, Goore.”

“What will?”

“Nothing.  I am tired.  Too tired to deal with you bleeding all over my things.  Get out.”

“Oh come on!  You owe me!”

“Like hell I do, remember a few months ago when you came crawling back here after running into that Cardinal guy again?”  Mary winced and became very interested in the hole in his pants again.  “You’re kidding me.”

“This time wasn’t my fault.”

“Uh huh.”  You sighed and took a few steps closer, reaching out to prod at the wound on Mary’s head.  They hissed and tried to jerk away but you grabbed their chin to keep them still.  “Stop being a baby.”

“Stop poking me!”

“Do you want my help or not?”  Mary finally relented, staying still and leaning into you a little bit.  “Thank you.  Geez Mary, did you get hit by a rock or something?”

“A frying pan.”

“A fry–you know what, I don’t wanna know.  Alright, lean back ok?  I’m going to go get some clean water and the sewing kit from the Doc.”  

You ignored Mary’s groan, quickly leaving your room and heading down the hall.  The Doc would be down at the tables this time of the night so it was easy to slip into his room and grab his kit.  After getting a job here it wasn’t long before you were helping out all over the place.  While the town was relatively quiet there still was the odd bar fight or even a random shoot out from time to time.  Enough action to warrant hiring someone just in case.

When you made it back to your room Mary was still on your bed.  For a moment you were frozen, worried that they had been hurt a lot worse than you had thought.  You dropped the kit and rushed over to your bed, your hands landing on Mary’s chest and shaking him.  Mary wasn’t yours by any means, you had no doubt Mary never had trouble finding a warm bed no matter where they were.  But that didn’t stop your heart from plummeting when you thought they might be gone.

It didn’t stop you from wishing things were different.

“Ow, ow, ow!  What the shit?!”  Mary shook themselves awake, immediately swatting at your hands to get you to stop shaking him.  “I am injured here!  You’re supposed to be fixing me, not making things worse!”

Pinching their nipple wasn’t something the Doc would recommend but hearing Mary’s indignant squawk was worth it.

“Just making sure you’re alive.”  

You smiled when Mary groaned and dropped back against the bed.  They had definitely been through the ringer, whatever had happened.  You couldn’t imagine an outlaw such as The Cardinal using a frying pan of all things, but you supposed anything could be a weapon in the right hands.  Mary was thankfully still when you began cleaning the wound on their forehead.  The blood was caked in their hair so you did your best to clean it without having a tub to dunk them in.

Maybe you could talk them into a bath tomorrow.

“That feels nice.”  They were practically purring as you let your fingers rub against their scalp, trying to avoid the gash.  It would definitely need at least a few stitches.  “I knew I came to the right place.”

“I’m glad you came here too.”  That got you a lazy smile, the one that had lured you into Mary’s orbit to begin with.  “Time for the stitches.”

Mary whimpered, clenching their eyes shut as you got to work.  The gash wasn’t that bad but you knew how vain Mary could be.  It would look a lot better after this and they’d certainly whine about it a lot less.  The whole thing was over in a few minutes and after tugging Mary into a sitting position you helped them out of their shirt to clean up the rest of them as best you could.

“Mmm, I knew you’d try to get me out of my clothes.”

“You caught me, Goore.  That’s what I wanted to do the minute I saw you in my bed.”

“Anything else?”  Mary grunted when you tugged on their boots, chucking them across the room so you wouldn’t trip on them in the morning.  Their pants were next and you groaned with the effort it took to tug the stupidly tight things off their legs.  “Well, sweetheart?”

Mary was grinning at you, the only thing covering them the sheet they had pulled over their lap.  It was an attempt at modesty you weren’t used to, typically Mary spent most of their time in your room naked.  Not that you minded but it was pretty obvious by the way Mary was squinting and the yawn they just let out that Mary was in no condition for anything but a thorough cuddle.

“Actually yeah, there’s one other thing I’d like to do with you.”  Mary kept the grin as you moved closer, their hands going to your waist when you got onto the bed next to them.  You leaned forward and pressed a kiss over the stitches before dropping a few more across their face.  The strength seemed to leave Mary’s body then and you wrapped your arms around their shoulders and tugged them back down onto the bed.  “Let’s take a nap.”

“That’s not very sexy.”

“Neither is having you bleed everywhere.”

“Not bleeding any more.”

“Yeah but it’s hard to kiss you when you’re yawning constantly.”

“Other things besides my mouth you cou–ow!  Fine!  Ok, ok I’m sorry.”  Mary let out a pained groan when you pulled your fingers away.  “Pinching an injured man, does Doc do that?”

“No, but he also doesn’t kiss his patients either.”  You reached down and pulled the blanket up over you both, your eyes trailing over Mary’s body as it disappeared underneath the fabric.  They had some new scars since you saw them last and you made a note to ask about them whenever Mary was feeling better.  For right now rest was the most important thing.  “Go to sleep Mary.”

“Hmm, I guess.”  They wiggled around in your bed, wrapping their arms around you and tugging you so your back was against their chest.  Mary’s breath ruffled the hair next to your ear making you shiver.  Their arms tightened around you in response and you couldn’t help but smile, letting yourself relax and enjoy the feeling.  “Will you be here when I wake up?”

Mary’s voice was muffled against so you turned your head to try and catch their eyes.  

“What?”  

Those gorgeous green eyes of his sluggishly opened and they gave you a lazy smile before repeating themselves.

“When I wake up?  You still gonna be here?”

“Of course, Mary.”  They let out a soft hum, tugging you back against their chest.  You felt their breath evening out as they began to fall asleep and while you were tired yourself you couldn’t help but tease them one last time.  “It’s my bed anyway.”

It was Mary’s turn to pinch you, quickly followed by his fingers digging into your sides and tickling you.  After you screeched trying to get away an unfortunately aimed elbow had him groaning and demanding mercy.  You turned in Mary’s arms, humming as you brushed their hair out of their face.  

“Terrible bedside manner.”

“My sincerest apologies, Mr. Goore.”  You kissed their pouting lips, their cheeks and their forehead until Mary settled down again, their breath evening out once more.  Right when you were on the edge of sleep yourself you smiled against Mary’s chest, murmuring a promise into their skin before sleep took you,  “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

@pinklunarprincess your nap is next 😉

Naps With Copia: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

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[kissingghouls]

The Date (Mary Goore x Reader)

Summary: You and Mary are still trying to figure things out, but you've agreed to a first date. (This is a follow up to Winter Chill because frankly we all need to kiss Mary more often. 💕)

tags: kissing, somewhat sexual situations, feral cats, and soft soft he/they Mary Goore.

A guitar solo wails from a nearly busted speaker as you lean against the dive bar’s tricky door. The air is stale and the floor is sticky, but Mary lights up when they spot you ducking past the entryway and into the dingy room. It’s obvious to anyone who might be watching through the smokey haze, but it’s a look meant for you alone. That half-smile, half-smirk is a signature look that really only works on Mary’s lips. It makes you feel too warm, too tingly as you drag your body toward the empty seat in front of them.

You don’t miss that it’s the only “nice” barstool in the place, the only one in the entire establishment without gouges or missing stuffing and exactly zero crudely drawn dicks etched in permanent marker. Mary must have guarded the thing their entire shift as it was a treasured piece in the bar—a mighty throne for all the “tattooed freaks” and “weirdos” that made up your social circles. You wouldn’t be surprised if the regulars had been threatened with certain death or worse—room temperature beers.

“The fuck you looking at, Goore?” you hurl at him as you climb onto the seat.

“You, darlin’,” he answers with a grin and a wink.

Before, you would have rolled your eyes and walked away. You probably wouldn’t have been here on a Monday night in the first place. But things were different now and a warm pink blush flares across your face at their words. It’s funny that it’s all still new, how all the butterflies and funny feelings still show up even though you’ve known Mary for years. But you’d never known this side of them, this genuinely sweet and ridiculously smooth side that they reserved for whoever currently held their affections.

Whatever this was—this thing happening between you and Goore—you were happy to let itself play out rather than giving it a name and getting attached too early.

“You don’t stand a fuckin’ chance, Goore,” Mary’s boss hollers with a laugh and tosses a couple of pity bills into the tip jar.

“I dunno,” Mary sings with a shrug. “I’ve got a certain charm, eh darlin’?”

“I guess you’re alright,” you reply.

Mary plays it cool, but you can see the way their eyes light up like they’d just won a million dollars. “See Pat? I’m alright.”

“They pay you to say that?” Pat huffs with a laugh.

“You could have a little faith in me, man.”

“Nah,” Pat replies in a gruff tone. He stands and pulls his leather jacket over his shoulders. “You treat this one right, Goore,” he instructs with a friendly pat on your shoulder. “There’s a lot of ways to make someone disappear.”

“Jesus, Pat,” Mary laughs. “What makes you think I won’t mind my manners?”

“I’ve met you. But this one? This one’s a good kid.”

“How could you accuse me of such a thing Pat?” you ask in mock horror.

“My mistake, kiddo. Try to leave Mary in one piece, yeah?”

“I make no promises,” you call out as Pat walks away.

Mary leans forward, elbows resting on the bar as he asks in a low voice, “you gonna take me apart, darlin’?”

“Shut the fuck up, Goore,” you groan, shaking your head. “Are you ready to go or did I drive all the way up here for nothing?”

They grin and grab the tip jar. “Lemme get my jacket.”

Minutes later Mary rounds the bar shouting goodbyes at the regulars and their coworkers as you juggle your keys in your hand. You do everything you can to will away the nerves clawing at your stomach, but nothing quite works until the two of you are outside and Mary reaches for your hand. They stop and pull you closer, bottom lip chewed nervously between their teeth.

“Thanks for this.”

“For picking you up from work?” you ask with a laugh.

Mary rolls his eyes and groans, tugging you closer. “For the whole thing, I mean. The date,” they reply with a nervous tinge.

“Is that what this is?” you tease, knowing exactly what the two of you had agreed on when they’d proposed the idea.

“You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?”

“Isn’t that why you like me?”

“Of course, it is darlin’.”

You reach up and press a soft kiss to his lips. He tastes like mint gum instead of smoke and you can’t help but grin at the thought of Mary Goore nervously chewing through an entire pack in the hopes that they might get to kiss you again. You can’t help grabbing fistfuls of their jacket to pull them even closer as you dare to deepen the kiss. Mary’s hands go straight to your hips as your heart begins to race.

“You’re fucking dangerous, darlin’,” they whisper against your mouth, eyes closed and forehead pressed to yours to savor the moment.

“Maybe. You like it though.”

They nod. “Very much. More than you know. But as much as I enjoy making out with you in the street, I do have a nicer evening planned.”

“You’re really serious about this date thing, huh?”

“As a heart attack, sweetheart. Gonna romance the hell out of you.”

“Bring it on, Goore.”

Mary laughs in response, fully accepting your challenge by running past you and doing a little bow as they open the drivers side door for you. They tilt their head as they wait for your witty retort, but you’re too stunned to do anything but stumble over a “thank you” as you slide into your seat.

It’s a short drive to Mary’s place, but time seems to slow to a crawl when he’s sitting next to you. You can feel the cold still clinging to his jacket as he directs you toward a spot on the street that’s normally occupied by his roommate’s van. He assures you it’s more than ok steal the space, giving you another one of those Mary Goore grins that used to mean trouble, but now they’re starting to make your heart stutter in your chest. As you throw the car into park, Mary’s face is haloed by the streetlight buzzing above and all you can think about is how badly you want to kiss them again.

“Stay there,” he says quickly and jumps out of the car, sprinting to reach your door before you realize what he’s doing.

“You’re out of your mind, Mary,” you laugh, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the entire thing.

“Hey, I told you I was going to romance you, darlin’.” They hold out a hand and help you out of the car as you take it. Their fingers are soft, lingering just a touch longer than expected as they run a thumb over your knuckles. “This is just the first step.”

“Should I be worried?”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to think. “Yeah, probably. Come on, darlin’,” he says as he urges you toward the sidewalk. “It’s cold as shit out here.”

You follow Mary up a winding set of narrow stairs and lean against the wall as they fight with their front door. The winter weather’s made the locks harder to turn and you can see the satisfaction on Mary’s face as the door finally swings open.

“After you,” they say with a broad sweep of their arm. You’re still shaking your head as they follow you in and realize the apartment is freezing. “Fucking piss,” Mary shouts in frustration and rushes to fumble with the thermostat. “I’m gonna kill him.”

They wait a bit for the tell-tale click of the heat kicking on and the distinct smell of radiators warming up fills the apartment. You watch them move through the space for a moment, realizing you’d been here before. Some distant memory filters in and the room is full of half-naked people and those plastic party cups while music blares at an unholy volume. You can’t remember what the party was for—a birthday or valentine’s day or something equally unimportant—but your heart feels like someone’s gripped it in their fist as a perfect vision of Mary leaning against the wall wearing a bored expression and that same battle jacket appears clear as day in your mind.

A screeching sound pulls you back to the present and Mary’s rushing through the kitchen to the back door. You hear it again, not screeching, but desperate meowing just outside the door.

“Hang on, hang on, I’m coming guys,” Mary says with a laugh before turning back to you. “Sorry, they can always tell when I get home.”

As Mary carefully measures out cat food into two plastic baby food bowls, the meowing turns to howling cries as though the cats know it’s dinnertime. You smile as two small cats swarm Mary as soon as he steps onto the balcony. He sets down their food and grins back at you as he waves you over. “That’s Scratch and that one’s Sniff. They’re pretty sweet for being feral cats, just don’t try to pet Scratch.”

“I can’t believe that stupid rumor was true. Mary Goore feeds street cats.”

Mary shrugs. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“No. Honestly, it’s the one rumor I always hoped was true.”

“Hmm, so you’re saying you think about me when I’m not around?”

“That’s hilarious coming from the guy who’s had a crush on me ‘for-fucking-ever.’”

“Oh, because you never had a crush on me?”

“I never said that.”

Mary smiles and takes your hand. “C’mon darlin’. We have a date.”

Back inside the small kitchen, Mary becomes increasingly frustrated as they open and slam each cabinet shut. There’s a growl under their breath, throaty and deep like the noises they make on stage and their shoulder sag in defeat as they stare into the empty fridge.

“So…uh…” he starts and rests his forehead against the door of the freezer.

“What’s wrong?”

“I swear I had a plan. I was going to do all this nice shit for you—I was gonna make you dinner! But it…uh…it looks like my roommate ate all the food?”

“Were you…trying to impress me, Goore?”

“Yes,” he confesses quickly. “Trying real fuckin hard here, darlin’.”

“You know you don’t—”

“I don’t have to do any of this for you? Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just…I wanted to?”

“Well, you still could right? There’s got to be something left in here,” you suggest and begin to search the cabinets. Tucked away in a back corner is a single box of mac and cheese in little cartoon shapes. “Ah! What about this?”

Mary laughs. “Probably about as good as it’s gonna get. This ok with you?”

You lean closer to them and whisper, “I kind of love that stuff.”

A soft smile creeps across their face before they steal a kiss and send you off to the living room. You settle on the sofa and pull your sleeves over your hands as you fold up to keep warm. The heat might be making noises, but it’s still cold as hell in Mary’s apartment. You know it’s the kind of thing they can’t help, but you keep your discomfort to yourself. You didn’t miss that hint of embarrassment under his makeup because things weren’t “perfect” when you’d arrived, but you weren’t sure how to tell him that none of that mattered to you. You just wanted to be here with him.

“Well, this is a fucking disaster,” Mary states with a self-deprecating laugh and drops next to you on the sofa. They swipe at their face, clearly still upset by the way the evening’s events continue to unfold. The metal of their rings clicks together as their fingers smudge their already fading makeup.

It’s almost cute the way Mary is aggravated by things not turning out as planned. Hell, it’s cute that Mary made plans, but you weren’t about to let them put you on a pedestal—lest you fall from it later.

“Mary?” you start softly.

“Hmm?”

You don’t really have anything to say to follow up, so you crawl across the sofa and straddle his thighs instead. You level your eyes with the pale green of his, watching as his pupils go wide at the sight of you in his lap. “It’s not a disaster,” you tell him, slightly impressed that you’ve earned his full attention. “It’s just a regular date.”

“Fucking hell, darlin’,” they groan.

“What?” you ask with a doe-eyed innocence that has Mary pulling their lip between their teeth.

“You’re something else, you know?” they whisper.

You shrug and lean in, closing what little gap was left between the two of you. “I can’t help it. There’s just…something about you.”

“About me?” he asks in disbelief.

“You gonna argue with me or are you gonna kiss me, Goore?”

“Hmm,” he hums, pretending to think once more. “Yeah, I’ll be honest I think I’m gonna kiss you. Like, a lot.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good plan.”

“Probably one of my better ones, really,” he says softly, urging you closer with each word before his mouth claims yours. He smooths a hand over your back as the kiss grows more and more heated. He shifts beneath you, turning to pin you to the sofa as he hovers above you. The weight of his hips against yours is like a dream and you reach up to pull him closer. Tongues twist as hands tangle in each other’s hair, fingers gripping with hesitation to find the perfect pressure to make the other moan. While Mary’s kiss is aggressive, they keep their hips almost respectfully still until you give chase with your own, raising to meet the slow, tentative grind.

The sound they make—somewhere between a whine and a whimper—is so pretty you’re determined to hear it again, but it’s too hard to think with Mary’s teeth on your neck and their fingers trailing under your shirt. They’re leaving marks, but you know you will too as soon as you get the chance, so you tug hard at Mary’s hair and attack as they throw their head back. Their eyes shut tight as you nip at the skin below their ear and suck an angry red mark into their skin. They make that sound again and this time it’s almost desperate as their hardening length drags over your sex.

Before either of you can do anything about it, a horrific noise erupts above you. Mary falls from the sofa, knees banging against the hardwood floor as you sit up and try to catch your breath. There’s a haze of steam in the room and Mary scrambles toward the kitchen to wave anything they can in front of the screaming smoke alarm. When the wailing finally stops, they turn back to you sheepishly and burst into an uncontrollable laughter.

“Forgot—” they heave between giggles, “forgot—about—the food.” They finally catch their breath and wipe away an errant tear as they shake their head. “Darlin’ I might not be cut out for this fancy date stuff.”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that it’s fucking freezing in here?”

“Yeah, I think the heat is out. I might have been…trying to pretend it wasn’t.”

“Ah, well, do you have…I don’t know…blankets? Like…maybe on your bed?”

“Darlin’ are you trying to get into my bed?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Mary grins. “Ok, this might be the best date I’ve ever had.”

-x-

more stuff by me // ko-fi tip jar

#my writing #more Goore '24 #mary goore x reader #repugnant fanfiction #mary goore fanfic #mary goore fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #the band ghost fanfiction

[ghuleh-recs]

Some Mary Goore recs for those of us mourning the loss of Repugnant. Like to charge and reblog to cast an absolute motherfucker of a hex on Spotify.

Fics under the cut. These are filthy because Mary is filthy. 18+ mdni

Kinktober 2021 Day 12 - @copias-thrall - dew x mary x swiss

Swiss has some fun with the two resident gremlins.

The Green Fairy - @gasolineghuleh - mary x f!reader

The cute bartender has a bit of a secret, doesn't he? It isn't until you cut yourself on some glass that you notice it, and the hunt begins.

First Dates and Second First Dates - @filthy-rat - mary x gn!reader

After your first date goes slightly awry, Mary insists that you have a second first date, which is completely different from a second date.

Painting Mary - @lady-necropolis - mary x f!reader

could i request a fic about the reader doing their halloween makeup/facepaint, and they want to try doing mary’s and ends up pulling the “i want to do your makeup so i have to straddle you oh noooo 👀” card.

Again - @ramblingoak - mary x virgin!reader (f!reader)

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to do something?”  Mary didn’t answer, they continued to remain still by the bed staring down at you.  You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and glaring at them.  “Haven’t you done this before?

Gotcha - @lady-jane3 - mary x gn!reader

They regained some of their cocky air and flipped the knife between their fingers, making me flinch slightly in more difficult passes between. The shot of adrenaline I felt each time the passes just slightly lagged made me start to understand it, feeling a cool cloud of relief after each burst of adrenaline. A crooked grin slowly crept across his lips as he noticed the way I was watching the flash of the blade, thinking that he caught my attention exactly the way he wanted it.

Mary Machinations - @filthy-rat - mary x f!reader

Mary's got this van. He calls it his "shaggin' wagon". As perhaps his only friend that he hasn't stuck his dick in, you have yet to be invited into the back of it, but that's about to change.

Pigtails, Baby - @gasolineghuleh - mary x f!reader

Mary uses your pigtails to help you give him a nice, sloppy alleyway blowjob.

Saucy Mary Goore - @copias-thrall - mary x f!reader

“You show enough chicks Jesus, and that goes a long way to them thinking you ain’t that much of an asshole after all.” It sounds like a snappy comeback in your head, but the minute the words are out, you want to shove them back in. “So you’re saying the only way to get someone to stop thinking you’re an asshole is to let you fuck it out of them?” He bites his bottom lip and sucks the air through his teeth as he gives you an appraising look. 

⛧ now go forth and read, bookmark, kudos, comment, & add your own Mary recs to the list!!

#fic rec friday #my fic recs #mary goore #repugnant #mary goore x reader #dew x mary goore x swiss #mary goore fanfiction #repugnant fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fanfic #mary goore fanfic #repugnant fanfic #fic rec!! #the band ghost fic rec #reader insert #spicy tag

[megachaoticstupid]

“Not a valentine” valentine

You don’t remember who exactly suggested this idea between you both, but since both, you and Mary, didn’t have a partner, you agreed to go with them on a friendly “date” in one of the pubs on Valentine day.

Word count: 3926

Trigger warnings: mostly fluff, idiots to lovers, but there are a little bit of a creepy man, blood and sexual harassment (i am sorry), and a small fight.

Author's note: Happy Valentine day if you are celebrating, and if not, then Happy Wednesday! I want once again give huge thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for being patient with me and so supportive. Thank you ❤ And a lot of thanks to @gothdaddyissues for the amazing divider.

You don’t remember who exactly suggested this idea between you both, but since both, you and Mary, didn’t have a partner, you agreed to go with them on a friendly “date” in one of the pubs. It was their favourite – “veritas”. They loved to snicker at the name and saying that all the creativity went only on the name, for other shit imagination ran dry. And you always rolled your eyes, knowing that they will drag you or your friends here after every gig the band had.

Usually, pub was occupied with several regulars here and there and some fresh blood who came to scream into a karaoke machine and get wasted. It was fun, in times rowdy, and the wine here was fine. But, unexpectedly for you, today the pub is crowded as hell. You see it through the window not believing it at first, but as the door swings open, you are surprised to see a lot of people are either here with their partner having the time of their life or by themselves drinking and just chilling. In the small plaque near the window, you see: “Every third glass is for free”. No wonder it is crowded.

The atmosphere is slightly all over the place. You never saw the interior ever decorated. Even on Christmas it was pretty chill and you loved that Jimmy, the owner of the pub, just never gave a fuck about it. Now, it is covered with cute little hearts, paper frills and pink paper chains. But from the speakers, despite pink romantic mood, blasts “Jolene” by Dolly Parton. You both freeze in your tracks, taking in everything and look at each other slightly dumbfounded. After a moment, your friend shrug their shoulders and enter. You follow them and the door closes, trapping you in the pink world.

To you, crowds were always slightly intimidating, threatening to absolve and part you from your friends, so now you almost cling to Mary, grabbing them by the hand and their shirt. They squeeze back reassuringly, navigating through a crowded place with an ease which could have surprised you if it was someone else. And you were not surprised when they got a small table in the far corner of the pub, almost threatening two dudes to leave the seats Mary booked weeks prior. You sit down, smiling at your friend and then roll your eyes.

“Are you always this scary, Goore? Dudes almost pissed themselves.”

“Sweetheart, I had to butter up Jimmy so we can have this small corner for ourselves. And I don’t hear your praises, you know how Jimmy is. The man is a menace.”

They shake their head pretending to be offended by your lack of gratitude and you smile even wider at them. Mary are so cute when they pout, at least to you. Still smiling at them, you squeeze their hand and put your other on your chest a little bit pompously.

“Mary, even the bards of the past will never find words for your bravery and your self-sacrificing nature. And both of them you showed trying to save a table for the two of us in this smelly pub on February 14th!”

You give them a shit-eating grin and then wince when they flicker you on your forehead and roll their eyes.

“Sorry, I am really grateful for that and happy to have fun with you today”

You smile at them apologetically; your words speak truth. Anything is better than spending this day alone and thinking about your ex and how everything was fucked up from the start. And, spending time with Mary for you is better than anything else. Your small crush not helping these feelings. For you, spending any spare time with them was always fun and giggles as they always found the ways to distract you from anything, supporting and comforting you with their presence and actions. They always made you feel like home and for that only you were always grateful.

You look them in the eyes, waiting for their response, hand in their hand as you both seat in the corner of the pub, drunk people all around you and another song about broken hearts blasts from the speakers, drowning you both in the cacophony of acoustic guitar riffs and somber voice of the musician. You smile at them and they almost immediately smile back, forgetting about their “wounded” feelings, squeezing your hand.

A quick thought rushes in your head. A treacherous one, whispering to you, that this evening looks almost like a cheesy real date with Mary, and on the Valentine Day of all days. You squish it quickly, suppressing your thoughts and putting them in the box in the back of your mind. Your cheeks still blush as you remove your hand from theirs and quickly start putting away your winter jacket. If Mary were a little bit disappointed by this, they didn’t show it, puzzled look swiftly disappearing and a mischievous smile playing on their lips as they also undress.

“So, sweetheart, what do you want for our “Not valentine” valentine day?”

They ask, their eyes are glinting in the dim lights of the pub and you smile back, shrugging your shoulders and look at the bartender. Jimmy looked really down and sad, serving drinks to the customers almost with a solemn reverence, bobbing his head to the beat of the song. You sigh, looking at him and shake your head. Mary looks in the same direction

“Divorce doesn’t suit him well”

They say, also shaking their head and sighing as you looked at him quizzically, quirking a brow.

“Sure thing, Mary, no one glows up when they divorce with their loved ones. It is hurtful”

You might have added too many emotions in your answer, as you notice them looking with sympathy at you and taking your hand in theirs. It feels awkward all of a sudden, so they try to joke

“Well, his ex certainly glowed up, getting a lover, Jimmy’s car and flat”

You scoff at their tone, but it helps you to relax a little. You look again at Jimmy and nod

“Well, I hope he will get better eventually. He still has his pub”

You both quiet down. Looking at the sheet of menu, none of you need it, but still using it as you both feel slightly awkward to be together in the sea of lovesick couples. Your hand is still in Mary’s, held tight and reassuringly. You look at them as a hold your breath. Their messy black hair styled in front of their face, their make-up and fake blood and favourite tee with their favourite band – all of that make them look so comfortable and beautiful to you. But you also notice, that they tried to look presentable today: make up applied perfectly, their cologne is pleasant and overall appearance is not as crunchy and messy as they usually love to appear. At the thought that they tried, even though they didn’t have to, your heart starts beating faster. And you try to calm yourself, when they go to order, hand on your stupid tender heart, as you just try to reason with it. After all, Mary is a friend, not a potential interest. And you repeat this thought, looking at them and their hips as they walk up to the bar.

After their return, you begin to have your own fun. Alcohol always made you mushy and braver, so, after a few glasses of wine, you forget about any shyness that you feel around Mary today, fully relaxing and giggling at their stories from their different gigs and jobs. You know half of them already, but it doesn’t stop you from giggling at them, grabbing their arms and resting your head on their shoulder in the fits of laugh when they move their chair to be close to yours. Mary blush at your gestures, laughing with you and at your own stories from work, and as the evening progresses, they place their arm around your shoulders.

You feel happy, bubbly even, and drag Mary on the small dancefloor too excited to hear their protests. “No children” blasts from the speakers, as you place one hand on Mary’s shoulder and the other one in their hand. They chuckle, shake their head and finally hug you by the waist, brining you close to their body, almost squishing you in them. Your breath hitches, his cologne hitting your nose and you can almost hear their heart beating fast under the sternum.

Both of you at first sway a little bit clumsily, making strange pa’s and twirling in each other’s arms. But then you get bolder, laughing to the lyrics, singing them and imitating the lines with your silly gestures, pulling each other close and then lightly pushing away again as if you are an arguing couple. Your laughs bubble in your chest as you dramatically extend your hand to them, singing “Hand in unlovable hand” and they pull you close to them, bringing their hands to your hips and making you sway gentler, slower. You put your arms around Mary’s shoulders, face raised to theirs and your breath mixes as they lean closer.

You see that Mary’s pupils are blown, hands gripping your hips tighter and their face is so close, that you can’t help but have a tiny thought run in your head. What if they kiss you right now? You lean closer, tilting your head for them and they do the same, cupping your cheek and leaning closer as well. Your breath hitches and you flutter your eyes several times. Their thumb gently brushes your cheek and then tilts your head slightly to the side. Mary’s eyes are gentle and have a silent question in them. Words are swirling on your tongue and they all over the place: from the simple “what?” to a crushingly loud “yes!”. But before you answer Jimmy notices you both and yells:

“Mary, come over here for a sec!”

Mary roll their eyes, frustrated sigh leaving their lips

“Be in a sec, sweetheart. Be there.”

They kiss your forehead and quickly go to the bar, looking frustrated. You chuckle nervously, cheeks are burning and stupid butterflies are flying in your stomach. Your heart races in your chest like crazy and your mind is slightly dizzy. You turn around and look at Mary, unsure smile on your lips and as they lean at the bar and argue about something with Jimmy, they steal a glance at your side and smile broadly with a wink, when they see you watching.

Your smile grows, blush deepens and, as a way to calm down yourself, you sway absentmindedly to the music, waiting for Mary to return. Even if your thoughts are hectic about everything that happened and almost happened, looking at them, hell, being with them feels you with peace and comfort. They make you feel like no one else before, so you let yourself dream about several what if’s, knowing and believing, that they don’t feel the same about you.  

And then, in the moment of peace your feel someone’s hands on your hips. You freeze, mind registering everything that happens: the smell of alcohol, their grabby hands groping your hips and thighs and murmurs in your ear.

“Such a beauty and all alone?”

You blood boils, disgust feels you up. The fight-or-flight response kicking in and suddenly to your assaulter, you turn and punch them without any plan. All you want now is for them to feel pain for daring to grope you. Something crunches under your knuckles, your hand hurts and a yelp leaves the man’s lips, as he grabs his bleeding nose.

Anger courses through your veins and you want to punch him more, to rub into their pain, but you are not quick enough as Mary almost jump in front of you, shielding you and then grabbing the man by his shirt and landing another punch in his face. If looks could kill, your assaulter would be laying in a pile of bones on the floor. He stands up slowly, swaying a little bit, but then throws a punch at Mary’s face, which is caught, but he immediately throws another and manages to slit your friend’s eyebrow.

You shriek and ask people around you for help, but they only stare as Mary gets punched in the face once again. You see their own blood trickling down their face and you can’t stand it. Before you know, your feet carry you quickly to the brawl and with a scream you knee the man in the crotch. He doubles down, whining in pain. Jimmy interrupts you both immediately, bringing with him two other men to hold Marry back and kick out the pervert. Sizing you both down, the owner sighs and points at the door behind the bar.

“Go bring your idiot boyfriend to the staff room, I have a med kit here. Quick, before I kick you both out.”

He grumbles, and turns to the crowd, calming them down and drawing attention from Mary and you. You don’t even argue with that assumption, too shaken up. Grabbing Mary by the hand, you drag them to a small room and sit them down on the chair. Gently, you take their face in your hands and check the injuries. Their bottom lip is swollen and cut, their left eye is shut, covered with blood and you are sure it will bruise. The cut on Mary’s brow above the said eye, worries you the most, so you grab the med kit and carefully wash their wound, not wishing to hurt them even more. They hiss, closing their eyes and leaning back on the chair, letting you do your work, their hands on your hips, gripping you tightly for comfort.

After cleaning and sanitizing the wound, you take a better look at it. To your relief, it’s not deep, so you blow on it gently to soothe the pain and apply a bandage. You chuckle, as you look at them, the med kit has only pink ones left. Mary frown at you and wince once again in pain, but do not say anything, just watching you as you work on them.

Leaving a gentle kiss on their forehead and earning a pleased grunt from them, you carefully wipe their face from all the blood, fake or not, and inspect their eye now. It is already starting to swell and you sigh, feeling guilty. After all, if you didn’t overreact, they would have been fine. You give them an icepack to help with the swollenness and lean closer to their lip, inspecting it even thoroughly. The bottom lip is swollen and read, the right corner is cut, but Mary are still smiling at you, slightly wincing.

“Do you like my battle scars, sweetheart?”

They smile at you, trying you put your worries at ease and turn everything to a joke:

“Should have seen the other guy, heh?”

You roll your eye and want to smack the on their head for stupid jokes, but instead you clean their wound, maybe, applying a little bit too much pressure and getting another grunt from them.

“Sugar, are you trying to finish what a dickhead back then started? Or, is it a foreplay to something more-”

The don’t finish their joke as you turn their head away to the med kit and then put a small round band aid on their lip. This time with a cute pink heart. Mary wince and drag you to their lap, getting you closer to them and hugging you tightly. Their face changes from teasing to apologetic.

“I am sorry, sweetheart, Are you alright?”

You look at them and hurt swells in your chest. Now, without their make-up, Mary looks so vulnerable, so open to you. The silly band aids play to this picture and you can’t help but smile gently at them, nodding reassuringly.

“You should worry about yourself, Mary”

They roll their eyes and cup your cheek looking at your face, checking you closely and then lower their gaze to you hand. You knuckles are red from the punch you landed. Noting serious, or at least, not as serious as their case, but Mary still frown and bring your hand to their lips, kissing hurt skin gently. Knuckle by knuckle, leaving a small trace of kisses, looking at you with tenderness in their eyes. Then, they kiss your fingers, the back of your hand and finally rest their lips on your wrist, brushing against your quickening pulse as you sit in their lap too surprised to do anything, let alone apologize for the scene you caused. Mary smile happily, sighing contently, as they place your palm against their cheek, breathing in the perfume you applied earlier. They look battered up, but still happy with the situation.

“For a person, who landed the nose-crushing punch, you are so timid now.” They kiss your wrist again. “I love seeing all of your sides.”

They tease again, coaxing from you a reaction, wishing for you to calm down. Mary’s face changes when you don’t and they sigh.

“Sweetheart, are you alright? Does it hurt?”

You shake your head and finally touch them back, sliding your arms on their shoulders and hiding your face in the crook of their neck. They sigh happily, hugging you by the waist and kissing you on the cheek.

“That was for sure a “not valentine valentine”, right? Sorry, our date was ruined.”

You freeze again in his arms, eyes wide as their words register in your mind. Suddenly, you sit up straighter, almost falling from their lap.

“A date?!”

It comes out too loud for your liking, but you can’t help yourself. You are sure that the word “date” was never shared between the both of you. Hell, you never thought that they liked you more than a stupid friend to ask you out. Mary frown at your words, hurt is in their eyes.

“Well, sugar cheeks, yes, a date. Why do you think I tried so hard for it to go smoothly? And why do you think I argued for paying for you and shit?”

You see that they are hurt and covering their feeling with angry words. And you are still bewildered, now finally understanding their behavior. Their blush matches your own, frustration is visible on their face

“I… I just thought, that you were friendly with me, Mary.”

Your voice is trembling and weak, as your eyes seek theirs, but they don’t look at you, lips pressing together in a thin line.

“I was always obvious about my feelings! And I have asked you clearly about this date, so I thought…”

Your eyebrows raise as you feel a mi of emotions run through your veins. To you, they never were open about it. Now, you want to strangle them or kiss them. But you stop at the third option, which can fuck up everything nicely. You always fuck up, so why change?

“How would I know, Mary, if you never fucking tell anything?! You were telling me to go on a “non-valentine valentine”. How should I ever interpret it as a date when you themselves were shitting on Valentine!”

They look up, frustration in their eyes matching yours.

“Oh, really? Did you see me asking out D.D. or Farcas? Maybe Jimmy? Hell, you are the one who refused to accept all of my moves on you, playing them down and then being so affectionate with me again! I know that I am not good for you, way out of your league, but fuck, I wanted to…”

Mary stop themselves sighing and shaking their head. Finally, they look into your eyes and speak slightly gentler

“Never mind, I was too stupid to think that I have a chance.”

Your stomach flips at their word, blush spreading on your face further, coveting your ears. But Mary is already set on the outcome, so they try to stand up, but you press on their shoulders, palms shaking and gripping them almost desperately. In other circumstances, you would have been over the moon from Mary’s sudden confession, even if it is a little bit crude, but now you need to clear something up before celebrating.

“Mary…”

Your voice is soft and tender, your eyes are searching theirs for any hidden feelings, finally seeing in them what they always held for you and only you.

“I always thought that you were friendly with me and I never could have thought that you can feel something more than just friendship towards me.”

You place your hand on their blushing cheek, you heart beats somewhere in your throat and you let out the words you always wanted to tell them.

“I love you. I really do.”

They freeze, looking at you with disbelief, unsure smile spreading on their lips as you look in their eyes. Mary kiss the tip of your nose, breathing shakily. Their arms returning their grip on you, bringing you closer to them. But you see, that they are still full of doubt, so you act before you start overthinking everything that has been said. 

You cup their cheeks, thumbs brushing them, lean your forehead against theirs and ask Mary gently:

“May I kiss you?”

Instead of words, they use their mouth, quickly removing distance between your lips and kissing you fervently. Your teeth clank against each other, their bottom lip hurts when they apply too much pressure and you feel like a teenager, sharing their first kiss with a high school crush. You feel butterflies in your stomach and your own heart beating in your ears, as your fingers slide into their hair and tug on black locks. Mary moan into the kiss, leaning their head back, as their hands grip your hips firmly.

You feel dizzy, both from the lack of air and Mary’s kisses. Finally finding the rhythm, they seem like they can’t get enough of you. They open their mouth for you, welcoming your tongue with theirs as they let their hands roam your body. You, yourself, keep up with their greediness. Your fingers touch Mary’s firm shoulders, traveling down to their torso, reaching the edge of their jeans and then going back up again, earning grunts from them. Your hips involuntary grind on theirs, turning already heated make-out session into a much lewder one, filling up the room with whimpers and moans from the both of you.

When it gets top much for you, you break the kiss, resting your head on their shoulder. Your breath a rapid and shallow and you feel how swollen your lips are. You turn your head and glance up at Mary, noticing that they don’t look much better and that their band aid is missing. They smile at you brightly, wincing slightly from the pain and kiss you on the cheek. Mary’s chest falls quickly, as they try to return their breath back to normal and failing miserably. And, as you place your hand on their chest, you feel that they also can’t calm their heart down.

You smile back at them, feeling content, elated even as they squeeze your waist gently. Mary speak up again.

“So, I guess I should start over again”

They take a deep breathe in, holding you tight, uncertainty leaving their body as they speak.

“I love you. Would you like to go on a date with me?”

You nod and grin at them, bringing Mary for another kiss.

#mary goore fanfiction #mary goore fanfic #mary goore x reader #mary goore #repugnant fan fiction #repugnant #repugnant fanfiction #repugnant band #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost #ghost band

[fishwithtitz]

The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 4

stunning artwork of a scene from chapter 1 by @dominaarts that I've been dying to share!

Summary: A miscommunication between Thomas and Des results in a night of Dahlia and Mary dog sitting together. When a record breaking storm rolls in, Dahlia's faced with the decision on exactly how much vulnerability she wants to reveal. Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Mary Goore x OFC / 15.4k words Warnings: language, thigh-riding, p in v sex, mentions of recreational drug use, alcohol, storms, thunder, slight angst

A/N: Thank you for your patience and support as I've taken the time to write this. This was a difficult chapter to write as it starts building the foundation for the turning point of the story and I wanted to get it just right. Leave a comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist 🥰 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

ao3 link

Hook-up #4: Thomas’ Room

Codependency was something I tried really, really hard to avoid. I’d long prided myself on my 

feral independent streak and would be damned if anyone, man or woman, made me reliant.

But I had to admit, I really missed Des. 

This was the shitty part of relationships. It seemed that when the people you love found someone that they wanted to devote themselves to, their time seemed to be sucked along with it. I understood where she was coming from. The novelty of a budding relationship is a unique and addictive feeling. I don’t blame her for chasing the high. 

While she tended the fire that she and Thomas were building, she was opting for spurts of lighter fluid rather than bits of soul-sourced kindling. And now her fire was growing and spreading, sometimes out of control, and it seemed like all of her time and resources were devoted to managing it. Which meant that some of her other relationships had to be put on the backburner until the flames could be brought to a dull roar. 

As if a sign from the universe, the stars finally aligned (or perhaps just our schedules), and Des and I were able to spend the afternoon together. It was exactly what I needed: some time with my best friend. 

After grabbing a couple of iced coffees from the boutique coffee shop downtown (at her insistence, of course, because the higher price was reflected in the quality of the roast, or something like that), we walked to one of our favorite thrift stores to pillage through the inventory. I felt a certain warmth creep through my chest as we entered the store. The smell was a bit musty, perfume-like, a permeating oxymoron of both dirt and cleanliness. It reminded me of our friendship: unlikely, brutally opposite at times, but unique and complimentary. 

The shop worker greeted us with a nod and a smile from the front counter and went back to browsing through her magazine as she sat on her high-rise stool, painted fingertips skimming over something about interior design. Des and I beelined to the back racks in the furthest room from the front of the shop. We knew that this was usually where they kept the good stuff. 

Thrifting was an exercise of equal parts skill and patience. It was best to go in with zero expectations of both finding anything or looking for a specific piece. My most successful trips had been ones where I’d happened upon things I didn’t even know I’d wanted (or like, for that matter). In fact, I’d long ago learned not to become discouraged when a trip turned out to be a bust. Busts were to be expected. The goldmines, however, outweighed the insolvencies. 

“It feels like forever since we’ve gotten to do this,” Des said as she stopped in front of a circular rack of short-sleeve knit shirts. She began sliding the hangers across the scraped metal, pausing to glance over each shirt as she did so. 

“It has been,” I replied. It wasn’t said with malice; more so, my tone conveyed a neutral honesty that I knew we’d come to appreciate about each other. Despite this, I could tell I’d struck a cord at the slight fall of her facial features. 

Des took a half-step back and turned to me with a sad smile. “I know I haven’t been around as much. I’m sorry.” 

“I understand.” And I did. She knew I did. But the morose feeling was still etched into her features in soft hatched lines and so I quickly added, “Not everyone can be a hot musician with Heraculan biceps. I’ll take my spot in line.” I gave her a wink, which seemed to soften her expression. 

I turned back to the rack and started thumbing through the medium-sized graphic tees. Quite a few were worn crewnecks of casinos or bars from around the state, though a couple school spirit shirts were peppered in. I nearly shuddered at the smiling beaver mascot that reminded me of puberty. 

Des broke my focus. “What about this one?” She held up a small white t-shirt with an image of Strawberry Shortcake on it. “Your muse!”

“One time I tell you about my obsession with Strawberry Shortcake and the Big Apple City as a child…” I mumbled, rolling my eyes as I continued culling through the rack. Des laughed and set the shirt back. 

“I don’t think your tits would fit in a small, anyway. Plus, it had a stain.” She pushed a couple more shirts to the side before turning her torso to me. “Speaking of cake, I heard you and Mary had a get together last week.”

A week had passed since I’d last seen Mary. I’d received another text a few days after our night of baking telling me that the cake was killer and his mom was impressed, but it’d been radio silence since. In any other situation with any other person, I’d probably feel irritation or some sort of anger; an inward creeping as to why this guy wasn’t at all interested in seeing me after a weirdly uncharacteristic close-knit evening. But this was Mary. He wasn’t known for punctuality or routine. On the contrary, Mary was a bit of an enigma, coming and going as he pleased, with zero rhyme or reason to his decision making. He seemed to do what felt right to him in the moment — whatever that may be. Or at least that’s how things appeared. 

The hanger I was sliding across the rack stilted, the fabric of the shirt still pinched between my fingers. My eyes widened slightly, and I failed to control the blush that crept into my cheeks. I refused to meet her stare, but knowing Des, she was giving me an all-knowing look. 

“You know, when I suggested that you make a cake for his mom’s birthday, I didn’t think that meant that you’d be doing it together,” she teased.

“Neither did I!” I said. Although I’d meant for it to come out nonchalantly, I’d sounded more defensive than intended. I tried to brush it off by swirling the iced coffee in my hand, ice cubes clinking and clashing as I brought the straw to my lips to take a sip.

“I didn’t know you and Mary were that close,” she speculated. 

I choked on the watery coffee that had been midway down my throat and brought a hand up to wipe at my mouth, coughing a little into my palm.

 Before I had a chance to respond, she cut me off, wide-eyed, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Wait, no. Doll, you didn’t!”

I looked over at her with a surprised defensiveness that completely gave away the truth. Shit. Time for damage control. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Des’ smile only widened. “Dahlia, did you sleep with him?”

I didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t as if I was ashamed to admit it. Mary was attractive. Sure, his reputation was a bit strange and extreme, but to those in the metal scene, it wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary. But there was something that I liked about keeping Mary and I’s friendship hidden. Or were we friends with benefits?  Was it even a friendship? 

“You totally did!” Des said in response to my silent rabbit hole. I sighed and started to aimlessly shuffle through some sweaters on the next rack. Des began to laugh and looked at me coyly.

She walked over to the same rack that I was currently stationed at and rested her hand against the metal bar, leaning into it. “I swore I saw you two making out on the couch a while back at Thomas’, but he told me I was seeing shit,” she added, shaking her head in disbelief. 

I hummed a noise in response, barely audible. My fingertips traced along a loose thread of a knit sweater and I rolled it between them, trying to focus on the scratchy acrylic yarn instead of the beet red burning in my face. 

“That WAS you two! How long has this been going on?” I didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to get any bigger. They reminded me of saucers. Or satellite dishes. Maybe of the middle-aged woman at my work that thrived on office gossip and smelled like cat piss. 

I rolled my eyes and pulled a sweater off the rack to pretend to check the tag. “Nothing is going on,” I said. 80% Polyester, 20% Cotton.  “We’ve just hooked up a few times. That’s it.” 

Des cocked a curious brow. “A few? Wow, add that to my list of shit I didn’t expect.” She brought her half-drank iced coffee to her pink lips and took a slurp of the drink. I couldn’t tell if I was more annoyed at the sound or at her. 

 “So, what’s he like?” She grabbed a cardigan from the small section and pulled it up to inspect it, holding it to her thin frame to gauge the fit. “I bet he’s into some spooky, dark shit, like bloodletting or autoerotic asphyxiation or something. Oh! Or a piss kink!”

The garment I was holding was slammed back into the rack with more force than I’d meant. “Des! What the fuck?” I whispered loudly, trying to make a point that this was not something I wanted to talk about in public. Sure, no one else was in the back of the store, but that was besides the point. 

She held up a hand in defense. “Sorry! He looks like the kind of guy that’d be into that stuff.”

I brought the hand to my face that wasn’t holding the slippery, condensation-covered cup of coffee. With a sigh, I rubbed my left eye. “I am not having this conversation.”

Des brought her hands down and tilted her head with a look of disagreement. “Oh, come on! Why are you always so uptight about talking about this stuff?”

I took a step towards her and lowered my voice just slightly. “Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to advertise my sex life, thank you.”

“I don’t advertise it, I just…reflect on it. It’s what normal girlfriends do — talk about the guys they’re with.” She turned to the next rack that was uncomfortably close to the one we had been rifling through and pulled a pair of corduroys out to give them a look over. “Who else would I talk to about it?”

She had a point. I breathed out a sigh and set my cup on the display atop the circular rack. “I guess you’re right.”

I looked up at her to see her sporting her signature smirk. “I’m always right. Now tell me, what’s he got hiding in those tight jeans?” She waggled her eyebrows for emphasis and I let out a chuckle, shaking my head.

“You are the last person I need to explain the intricacies of the male anatomy to.”

“Come on, Doll. I need details!” She whined, tossing the corduroys back onto the rack. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing cats have nine lives.” She stuck out her tongue at me and I reached over to make a swipe at grabbing it, earning me a chuckle and a shove. 

I laughed too, and if I was honest, I felt a semblance of relief that the weight of my secret had been lifted from my shoulders, even if just minutely. 

She took another annoyingly loud slurp of her iced coffee, the drink now edging the bottom line of the cup. Peering at me from above the lid, she broke contact with the straw. 

“Now, spill.”

🜏🜏🜏

It was early evening on a Friday. I’d managed to get off of work a little earlier than expected — a relief given that I’d worked overtime these past few weeks to try to save up enough money for an unexpected car repair. The extra time turned out to be just what I needed to pack some last minute items in my backpack for the weekend. 

Des had asked — practically begged — for me to “do her a solid” and pet sit for her for a couple days over the weekend. My confusion rang heavy in the air when I realized that one, she didn’t have any pets, and two, neither did Thomas. 

“It’s his parents’ dog. He’s supposed to watch it this weekend, but he was able to book a couple last minute shows out of town that would be really good for the band,” she’d explained. Then, in almost overly characteristic Des-fashion, she gave me the eyes. The fucking Puss in Boots look. 

And those damn Dreamworks eyes had me hesitantly agreeing to watch the pawned pooch at Thomas’ place.  

It didn’t sit well with me. He was supposed to be watching his parents’ dog. But instead, he was having a friend of his girlfriend stay at his place to watch a dog she’d never met. I’d just hoped the dog was nice. 

After walking my bike to the back porch to lean it against the siding hidden from view from the street, I rounded back to the front door and gave it a few cursory knocks. As if on cue, loud barks began to sound — distant at first, but louder as the seconds went on — and I could just make out the scuffle of feet and claws against the hard floor. 

The door swung open and Des was restraining a black blur of tail and tongue and teeth. He wasn’t overly big, per se, but from what I could tell from his overexcited movements, he had to be at least forty or fifty pounds. 

“Hey! Come in—” she strained, holding the excited dog back as it wagged and wiggled in her arms. 

I slipped past the dog and kicked off my shoes on the hinged side of the door as she slammed it shut. “Brutus!” Des grunted as she tried to crouch over him and use her body weight as leverage. 

I straightened up and watched with choked giggles as she tried, and nearly failed, to keep him from charging me. “He’s — umph — he loves people —” said grumbled as the dog, presumably named Brutus, broke from her grasp and hounded over to me with a tail so violently wagging that I was afraid his hips would fly right off. He knocked into me with surprising force for his size and I toppled over to the ground. A slimy, velvety tongue began to attack my face and neck and I shrieked out in laughter as we rolled around on the floor. 

“Brutie! Brutus, off!” Des yelled. I could barely hear her over my screeches and giggles. 

A couple of moments passed and the dog calmed, crawling comically into my lap before curling up and looking at me with a panting smile. I ran my hand along the top of its head, scratching behind his pointed black ears. 

“Sorry, he really, really likes people. Not much of a watchdog,” Des said.

“It’s fine. He’s cute,” I replied, moving to scratch under his chin. “What breed is he?”

Des snorted. “Fuck if I know. Thomas says he’s a mutt. I think he’s a rescue.”

“Those are always the best ones,” I countered, earning a nuzzle into my hand from the furry canine nearly falling out of my lap. 

After a while of chit chat and petting the mammoth-sized wannabe cat splayed in my lap, I peeled my backpack off and set it against the wall and stood up  to follow Des into the kitchen. She explained Brutus’ feeding schedule (“He will try to convince you that he’s starving to death. Do not fall for it.”) and his typical routine, then showed me where Thomas’ parents had left the vet info in case of emergencies. It seemed pretty straightforward (easier than I’d expected, honestly), and I felt grateful that Thomas’ backyard was fenced off. A lost dog was the last thing I needed in life right now. 

Just as Des was setting the written feeding instructions back down on the counter, the door leading to the garage opened from down the hallway, and a pair of heavy footsteps came thunking toward us. 

Thomas came into view. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the locks a little as he glanced around the kitchen and dining area, turning a bit in his spot as if running through an imaginary list in his brain. By now, I’d seen Thomas in a variety of moods: ecstatic, embarrassed, exhausted, angry, piss drunk, and of course, the moments where he was absolutely enamored with Des, but I’d never seen him look so stressed before. His eyes looked tired yet his pupils were wide, countering the lines that were settling in around the corners of his eyelids. I’m not sure that he even noticed his shirt was inside out. 

“We found the pedalboard at the guys’ apartment. Some asshole put it on top of the fridge,” he sighed and put his hands on his hips as he looked up at the ceiling as if he were trying to visualize what he needed to do next. After a beat, he looked back down and his eyes met Des’ quizzical look. 

“Don’t ask. I don’t even fucking know.” He seemed to finally register that it wasn’t just his girlfriend in front of him and his demeanor changed a little. He straightened, almost toughened, and gave me a confused quirk of the eyebrows. “…Dahlia, what are you doing here?”

I mirrored his look. “Uh, Des said you needed me to house sit?”

Thomas looked between myself and Des, his face moving from a look of confusion to a look of what could be argued as annoyance. “Really?” he asked, taking another step closer to Des. “I thought I mentioned I’d figured all that out, babe.”

Desiree looked up at him with an innocent smile and rolled her lips between her teeth. “Whoops. Must have slipped my mind.”

He sized her reaction, clearly unconvinced. “Okay. Sure.” I was certain he was going to add something, but his potential dialogue with Des was cut off when the garage door opened again and the telltale sound of clunking boots against hard flooring cut through the air. I felt my heart simultaneously drop and expand in my chest. I had come to know that sound. 

“Everything is tied and tarped. I feel like fucking Patrick Bateman sans nailgun and Huey Lewis and the News.”

I had really come to know that voice. 

Mary rounded Thomas and Des and joined the impromptu party in the dining area. I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back and forth on my feet as I felt his stare bore into me from feet away. It was clear there had been a mix up, and although I couldn’t be certain that Des had something to do with it, I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. 

“What’s going on?” Mary asked as he looked around the uneven circle of his friends. Brutus trotted over and began to sniff at his pant legs and Mary reached down to scratch the hound’s forehead. Mary’s long hair hung around him in strands, the ends clumped together in damp sections as it fell from around his shoulders and back. 

“Why is your hair wet?” Des asked him. I was sure it was her way of breaking the awkwardness. 

Mary looked at her with an air of obviousness. “Shower,” he replied. 

“Oh…weird,” she said, and I had to stifle a giggle by turning it into a cough. 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He’s full of shit. It’s raining outside and he’s been helping me load and tarp equipment in the truck.” Thomas reached out and clasped a hand to Mary’s shoulder, which to be fair, was dotted with what appeared to be wet raindrop marks. “We all know you hate bathing,” he added. 

Mary scoffed and shoved Thomas. “Fuck you guys.”

The air turned uncomfortable again, bordering sour, and it was Thomas who broke the silence. 

“Well, it looks like there’s been a miscommunication on who’s looking after this asshole,” Thomas started, looking directly at Des as he spoke although it was clear he was referring to the dog. She continued flashing her innocent smile, eyes still large as if concurrently seeking forgiveness and feigning ignorance. 

I felt compelled to speak up. I hated awkward silences, and I especially hated being the butt of one. “It’s not a big deal. I can head out if Mary’s got this,” I said with a shrug. 

“—It’s pouring out there!” Des quickly countered, looking between Thomas and I. 

Her defensive quip caused me to crinkle my eyebrows in response. “Bullshit, I was just outside and it was fine.”

I looked over at the sliding glass door to my left and sure as shit, the glass was coated in fine droplets sliding down to puddle at the deck below. The sky hadn’t been much more than overcast on my ride over, but it now swirled with tones of ash and charcoal. A storm was approaching. 

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Shit, well…I rode my bike over here.”

I could tell that the cogs were turning in Des’ mind as she tried to decide if she’d respond with comfort and support of her best friend or her boyfriend: the ever present dilemma. I felt a pang of guilt plague my stomach. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. You guys go,” I offered with a small smile. Forced, of course, because now I was stranded at someone else’s house with someone else’s dog and of course a particular…someone else. 

“You sure?” she asked. I could see Thomas eyeing me from behind her, his own expression mirroring her words. It was clear this was just as much of a surprise to him as it was to Mary and I. 

My gut told me to stay focused on the couple ahead of me, but my impulsiveness won over, and I glanced at Mary. He was watching with a look of amusement, arms crossed over his chest as his head batted to and fro between speakers. I swallowed lightly.

“Yeah, go. Go! It’s fine.” The voice was mine, but the words were clearly not my own.

A few uncomfortable and quick words were shared, and both Des and Thomas grabbed their overnight bags and popped them into the cab of the truck before driving off down the quiet residential street towards the gig a few towns over. And I was stuck in the ranch-style home with Mary Goore, an overexcited rescue dog, and an approaching storm. 

🜏🜏🜏

After piling into the car and sloshing down the road en route to the gig a few cities over, Des and Thomas were mid conversation about the situation that had happened just moments before. 

“Don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing.” Thomas started, fingertips tapping against the wheel as they sped down the interstate. 

Des rolled her eyes. “They’ve been fucking!” Her voice was defensive. She quickly added, “Did you know that?”

Thomas kept his eyes on the road and drummed his fingers along to the song playing in the background. “No, and I don’t—” he sighed, removing one hand from the wheel to grasp at the back of his neck, “Jesus Christ, Desiree, you can’t play matchmaker on this one.”

Des crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not? Have you seen the way they look at each other?”

Thomas briefly turned his head and gave her a serious look, sternness that nearly reminded her of her father. “Don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” he said. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Des shot him a look that dripped in sass. Any other time it would have spurred a different set of emotions in him, but not this time. He held his ground. 

“Just — fuck, baby, I’ve known Mary for a long time and he’s not really one to settle.”

Des scoffed. “You think getting with Dahlia would be settling?”

“No, not like that.” Thomas sighed again in frustration. “He’s not big into commitment. Doesn’t like to be tied down. Mary’s…not a relationship kind of guy.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as Des pondered his response. “Well, I’m not saying they need to get married or anything,” she reasoned, “I’m just giving them a little push, is all. A weekend together, alone, no one to barge in and no expectations. It’s the perfect recipe for them to realize what they have going on.”

Another silence filled the cab of the truck. The sound of steady rain pelted against the windshield, only for the squeaky wipers to flick it off rhythmically, creating its own song and dance that counteracted the punk tune on the stereo system.  

After a moment, Thomas relented. “Don’t come crawling to me with those big, sad eyes when this ploy of yours blows up in your face.”

“What big eyes?!” Des craned her neck over and stared him down, though it was clear she couldn’t hide the smile bursting through her tough facade. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, babe.”

Des winked in his direction and the tension seemed to melt away. She reached over to grasp at his hand — the one that had fallen to his lap after drumming on the steering wheel —  and laced their fingers together. 

He let out a long breath and relaxed into the touch before grumbling, “They better not fuck on my bed.”

🜏🜏🜏

When Des and Thomas left, it was like they sucked what little comfort there had been straight out of the room. Sure, the house was occupied by two people and a dog (which some would even consider to be too crowded; three’s company and four’s a party and all that), but there was a timidness that I felt that seemed to have grown since my other outings with Mary. Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it all. Or perhaps it was my own lack of control in the situation. Regardless, I’d planned on staying a couple of days anyway — what was so bad about waiting out the storm to ride home?

I stood there, hands in my pockets as I continued to rock on my heels, before deciding to break the tension. “I should probably pick up my stuff,” I motioned to the general area my backpack was in and then quickly turned to retrieve my things. 

Backpack in hand, I headed to the bathroom to unpack. I’d packed light (because in all honesty, who did I have to impress), but I was searching for any and all excuses to put some distance between myself and the awkward situation I’d been thrust into. I pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste out of a plastic bag I’d jammed into the front pocket of my rucksack, mirroring the action with my face wash, moisturizer, and small bag of makeup essentials. I futzed for too long with the placement of the items, moving them from sinkside to against the wall and back again, before I gave up and sat back against the wall opposite the vanity. 

A few minutes went by and I felt a low growl erupt in my stomach. It was nearly six o’clock and I’d had yet to eat anything. I pulled out my phone, deciding to order takeout, and scrolled through the suggested nearby restaurants before settling on a well-rated Chinese place down the street. 

I was ready to press send on my order, but I remembered the elephant in the room and groaned, heaving myself up and making my way out to the main area of the home. Mary was nowhere to be seen. I turned around and upon noticing the garage door was ajar, I walked the short distance down the hallway and slipped into the adjoining garage. 

Mary was sitting in a camper chair in the empty space, lit cigarette between his fingers, with Brutus at his side. He was tossing a rope toy to the dog somewhat lazily, taking drags of the lit stick every so often. The garage was partially opened, just enough to let in the cool, damp air of the storm, and raindrops pittered in at the edge of the threshold. 

As soon as I shut the door to the house, his eyes shot up to meet my own and he nodded in greeting before tossing the toy to the opposite end of the garage for Brutus. 

“I’m ordering Chinese — you want anything?” I eventually spoke, body still against the steps connecting the sunken garage to the house. 

Mary let out an exhale of smoke and tapped the cigarette into a coffee can on the ground. “Whatever’s fine. I’m easy to please.” His telltale smirk painted his lips and I could see the mischief swirling behind his eyes. “But you already know that,” he added. 

I felt my eyes nearly roll out of my head and hopped down off the step, rounding him to sit in another nearby chair. As uncomfortable as his digs were supposed to be, they had the opposite effect. I didn’t do “awkward” with Mary that well. Sexual tension was another story. 

I added a few more items to the order and typed in my card information from memory before submitting the order, quickly clicking my phone off and stashing it in my pocket. My focus was broken when Mary interrupted the silence. 

“How’d you get roped into this?” he asked, head turning to glance at me. 

I sighed and rubbed the side of my face, showing my slight annoyance. “Desiree.”

Mary laughed, a warm chuckle that I’d grown to appreciate, and he ashed the cigarette into the can below him. “You’d think they’d learn to communicate with how they fucking act around each other.”

I stretched out my legs, sinking back into the camper chair. “Oh, I’m sure it was communicated…” I remarked.

Mary looked at me quizzically, head turned towards me again to flash those phthalocyanine eyes that somehow looked brighter in the odd lighting of the garage. I brushed off his look, not wanting to get into the specifics of the conversation I had with Desiree or the fact that she knew about our history. “The dog seems to like you.”

“Brutus and I go way back,” he said. 

“Really?” I said with raised brows.

Mary laughed out again in response, that ever-present balmy giggle that pulled at the corners of his lips sending a wave of warmth through my body. “No, I’m just fucking with you. I’m good with animals,” he paused and his lips curled into a grin, ”when I’m not microwaving them, of course.”

My mind raced back to our first encounter together. The streetlights on the walk towards the abandoned warehouse. Paper bags with shaved ice and forties. Shitty gas station snacks. And our conversation about reputation. Namely, his reputation. “Oh, of course.” My tone was one of mock seriousness, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the memory.

I watched as he took another drag from the dwindling cigarette and then turned to look out at the half-closed garage door. The raindrops pelting against the shingled roof and cracked concrete driveway were the only audio that suffused the space, with the occasional exhale of pillowy smoke from the musician next to me. 

It was Mary that broke the silence again. He always seemed to be the one to do that. “Thanks again,” he started, hand waving around aimlessly as he spoke, “y’know, for the cake and shit.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad your mom liked it.” I spoke earnestly and my expression was one of sincerity. It felt foreign.

“She fucking loved it. She was surprised I had anything to do with making it,” he laughed and tapped his cigarette into the can. 

“Oh come on, you can’t be that bad of a cook,” I replied.

He raised an eyebrow at me as he turned to face me. “I’ve burned water.”

My jaw dropped just enough that I was sure it looked like I’d catch flies. “I…didn’t think that was possible.”

He shrugged and turned back to face forward, the cigarette now a stubby, crinkled nub between his middle and pointer fingers. “You should know by now that I’m full of impossible surprises.”

I leaned forward, turning my torso to point towards him while I pulled my legs criss-cross into the camper chair. “How on earth do you woo a woman if you can’t even cook fucking Kraft Mac n’ Cheese?”

“Women aren’t typically after my cooking skills. Or lack thereof,” he flicked the remaining ash of the cigarette down and it missed the can. He didn’t notice. “I’ve got other talents,” he paused, “Wooing isn’t really my style.”

I let his admission ring in the dampened air. It wasn’t surprising. From what I’d heard, he’d never had trouble landing women — particularly after gigs. “The life of a musician…” I trailed off. 

Another silence built as the rain colored the absence of our conversation. I could hear Brutus’ slight snores as he lay curled at Mary’s feet, seemingly tired from their earlier game of fetch. A breeze broke through the cracked garage door and swirled around us, bringing a chill into the otherwise comfortable space. I pulled my hoodie a little closer, feeling the cool air dance across my cheeks and the skin peeking through the jacket. 

“I think I’m gonna head in. I’ll let you know when the food is here.”

Mary didn’t say anything in response — merely nodding and taking out another cigarette from the worn Marlboro carton — and I made my way back inside with a heavier mind than I’d come out with. 

🜏🜏🜏

I’d puttered around the house for what had seemed like ages, but in reality was likely only a handful of minutes. As familiar as I was with some of the rooms at Thomas’, I had to admit that there were areas I’d never been to,  namely his room or the basement. As rude as it might have been, I’d given myself a self-directed tour of the place, noting the half-completed projects he seemed to be working on to fix up the house. I wasn’t sure if that was a sign of Des domesticating him or if the house really was a secret pride-and-joy. 

Eventually, I found myself in the den, sinking into the worn plaid couch that already held too many memories. I pushed them down and reached for the remote to the TV, opting just to hold it as my thoughts zoomed. I could probably put on a movie to kill some time until dinner arrived. It wouldn’t be long and it would serve as a nice distraction. 

I got up and thumbed through the impressive number of DVDs stacked next to the TV. Most of them were action or horror (no surprise there), and I settled on a film I’d never seen before: The Amityville Horror. I told myself that the fact that a young Ryan Reynolds was on the cover had absolutely nothing to do with the choice. 

After some cajoling, I figured out how Thomas’ TV and DVD player were set up and popped in the disc, pressing play on the machine before sinking back into the couch. The blue screen transformed to darkness as the credits played and I waited to be taken to the home screen. 

Mere seconds into the film, I heard a knock at the door and I paused the movie to jog up and out of the sunken den to the front door. I was met with an absolutely drenched delivery driver holding out a large brown bag in one hand and a soaked receipt and pen in the other. I shot him a look of apology and took the receipt, signing and adding on a much more generous tip than I’d originally intended, before trading him for the food. His eyes lit up when he saw the receipt and he dashed back to his clunker parked out front. 

I ended up parking the heavy bag of Chinese on the kitchen table. My thoughts were broken when I heard Mary coming in from the garage, heavy footsteps once again thunking down the hallway.  A pitter of claws trotted behind him. 

“Food’s here,” I said, already opening the bag to take out the various containers. 

We grabbed our respective containers and utensils and made our way to the den, me sitting on the couch while Mary sat on the floor, his back against the edge of the couch with his legs spread out wide. I opened up my container of sweet and sour pork and doused it in sweet and sour sauce, mixing it up with the cheap excuse for chopsticks that they provided before settling into the back corner of the couch and pressing play. 

“You’re watching this trash?” Mary said, words muffled by a mouthful of Beijing beef. 

I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see it from his position on the floor. “I’ve never seen it.”

“It’s a shit remake.”

I grabbed a piece of pork between my chopsticks and lathered it in sauce before popping it into my mouth. “Well,” I said while chewing, “no one’s making you watch it.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said with a hint of facetiousness. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” he all but grumbled, reaching in the container to grab a piece of beef with his fingers.“You knew what I meant.”

I shuddered as I watched him pop the piece of meat into his mouth with his fingers. “Are you…eating that with your bare hands?” I asked with a surprised chuckle. 

He shrugged his shoulders again. “Chopsticks are frustrating. Why use those when I have built in chopsticks right here?” He pinched his fingers in the air, just high enough that I could see them from my spot on the sofa. 

I paused, reaching into the takeout container to fish around for some sort of accompanying vegetable. “I…don’t know how I feel about that, to be honest.”

“You didn’t seem to mind my fingers the last time you were on that couch,” he retorted, tone dripping with cheekiness that I knew was accompanied by a smirk I couldn’t see from my vantage point. 

I sighed, trying to pay no mind to his constant coquettishness. “Well, they weren’t covered in Chinese food when that happened.”

“They could have been.”

I reached over and grabbed one of Thomas’ throw pillows from across the sofa and tossed it down directly at his head. Mary yowled and grabbed at the back of his head. 

“Hey, ow- fuck, you almost made me spill!”

I waved my chopstick dismissively. “Shh, I’m missing what’s happening.”

“Not missing much…” he grumbled, grabbing another piece of beef with his fingers. I looked down and dug into my food again, picking at some snow peas, and took a bite to keep me from my desire to respond with something sarcastic. 

I watched the screen as the beginning of the movie continued to unfold with the dreary undertone of music and darkened filter plastered over shots of the house and rainfall outside. 

I knew that in fiction, rain was often used to signal something darker, uncontrollable, and innately scary. While a gentle storm could symbolize rebirth or the washing away of something unclean to show a new beginning, a thunderstorm was different. Thunderstorms were brash, explosive, and undeniably cacophonous — a symbol of power, wrath, danger, and darkness. As the scene cut to a shot of the rainy setting, I couldn’t help but liken it to the rain pelting the windowpanes of the window behind the couch. They were both intense storms and I wondered what symbolism life could be trying to show me, if any at all. 

We watched mostly in silence, with the occasional jolt from me during a poorly timed jumpscare or a shake of the head and grumble from Mary (which after the third shove of my foot into his shoulder, he got the message that he was being obnoxious). 

Unbeknownst to me, the movie had a quick sex scene, which with anyone else would have been a non-issue watching. But with Mary, I felt oddly different. I found myself wondering what he was thinking as we watched the main characters move intimately against one another. Because, if my memory served me right, the last movie we watched together had something similar, and he had reacted in very specific—

 My thoughts were interrupted by yet another jumpscare and I squeaked in surprise, nearly dropping my empty takeout container. Mary chuckled and turned around with a smug smile.

 “Everything okay back there?” he asked. 

“Just fine. ‘Surprised me…” I grumbled, pretending to dig around in the empty container for more food. I was sure he could see right through me. I was easy to spook.

Eventually, I set my empty container on the side table and reclined back into the couch again. It felt weirdly quiet, and I noticed that Mary had gotten up at some point and left. 

“Seems he found something better to do with his time,” I thought. Not that it mattered, anyway. I hated the kind of people that talked constantly during movies, and I could tell Mary was doing his best not to criticize nearly every piece of dialogue and every scene. 

“Here.” The voice snapped me from my thoughts and my eyes refocused to the space in front of me, noticing an uncapped beer just in my line of sight. I took it with a thank you, noticing Mary had one of his own as he decided to sit opposite to me on the edge of the couch instead of on the floor. I tried not to think anything of the change and cast my eyes towards the movie. 

“Did….did she just put a whole ass bong into her purse?” I asked after watching the babysitter in the film try to hide her bong after smoking in the bathroom. I took a swig of the beer Mary gifted me and looked over at him. 

He laughed. “I’m telling you — this movie is idiotic at best.”

“I hate that I’m invested enough that I want to see how it ends,” I replied after a minute, adjusting my position on the couch to spread out a leg, my foot barely missing the side of Mary’s thigh. 

“I’m happy to tell you how it ends,” Mary countered, taking a pull from his own bottle.

I shook my head in reply. “Might as well finish it. In your words, we’ve ‘got nothing better to do,’” I grinned at him with a chuckle and set my eyes back on the screen. 

After the movie finished, we both stretched out our limbs, and I stood to collect the empty containers. 

“That’s 90 minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Mary grunted with a sigh. 

I rolled my eyes. With how things were going, I’d be surprised if they didn’t roll straight out of my head and onto the shitty shag carpet on the floor. “Oh come on,” I began, “It wasn’t THAT bad…”

“Well, it sure as shit wasn’t good,” he chuckled sarcastically.

I let out a defeated breath. “Okay, I’ll admit that it wasn’t the best movie I’ve seen.”

“Clear from it,” he postured, lounging back a little as he took a swig from his beer “The original does a much better job of staying true to the book and creating that building suspense th—”

His words were cut off by another loud crack of lightning. This one sounded close, and by the looks of the fulmination that painted the windows, it was. 

I let out a shriek when the lightning and its ancillary crash cracked through the den and beyond. My hand flew to my mouth in surprise and I soon rubbed it over my eyes bashfully. 

“Shit, I didn’t know you could make that noise,” Mary chuckled, eyebrows raised in an expression of slight surprise. I looked over and flashed him the middle finger, a scowl on my face, which only increased his laughter. 

“How about we put on another movie,” he suggested, then added quickly “—but I pick.” I thought about it, pondering the many choices of movies that Mary could choose on a night like tonight, and shook my head. 

“Maybe music is a better idea?” I replied. I walked to the edge of the den and started up the few stairs that connected it to the hallway. “I’ll toss these while you get it set up,” I called over my shoulder. 

When I returned, Mary was finished messing with the stereo system and Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation was playing softly through the speakers. I took a seat on the floor, copying Mary’s earlier posture with my back against the front of the plush furniture, and spread my legs out and crossed them at the ankles. 

“Didn’t take you as a Sonic Youth fan,” I said as I settled into the space. 

Mary smiled and turned his head towards me. “I told you I’m full of interesting surprises.”

I suppressed a giggle. “I was thinking of other types of surprises when you said that.”

“What kinds of things were you thinking of?” he asked, brow quirked.

I felt my cheeks flush at the coy look on his face and looked away, trying to figure out a way to change the conversation. Mary just laughed. 

“Wow, doll face, I didn’t expect to take up that much real estate in your mind. I’m flattered.” He put a hand to his chest and stared over me with a broad smile. 

“Stop it.”

He cast me a look of confusion. “Stop what?”

“That thing you do!” I began. My voice raised a little in volume and pitch. “The thing where you act all smug and ooze sex appeal!”

This seemed to intrigue him and he turned to face me from his spot in front of the entertainment system. I knew that if his shirt was off, I’d be able to see the flexion of the muscles in his abdomen. I mentally kicked myself for even thinking that. 

“Sex appeal? I didn’t know you were so pious.”

I felt myself bristle and sat up a little straighter. “What? No, it’s not about piety.” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “You just don’t have to make everything an innuendo!”

At this, the crusty metalhead in front of me had the audacity to laugh. “Wow,” he chuckled, “way to act like a total prude.” 

“I am not!” My eyes shot daggers at him and I’d hope they’d materialize and hit him straight in his smirking face. 

“I’m surprised you made it through that sex scene…” he looked up at me from under a raised brow.

I huffed. “You of all people should know that sex doesn’t bother m—” I cut myself off as I felt fire heat my cheeks. 

“You were saying?” he snickered. 

“Oh, fuck off Goore.”

“Sure thing. Wanna watch?”

“I’ll leave that to Brutus.”

As soon as his name was said, Brutus’ ears perked up and he let out a whine. I realized it had probably been hours since he’d been outside.

“We should probably let the dog out,” I said. As soon as he heard the word ‘out,’ Brutus sprung up and began trotting to the sliding glass door in the kitchen. I got up with a slight groan, muscles stiff from sitting on the floor, and Mary followed. 

“I can take the dog out by myself, y’know,”

“Yeah, but the view is so much better if I come with.”

I felt frustration pool in my chest at this and he seemed to sense it as well, adding, “Chill out, I was just  grabbing a couple more beers.”

After coaxing Brutus outside with some choice words said in the nicest voice I could muster (and maybe a push on the bum), I waited at the sliding glass door for him to return from doing his business. A towel was thrown by slider and I grabbed it to wipe down the dog on his re-entry. 

I watched through the window as the storm really began to rage. Fat water droplets ricocheted off the glass pane like rubber bullets and thunder rumbled a low death rattle. Mary came up behind me and put the two bottles on the kitchen table. He fished around in his pockets for his bottle opener on his key chain. 

A loud, booming sound followed by a high pitched crack and a monstrous thud rattled the foundation of the house. I let out an embarrassingly loud scream and jumped back from the sliding door. My body collided with Mary’s more solid one behind me, and immediately his hands found my upper arms to steady the both of us. I leaned back into him, not caring enough about self-restraint as my head tipped back against his shoulder. 

My chest heaved as my adrenaline dissipated, and I could feel Mary’s hands rubbing up and down the lengths of my arms. I swallowed thickly, then clenched my eyes tight. I felt his breath arm against my ear as he leaned in. 

“You good, Doll?”

His voice was smooth, oddly soothing, and the reverberations that pulsed through my ear and into my chest were much different than the shaking of the foundation from the subsonic boom moments prior. 

I nodded and looked out the window. A mature tree limb, one measuring at least 15 feet long, had fallen to the ground in the backyard from the force of the thunderstorm. My immediate thought went to Brutus and I feared for the worst, but as if on cue, his body came running towards the door like a bullet. His little black body began pawing at the door and yet, I felt frozen in my spot to Mary. His body stayed pressed against the back of mine, hands still rubbing little circles against my triceps. Neither of us moved to open the door. 

Brutus’ bark seemed to jolt us both from the haze. I slid the door open and immediately wrapped the medium-sized dog in the towel to dry him off. The little black mutt followed me as I walked back into the wood-paneled den and I sunk down on the couch next to Mary with a sigh. 

Mary handed me another beer and I graciously accepted. “You know,” he started after taking a sip of his own, “I’m not used to women screaming around me unless my name is involved somehow.”

“Is it usually preceded by ‘fuck off’ or ‘get the fuck away from me’?”

“I was thinking it comes after ‘harder’ or ‘fuck me,’ actually,” he said, pausing a beat before casting a look of cautious puzzlement. “Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

I chewed on my cheek as I picked at the label of the beer bottle. “I hate storms,” I admitted with a sigh.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

The squall of the storm caused the windows behind the weathered old sofa to vellicate. Stills from the movie of torrential downpour around the boathouse flashed into thought. I recalled the swirling blackened sky from the sliding glass door from moments before and found myself comparing the dread from the film to my stomach sinking the moment the tree limb fell heavy against the hard ground. What if it had fallen on the house, or the dog? What if it had been a consequence of a lightning strike and started a fire?

I shook myself from spiraling. “I’m not afraid of a lot of things,” I pointed out, “but storms...they freak me out. They have ever since I was little. Loud noises and all.”

Mary chuckled at this. “You listen to thrash metal,” he countered. 

“That’s different!” I ran my hand through my hair, gripping at the back of my scalp in frustration. “Storms are destructive. One minute it’s a normal day and the next - bam - people lose their homes, their jobs, their communities…decades and centuries of history even. It’s chaotic and terrible and…unpredictable. It’s fucking armageddon.”

Mary had turned to face me from his spot on the couch, one leg semi-crossed over the other. “Big bad metal chick like you afraid of some thunder and lightning? Color me surprised, dollface.”

The asshole had the audacity to smirk at me. So, I reached out and smacked him in the shoulder. 

“Ow! I was being serious!” His tone was playful as rubbed at the spot on his shoulder. “You’re not the kind of person to let a lot of emotion show.”

I felt myself bristle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “I dunno…you just don’t seem afraid of anything. Kinda just ‘go with the flow’. It’s weird to see ya all panicked and shit.”

I scoffed and clicked my tongue. “You obviously don’t know me very well.”

“Oh, I know you inside and out, dollface,” he grinned. 

My cheeks blushed garnet. “Only some of me,” I grumbled.

“Really? What else you got hiding?” he chided, sitting up a little straighter, a little closer. “Got any secret pockets in those pants?”

Now, it felt like my whole face was on fire. I remembered the cargo pants he made fun of me for on our first excursion, and the tongue-in-cheek wording was absolutely purposeful. I rolled my eyes. 

Any other time I would have had a quick quip or nonverbal response lined up to banter with him, but another crackle of thunder roared through the sky, and instead, my body physically flung itself up an inch off the cushions in a reactive jolt. My hands gripped onto whatever was near me — which in this case, was the right arm of the couch and coincidentally, the right arm of Mary. 

The sound of the thunder was replaced with the onslaught of water against the windows behind the sofa and I let out a breath I didn’t remember inhaling. I looked down at my hand gripping onto Mary’s forearm, fingers digging into the demon ink staring up at me across otherwise pale flesh, and I quickly retreated. 

I cleared my throat. “S-sorry,” I choked, “Reflex.”

Mary didn’t seem phased at all. He turned towards me, his upper torso craning to meet mine perpendicularly, and a hand came to my knee. “What helps?” he asked plainly.

“I…what?” 

“What helps?” he repeated, his tone still matter-of-fact. 

“Oh. Um…” I swallowed and looked down at his hand resting on my left knee, right over the fabric of my pants. I wracked my brain in a feeble attempt to think of something that had aided my fear in the past.

But I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even breathe properly as the heat from his hand sunk through to my covered skin. I imagined that hand six inches higher, resting on my thigh as he spread them apart on the rooftop all those weeks ago—

“Distraction!” I blurted out. I hardly even recognize my voice as I did so. I finally looked over to meet the stare I’d felt carving into my irrationally fearful form and saw those fucking eyes, green and honey and framed with brows that were pursed in a way that conveyed allure. I finished letting out my caged breath. “Something to keep my mind off things and give me another sense to focus on. My parents used to, uh, read to me. Make up stories. When I was old enough, I’d hum songs or picture scenes from movies…”

Embarrassment flooded my bones. I felt childish, weakened, exposed like a raw nerve or a root scabbing from crisp air. We didn’t talk much about our pasts and he wasn’t somewhat I typically indulged with this kind of vulnerability. But as I searched his eyes for a crinkle of amusement or a flash of judgment, I found none. Instead, I found focused pupils and a heady stare. 

He broke the pregnant pause. “Maybe I could distract you with something different.”

I rolled my lips in and stilted the air in my lungs. His hand weighed heavily on my leg. 

“We’ve tried music. And movies,” he began, briefly casting his glance towards the middle of the living room where the TV sat against the wall and we’d sat and listened to Sonic Youth. “We drank shitty beer and ate shitty Chinese—”

“—I liked the Chinese—” I interrupted in a murmur, still watching as he soaked in the visual of my legs pressed together, his hand firm and steady. 

“—so in my eyes, we’ve used sight, hearing, taste, and by association, scent. Which means, we’re missing one…”

Touch, I thought to myself. A shiver whispered down my spine. While his words trailed off, he mimicked the action with his hand. The firm hand that once sat solid on my knee began to travel up the expanse of my left leg. His fingertips ghosted my inner thigh with just enough pressure to make a point. 

I gathered up the courage to look up at him again and this time, the verdant hue of his eyes was overtaken by wide pupils that bore into me like he was clawing his way to comfort. 

I’m not exactly sure what happened next. The haze in my brain matched the low visibility from the storm outside. But before I knew it, I could feel the warmth of his proximity, the grip of his hand tightening on my leg as his other one gripped the nape of my neck, tugging and pulling me into him like a life preserver. 

His kiss was exactly as I had remembered. Soft yet slightly chapped, starting as a fervent pressing of lips on lips that moved into tilted heads and the drag of a tongue against my own parted mouth. I reveled in the feeling and gripped onto his shirt with both hands, fisting it like he’d float away if I let go.

Had I been more cognizant, I’d have laughed at the fact that his action was much more than touch. It was scent (cheap cologne and leather and musk) and it was taste (cheap beer and filmy cigarette residue that I was surprised I could crave) and sight (technicolor behind my eyelids that erupted against dark) and it was sound (of the smacking of lips on lips and the occasional clang of teeth, the rustle of fabric and the springs of the couch as we shifted to accommodate one another). 

And down we fell, my twisted torso mirroring his own as I lay plush against the flat seat of the couch. Mary moved to encapsulate my form with his own, knees brushing the worn plaid upholstery as I parted my legs to gift him space. My hands found the tops of his shoulders and as I gripped, his own hand moved from its entrapment on the nape of my neck to cup my jaw, thumb bruising against bone. I fought the urge to wrap my legs around his body and hold him in like he was to me. Touch. I didn’t care.

But before I could, he slotted one of his legs between my own, the other digging between my left thigh and the seam of the couch. I let out a groan as he pressed the meat of his thigh against my center and he smiled against my lips, nipping at the bottom one. 

Touch. I craved that movement as heat built deep within my abdomen and pooled down past my navel. Shamelessly, I rocked my hips against his leg to chase the feeling of pressure, of grazed fabric on fabric. Testing the proverbial waters. 

Again, a smirk against my lips. His free hand gripped squarely onto my hip. But instead of a teasing nip or squeeze, he pulled away just barely, breath ghosting against my face. 

“That feel good, Doll?” 

I couldn’t begin to think of how to respond. Instead, I canted my hips up again, slower this time, enjoying the friction of denim against my own clothed core. I suppose that was enough of an answer, because he held his leg firm and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. 

He hummed. “You gonna use me to get yourself off, dollface?” he breathed in question. His voice was lust-dipped and low, barely above a whisper yet it rang so heavy in my chest that I could swear it was deeper than the thunder. 

I let out a noise in response (something like a mix between a whimper and a hum) and again rocked up into the muscle of his leg as I pressed my forehead to his, eyes squeezing shut to focus on the sensation blooming between my thighs. 

“Use your words,” Mary all but tutted, voice still low in timbre. 

“Yes,” I sputtered. Fuck dignity.

He hummed in response and captured my lips with his again, pressing hard as he kissed me with purpose. His hand on my jaw moved to grab my other hip and he let his body fall into mine as he pulled my body up into his leg in time with my own movements. “Keep going,” he murmured against my mouth. Touch. Sound.

Unabashedly, I moved my hips into his thigh with the help of his strong grasp. The friction changed as I felt my own arousal begin to dampen the fabric of my panties and I groaned into the kiss at the feel of the cotton gliding over my clit with each quickening movement. 

Mary’s mouth moved across my jaw and down to the crook of my neck and shoulder, and he began to work at the skin there, biting and sucking along the sensitive areas he’d been cataloging since our last time on this couch. My eyes fluttered open half-lidded in the darkness and I raked my hand through his long hair, gripping it against the scalp as I moved senselessly against him, chasing a release I knew he could provide me. 

“Fuck, you’re so eager,” he growled out against my skin. I swear I could feel the pounding of his pulse through our mashed chests and his words only increased a need that I’d been suppressing since he’d fucked me breathless against my kitchen countertop.

Mary’s distinct scent clouded me, wet-straw colored hair hung in my peripherals, cigarettes and cheap beer and the taste of his kiss covered my lips and tongue, fabric rubbed against fabric and wet mouths primed heated skin, and every explosion of his body rocked and pulled and ground against mine into a sensory explosion. Smell. Sight. Taste. Sound. Touch.

No more storm. No more thunder. No more rain. We made our own natural disaster. 

And I was distracted. Fully distracted in that I didn’t recognize it was my voice that let out a breathy ‘so good’. So successfully distracted that the beeping of the notification on my phone was easily discounted. In fact, the subsequent beeping that followed seconds later was also minimized. And the one after that. I could feel the fuzzy feeling building deep below my navel and I chased it with every movement of my body against Mary’s, and the feeling of his own hardness growing against my thigh made me that much more desperate. He was clearly getting something out of this, too. 

“Take what you need,” Mary’s muffled voice sounded against my clavicle. “Take whatever —fuck— take whatever you want, babydoll.”

So, I did. I ground furiously against him and reached for the peak of my climb, oblivious to the buzzing and chiming of my phone on the coffee table beside us. Except, we’d forgotten we weren’t alone, and not everyone was able to ignore the phone’s noises. 

Brutus’ deep, loud barking rang through the sunken den unexpectedly, causing both Mary and I to jump in surprise, Mary’s head knocking against the side of my jaw. He rose up on his forearms instantaneously and gripped his forehead with a loud ‘fuck’ and I matched his reaction as I cupped my jaw and let out a slew of expletives. 

The light from my screen illuminated the once sleeping dog’s face and I groaned out as I haphazardly reached an arm towards the table to feel for my phone. I unlocked the device and was met with a litany of notifications from Des. I groaned and slammed my head back against the couch cushion. For working so hard to get Mary and I alone together, Desiree sure knew how to cock block. 

I brought the phone up and with squinted eyes, I read over the text messages that had gathered over the last hour. 

Des: how’s it going over there? 

Des: i heard the storm is supposed to get even worse

Des: is brutie doing okay? He gets whiny with loud noises sometimes

Des: shit someone on instagram posted that the power is out for like 5,000 people. you still okay?

Des: wow. okay. don’t answer me. you guys must be really busy 😏

Des: there are condoms in the bedside drawer 😘 cum stains wash out best with cold water ❤

Des: you still never told me about his dick btw

By now, Mary had sat back on his haunches and the pressure of his thigh was completely gone from where I most wanted it to be. “Who is it?” he asked, rubbing at his forehead. 

“Desiree,” I replied in a neutral tone.

Mary let out a sarcastic laugh. “What does she want?” He leaned down to try to get a peek at the phone screen and I snapped it to my chest tightly. 

“Just checking in to see how we’re faring the storm!” I said a little too quickly. I cleared my throat to try to force down the nervous lump that was forming. “And wanted to see how Brutus is doing with the thunder.”

I expected Mary to eye me suspiciously, but if he had caught on to anything, he surely didn’t show it. I typed out a quick response to Des, explaining that yes, we were okay, and no, Brutus wasn’t being a handful, before adding a quick ‘fuck you’ and an eyeroll emoji to her later comments. 

I set the phone down on the table and looked up at the man currently straddling my body. My heart began to speed up again as I took in my surroundings. It was dark in the room, but the light from the storm outside and the glow of the kitchen nearby illuminated him with chiaroscuro that any Renaissance painter would envy. Judging by the bulge in his jeans, the interruption wasn’t enough to sully his erection, and he looked down at me as if he was waiting for me to say the words to continue. 

I felt my chest tighten and another crackle of lightning peppered the room in flushed white. What was I doing? This was Mary: resident bad boy, metal enthusiast, best friend of my best friend’s boyfriend, and come to think of it, a guy who never seemed to show up with the same girl at his side. I didn’t sleep around purely from the fact that it was impossible for me to avoid catching feelings. Blame it on the oxytocin release.

But nothing we had done was wrong and nothing had been the result of deeper feelings, right? We were two consenting adults, two friends that enjoyed each other’s company. Couldn’t that be enough? Sex didn’t have to equal commitment or a deeper connection. It could be loose, free, fun. It was what Des always encouraged me to explore, anyway. Right? 

Despite my reasoning, I felt a weight pressing on my sternum and threatening to rise up my throat. His stare was piercing, and all I could smell was leather and cologne and cigarettes, and the taste of him on my bottom lip, and his weight on my legs, and my breath felt like it was going to rip my lungs open and—

“We should turn in for the night,” I blurted out.

I searched his face for any sort of reaction and was met with a split second of confusion before his demeanor went calm. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

Take what you want rang heavy in my ears from just moments before. 

“Y-yeah, it’s getting late and I worked today, so…”

He stood up from his position over me and I sat up against the arm of the sofa. I chewed my lip, battling the decision I’d just made for the both of us. 

“I’ll take the couch, you can have Tommy’s bed,” Mary said nonchalantly as he took a swig from the forgotten beer bottle on the coffee table. Oddly chivalrous. 

I shook my head almost immediately. “No, I’ll take the couch.” Mary opened his mouth to protest, but I held firm. “I am not sleeping in Thomas’ bed. That sounds like the 7th circle of hell. My best friend is frequently naked in that bed and who knows when those sheets were last washed.”

Mary laughed at this. A deep chuckle and a shake of his head as he motioned towards me with the beer bottle between pointer finger and thumb. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never seen her naked.”

Embarrassed, flustered, and wholly unsatisfied from practically humping the metalhead in front of me, I scoffed. “Not like that and not by choice.”

Mary grinned in enjoyment of my response. “Stay up late and play with each others’ tits after a pillow fight?”

A frustrated groan breached my lips. “You’ve been watching way too much porn, Goore,” I said. I reached for one of the long discarded throw pillows and lobbed it at him, feeling a hint of disappointment when he dodged it easily.

He held up both hands, one still holding the bottle. “Suit yourself,” he began, backing up while still facing me, then adding with a smirk, “don’t get too scared with the storm.”

I watched as he turned and made his way down the hallway, beer in hand as he ventured to Thomas’ room. Leaning back into the cushions of the couch, I sighed. 

🜏🜏🜏

My fingers curled around the stiff microfiber blanket that I’d lazily thrown over myself as I’d sunk into Thomas’ well-worn plaid couch.

I tried to coat myself in the scratchy throw to avoid the feeling of the couch cushions on the exposed skin of my legs and arms. It was a touch-memory that brought me back to flying high in the same den, legs straddling the man that now slept peacefully down the hallway in the master bedroom. 

As much as I didn’t want to reconcile with the feelings of fear, I was on edge. The movie set my panic into motion, but the worsening storm was what lit the engine. It had progressed from the percussive pelting drops against the windows and siding to roars of wind and sprays of harsh rain that sounded like fire hoses. Thunder boomed every so often and I heard its fallout whip through the trees with horrid whistles — true cries of the damned. 

I let out a shaky breath and reached my hand down to pet the dog curled on the bed on the floor. Focus on the fur. Soft. Spindle it between your fingertips. Smooth. Warm. My heartbeat started to calm and my lizard brain crept back into its recesses. 

My eyes relaxed in their shut state and I nuzzled a bit harder into the pillow. I felt my exhaustion begin to take hold. And just as I began to float into the downward spiral of sleep, a boisterous crack sliced through the sky. It reminded me of the jet planes that flew at the air shows when I was little - the ones that broke the sound barrier - and my shriek that followed rivaled in volume. 

Bright white lightning strobed through the windows of the house. A quick succession of flashes flickered like a searchlight on the fritz. The house went dark again. 

The dog's ears perked as he sat up and I followed suit, blanket bunched around my knees and clutched with firm fists to my chest. Just like after a blinding camera flash, my eyes were shot. I could just barely make out the shapes of the furniture and walls. 

“You okay?” a voice asked mere feet away from me.

Startled, I let out another quick scream before slamming my palm tight against my mouth. My eyes continued to adjust and I noticed the figure turned from swirling black mass to humanoid to Mary within a split second.

“I’m fine,” I breathed out. I brought my hands down to grip onto the couch cushions. Mary stood before me in his boxers. Messy hair tousled around his shoulders and chest in waves a la 1980s glam rock (though I was certain that bedhead was a more likely culprit) and willed myself not to search through the inky black of the den to determine if he was wearing a shirt or not. 

“Do you usually scream like a banshee when you’re fine?” he quipped as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

No shirt I noted. 

I rubbed my hands against my face, pressing my fingertips into the sockets of my eyes. “Just not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, so you said.” A moment passed. The only sound in the air was the howling wind from outside until he broke the quiet. “You sure you’re good out here?”

“I’ve got Brutie.”

“Alright,” he sighed. After a moment, I could feel he’d left again, and I willed myself back into the couch cocoon I’d built myself. 

I must have fallen asleep. Be it the adrenaline crash or the exhaustion, I wasn’t sure how I’d finally managed. It was in vain, however, when another loud burst of lightning and thunder rumbled through the house. The same strobe of light pulsated briefly, and in the distance, a booming crash. Before I knew it, I was on my feet. 

Fuck this fuck this fuck this I whispered to myself as I sped through the house. My hands reached out in front of me as bumpers to the still unfamiliar landscape, and after padding down the hallway in bare feet, I reached around for the doorknob to Thomas’ room. 

His room was better lit than the living room. The orange-y glow of the one working street lamp in the distance painted the walls with a near apocalyptic hue and illuminated Mary’s sleeping form on the bed. He was facing away from me, but I could tell he was out (shocking considering the resonance of the lightning and thunder). 

I bit my lip and crossed my arms over my shoulders as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I didn’t even know what I was doing here. I sure as hell didn’t want to sleep in Thomas’ bed, and the thought of sleeping next to Mary made me more anxious than anything. Well, except the storm. What was I thinking? I felt like a child standing at the foot of their parents’ bed after having a nightmare, waiting with fearful eyes and too-small pajamas for them to invite me in for the night. 

Duller thunder hummed outside and I was reminded of the fear that had clenched my chest just minutes prior. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt having another person with me, could it? Clearly, the dog wasn’t enough.

I slowly sank onto the opposite edge of the bed, making myself featherlight, and lifted one leg up along the mattress as my other foot held firm against the floor. Mary didn’t move. I swung the other leg up onto the bed and pulled the covers down before sliding under, the shifting sheets whisper silent, and leaned back against the pillow. 

I lay board stiff, hand on my chest, and watched as the tree branches dappled the streetlight in whooshing patterns across the ceiling. Like dark sparkles, it lulled me into a sense of calm, and I let my eyes fall shut again. The bed shifted and I felt Mary turn over, arm flopping out towards the middle of the bed to land hand first into my arm. His eyebrows crinkled in his sleep and his eyelids fluttered wearily at the feeling of his skin against my own. 

“Doll?” he asked, eyes stained with sleep. 

I turned my head to face him, hands still clasped against my chest. “Sorry, I—” I began, taking a moment to let out a shaky breath, “ — I freaked out.”

I braced for a chuckle, eyeroll, anything that was typical of Mary, but it never came. Instead, he lifted up the blankets as if to silently beckon me over. “C’mere,” he croaked, voice clearly still lethargic. 

In any other situation, I’d take pause, but this wasn’t any situation. I scrambled over like a child. He tucked his arm around me and brought me to his bare chest. I could smell the fragrance 

of the shampoo he used as I rested my head in the crook of his neck (I guess he’d been telling the truth about that shower), and my own arms came up to curl against his skin. An arm flopped around my middle, pulling me impossibly close, and our knees brushed under the blanket. 

Surprisingly, I felt calmness wash over me. I likened it to the bear-like embrace, skin-on-skin, some sort of instinctual response to the comfort of another human. But his heartbeat pumped strongly beneath my fingertips and I could feel his steady breath floating across the top of my hair and down my neck, and in that moment, I wondered if it was a little more than just human instinct. 

A beat percussed in time. I traced my fingertips along the skin of his arm, ghost-light, dipping down the valleys and peaks of muscle that I knew flexed taut when he strummed his Epiphone SG. Goosebumps appeared under my digits and he shifted under the sheet. 

“Tickles,” he murmured atop my head.

“Sorry,” I whispered, bringing my hands back to rest against his torso. Sandwiching them between the cotton of my oversized tee and the smooth skin of his pecs would have to do. 

It was quiet — so quiet that I assumed he had fallen asleep again. But his soft breaths were broken by his even softer voice. “You’re cute when you’re scared,” he said. 

I let out a chuckle. “Gee, thanks.”

He hummed and although I couldn’t see it, I could hear his tongue wet his lips, jaw pressing against the top of my head from the movement. “It’s different from the typical Dahlia.”

My mind raced back to our earlier conversation, the one where he’d accused me of hiding my emotions. Is this what he meant? Was fear what he considered transparency? I looked up at him quizzically, breaking the connection of his chin using my crown as an actual headrest. 

His eyes were open, and despite the foreglow of the streetlights and darkness, I could better feel his stare than see it. His hair was still a step down from a rat’s nest, tangled from sleep, and strands hung down around his angular face. His cheeks were beginning to stubble with five o’clock shadow. Breaths pushed past his lips steadily, even, but beneath the pads of my fingers, I could sense his heart pumping solidly in his chest. Only a hairline fracture separated our faces. 

Outside, a whistle of strong wind thwipped against the siding of the house like a widow’s cry and my body instinctively tensed. His arm that had lethargically slung across my waist impulsively tightened and he pulled me even closer. 

“Hey…” he soothed. His brows were drawn in concern, and his hand traveled from the c-bout of my waist and up, up, up my tricep. It was less of a greeting and more of a reminder to land back in the present, to focus on my senses (touch, taste, smell, sight, sound), to remember I was right here, right in this moment, and I wasn’t alone. 

The mortar holding the bricks built around my heart began to disintegrate. Every block melded in a bond pattern to cage in my overcommitting self, to protect from obsession, from the inevitable swoon that I had felt with Brody and had ripped out from under me — they began to fall, piece by piece. 

It was the both of us that drew our mouths to meet. The kiss was lazy, sleepy, languid at first, morphing into prolonged pecks that added a harmony to the pattering rain, gusts of wind, and bouts of thunder rumbling the outside earth. His hand continued to rub against my upper arm and beat by beat, the kiss heightened, and slowly, surely, lips met tongue, and then teeth, and I was angling my neck to the right to keep him from digging into the pillow. 

Mary shifted. His fingers gripped my arm as he moved to lay halfway on top of me. Our legs tangled together, and as he slid his own against my calf, barely stilling, I was certain he’d just discovered that my nightwear consisted of only an oversized t-shirt and panties. 

I could sense his erection pressing through the thin cotton of his boxers against my thigh. My brain zapped back to hours prior when he had boxed me in on the couch and let me take pleasure from his strong quads. A fire raged within me that rivaled my hair spilling across Thomas’ pillows like a red sea.

Mary’s hand moved to skim under the hem of my shirt, tracing against my hip bone before it, too, went up, up, up, hovering just over the curve of my breast before cupping it. His finger traced the outline of my nipple. Once again, surroundings faded. Nothing else existed at this moment, here, right now. 

I exhaled shakily against him. Our lips were still passionately pendulating in a rhythm that the both of us had mastered by now. I took a leap of faith and pressed my thigh to his crotch, earning me a squeeze to my chest and his own shaky exhale. 

Releasing my breast, Mary swept his hand to the waistband of my panties. His fingers, rough and calloused from frets and strings, dipped underneath. He sat up slightly and broke the kiss. The smooth cotton was seesawed down my legs in a series of yanks from the free hand, and he quickly repeated the action on his own boxers, tossing them aside before returning his hand back to my chest. 

“Mary,” I breathed out.

“What?” he echoed. His eyes searched for something as he drank in my expression. 

I swallowed lightly. “I-” I began, not knowing exactly what I was saying.

But he did. “I’ve got you,” he said. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from my eyes. 

He kissed me again and fully framed my body with his own. I relaxed back into the pillow and he sat back to dip his hands underneath my shirt, pushing it up and off with a temporary break in our lips’ union. As he slotted himself between my legs, I looked up at him, body completely bare. I felt the anxiety creep into my chest and I was certain I looked visibly unsure — not at the prospect of what was to happen, no, but what would follow. How this would, or could, change things. 

“So goddamn pretty when you’re spread out like this,” he murmured as his hands roamed up and down my torso. I took the moment to soak up the image in front of me. His lean torso was flexed as he ran his hands along my breasts and stomach, and his cock stood heavy against his pelvis, bobbing with every movement of his touch.

He gripped himself with a soft moan, stroking slowly, methodically, and his eyes raked over my form. This wasn’t our first encounter, no, but I felt truly naked for the first time. 

With oddly found confidence, I reached forward to grasp at the junction of his shoulder and neck. I pulled him towards me and his other hand shot out to brace himself against the squeaking mattress. His stroking continued and I jolted when his knuckles came in contact with the ache between my legs. Without any spoken words, he lined himself up and then embraced me, hand on my shoulder as we met chest to chest, covering me like a blanket. 

His pause was obvious — an unspoken ask of consent to proceed which I answered with a soft kiss. I trusted him, and I assumed he trusted me. We both craved the connection, to complete the incomplete. 

As Mary pushed in, I melted beneath him. His tip pushed past and he groaned and buried his face in the curve of my neck. My hands darted out to grip onto his back and pull him close. I wanted to feel him take up space in my ribs. 

Inch by inch he sank before canting steadily. I could feel every bit of him as he rocked in and out, pulling and pushing as my heat gripped him, and for some reason it felt different. Not just raw, but whole. I took in every bit of him physically, but as we moved together in the nightglow, I also consumed the parts he’d been dressing up in leather and denim and metal and dissolved it into my flesh. I took him. 

And through my euphoria of connection, I barely registered my small eruptions of noises that highlighted each stroke of his cock to my core. I focused on the sensation of sprinkled electricity spreading from my cunt outwards, and his hot breath on my neck that I drank in like I was oxygen-starved. 

Mary’s hips began to stutter as he thrusted a little harder into my own and my legs moved to wrap instinctively around him. I keened out louder, and he lifted his head to look at me again. 

The eye contact was searing. Hot. It charred my retinas, but this time, I didn’t care. He must have sensed the vulnerability because his hand cupped my jaw and he ran his thumb across my cheekbone before our foreheads met together. 

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, “Fuck, I’ve got you.”

Like his own hail Mary. I believed him. He had me now — I was in his clutches, both literally and figuratively. 

His pace increased to match my ever-racing pulse. It was still steadied, sleepily focused, and I dug my fingers into the flesh of his back as I clenched down against the movement of his length, nearly trembling at the pull at my navel as each drag of him spurred fire. It was building, and I let it. My breath began to stutter and I felt tears at my waterline. The sensory overload was rhapsody and the simple, obvious connection was juxtaposed by the chaotic climax lapping at my center. I was so close it almost hurt. 

I moaned his name in a half-whimper and he must have felt my urgency and desperation and the increased slick coating our joined union because he crushed his lips to mine. His thumb dug into the side of my chin as he drove firmly into my aching need. But the jerking of his hips was almost too much and I could tell he wasn’t far behind me. 

As my thighs began to tremble at his sides, he broke the kiss. I looked at him with desperate longing. 

“Let it go, Doll,” he murmured to me. 

And unlike every other situation in life where I found myself stubbornly resisting direction, I obeyed. I followed his demand and allowed the fuzzy heat of my release to unfurl around him. I cried out in rapture and he swallowed the sound with an opened mouth kiss at the moment of impact. I tensed around him and my pussy spasmed with every lunge of his hard cock.

“Good girl,” Mary praised as gripped hard onto my shoulder and pressed his head to mine, lips separated, and I was enveloped in a curtain of golden-brown tangled strands. He began to move faster against me and I knew my orgasm had spurred something deep within him as he moaned out, “So good for me, taking me so damn well.”

His thumb brushed the breadth of my lip and dipped into my mouth, pulling down just barely against my tongue and teeth. I looked up at him with full eyes, grey hues drowned by pupils swimming from release, and I inwardly begged him to complete me as aftershocks of a violent orgasm short circuited. 

“So tight,” he grunted in response. “Fuck— feel so good around me, babydoll.” His hands moved to grip my hips and with a few more jolts of his hips, his cock twitched and he groaned, features melting as he spilled inside of me. His body jerked with each spurt and his fingers dug into the flesh covering my pelvic bone as he rode out his high.

Mary collapsed into me and I allowed my eyes to close as we savored the aftermath. I’m not sure how long it was, minutes, maybe more, but eventually he pulled his softened dick from me and I let out a long breath of satisfaction. My hand moved to rest against my chest as I digested the gnawing deep within me that questioned what this was. 

Mary fell to his side and pressed a quick peck to my lips before rolling onto his back and mimicking my sigh. A brief silence filled the sweat-scented air, and I moved my hand to grasp at his, squeezing it, only to receive a slight squeeze back.

Our ragged breaths eventually calmed and I opened my eyes to the textured plaster of the ceiling. 

“You good?” Mary asked after a minute. I rolled my lips inward as I thought about the weight of those two words. 

“Yeah, I’m…I’m good— I’m great,” I replied.  It was the truth. 

He hummed in response and pulled the flat sheet over himself. 

“Glad I could distract you,” He said as he nestled into the right side of the bed. Before turning, he added, “get some sleep.”

My eyes searched for patterns in the swirls of the painted gypsum of the ceiling as stillness settled in. Mary’s quiet breathing turned to soft snores. Despite the calm, serene relief from a shared orgasm, my chest was tight from the inward battle of how unbelievably intimate that experience was and how deeply I was freefalling into a mess of adoration for the man next to me.

I wondered how he could so easily turn to the side and fall asleep.

🜏🜏🜏

Despite the after effects of the record-breaking storm, Des and Thomas were able to make it home a couple of days after they’d left, right on schedule. 

They greeted Mary with their normal affections (a pat on the back from Thomas and a warm wave from Des), and the conversation immediately turned from a Brutus report to a play-by-play of Thomas’ shows out of town. 

Des noted there was no sign of her best friend, which wasn’t a surprise. She’d received my text the day before that I was heading home and that Mary was fine staying the additional time. And despite her prodding, I’d remained tightlipped.

Both she and Thomas were unaware of the telltale morning after where I’d woken up to sunbeams instead of lightning, choosing to pack up my belongings and head out early to check on my own pet at home. 

They were also unaware of the brief goodbye between Mary and I as I readied to leave — him, acting cool, aloof, and casual, as if nothing had changed, while I tried my best to mirror his demeanor with little success. Because as much as I tried to build the bricks back up, I’d let him in the night before, and he’d taken root inside the boundaries of my chest. 

I suppose that just like a day spent thrifting, I’d gone into every interaction with Mary with no expectations, and each time I’d come out with something I didn’t anticipate. The goldmines outweighed the insolvencies. I didn’t know if I wanted him to be aware of this.

Above all, I was happy for my momentary blissful unawareness (at least until later during a phone call with Des) of Thomas’ outburst upon entering his bedroom after Mary had left. His exclamation of “god damn it!” rang as loud as the thunder two nights previous, causing Des to dart in with a “what?” on her lips and the expectation of disaster. 

Thomas sighed, stained top sheet in hand. “They fucked on my bed.”

taglist: @soup-14 @copiasghoulfriend @thew0man @na1ven3vy @portaltothevoid @copias-juicebox @the-lisechen @anamelessfool @discountdemonwarehouse @oaksdottir

#mary goore #mary goore x oc #mary goore x ofc #repugnant #repugnant fanfiction #repugnant band #repugnant fanfic #mary goore smut #mary goore fanfic #mary goore fanfiction #the band ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic #ghost bc fanfic #ghost fandom #my writing #5 times with mary goore #5+1 things #5 + 1 fic

[copias-juicebox]

me just minding my own damn business.

@fishwithtitz and her mary story:

#tobias forge #mary goore #mary goore x oc #mary goore fanfiction #five times gonna be the end of me i know #and i‘m gonna take y‘all with me!!

[i-hold-horrors-hand]

Love Is A Fire (Chapter 1: Urge To Fulfill An Ever Needed Thrill)

How Allie met Mary.

(Gender weird Mary, gender weird lesbianism, reclaimed slurs)

(Also readable here)

When the two lock eyes, it's instant. Mary feels his cock twitch in his too-tight tattered jeans; he knows that he will be satiated tonight. Allie feels a shiver run through her svelte frame; she knows that she will be taking Mary home with her.

It starts out at a dyke club. A messy, punk, hole-in-the-wall dyke club, somewhere in France. The kind of place where you can expect to see french metalheads, gutter punks, butches, bulldykes, les gouines, and such folk. Not somewhere you expect to see lithe, fashionable, pretty femmes.

But what is lesbianism, what is queerness, if not subversion of expected norms?

Allie, a pretty femme clad in clothes that are just barely a step down from haute couture, sips her quirky and delicious Levrette, and looks around the dykey dive bar. She takes in the various women, mascs, and other patrons, noting mentally how each one makes her feel when she lays her eyes upon them. Checking them out, sizing them up. She arrived alone, but she's not leaving alone.

Across the bar, a messy gutter punk named Mary surveys the scene. Dressed in a ripped shirt and even more ripped jeans, he fits right in. He nurses a cheap single malt, slowly letting it run down his throat, savouring it. He originally came here to alleviate his boredom, but now he seeks something else. Satiation of another desire.

When the two lock eyes, it's instant. Mary feels his cock twitch in his too-tight tattered jeans; he knows that he will be satiated tonight. Allie feels a shiver run through her svelte frame; she knows that she will be taking Mary home with her.

But before that, they will begin their joining of their bodies in a bathroom stall. And before that, they approach each other, introduce themselves, talk a little bit. Got to know who you're working with.

Allie is an American attending a university in this country, studying art history. She is also a model. She laughs when Mary asks her what a pretty girl like her is doing in a dump like this, shouldn't she be somewhere fancier sipping on some expensive wine? She tells him that appearances can be deceiving, and there's more to her than meets the eye.

Mary is a Swede, in a niche-yet-fairly-popular death metal band, which played a few shows nearby recently. Now, tonight, he is out on the town. Looking for action, looking for fun. He doesn't actually speak much French, and is impressed when Allie says and demonstrates that she's relatively fluent. He asks her to teach him a couple words.

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?" Allie bats her long, mascara-coated eyelashes.

Mary's eyebrows leap up his blood-painted forehead. "My my, who would expect the pretty little sophisticate to be so forward?"

Allie reminds him that appearances can be deceiving, and there's more to her than meets the eye.

There's more to Mary than meets the eye, too. Allie discovers this one they're in a bathroom stall, both frantically fumbling with each other's clothes.

She doesn't expect an erect cock to pop up out of Mary's jeans. Not a real one, anyway. But Mary isn't her first dyke-with-a-dick, and she's eager to take it.

And take it she does. In that grimy, graffitied, dive bar bathroom stall. And back at her apartment, in her bed.

A night well spent, for both of them.

#mary goore #mary goore x oc #repugnant band #mary goore fanfic #mary goore fanfiction #my writing #love is a fire

[copiousloverofcopia]

HERE IT IS FINALLY! An update I know some of you have been waiting for, the next chapter of Under the Spell with Mary Goore and OC Piper!

I am trying my best to get back to regular posting with my fics since the holidays are now over and I appreciate everyone's patience and support!

Also once again, please be nice I am SO not used to writing for Mary, so I hope its ok!

Piper and Mary have been best friends since they first met as children. When Mary and her boyfriend Sid asked her to come along on gigs, Piper thought it was a no-brainer. But as the excitement of the buzzing amps dies down, she realizes she wants more—now if only she can get him to agree.

Chapter 3: Biting the Bullet

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven't started yet? Start from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut

“Wait... what?” Mary said, grimacing as he flicked the fluids from his hand. The look of utter confusion, washing over him. Tilted his head like a puppy, waiting for Piper’s response. She took in a deep breath, trying her best to calm herself back down. Pacing around the floor a moment before finally bringing herself to sit down beside him. 

“I just…” she began, closing her eyes and trying her best to not lose her nerve before she continued. Facing out into the quiet unease of the hotel room. She was unable to look Mary in the eye. As the silence between them grew, so did the anxiety. Mary, hardly able to take it much longer. Deciding inside to break the silence himself, assuring Piper he was game regardless of what she might think.

“Listen, I am only doing this cause you asked me to. I want you to be happy. If that means we do this—then we do this. But if not… it really doesn't matter to me.” he explained. Piper still appeared unconvinced, the look on her face telling Mary that she was panicking on the inside. A look he had seen many times before when Piper was on the verge of a panic attack. 

Without even thinking he placed his hand over hers. Piper, trying to breathe through it when the gesture of kindness—gentleness allowed her to relax. Touched by this side of Mary, one she had rarely seen before.

“I know you say that but—” she began when Mary cut her off. 

“But what Pipes?” he asked. Piper turned to face him head on. Pulling her hand away as she snuffled back. Unsure if she wanted him to know how truly vulnerable she felt. 

“I just don’t want this to change things between us. You mean so much to me. I don’t want you to feel like this is something you have to do. I don’t want you resenting me over this if you change your mind Mare.”she admitted, the tears that had been beading up in her eyes, falling down her face. She and Mary were like family, it would kill her to have had this child but lose Mary in the process. 

“Pff…not gonna happen.” Mary laughed, “You're stuck with me.” 

“Yeah…” Piper laughed back through her tears. Mary, wiping them away. Streaking her cheek in black mascara. The two of them, locking eyes as Mary paused. He slowly pulled her towards him. Piper’s body became languid in his arms as he pulled her close. Bringing his lips to kiss her.   

The press of them felt different than the one before. Soft and intentioned in a way Piper had never experienced. Realizing in the moment that this was truly what she wanted. A baby—a baby with her best friend.

“Now, jump on baby girl and make me a daddy.” Mary said, smiling against her lips. Lifting her up and onto his lap. Never parting as the metal from Piper’s tongue ring teased and thrilled him. Sliding across Mary’s tongue as it danced in and out of their mouths.  

He allowed himself to grip a handful of her ass. Relishing the way his touch made her squirm—urged her to rock her hips against the swell of his groin. His cock twitching with the anticipation of stretching her out around him. 

“Mmm…” Piper moaned, feeling him beneath his jeans as the friction drove her crazy. Gliding herself against him and teasing her folds. Mary ran his hands up and over her thighs. Dimpling them as he allowed her to grind against him. Hot and heavy, longing for them to take it further. 

“Mmm.. fuck yeah.” Mary purred. His encouragement heated against her lips. His hands, leaving her waist to pull off her shirt. Undoing her bra with a surprising ease before kneading her breasts in his hands. Mary unable to control the impulse to drop his head to her pert pink tinged nipple. Wrapping his tongue around it before pulling it gently into his mouth. Satisfied to hear Piper’s wanton moans that resulted. 

Her body felt like it was set on fire. Piper, moving fast while she still had the nerve to pull his  cock out from his jeans. Mary, jolting up against her as her fingers made contact with his bare skin. Piper, stroking him gently and marveling at his girth. 

“Oh Mare.” she sighed, imagining him already inside her. Mary smiled smugly as she allowed him to slip into her hand.  

“That's right baby. I’m gonna use that to stuff your needy little pussy so full of my jizz.” he groaned, licking his lips in anticipation of her.  

“Mare!” Piper called out, the words sending a heat of embarrassment across her cheeks. While she knew he talked that way before. With or without being in the middle of sex, she had never been on the receiving end of it till now. 

“Just go with it.” He said, bringing his fingers between them. Moving back her hands to slip under her panties. Massaging her wet heat over and over with his touch as she continued to work him. “Cum for me baby.” He purred, feeling her dripping for him, “Show me how much you wanna ride this cock.”

“Mmmm…ah!” Piper cried out as his thumb made its way to her clit. Mary, swirling circles over the little nub with ease. Continuing to suck and lick on her nipples. Piper's head, falling back in pleasure.   

“Mmm… that's right baby.” He moaned, bringing his fingers back inside her, fucking her more fervently with his hand. Her juices, freely dripping from within her folds as Mary found her g-spot. Pressing into the sponge sensitive tissue with fingers, wishing so badly it was his cock. Within moments Piper began clamping down on his fingers, so tightly he could barely move. Her hips rolling with his movements—sending her over the threshold and cumming hard on his hand. 

“Oh fuck Mare…take me.” Piper moaned, her body tingling all over with the crest of her orgasm. Mary quickly pulled his fingers out, sucking them dry of her fluids. 

“Gladly.” he told her. Lifting himself up off the couch just enough to wiggle out of his pants. Piper, still straddling him as he used the remaining slick on his hand and precum to fully wet his cock. Pushing Piper’s panties off to the side before nudging her folds with the head of his cock.

“Ah! Yes!” Piper yelped as she felt him begin to push inside her having gathered up a generous amount of her slick before he reached her entrance. Mary, smiling widely as he shoved his full length of his aching cock inside her. 

“Ah…Pipes… Your pussy feels so good.” he groaned as she started to move on him. Riding him slowly. Rising and falling along his length. Her breast hovering in his face as he licked and nipped at them. 

“Mmm…” Mary cooed, bringing her nipple back into his mouth. There was nothing like the feel of Piper surrounding him. Her walls, pulling against him as he tried to withdraw. Holding tightly onto her hips now to steady her. Mary closed, overwhelmed by the feeling as he pushed inside her over and over. 

Already drunk in the warmth from inside her. His cock, pressing so deliciously against her delicate flesh. It was then that Mary wondered why he had never tired to fuck Piper before. Becoming slack-jawed and starting to pant the harder he thrusted up inside her. 

Piper had found her stride, bouncing gleefully in his lap. Her hands held tightly onto his shoulders as she stared into his eyes. Fuck, he is so incredibly sexy , she thought. Asking herself if she realized before today just how handsome he was? Her crazy, handsome childhood best friend. 

She could hardly believe she was there, in this moment with him. Feeling the euphoric high from being with him like this. So perfectly feeling together as her body began to shake. Piper, knowing instantly what was happening. Though it had never happened before with Sid, it had certainly happened when she was on her own. 

“Mare… I think I'm going to….” Piper cried, feeling her insides begin to buckle down on him. Her body flooded with emotion and pleasure as her orgasm came tearing through her full force. 

“Ah fuck!” Mary growled, her cunt squeezed him tightly all around. Forcing him to burst inside her. Spilling ropes and ropes of cum. Mary filling her full of everything he had to give. 

It had felt like It was over so fast that Piper could hardly believe it had happened at all. Both of them, so blown away by the sensations between them that neither could sustain the momentum for long. Mary laid back on the couch. Pants still at his ankles and his spent cock, covered in the efforts between them, unabashedly on display. 

“Hey… what do you think about us splurging a bit more for a hotel room with a bigger bed next stop? Or at least a bigger sofa?” Mary chuckled as he slipped himself back beneath his jeans.

“I mean if you wanna spend the money, I wouldn’t say no. But It was kinda your fault we didn’t even make it back to the bed—” Piper yawned, smiling as her eyelids only grew more heavy. Curling up next to Mary on the opposite end of the couch. She was utterly exhausted. Finding herself unable to help the closing of her eyes and waking to having missed little bits of conversation between. 

Finally Piper succumbed to it, falling asleep so soundly that she had even begun to snore. Mary found it endearing. Allowing her to sleep while he went up to take a much needed shower. When he emerged from the bathroom sometime later, Piper was still sleeping away. Her face looking A gentle, relaxed look now on the most relaxed and peaceful Mary though it had ever seen. 

He smiled at her as he continued drying his hair. Grateful to see her looking so serene, even if it was in her unconscious state. They had both been through a lot in their lives. So much heartache and struggle. Mary could help but think, as he stared down at her, that if anyone deserves to get what they want it was Piper. 

Though he knew she would likely be mad, he decided against waking her. Instead, allowing her some much needed sleep. Ever the night owl and the insomniac, Piper was chronically tired and wore her raccoon-like dark circles like a badge of honor. Mary, smiling once again thinking about the future. 

If Piper had it her way, it would be many nights before she'd get a full 8-hours sleep again he thought. Mary planted himself on the recliner, opposite her in the room, and cracked open a cold one. Kicking up his feet on the coffee table and thinking about what might come of things. Watching her sleep with that smile still on his face.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” Piper groaned, pissed at the abrupt loud car alarm. Blaring from somewhere outside and waking her from some incredible sleep. Reluctantly she decided to take a shower, scratching her head before trying to climb off the couch. Realizing that she was covered, unexpectedly, in the sheet from the bed. 

Mary was nowhere to be found as she scanned the room. “Mare?” she called out to him, but got nothing in response. Her eyes darted around in the darkness until she caught sight of a shining red light of an analog clock on the desk—a red 8:30pm on its face. 

“Oh fuck!” She shouted, darted upright. Running to the bedroom to get dressed. The show had more than likely already started and Piper couldn’t believe that Mary had just left her sleeping on the couch. She was angry, how could he leave her like that and not even say goodbye? Or at least come wake her up before they headed out? 

She began to wonder, if in his post nut clarity, he had regretted his decision. Sneaking out to leave her to go about his business without a second thought. Though Piper knew it was potentially too late now. Feeling the evidence of their tryst, leaking out on the inside of her thighs as he rushed around to grab her things.

Piper had left the room disheveled and upset. Rushing over to the venue without the courtesy of a shower, or even a ride over. Pissed that the rest of the band had agreed to leave her behind. Not that any of them would know what they had done—the only saving grace.

When she arrived, the smoke screen was ungodly. Piper opened the doors that led to a long walkway to the underground club. Hidden away like the dive bar that it was. The walls, covered in spray paint, remnants of band flyers, and god know what else. 

“Excuse me.” Piper said, trying to dodge through groups of half drunken clubbers who were just hanging out in the hall. Following the sound of the music, growing louder as she moved ahead.  Still fuming with Mary leaving her behind. His motive, still unclear.  

She thought, If Mary wanted to fuck and run, he could have at least done her the courtesy of telling. Explaining to her that this would be a one time thing. They weren’t in a relationship after all. It was only meant to be a favor, but damn if she wasn’t pissed that he had “wham, bam, thank you ma’am’d” her. Piper, beginning to feel silly—and stupid for having even considered it. 

By the time she had made it inside the club, Repugnant was already on stage. The whole band thrashing about as Mary howled and screamed out the lyrics. The sounds of the guitar and the bass, heavy and harsh as they rushed from the speakers and over the crowd. Patrons, moshing and headbanging with full gusto. Crowd surfers, racing high above all the heads in the pit. 

Piper doing her best to get as close as she could to the stage. Watching Mary as he played his guitar, knowing personally just how talented those fingers really were. Mary too could see her. His Piper, standing out looking a bit mad as she tried making her way closer. Stuck in the limbo of the middle of the crowd. 

Mary, gazing at her through the hair sticking to his face. HIs locks, already drenched in sweat and blood. She was trying to navigate through towards the stage. Mary, feeling a bit nervous as he watched. Wondering to himself for the first time if it was even safe for her to be there. Shaking it all off after realizing how crazy it was to be concerned about a possible crotch goblin when they had only just fucked. Continuing the show without a second thought. 

“Hey Piper! Over here!” Annie called out, catching her attention. A small spot, just before the barrier, was saved for her. Annie was great and Piper was grateful to her. Though she was relatively new to their crew, it was great just to have another woman on the road with them as far as Piper was concerned. 

Annie and Tom had only been together for a short time, but already things seemed to be moving quickly between them. Piper, wondering if they would end up married before the end of the tour dates. Feeling a bit jealous at Annie and Tom’s happiness—long before her decision to try with Mary. Their behavior around one another, opening her eyes to the serious and irreconcilable differences between Sid and herself. 

Annie was also so beautiful, which didn’t help Piper’s jealous streak. Having long blonde hair that was not natural of course, but perfectly bleached and styled on the regular. Her aesthetics, like Debbie Harry—the quintessential 80s bombshell with the perfect ruby red lips. Quite different from Piper’s style. Her goth, grunge vibes and nerdy cat eyeglasses made Piper a bit self conscious sometimes about her appearance. 

She felt at times like she couldn’t even compare. Still, despite her superficial jealousy, Piper had come to adore Annie. Hoping that nothing bad would ever tear her and Tom apart or she might really be on her own. 

“Thanks chick!” Piper yelled back so that Annie could hear her. Annie, holding up a thumbs up as Piper continued to move towards her. Finally, she was able to make it beside her, the two of them watching the band perform. Annie hollering and screaming anytime Tom went off on his drums. Normally a behavior Piper would have done the same, but tonight the mood just hadn’t hit her. Her mind was too hung up on the situation between her and Mary to think of anything else. Only the worry about unsaid things and the fear of answers to questions she hadn’t yet thought to ask. Hoping that what had happened between them wasn’t a mistake. 

#Mary Goore x Piper #Mary Goore x OC Piper #Mary Goore #Repugnant #not ghost but like kinda ghost #repugnant fic #mary goore fic #Repugnant fanfic #Mary Goore fanfic #Repugnant fanfiction #Mary Goore fanfiction #Mary goore smut #Repugnant smut #Ren Writes

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 6th

Dubcon, Mary Goore x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Dubcon; somnophilia; established relationship; role play; fellatio; unprotected sex; no prep; no foreplay; choking; fear play; nipple play; praise kink; face slapping; face sitting; cum eating; roleplay

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener

Author's Note: Hey, all! Me again!

Just wanted to pop in and say this fic does include dubcon, and while it's stated that this is a consensual act, they roleplay as if it's not.

If this isn't something you can enjoy at this time then absolutely pretend this fic doesn't exist. Your mental health is far more important than a work of fiction.

I also do not condone the actions taken in this work, it's all written for entertainment purposes only.

Thanks!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

It was dark when you opened the door to the bedroom that you and Mary shared. The usual nightlight that he used snuffed completely out, yet the curtains remained open bathing the room in the ethereal glow of the moonlight. You saw the outline of him tucked under the thin duvet, with the exception of a leg hanging out from the heat. His briefs had risen up a little in his sleep, revealing even more of his thick thigh to you. That thigh you always loved to bite and mark and ride. Heat pooled between your legs as you imagined all the things you wanted to do - what you could do…

Mary had this fantasy, this idea that came to his mind sometimes when he was alone. He emphasised to you that in real life, he never wanted it to happen, but sometimes when he was completely alone with his hand wrapped around his cock, he fantasised about the idea of a crazy fan walking into his room and doing what they wanted to him. Especially now that he had you, this wasn’t much of a fantasy anymore - not something he had thought about for a while at least. And he knew that if a real fan broke in, he’d be terrified. But the idea of it kept haunting you. You were a fan of his band and him when you met and you still are. But you were his girlfriend now. You could do what you wanted and he’d be fine with it.

That was how you were justifying it to yourself as you were gently pulling back the covers, revealing his near-naked body to you. That was how your mind had come to accept it as you ran your hand over his clothed dick. You convinced yourself that this was okay to do when you pulled down the waistband of his underwear and took his flaccid cock into your mouth, softly sucking on it to get him hard enough to enact your spontaneous plan.

His cock always felt good to have in your mouth. You adored the weight of him. When he was awake, you’d ask him to fuck your throat because the noises he made were delectable. Tonight, however, his sleeping mind had begun to take notice of the fact that something was happening, and small whimpers left his mouth as the blood started to rush south. Your cunt by now was soaked in anticipation, buzzing with the idea that he was yours to play with as you pleased and right now there was nothing or no one that could stop you. It took everything you had not to reach down and play with your clit. You wanted to cum around his cock - you needed to. His hips would move forward every now and then, his brain finally registering the pleasure he was feeling and getting his body to move accordingly. This was how you knew he was ready for you.

Removing every item of your own clothing, you carefully climbed onto his hips and lined him up to your entrance, your wetness coating the head of his cock as you began to sink down all the way to the hilt. Your other hand covered your mouth so as not to wake him with your moans. The stretch was divine as it usually was - except more so given that you’d not prepped yourself. Usually his thick rough, fingers would stretch you open for his impressive size, but this time there was none of that. Just his cock filling you up so much you could burst. You stayed still for a second, allowing yourself to adjust to his size while also making sure you didn’t move too much and wake him up. And so once you were in the clear, you leaned forward and began moving your hips up and down his shaft.

It didn’t matter the position when it came to fucking Mary, he always hit the right spots inside you - and now you knew he could even do it in his sleep.

You looked down at him, still unconscious and oblivious to his girlfriend bouncing on his cock at three o’clock in the morning. He had no idea that it was your cunt that was making him feel so good. He was yours to touch, yours to play with. As your hips moved, you bent down and took one of his sensitive nipples in your mouth, your tongue licking and swirling around the bud. This would usually warrant an involuntary grunt from him, but tonight all you got was a shaky exhale. Even in his sleep, he was noisy and needy. Never usually this pliant for you though.

However, while you were bent over him and lowered yourself down, he hit the back of your pussy causing you to cry out in pleasure. You sat up quickly, just in time to catch his eyes open - filled with such a fear you’ve never seen from him before. The sadist in you that you didn’t know was there suddenly came alive, feeding off the horror he was feeling and making you bounce on him harder.

His movements were sluggish but he immediately tried to fight you. He used his hips to try and buck you off him, his hands came up to your head to try and hit you. He struggled so much but each movement to no avail, especially since his brain and his body was still wracked with sleep. You pinned his wrists down to the bed, and moved your mouth to his ear. “Be good and this will be enjoyable for you.” You told him.

Upon hearing your voice and clearly recognising you, he did as he was told a particular slam of your cunt onto him dragging out a loud moan from his throat. Somehow, he picked up what you were doing and began to play along. He knew the safe word, he’d say it if he needed to. “Why are you d-doing this?” He asked through whimpers, losing his mind over the feel of your tongue on his neck.

“Because I love you, Mary,” you told him. You sat up and placed both of your hands on his chest to brace yourself and let yourself bounce even more roughly on him. “I’m your biggest fan.” His hands moved to your hips and gripped tightly.

“Fuck - please, you have to stop. I have a girlfriend. Th-this is wrong.”

You stopped bouncing and ground your hips down onto him, your clit rubbing against his underwear. “Clearly your girlfriend doesn’t take care of you like she should. You don’t want me to stop, do you? Your cock is so hard for me.”

“It’s not, please stop.”

“You want this, don’t you?”

He groaned loudly when you bounced again. “Fuck! No!” His feet planted into the bed and helped him lift his hips to meet yours.

You moved your hands to his throat and began restricting it. “I’ve been to all your shows, Mary. I know all the lyrics to your songs.” You let out a damn near pornographic moan at his cock hitting you again. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. For years I’ve loved you. Spent so many hours trying to get your attention, just trying to love you. Why won’t you let me love you now, hm?”

You released him and he gasped for air. “Please stop. Please stop.” He moved his hands from your hips and tried to push at your shoulders, half-heartedly fighting to get you off him again. Without warning, your own hand came down hard across his face, the sound of it filling the air over his moans and your sopping cunt.

“I told you to behave!” Your hand came round his throat again. “I didn’t want to hurt you but you gave me no choice. So beautiful,” you mutter. “Always so stunning, even when you’re dolled up in makeup and stained with blood. When you’re wearing those tight jeans —fuck!” His cock was getting further and deeper inside of you as you groaned and scratched your nails over Mary’s throat and down his chest.

“I don’t want this!”

You ground down onto him, taunting him, “Your mouth says that you don’t, but your body is telling me otherwise,” you kept playing with Mary’s nipples. “You can’t lie to me, darling boy. You fucking love this. Having your cock this deeply buried inside of me feels amazing, doesn’t it? When was the last time you got fucked like this? When was the last time someone worshipped you the way you deserve?”

Mary’s hands moved back to your hips and he moaned your name. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum. Holy shit!”

“Cum inside me, Mary. Let me feel you.”

With you seated on top of him, he pulled you impossibly further onto his cock and rammed himself inside you a final time, his cum spurting out and onto your waiting walls. Strings of expletives fell from his mouth and his eyes were tightly shut. The feeling of him emptying his balls inside of you almost made you cum with him, but all stimulation had stopped. Though he was breathing heavily, you weren’t done with him.

You pulled yourself off him, Mary wincing at the severity of the move, and climbed up to his shoulders. “It’s my turn now, make me cum.”

You hovered over his mouth and lowered yourself down. As his tongue buried itself into you, his hands moved over your thighs and pinned you to him. He lapped at your entrance, using your wetness and his cum combined to wet your clit. It didn’t take long before you were cumming on his face.

Clambering off him, you watched him swallow his spend, some of it spilling out the corners of his mouth for you to lick up. You lay next to him and pulled him towards you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going to do that.”

He raised his head and peppered you with desperate kisses. “That was the hottest thing you’ve done in a long time, baby. Thank you.” His eyes darkened. “Although,” he sat up and pushed your thighs apart, sitting himself between them. He pulled you down closer to him by your hips, an evil smile on his lips, “don’t think I won’t pay you back for that, you little bitch.”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

#mel writes #the band ghost #ghost #repugnant #ghost bc #ghost band #mary goore fanfiction #mary goore smut #mary goore x reader #mary goore x reader smut #mary goore #kinktober 2023 #ghost kinktober

[ramblingoak]

The Repugnant

Chapter One: Little Starfish

Your father always warned you that you were too curious for your own good. After hearing rumors of the pirate ship The Repugnant in the area you snuck out of your father's villa to try and get a peek at the dreaded pirate and his crew of monsters. But what happens when Captain Mary Goore gets a peek of you first?

Mary Goore x Female Reader

Warnings: vampire!pirate!Mary Goore, vampire shenanigans, horror, violence, no one is dead but they're not exactly alive either...this will make sense later, some suggestive moments but nothing too spicy yet, Copia, Terzo and the ghouls will be showing up soon too, nsfw 18+ mdni, 1,800 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the banner and the collage and thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

“Don’t leave the house at night.”

That was the one rule your father had always insisted you abide by.  Of course there were plenty of others, especially as you had gotten older and more rebellious.  But staying inside of the safety of your family’s villa when night fell was always the most important rule and it was the one you had always obeyed.  ‘Strange creatures run amok in the night Miss’ was what your nanny would whisper to you while tucking you into bed each night, ‘Best to stay indoors and let the guards handle things’.

In retrospect you probably should have listened to her.

You tried to stick to the shadows around your home as much as possible while you crept along the perimeter.  The guards always stuck to the same routes and after years of watching them from your bedroom window you knew exactly when and where they’d be.  But tonight the moon was full and bright leaving very few places to hide.  You could not get caught, not when tonight was the best chance you had to see a man you had dreamed about since you were a child.

Pirates were common in the waters around the island you called home.  Occasionally they’d come into port and enjoy the various taverns close to the docks.  The island was a popular spot to restock ships for both merchants, soldiers and pirates alike.  For the most part everyone kept to themselves and rarely did any fights occur.  The silent agreement the groups had with each other made it easier for you to go into town and hear all sorts of stories of life on the sea.

One story in particular had always been your favorite though, a story of a man so dangerous that even the most skilled pirate crew hardly dared say their name.  For years you thought it to be a tall tale, a story that just became more and more fantastical as it was told.  The descriptions of the ship itself, The Repugnant, made it seem like some sort of vessel that came straight from hell.  Black wood, black sails and it was always surrounded by a deadly mist, it sailed the sea without rival.  But it was The Repugnant’s crew that people feared the most.

They weren’t men or women, but monsters.  Creatures that even the darkest imagination couldn’t conjure.  The rumor was that they were all cursed, that years ago they had crossed paths with a warlock and been doomed to roam the seas for an eternity, undead and wicked.  Everyone had different ideas as to what the crew had been turned into.  You’d heard everything from ghosts to zombies to sirens and then monsters you had never even heard of before.  The only one of the crew that everyone could agree on was the captain.

It was said that Captain Mary Goore was a vampire.

Even the word ‘vampire’ sent a shiver down your spine.  As a child it scared you to think of someone drinking your blood, of draining you dry and leaving you for dead.  However as you grew older it seemed to stir something else in you.  Your nanny was always one to stoke your imagination and had often snuck you books about creatures of the night.  You would pore over them while you were supposed to be asleep, reading over and over again about their lore.

When you’d finally fall asleep it was always to dream about a dark clad figure meeting you in the dark.  Their cold hands caressing you in ways no one else had before.  Dark promises whispered into your skin that would stoke all sorts of desires within you.  More than once you had woken up from such a dream with a gasp on your lips and sweat cooling on your skin.  And more and more it wasn’t just a gasp on your lips but a name…

All of this led you to where you were now, rushing through the woods that separated your home from the town near the sea.  You had put on your plainest dress to hopefully blend in a little more.  All you wanted was a peek, just one glance of the man that had been in your dreams for years now.  You wanted to see the shock of dark hair on his head, you wanted to see the bright red of his eyes…you wanted to see Captain Goore in the flesh.

As soon as you had overheard the guards talk about a sighting of The Repugnant it had been all you had thought about.  Each night since you had stayed up for hours watching the water for any sign of the ship.  It was tonight, after most everyone in the house had gone to bed, that you had seen the mist in the distance.  Watched as it grew thicker and closer.  When the moon had broken away from the clouds briefly there was no mistaking what was sailing towards the docks.

Your feet stumbled as you hit the cobblestones that led into town.  The mist had drifted along the paths from the water and for the first time you felt a little thrill of fear go through you.  It was getting harder and harder to see where you were going.  Despite growing up here and knowing the town like the back of your hand the mist was confusing you.  At first you thought you were hearing other townsfolk talking as they wandered around you but the whispers were becoming darker and rougher.

They were becoming far less human sounding.

You ducked into the alley by the Moon Bay Tavern, leaning against the wall to try and collect yourself.  The realization of the situation you were in was starting to dawn on you.  All you could see in your mind was your father’s face as he called you a ‘foolish girl’.  He had been lamenting more and more that your head was too far into the clouds and you would soon need to come back down to earth.  You had ignored him like usual but over the last month even your nanny was saying the same sort of thing.

Your clothes were becoming finer, your posture was being corrected and even your hobbies were being commented on.  It was like they were trying to mold you into a completely different person.  Someone that you had no desire to be.  The same night you had overheard the guards mention The Repugnant being seen was also the same night your father had stated he would need to find you a husband soon.  The idea of being handed off to someone like you were a piece of furniture was revolting and you wanted no part of it.

So it was with all those thoughts swirling in your head that you had begun to cling to the idea of Mary more and more.  It was just a fantasy and now that you were down here surrounded by who knows what, the stupidity of your plan was apparent.  You pushed away from the wall with a groan and turned back towards the way you came.

A foolish girl indeed.

“Hey little starfish, what are you doing out so late?”

It seemed like your blood had instantly turned to ice water from the voice drifting up from behind you.  The sounds of boots on the cobblestones grew closer, far too close but you couldn’t seem to convince your limbs to move.  You were frozen in place because deep down you knew who the voice belonged to.  Gathering all the courage you could muster you turned and found yourself face to face with the man you had dreamed of meeting but now dreaded to see.

They were dressed mostly in black save for a red sash around their waist that had various weapons hanging from it.  A large three point hat was perched on their head and it cast a shadow over their face.  It did nothing to obscure those eyes though, two piercing red eyes stared right at you like they could see straight into your soul.  Above you the moon finally was able to peek through the clouds and a blue swath of light hit the man, no the vampire, in front of you.

They were far more handsome than you had ever dreamed of.

“Cat got your tongue?”  They grinned at you widely, showing off their fangs.  “Come on now, you gotta say something.”

“I’m uh…I’m…”  You shook your head, taking a deep breath and trying to calm your breathing.  “I’m just leaving.  From work.”

“Oh yeah?”  Mary took a few steps closer, their eyes roaming up and down your body.  “And where is that?”

“Um, the t-tavern.”  You pointed a finger to the building, wincing at how badly your hand was shaking.  “But my shift is over so I’ll be heading home now.”

You had barely managed to turn away before Mary’s hand was on your arm.  The coldness of their skin quickly seeped through the fabric of your dress and you gasped, trying to tug your arm away without success.

“Now, now.  What’s the rush?”  Mary tugged you to the side and started backing you up against the wall, barely leaving any room between you.  “You know starfish, it’s kinda funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“I’ve been in there for a bit, looking for something good to eat.  But I didn’t see you at all.  Wonder why that is?”

“I work in the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?  A pretty thing like you?”  Mary clicked their tongue while shaking their head.  “No, no you’d definitely be out in the tavern serving drinks.”

“Well you’re wrong.”  You took a quick breath and held your head up high, finding the tiniest bit of courage to meet those red eyes.  “Now let me go.”

Mary’s eyes seemed to darken a bit and you had to look away.  Slowly you could feel them leaning in closer and closer until their nose touched your jawline.  You couldn’t hold in your gasp when they ran it along your skin, inhaling deeply as they did so.  When they were done they stayed close, moving their lips to rest against your ear.

“Doesn’t smell like you work in the kitchen.  In fact it smells like you don’t belong here at all.”  He laughed when you tried to pull away, not letting you move even an inch.  “To me it smells like you belong on that hill above town.  In a house your daddy built.”

“Let me go!”

Mary growled when you tried to pull away again and the sound seemed to reverberate through your body.  With a snarl they shoved you roughly back against the wall, your head hitting the stone painfully.  

“Sorry little starfish, I won’t be letting you go.  Remember when I said I was looking for something good to eat?”  Mary reached up to grab their hat, tossing it down on the ground.  Their black hair fell across their face and they quickly brushed it away all while smiling down at you. Your eyes fell to those fangs and you were unable to look away.  “I think I found it.”

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#my fics #my writing #mary goore x female reader #mary goore fanfiction #mary goore #mary goore x reader #reader insert

[kissingghouls]

Question Marks (Mary Goore x Reader)

Summary: A night out with Mary has you wondering some things, but Mary presents you with an offer you can't turn down. (3200 words)

(continuing from: Part One - Winter Chill, Part Two - The Date, but can be read on its own. choose your own adventure 💜)

Tags: Fluff, Kissing, the return of the feral cats, marshmallows, blanket forts, he/they Mary

The bar is loud and completely overflowing with people. They spill out in all directions—some to the street, some to the patio, and some are taking refuge nearby, crowding the tiny hallway by the stage. You’re hardly surprised by the sight—there wasn’t much to do in this town and even fewer places to do it in. But you can’t hear your own thoughts, let alone what anyone else is saying and your back hurts from standing so long. The clock keeps ticking later and later while other people get to demand your date’s attention.

At least, you think this is a date. You’re not quite sure and neither of you said it out loud, but the way Mary’s barely left your side all night seems to at least imply that it is. And that’s where it starts to get complicated in your head. Is this your third date? Or just the second? Does making out by the river even count as a date? And if it wasn’t a date then what the hell was it?

It doesn’t really matter, but you know people will start asking soon. They’ll all start trying to make the two of you define whatever this is with strict labels and someone else’s rules. All you really want is for this thing to keep going. Everything is easy with Mary, at least when no one else is involved, and you like that. You like that you haven’t had to think about things or second guess your every move while worrying if he even likes you. You’re not sure Mary could even pretend not to like you.

Some guy, Chris or something, has been occupying Mary’s time for a good five minutes. It’s all band guy talk you don’t have the energy to follow, a conversation you’d barely have anything to contribute to even if you weren’t so fucking tired. Mary squeezes your hand as he talks and you’re not quite sure if it’s a silent apology or a cry for help. You really don’t mind that they’ve been the life of the party the entire night, but having Mary to yourself and making out in a dark corner is slightly more appealing than anything anyone else could possibly want to talk about. 

He leaves you with a soft touch and a cheeky grin, a sure sign that they’ll be right back. You don’t need the reassurance, but sometimes Mary’s just so unpredictably sweet and you’re not going to do a damn thing to discourage that. You watch them for a moment, smiling to yourself as they move through the alley behind the bar. Outside it’s all obscenities and playful insults exchanged between various groups, borrowed lighters and “did you hear that album?” There’s a shuffle underneath, a running current moving like ants on a hill as various dudes squeeze bodies and gear between a tank of a van and a door that’s more rust than anything.

You lean against the wall doing your best to keep out of the way. Your head rests against old flyers and graffiti as you let your attention drift from a certain metalhead to nothing at all. The bar smells of smoke and cheap beer, both scents reaching from different directions to converge directly under your nose. It should probably be gross, but it’s mostly just familiar in a comforting way. A sense memory of nights exactly like this. Nights with Mary.

Your eyes find them again, slowly tracing the silhouette of their frame in the alley. The cigarette between their lips wavers slightly as they smile at you, the bright orange ember bobbing up and down. It’s ridiculous the way fondness washes over you. Mary’s not even doing anything and you’re fucking swooning.

You’re aware of all of it, aware of the implications and possible declarations your presence presents. The simple act of standing where you are is enough to suggest something is going on between the two of you. Something that is made even more obvious with each touch or grin Mary gives you. There’s a feeling in your stomach, the proverbial butterflies have been replaced by what feels like drunk bees. It only intensifies when Mary lands in front of you, unable to stay away any longer. Smoke and cold hang around their jacket, another sensation that is decidedly Mary Goore. But the way they lean over you with one hand on the wall and the other tilting your face up to match the angle makes your brain stop completely. Their lips are cold, but the kiss is so heated you find yourself gripping their jacket and holding on for dear life. It’s tongues and teeth, messy with the sweetness of the cherry cola the two of you split earlier. Kissing Mary is like a sugar rush, a burst of all those feel-good chemicals flooding your body.

This wasn’t part of the plan of course. You and Mary were still figuring things out, trying to really get to know each other rather than relying on secondhand information and crazy rumors you’d heard over the years. But the trouble with taking things slow was that sometimes when you were meant to be doing other things you still found yourself focused solely on Mary.

The look his gives you as he pulls away suggests he’s struggling with something similar. It’s not curiosity or even attraction really—it’s more like desire disguised as hunger. A predator and prey. The amount of fake blood smeared all over their face easily gives away who is who. You’re so hopelessly caught in their web that the cocky smile he shoots your way is both too much and not enough, but god how you don’t want them to let you escape.

Mary knows they’ve got you right where they want you. Knows they’ve figured out how to make your knees weak, how to weaponize their body against yours. It’s a challenge you’re all too happy to accept even if technically you’re supposed to be moving at a glacial pace. But Mary just shakes his head and grins as he shrugs out of his jacket and carefully transfers his prized possession to your shoulders.

“You ok, sweetheart?” they ask and reach up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I’m good,” you reply with a nod. “Just tired.”

“Aw I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to keep you out so late.”

“No, it’s fine,” you insist. “I’m having fun. It’s just been a long night.”

“You want me to take you home?”

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you drive my car, Goore.”

“Worth a shot,” they reply with a laugh. “What if…you crash at my place? We can have a little sleepover? I’ll build you a blanket fort.”

“Hmm…will there be popcorn?”

He laughs again. “Darlin’, I will get you whatever your little heart desires.” 

“In that case, I desire snacks and this blanket fort. Maybe a little more making out.”

“I think I can do that.”

“You’ve got a deal, Goore.”

He grins and takes your hand, quickly pulling you through a cluster of your friends and his, ignoring anyone who calls out your names. The gossips in this town will have the two of you married by morning, but you couldn’t care less when Mary looks at you the way he does.

It’s a quick stop to pick up way too much junk food, but they refuse to let you pay for any of it. The girl behind the counter is visibly annoyed by the two of you play fighting over the cost of candy, heaving an angry sigh as you swipe Mary’s wallet and take off down the aisle. They catch up to you somewhere near the beer cooler and maybe you let them have this little victory. You’re too content in their arms to try to get away again anyway.

He keeps his arms around you all the way up to his front door, tucking them into the jacket you’re both somehow trying to wear at the same time. You can’t help but laugh as he buries his face in your neck and asks you to unlock the door. It takes half a second to their neighbor to appear and scowl at the two of you before slamming their door to prove a point.

“Gonna get me in trouble, darlin,” Mary groans, but it’s obvious he doesn’t mind at all.

“Better be quiet then.”

He growls low in your ear, holding you a little tighter as he urges you toward the door. It’s warm inside the apartment this time, not that you would complain about sharing a blanket with Mary. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t kind of hoping it would happen again. You doubt they’d turn down the offer.

They reluctantly pull away and excuse themselves, darting through the kitchen to check on the cats outside. As soon as they hear him coming a chorus of desperate meows starts at the back door, a little more pitiful each time. He laughs and greets them, temporarily quieting their tiny screams with replenished bowls of food.

They’re three steps away, but somehow it’s still too far. While they’re carefully patting one of the cats between the ears, you reach over and run your hand through their hair. Mary almost moans, bending backward to look up at you as your nails graze their scalp. Their eyes close as you give their hair a little tug and bend down to kiss them and this time Mary definitely moans.

With Scratch and Sniff fed, Mary’s attention centers back on you. He pulls you down to capture you in a kiss—innocent at first, but neither of you are interested in breaking away so the only thing left to do is escalate until you’re both a little breathless. They grin as you finally separate, kiss-swollen lips now a darker shade of pink and you wonder if you’re wearing the remnants of their black lipstick on your own mouth. As if to answer your question, they reach up and swipe their thumb across your bottom lip. 

“We should go back inside,” he suggests softly.

You nod lazily and let him pull you to your feet, happy to follow him anywhere at this point.

“You wanna borrow something to wear, sleepy darlin’?” he asks as he heads toward his room with your hand in his.

It wasn’t necessary for you to change into Mary’s clothes. Your own t-shirt would have been just fine to sleep in, but once the offer was made how could you do anything but accept? He searches his dresser for something acceptable, looking almost nervous as he hands you a shirt and some boxers.

“They’re clean, don’t worry,” they tease, trying to dodge as you swat at them with their clothes. “The bathroom’s through—”

“I remember.”

“Right. Yeah. Cool.”

It’s an odd tone and you can see the gears turning in their brain, a wave anxiety suddenly working overtime. It’s a side of Mary you haven’t seen before, all that cool confidence stripped away. You’re not sure what’s causing the sudden doubts, but you cup his face and press your lips to his to offer as much comfort as you can without making them explain. They lean into you, body practically melting against yours as they relax completely under your reassurance.

“I’ll be right back,” you add with a grin that rivals theirs.

“Wait,” they say and pull you back in for another quick kiss. “Ok, I’m good now.”

“Try not to miss me too much.”

“Ah, in that case, come back for a second. Maybe two seconds.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you head for the bathroom. Maybe it’s supposed to be weird. Maybe it is weird for Mary, but you try not to think too much about it as you change clothes. You take a moment to admire the softness of the shirt, tracing a hand over the once-black-now-grey cotton and the cracked letters of a logo.  You’d seen Mary in this shirt a hundred times at least. It was clearly one of their favorites and if you were honest, you didn’t hate the way it looked on him. But now those cut off sleeves are on your shoulders and the thing smells like him in the most wonderful way. You like it so much that the thought makes you blush hard, cheeks flaring red-hot until you’re stuck gripping the bathroom counter to calm down.

Once it finally ebbs, you slide back into the bedroom and find them hard at work. The look of determination on their face is so cute you want to cry, but you settle for leaning against the doorframe and watching them create a masterpiece. In the few minutes you’ve been gone they’ve managed to pull together what must be every blanket they’ve ever owned. The bed is almost entirely buried under a mountain of varying colors and textures with all your collective snacks stacked neatly on top. There’s a good three feet of stuff piled up with no real indication on where he intends either of you to sleep. If he’s done this much, he probably has a plan and you’re hardly going to be upset if you’re Mary’s little spoon.

You just can’t believe he was serious about the blanket fort.

He stops as soon as he spots you standing there, jaw hanging open at the sight of you in his shirt. “Fuck,” he breathes before scrambling around the bed to get to you. “Look at you.”

“See something you like, Goore?”

“You have no fucking idea, darlin’. Looks fucking good on you. Fuck.”

“I think you said that already.”

They nod slowly, eyes still tracing over the lines of you. “Yeah, I’m uh, I’m gonna need a minute to wrap my head around this. Might need you to pinch me.”

You shrug and reach out, pinching one of their nipples between your fingers just enough to make him squeal.

“My tits!” Mary howls, cupping their chest dramatically as they dodge your next attempt. “This kind of behavior is prohibited at Fort Goore!”

“Fort Goore?” you ask with a laugh, and he beams so proudly at you that your heart actually hurts from the cuteness of it all.

“This is my opus,” they explain excitedly, gesturing to the mass of soft behind them. “Most comfortable place on the planet. It’s my best work, really.”

“You’re real serious about sleepovers, huh?”

“Well, yeah.” They reply with a shrug. “Kinda want you to stay.”

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head as your face gets warm. “It does look it’s pretty comfortable in there.”

“It’s the pinnacle of comfort, sweetheart. You won’t find anything cozier than Fort Goore.” They lead you toward the little hideout and pull a blanket aside to reveal the inside. “Go on. Check it out.”

You crawl under the tented blankets and follow their shadow as they run around adding a few finishing touches to their castle. As far as you’re concerned it’s already a modern architectural marvel. A system of tacks, pushpins, an entire spool of twine, a chair and a precariously leaning guitar case holds the ceiling up, suspended over the top of Mary’s TV. The interior is a nest of blankets and more pillows than can reasonably fit on the bed, but they’ve built a retaining wall from the sofa cushions to contain them. The whole thing is cute and silly and the amount of thought they’ve put into the construction is nothing short of impressive. You wonder if maybe this was how Mary spent their childhood, creating their own elaborate little worlds out of whatever was available. It wouldn’t surprise you to learn that this wasn’t the first fort—you doubted it would be the last—but this one…this one Mary built for you. It’s the kind of thought that has your chest feeling tight like it so often does near Mary Goore.

A minute later he turns out the light and climbs into the fort beside you. He shoots you another one of those trademark Mary grins, all crooked and toothy in the dim light from the tv. He looks so adorably happy as he tears into the first packet of candy that you can’t look away. He pats around until he finds the remote and hits play on some old black and white monster movie.

“You were so right about snacks. How’d you get so good at this date thing?”

“Ah, so this is a date,” you tease with a grin of your own.

“Wait, is it not?”

“I don’t know. You could be casually building blanket forts for everyone in town.”

“Are you kidding? That would take way too much time. Plus, there aren’t that many people in town I like enough to share a fort with. This is all for you, darlin’.”

“You’re a marshmallow, Goore.”

“Yeah, I might be. Just don’t tell anyone, ok? It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Cross my heart,” you promise and draw an X over your chest. “But, for the record, I like marshmallows.”

“C’mere,” he says with a grin and pulls you close enough to drop a kiss on the top of your head. “I like you too, darlin’.”

“Yeah, you’re kinda terrible at hiding it.”

“Sorry, you just make it so damn easy to like you.”

“Stop,” you whine and hide your face against their shoulder.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“Mary?”

“Hmm?” he hums in response.

“Kiss me.”

“Happily.”

He claims your mouth with his—a sweet, gentile kiss until he gets his hands in your hair. Your lips part and the two of you are sinking down into the bed as your tongues and legs tangle together. It’s a little hurried, a little clumsy, all wandering hands and the softest sounds while the pile of snacks and pillows inevitably ends up on the floor. You’re too warm—dizzy and a little drunk on Mary Goore, but you don’t want to let them go. You don’t want to stop; don’t want to think about anything other than the way he bites your lip and that self-satisfied chuckle rumbling in his throat when you gasp into his mouth.

Neither of you hear the front door slam. It’s the “what the fuck, Mare?” screamed from the other room that finally breaks you apart. Seconds later someone you assume is Mary’s roommate is pounding on the door shrieking about the missing blankets and the state of the sofa. You slap both hands over your mouth to keep from laughing while Mary rolls their eyes and makes faces as their roommate continues to yell.

“Ooh, I think you’re in trouble, Goore,” you tease in a whisper.

“Ugh. That prick has ruined two of our dates now,” he groans, shaking his head.

“I don’t think either of them were ruined, but…” You trail off and bite your lip. “Maybe next time we can go to my place?”

“Next time, huh?” he repeats with a grin. “You got a little crush on me, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I might,” you admit. “Can’t help it. You just make it so damn easy to like you.”

Mary shakes his head and pulls you closer, letting his eyes close as he holds you. It doesn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep after that, curled up together under a canopy of his roommate’s stolen bedsheets.

-x-

thank you all so much for reading and commenting on the last two parts. 💜 should I do a tag list for these?

more stuff by me // what does Mary Goore smell like? // ko-fi tip jar

#my fics #my writing #more Goore '24 #mary goore #mary goore fanfiction #mary goore fic #mary goore x reader #x reader #reader insert #repugnant fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction

[ghuleh-recs]

every day this month I'm going to recommend a different spooky ghost fic! today's rec is:

It Takes Guts - @gasolineghuleh 1.9k, E

Carving a pumpkin with Mary Goore!

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, leave kudos and/or comments!

(browse the other rectober posts here.)

#this is not nearly as wholesome as it sounds #rectober 2023 #mary goore fanfiction #repugnant fanfiction #mary goore x reader #reader insert #mary goore #repugnant #fic rec!!

[ghostchems]

baptized in blood - mary goore x f!reader

a/n: here is the surprised! based on a dream i had. culty end of the world vibes here. there is smut and violence and drama and mary bein a little bit bloody because that's who they are. dipping my toe into goore-land. about 3.6k words. ao3 link!

You will never forget the day Mary Goore rolled into town. It was two months to the day that the virus spread and the world went to shit. You were taking a walk down Main Street to get some fresh air after spending most of the morning collecting eggs from the hen house. Everyone in town did their part on the farm — it was how they had lasted this long with enough food to go around. The air was cool and brisk but the sun was shining, warming your skin as you walked leisurely. You weren’t thinking of anything in particular when your eyes settled on his figure in the distance.

The first thing you saw was the blood. His face was covered in it, starting from the top of his head and running down past his chin and neck. Messy black hair spilled into his forehead. Despite what initially appeared to be a wound, he was walking with such purpose and power. His outfit looked just as unkempt as his appearance: muddy black boots, ripped black skinny jeans and a stained T-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He looked like he was on a mission. They walked down the center of the street while you were off on the sidewalk, your eyes glued to him.

You were the only two on the street that day at that moment. Deep, green eyes flitted to bite into yours, almost as if he was looking inside you. His lips curled into a sinister smirk before his eyes wandered your figure. You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him go on by. He was heading for Town Hall which was the largest building at the end of the street and also was where the mayor and his wife had taken up residence since the surge. 

News spread quickly over the next few days that Mary had taken control of the town. No other details were provided but rumors ran wild. One of them was that he was the mayor’s disgraced son who returned for his revenge. Another was that he was sent by the devil himself to spread uncertainty and chaos in these hellish times. Pretty typical of gossip and rumors spread in a small southern town. You didn’t believe either of the rumors to be true but you still managed to keep your distance from him and the more wild behavior he inspired.

That was your typical strategy when it came to survival. You were a transplant from the north, having moved here to become a representative for Farm Aid, so you already felt like an outsider to the small town. Then, everything went to shit but you did your best to contribute just the same as everyone else but you did keep your distance. You cleaned the coop, picked produce and helped milk the cows, literally anything that you could contribute to you did but you always went back to your studio apartment above the pharmacy. 

You drew the line at participating in the new activities that have become popular since Mary’s arrival, besides at least showing your face at them. The town now had ritualistic burnings for those that passed, piling their bodies up and burning them in a field far enough away from the crops. More and more townspeople began to don the skull paint as well but none dared to replicate Mary’s signature blood spilling from his head down his neck. Bones started to appear along Main Street, sometimes configured in curious arrangements. You were curious but you decided it would be in your best interest to ignore and continue on with your usual tasks. 

Mary started to watch you, though. He seemed to always be around when you were working and you could feel those dark green eyes on you at all times. He made you feel on edge and you refused to meet his eyes. You managed to avoid him for some time until there was a mandatory town “get together” to help smooth over the tensions that were rising due to the new leadership. You stayed as long as you possibly had to before slipping out the back of the cafeteria during a spirited discussion about planning for the upcoming dry season.

“Walk ya home?” His voice caught you by surprise. You thought you were home free but there he was, muddy boots and all. That night he had the signature blood from his forehead down to his neck but he also paired it with corpse paint. You blinked at him a few times, having never been this close to him before.

“Sure.” You couldn’t tell him no, being the man who decided who eats and who doesn’t and all but you were anxious. It was a short walk from the cafeteria to your studio, basically straight down the street until reaching the pharmacy. The two of you walked in silence with the street being illuminated by gas lights lined along it and the dim light of the moon. Your eyes darted around the street, realizing that once again, it was just the two of you like it had been the day he arrived. 

“You’re a hard worker, y’know?” His gravelly voice cut through your thoughts again. When you turn to look at him, his eyes look softer than you’ve ever seen them before. 

“I try.” You offered a sheepish smile. “Not much else to do these days, is there?” 

“Mmm, yeah, but you could’ve just given up. Loads of people have. Just decided to curl up and die.” Mary leaned his arm against yours, brushing against the sleeve of your sweater. You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. 

“I mean, I definitely stayed inside in bed for the first couple of weeks of this thing.” You shifted your gaze back to the street in front of you. “But then it didn’t go away.” 

Your words hung in the air for the rest of the walk. Mary was silent but stayed close to you, his side pressed against yours. Your feet came to a slow stop as you reached the door to the stairs that led up to your studio. 

“This is me.” You turn around to face them, your arms crossed over your chest. Mary’s eyes drifted over your figure and he took a step closer to you. You instinctively took a step away from him, your back hitting the door. 

“You’re like me, y’know.” Their voice dropped deeper as he closed in on you further. “You’re an outsider to these people, baby.  You’re not about their bullshit.” He leaned in so close to you, his hands resting on the door beside your body. You knew he was right. You knew the second he saw you on the street that day he knew. You swallowed thickly, your gaze falling to his plump lips that were curled into a grin. This is why you stayed away from him. You were afraid of being seen as what you are but he saw you. And now, you were trapped by him.

Mary leaned in, their lips coming incredibly close to yours before he tilted his head to just miss giving you a kiss. Instead, his mouth found your neck, nibbling and kissing it sloppily as his arms curled around you. You gave a surprised groan, your hands immediately snapping up to grasp at his shirt. His kisses trailed up from your neck to your jaw before he settled just by your lips. Again, you stared into those deep, green eyes and you knew that he saw you for what you really were. 

A growl ripped from his throat as your lips connected and his hand snaked up from your hip to tangle into your hair. The kiss was desperate and deep, all tongue and teeth. You could taste the saltiness of the blood on his lips as his tongue pushed into your mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this fire inside you, the burning desire that only continued to spread between your legs. The kiss ended abruptly, the both of you panting and pressing against each other needily, until you came to your senses.

You spun around and pulled the door to the stairs open before booking it to your apartment. Mary was close behind you, his boney fingers hooked on to the back of your jeans. You fiddled with your keys as you reached the door to your apartment, your hands shaking from the excitement. They are right behind you, his chest pressing firmly into your back and his crotch rutting into your ass. You couldn’t help but whine, feeling how hard he already was through his jeans.

The door finally popped open and before you had time to react, he grabbed you by the waist and scooped you up only to toss you onto your bed. He had you pinned so quickly, his hips desperately grinding into you. 

“Fuck!” You cried out as their hands worked to tear your sweater off of you. Once it was off, his lips parted and he growled deeply, looking down at your exposed chest. His arms curled around your back and he lifted you up to him, his mouth connecting with your collarbone. He was like a wild animal, his teeth biting and sucking at your delicate skin. Heat spread beneath it and your head fell back on your shoulders as he dipped down lower to flick his tongue against your nipple.

They latched their mouth onto your breast, his tongue licking across the nipple as his other hand groped at the other. Your mouth hung open and a deep moan bubbled up from your chest, your fingers tangling in his hair and pushing him even further into your chest. He grunted against you, happily burying his face between your breasts upon your direction. 

“You are so fuckin’ beautiful, sugar.” Mary praised as he lifted his head from your chest, his eyelids heavy and the blood and paint on his face smudged. He looked completely wrecked and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. You tugged him further on top of you and grabbed at his studded belt. They took the hint and started to pull your pants and underwear down your legs. He whined at the sight of you and he swiped his finger along your drench cunt, then bringing it up to his lips to taste you. “Fuckin’ hell, you taste so good.” 

All you could offer was an exasperated whine, his belt proving to be a bit too complicated for how impatient you were. The way he smiled at you – you’ll never forget it, somehow being equal parts sweet and slimy. He somehow freed himself with ease, his pretty cock falling from his jeans, precum already collecting at the tip. Mary spat on the head of his cock then stroked himself to spread his spit. You wrapped your legs around him as you watched him touch himself, almost succumbing to reaching between the two of you and offering yourself some relief before he shoved you back onto the bed, his cock pressed against your entrance.

Your breath caught in your throat as he hovered above you, your cheeks flushed and your eyes wide. He pushed in carefully, stretching you wide and feeling how he deliciously filled you. They held themselves there for a moment before he fucked into you relentlessly, his thrusts deep and hungry. You pulled him down even further, forcing his forehead against yours so you could watch him. He bit down hard on his lip, hard enough to draw blood as his throat filled with husky growls. 

You were so far gone. He fucked you hard and fast, exactly how you liked it. You felt your muscles tense and the fire in your abdomen was getting so close to bursting. Mary’s own moans filled your ears along with the sound of smacking flesh. You needed this. You didn’t realize how badly you did. But he knew. The feeling overtook you, your walls fluttering around his cock as your gut tightened and your back arched. You screamed his name in a shattered breath.

You were almost embarrassed by how quickly you came if not for Mary being right behind you. Maybe it had been sometime for him as well. His nails dug into your hips as his thrusts became more stuttered and erratic, his wild eyes boring into yours. Groans caught in his throat and he quickly pulled out, his hand working to take him all the way. He emptied himself on your stomach with raspy gasps.

You looked at him with hazy eyes, your body limp on the bed as you watched him pull his pants back up. His expression was positively devious and the paint and blood on his face were smeared all across his lips. 

“See ya around, sweetheart.” He offered you a wink and then sauntered out of your studio apartment, leaving you there with his seed on your stomach. 

That was the start of it.

Now, the two of you cannot get enough of each other. He is always there, watching you clean the coops and work on the farm but now his very presence makes your cheeks burn and your thighs ache. You are sneaky about your rendezvous, not wanting to cause unnecessary gossip or issues arise among the townspeople. There is a storm shelter entrance to the basement of town hall, which is where Mary has set up shop as him and is also where you enter to see him, avoiding coming in the front and running the risk of being seen. And you can’t help but enjoy the secrecy – it makes it all the more exciting.

You are sure that he loves you. The way his face lights up when he sees you, the way he can’t keep his hands off of you… he has to keep you close whenever you are near. You originally weren’t sure a man like him was capable of love but it is clear to you now. 

You think you might love him too.

Today, you are in his lap and his cock is buried deep inside you, seed spilling out from you and onto his bed. He lazily strokes at your clit with his pointer finger, up and down as your head falls to his shoulder and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“So good for me, huh, baby?” Mary purrs into your ear and nips at your earlobe playfully. “One of these days I’m going to put a baby in ya, I think.” He licks at the spot just below your ear and you give a shuddered whine. Doesn’t he have such a way with words? “One more time for daddy.” They hum and start to rub at your clit more roughly than before. 

Your back arches against his chest and your fingers dig into his hairy things while strangled moans spilled from your lips. He uses one of his hands to push your legs open even further and his other hand works diligently against your swollen clit, tracing harsh circles along it.

“Atta girl.” They coo in your ear. You can tell he is smiling from how his mouth feels on you, his own heavy breaths filling yours. “So perfect for daddy.” He presses down on your clit and you scream out his name, your vision blurring and your body convulsing. Mary murmurs more soft praises in your ear as your chest heaves and you collapse against him. They have you snuggled up in their arms, their face nuzzled in your neck. 

There is a loud noise from upstairs that knocks you both from your blissed out haze. You spin your head to catch a glimpse of Mary who is already slipping out from you and throwing his jeans on. You start to collect your clothes from the bed and the floor, your throat starting to become dry from the increasing noise coming from just above you. Mary is already angrily running up the stairs while you manage to get your clothes on.

There’s yelling and more clattering and then a scream. You can’t stop yourself from shooting to your feet and scurrying up the stairs. You stop short of the door, knowing that if you step through the jig could be up. Another scream rings out and you push the door open, stumbling out into the assembly room. 

Mary is standing over Bubba, the town drunk. How he has been able to find booze during these times, no one knows, but he manages to stay slippery all day every day. He is on the ground giggling like an idiot. Mary seems exasperated. Bubba slowly realizes that you are there and he explodes into more laughter.

“O’course you’d be all about them weird girls, wouldn’t ya, Mary?” He manages between laughter. “Gotta use ‘em for somethin, right?”

You feel rage you haven’t quite felt in a long time but it is quickly quelled once Mary lands a harsh kick to Bubba’s head. He looks to you, his eyebrows knit together but his teeth are barred and his lips are stretched into an angry scowl. You don’t want to be around for whatever is going to happen next so you turn on your heel and leave just as the sounds of beating pick up again. 

You wish that what Bubba had said didn’t affect you but it did. Did everyone think you are just a “weird girl”? You put as much effort into keeping things going and running smoothly as the next person, if not more. It cuts you deep, even if you don’t want to admit it. The walk back to your apartment takes no time at all and you figure that a nice, cold shower and a nap would help soothe your thoughts and feelings. You don’t even put clothes on once you are out of the shower, opting to rest for “just a moment” in your towel before zonking.

You end up napping for longer than you anticipated, only to be woken up by screams coming from outside of your window. Confusion sets in as you blink your eyes open and the smell of smoke fills your nostrils. You shoot up out of bed and gaze out the window, only to see fire. Lots of fire.

The crops. 

You quickly throw a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt on before taking off out of your apartment. The street is filled with people, more so than you’ve ever seen it. Some are wailing, some are silent. Most don’t even notice you as you run by them, heading straight for town hall. You’re sure Mary already knows but you couldn’t stop yourself from running to him. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. Maybe something happened while you were asleep. An uprising? A fight? 

By the time you make it to town hall, you are out of breath. You push the doors open, probably the first time you’ve ever walked in through the main entrance on your own. You gasp sharply as your eyes focus on what is in front of you. A trail of blood covers the floor, leading your gaze to Bubba.

He is crucified on the wall, right on top of a map of the town. Knives are buried deep in his palms and ankles. His head is hung low, his throat slit and blood spilling down his chest. You don’t know how to react. You think you should at least scream but you’re frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from Bubba.

“There ya are, baby!” 

Your head wrenches to the sound of his voice. Mary is covered in blood, more so than usual. His face is completely covered and his hands and arms up to his elbows are stained red. He is twirling a knife in his hand as he walks over to you at a leisurely pace.

“The… the crops.” That's all you can manage to say. You point in the vague direction of them. He is smiling at you, his bright white teeth a deep contrast to the dark red of the blood covering his lips.

“They needed to be punished, darlin’.” He sets the knife down on one of the meeting tables before he reaches you. 

Punished.

“B-but the food supply--”

“You will be fed.” Mary’s voice drops to a dangerous level, his eyes shining with madness you’ve never seen before. “You’re my baby, baby. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. They need to be punished.” A blooded hand reaches out for you and rests on your cheek. “After what they said about you… they are going to learn a lil’ lesson. People will die, sure… but I got you, baby.” His other hand rests on your other cheek and he strokes them with his bloody fingers. 

Mary did this for you. You don’t know what to say; your mind is blank and words are catching in your throat. But you can’t help but… lean into his gentle touch. He is smearing blood all along your cheeks but you don’t mind. The look in his eyes tells you all you need to know.

Unwavering loyalty and love.

You kiss him. You kiss him and you melt into him, throwing your arms around his shoulders. He is your and you are his.

And they will be punished.

#mary goore x reader #mary goore x female reader #mary goore #repugnant #repugnant fanfic #repugnant fanfiction

[fishwithtitz]

As I work on the next chapter of “5 Times I Hooked Up With Mary Goore”, I’m curious about reader perception…

What do you want to see happen between Mary and Dahlia?

𖤐 This could be predictions, scenarios, or just end game!

🔮SUBMIT YOUR THOUGHTS HERE!🔮

I have the story mapped out, but hearing reader perspectives is always a helpful tool as a writer! 👻

#mary goore #mary goore x oc #mary goore x ofc #mary goore fanfic #mary goore fanfiction #mary goore smut #mary goore x oc smut #repugnant #repugnant band #repugnant fanfic #repugnant fanfiction #repugnant band fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #ghost bc fanfic #reader input #send your thoughts #5 times with mary goore #my writing

[gasolineghuleh]

Oh pleeeeease write more Mary stuff!!!

Love the way you write him

The green fairy ist just 🤌🏻

Have some Goore!

“I always get stuck with the fuckin’ short straw, man.” Mary throws his suitcase onto the full sized bed and it springs open, unleashing a week's worth of dirty laundry onto the floor. He groans again, loudly, bending over with an exaggerated motion to pick up the laundry. You can't help a small tinkle of laughter that slips past your lips and you clap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to contain it. Mary whips over to look at you, one finger outstretched. “And you, Miss-I've-never-even-touched-myself-because-I'm-so-godly, can keep your hands to yourself tonight.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” you say with your hands held up, backing away slowly. “My only intention is to sleep. And don’t act like it’s my fuckin’ fault that the hotel has no doubles right now.” Toeing your way out of your shoes and kicking them over to the wall by the television, you and Mary lock eyes. 

The rest of the band, happily sequestered in their own rooms, are oblivious to the quiet love song unfolding between the two of you.

By the time you lay down to go to sleep, both of you feel like static, bodies humming in a way that could only be described as the buzzing of an amplifier cable. You roll onto your side, facing away from him in a demure attempt at vanity. Wearing only a t-shirt and panties to bed is bold, but you didn’t pack any alternatives, expecting to be sleeping alone for the trip. The bed dips behind you as Mary lays down carefully, stretching himself out inch by inch in a blatant attempt to be respectful. 

“Just lay down, Goore. It’s a bed, not a hot tub.”

“Except that I’m gonna be in a hot tub if I fuck up, here.” Mary grumbles some more to himself as he settles down, eventually laying on his back and blowing out a pent up huff of frustration. 

“What.”

“I can’t sleep on my back.” His tone is slightly petulant and you can’t help but giggle a little.

“Then roll over?” you suggest, with an accompanying eye roll.

“I… can’t sleep on my tummy, either.”

“Your tummy?” This time there’s a definite twinge of mockery in your voice. Mary laughs a little at himself and you find your cheeks growing pink— THE Mary Goore, laying next to you and chuckling? It’s enough to affect your own tummy.

“Yeah, my tummy. I can only sleep on my side… on my right side.” 

The room seems to shrink with this admission, the air between you two thick with an unspoken tension. There's an electricity in the atmosphere, like the charged moments before a thunderstorm breaks. Mary's admission, so innocuous and yet so intimate, draws you closer into his orbit, the space in the bed suddenly feeling too vast.

“Well, then,” you say, trying to keep your voice light, “roll onto your right side.” The words hang in the air, a challenge, an invitation.

He hesitates for a moment, his silhouette outlined by the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. Then, slowly, he shifts, turning onto his right side, facing your back. You feel the movement of the mattress, the subtle shift in weight as he settles into a more comfortable position. The moment he stops moving, the room falls silent again, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing.

The silence stretches on, a canvas for the thoughts racing through your mind. You're acutely aware of his presence just inches away, a warmth radiating off him that you can almost feel against your skin. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. Thoughts of his hand landing on your side and skating down to the edge of your panties, pulling them to the side and then-

The bed dips slightly as Mary moves again, and you feel his breath on the nape of your neck. It's a soft, tentative touch, but it sends a jolt of electricity down your spine. You're frozen, caught between the desire to turn around and the fear of what might happen if you do. His body beside yours feels like a live wire, and you’re afraid of making too big of a spark.

“I’m trying not to make this weird,” he mutters, almost to himself. His voice is a low rumble, filled with a restraint that you know is costing him. Mary attempts a laugh but it’s weak, and he readjusts himself on his pillow, trying to settle in and be comfortable.

“You’re not making it weird,” you whisper back, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice. There's a pause, and then you feel him inch closer, the gap between you narrowing until there's barely any space left. His breath is steady, a calming contrast to the rapid beat of your heart. You want to turn around, to face him, but something holds you back—a mixture of fear and anticipation.

“Am I weird now?” he asks quietly as his hand comes to rest on your waist. There’s no agenda there, no pressure. A silent acceptance of an odd situation.

“Never.”

“Mm.. how about now?” Mary leans closer, pressing his slightly chapped lips to the nape of your neck and kissing you softly. “Or now?” His arm slides across your form until it’s tucked against your tummy, pulling you gently into his grasp. “I need to hold something to sleep.” 

“Mm, I see. Am I good body pillow, then?” You intend for it to be a joke, but the sudden heavy breathing behind you and the rasped response further shrink the room.

“Better.” Your heart skips a beat at his words. It's a confession, raw and unguarded. Slowly, you turn, facing him. In the dim light, his eyes are deep pools of emotion, reflecting something you've felt but never dared to acknowledge.

The space between you is now nonexistent, your faces just inches apart. You can see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, a hint of the mischief that first drew you to him. The desire in the room is palpable, a tangible force that wraps around you both.

“Mary,” you start, but the words trail off. What do you say in a moment like this?

He responds not with words, but with action, closing the distance between you. His lips meet yours, gentle at first, then with a growing urgency. The kiss is a storm, a clash of emotions that has been building since the moment you entered the room. It's fear, it's longing, it's the thrill of something forbidden and the comfort of something deeply desired.

Mary’s teeth slip across your lower lip and you gasp, deepening the kiss with one arm slung across his shoulders. He smiles into the kiss, nipping at your lips with a grin before pressing kiss after kiss to your cheeks. When he buries his face in your neck, kissing and nipping as he goes, you hear him say something muffled against your skin.

“What?” you ask, tugging at his hair gently until he comes up for air from the space between your breasts.

“Am I weird now?” 

#fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost bc fanfic #lorraine writes #reader x mary goore #mary goore