#repugnant fanfic

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 23rd

Deepthroating & Facesitting, Mary Goore x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Deepthroating; skull fucking; face sitting; public; exhibitionism; sex in a cemetery; cunnilingus; fingering; fellatio; vaginal sex; piv; unprotected sex; fear play; biting; elements of dubcon but not really dubcon; rough sex; praise kink; degradation kink (you know the drill by now); hair pulling; watersports;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

In the quiet, serene, and solemn embrace of the mist-laden morning, you walked hand in hand with Mary and ventured into the ancient, moss-covered graveyard - a morning tradition that spun the entire length of October. The misty air shrouded the weathered, weather-beaten tombstones, creating an eerie, mystical atmosphere. Tall, gnarled trees with their twisted, skeletal branches cast long, haunting shadows on the hallowed ground below. Your steps echo softly on the cobblestone path, leading you deeper into the melancholic, hauntingly beautiful cemetery.

It was always silent this early in the morning, even the birds were still asleep as your footsteps tracked through the frost-bitten grass and chilly gravel beneath you. Every snap of a twig in the distance had your heart pounding with worry and Mary’s throat to come alive with a chuckle. This was the perfect scene for a horror movie: two lovers exploring a place they shouldn’t be getting picked off individually by a mysterious stranger using the mist as a cloak. Mary would be the first to go; and you’d find him battered and bruised but alive, only to watch him suffer and perish at the hands of a monster.

A crypt sat in one of the corners of the cemetery, proud yet ominous with its intimidating Gothic arched door and stone walls. The glass windows were dirty with decades - if not centuries - of dirt, and the heavy, mahogany door, weather-damaged and rotting, was locked tightly shut by a rusted chain and lock. The crypt once belonged to the town’s founding father, the wealthiest family in the cemetery. For as long as you’d known him, Mary had been desperate to get inside to piss on the richest coffin around but he’d always been unsuccessful. Today, though, he wanted to try again.

You watched him rattle the door, hands wrapped firmly around the rusted handles and tug on it, trying to shift it even a little but to no avail. “I’m gonna go check the back,” he announced, “wait right here.”

“Mary, can’t we just carry on and enjoy the place while we still have it?”

“Babe, if we can get in there, just think of what I could do to you.” He winked and placed a kiss to your forehead. “Stay here. I’ll come back and get you.”

You don’t know why you did as he asked you to. You weren’t scared per se, the silence of the cemetery filled you with nothing but peace and you felt safe in the knowledge that most of the surrounding residents were still tucked up in bed as the sun was beginning to rise. But you were still exceptionally cautious, knowing that it was all the normal people who were in bed. The crazies were up and wandering as you stood there: the drug addicts, the dunkards, the criminals who operated under the shadow of the night were also out and about, making their way home after a night of who-knows-what. Ghosts didn’t scare you. The dead didn’t make you afraid - but the living did.

You tried to peak into the crypt, wiping some of the dirt with your index finger but realising it was pointless when you saw the layer that had swiped off onto your hand. You weren’t even sure what you were trying to see, perhaps you were just looking for something to do. But your concentration turned out to be a detriment to you, and the reason why what happened next occurred.

All you heard were two heavy footsteps thumping quickly on the dead leaves surrounding the crypt before hands came and gripped your body, the force of it causing you to drop your bag to the floor. A weight pushed you further into the stone walls and pinning you against them, one of those hands gripped onto your hip, the other came up to your mouth to silence you. A whimper escaped you, muffled by the cold hand of the person behind you - a whimper of fear, certainly, but there was an element of arousal in it too.

“You looked so delicious standing there alone and scared.” Mary’s voice sounded in your ear, so low it was almost a growl. “You looked so fuckin’ vulnerable. Easy pickings.” He pressed his body further into yours and you could feel his cock, rock solid but restrained in his jeans. “I can’t wait until we get home, baby girl. I’m taking you now whether you like it or not.”

His hand that was on your hip began groping whatever body part it could find. At first, he grasped hold of your ass cheek and firmly held it, but then he moved higher and higher until he was groping your breast, rough with his touches and squeezing you as he pleased. His mouth, now silent, moved closer to your ear and trapped the sensitive appendage between his teeth, nibbling and biting a little harder than usual. He released your mouth from his hand knowing that you wouldn’t let out an unwanted scream, and used that hand to fiddle with your clothes, pulling your skirt up to give him access to your panties. “Thank fuck you’re wearing a skirt today, baby.” He commented as he rutted himself into you, seeking desperate pleasure from your body.

Your panties were quite literally ripped off your hips - the sound of the fabric tearing filling up the surrounding cemetery and making you gasp at the force he’d used. Once you were bare for him, he gripped onto your shoulders, turned you round and pushed you to your knees. His hands came to work at his jeans, undoing them and freeing himself from them. “When you need to tap out, what do you do?”

“Tap you three times.”

“Good fucking girl. Now, open up for me.”

You braced yourself for impact, knowing that the mood he was in meant you were in for a rough but exciting ride; and of course you were right. He fed you his cock, inch by inch, ignoring your gag reflex and any uncomfortabilities you may have had and forced his way down your throat, groaning at the sensation of your tight, wet heat enveloping him. His hand flew to your head, fingers tangling in your hair as his mouth opened and he exhaled slowly, the subsequent intake sounding like a hiss. The first few thrusts were merciful, gentle, kind, tentative, enough to get you used to feeling his sizable length stuffed down your windpipe. But after that he became demonic.

His thrusts were nearly violent with how sharply he moved. His hand held your head as still as it possibly could be, trapping you where you knelt and using your face like his own personal fucktoy. It was his hand doing most of the guiding, pulling your head back and forth by your hair. He tipped his head back and let his mouth fall wide open. “Oh, fuck!” He growled. Every time you gagged around him, he chuckled at you. He found it amusing to hear you struggling to take him every time he shoved himself down your throat, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t commit those sounds to his memory and used them when you weren’t around.

He pulled your head off of him completely and let you catch your breath, laughing a little at you gasping for air and refilling your lungs as much as you could before his second onslaught. You also took this opportunity to fill your mouth with as much saliva as you could, knowing that Mary preferred a sloppier feel. He loved it when you got filthy, when your own spit would drip down your face and hang off your chin like a cheesy porno. You took this opportunity to use your hands and jerk him off a little, but eventually he grew tired and slapped your hand away. You took him back in your mouth and readied yourself for round two.

This time, he gathered all your hair into a ponytail and used that to pull you back and forth, slamming himself down your throat despite the gags and groans you made. Your nose repeatedly hit his well-groomed pubic mound, kept nice and neat for this very purpose. “That’s it.” He praised through gritted teeth. “Take it all down your fucking throat. Such a slut. Letting yourself get face-fucked in the middle of a fuckin’ cemetery. Fucking hell. Your throat is incredible. I don’t do this enough. Shit!” He bit his lip and groaned when you looked up at him, tears in your eyes from the exertion. The doe-eyed look you often gave him drove him insane, his own corruption kink coming to the forefront and losing himself in the thought of soiling something so pristine as you. Of course, you were just as filthy as he was, but you certainly didn’t look it.

“What’s this?” He asked, his eyes now fixated on your hands. While he’d been fucking your throat, you decided that it was too much to bear and dipped your hands under the hem of your skirt giving yourself the sweet relief you’d been craving since he pinned you against the walls of the crypt. “The little whore likes being face-fucked in a cemetery?” He tugged you off his cock and you stopped playing with yourself. “No, keep going! Don’t let me stop you slutting yourself out in public. You want my mouth, baby girl?”

You nodded.

He jerked your head back again by your hair. “Ah, ah. Tell me.”

“Yes! I want your mouth!”

“Aw,” he cooed, “desperate little slut. On your back for me.”

He guided you to lie on your back, and lifted your skirt, staring at your cunt that was now glistening from the slick of your arousal. You could feel the wet, morning dew from the grass seeping through into your clothes as you lay there, but that just turned you on even more to know he had you lying on the cold ground so he could take what he wanted from you. You wanted him just as badly as he wanted you. He stared down his nose at you, a somewhat evil grin on his face. He was about to make you suffer and you were so excited for it.

He moved to your head and lowered himself down so he was hovering above your mouth. “Open wide again, baby.” He told you. When you obeyed, he fed himself into your throat once more, but this time he’d leaned forward and took your cunt into his mouth, too, his cock brutally riding your face and taking his own pleasure from you.

Your hips bucked as much as they could from being pinned down by Mary’s entire weight on top of you as his lips quickly encircled your clit and started sucking as hard as they could. The tip of his tongue moved wildly, working different parts of your clit in different directions while he kept his mouth shut around you. His ministrations were intense and rough as he worked to get you to orgasm as quickly as he could, moving his head in all directions and sucking on your tender bud to keep the onslaught going. He was everywhere all at once - you could feel him everywhere. Mind clouded with nothing but him, scent, sight, taste. even his grunts and groans filled your ears more than the wind rustling the trees in the distance.

He continued in this manner constantly, ruthlessly pushing you ever-closer to the edge. Until his unrelenting motions caused your nails to dig into his bare ass as a warning you were about to cum. And so, reluctantly, he pulled himself out of your throat and continued his ministrations until you were cumming, loudly, around his tongue. Your eyes were screwed tightly shut as you came, teeth digging into your bottom lip to curb some of that volume as you screamed out for him. Your nails continued to grip onto his flesh as the entire world went black for just a brief moment, and eventually, when it was fine for him to do so, he released you from his mouth and climbed off you.

He seemed just as out of breath as you were, but he hadn’t cum yet, and therefore he certainly wasn’t finished with you. “Hands and knees,” he ordered, “ass in the air.”

Your back was hit with a wall of cold air as the damp cloth was exposed to the autumnal morning breeze. You spread yourself out for him, elbows to the ground and ass in the air, ready to receive whatever he would give you next.

He didn’t wait for your cunt to get used to his size; instead, he grabbed your hips and thrust all the way to the end. “Take that fucking cock.”

He started working right away, snapping his hips against yours quickly and hitting your cervix which made you scream every time. “Fuck, Mary!” You yelled.

Mary always felt wonderful inside of you because he was long and slender, stretching you out beautifully. By the time he was finished with you, you were typically a shaking, aching mess on the bed, unable to even think or breathe.

Your ass jiggled more than usual as you arched your back for him once more and moved your hips to meet his thrusts. He let out a string of profanities, each one reminding you of how much of a whore you were to him and how tight your pussy felt around him, how you got tighter every time a branch snapped in the distance or a solitary car drove by. How you got off knowing that someone could catch you getting fucked by your partner in one of the most wildly inappropriate places to ever exist.

He reached forward and grabbed your hair, pulling it once more by the roots to gain leverage and allow himself to bury deep inside of you over and over again.

Your hand reached down to play with your clit once more, fervently rubbing yourself in time with his rough thrusts to try and tip you over the edge.

“Fucking shit, always so tight for me.” He saw your pussy cream accumulating at the base of his cock and let out another growl. You felt so fucking good, and you were getting tighter and tighter by the second. “Baby,” he said, “I know we couldn’t get in there for me to piss on his coffin, but there’s another monument I could.”

You raised your eyebrows, and he didn’t miss the way your hand sped up at the thought. “O-on me?” You asked.

“Can I?”

“Fuck. Mary, do it.”

“Yeah? Move that fucking hand so I can piss on that filthy cunt of yours.”

You did as you were told and shuddered at the feeling of Mary pulling out of you, your hole twitching at the sudden emptiness and screaming for stimulation. You couldn’t see what Mary was doing behind you, but oh fuck did you feel it. It was a slow trickle at first but when the stream built up, and was angled right, it hit your clit perfectly just like the head of your shower did. The constant stream, however short it actually lasted, felt like it went on forever as it continuously hit that perfect spot, making your eyes roll back into your head. It took just a little more time and suddenly you were diving headfirst into another orgasm, the sensitivity of your first and the violent pounding of Mary’s cock beforehand leading you into a powerful second one. Mary’s fingers replaced his piss to finish you off, rubbing roughly to keep you frozen and cumming as hard as possible.

He could barely wait until you’d stopped convulsing, and shoved himself back inside you as soon as he could. “Filthy slut,” he chastised, hands gripping onto your hips as he pushed you flush to the ground and took what he wanted. His left hand was still wet from his piss and your cum, and you could feel it on your skin. “Can’t believe you just came from me pissing on you. What a depraved, cock-hungry little whore - so desperate to cum she’ll let me do anything to her.” Your hands dug into the hallowed soil, gripping tightly to ground you as he got rougher and rougher, slamming against your cervix each time and forcing you to cry out. “I’ll piss in your mouth next time. You want that, hm?”

“Yes! Fucking hell! Mary!” You didn’t care how loud you were, and neither did he.

“Or maybe I’ll piss inside your cunt next time, and punish you if any slips out - oh fuck - c-cumming!”

He let out a deep and gutteral groan as he came inside you, hips stilling to a halt and emptying his balls as deep as he possibly could. All his weight was on you, trapping you between him and the graveyard’s soil. Your own pubic mound resting in the puddle of piss that had formed underneath you both the more he pushed you down and held you still. He thrust tentatively, making sure you took every last drop of him. He let himself fall forward, and kissed your shoulder tenderly as if he hadn’t just beat up your pussy and abused you like a madman.

“Fucking hell that was the hottest thing we’ve ever done.” You said as you both were catching your breaths.

He grunted in agreement, still kissing your clothed shoulder and moving up to nibble and lick at your ear. “We’d better get you in the shower, eh?”

“Check my bag, there should be some tissues in there.”

He pulled out of you, both of you wincing at the loss again, and when he returned, he made sure to gently clean you as best as he could. But he’d make sure he’d clean you up properly when you both took a shower at home.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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[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

[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

[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.”

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[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

[emeritus-fuckers]

What would it be like if Mary Goore and Tom Bones had a one night stand together?

Mary Goore and Tom Bones having a one night stand

They were probably each other's first time when it came to amab people.

They're absolutely hilarious together in the dumbest way because not only are they both bottoms in denial, they're also very... easily excitable, to put it simply.

If you thought leaving Mary and DD in the same room was a recipe for a quick fuck, you've never seen these two. Leave them alone and they're all over each other.

Funnily enough, pretty much right afterwards they go to regular hanging out, as if nothing ever happened.

The others have learned that you can't bother them for about half an hour. Otherwise, you see someone's dick going either up someone's ass or down someone's throat.

Tom definitely checked just how much of his dick Mary can take down their throat. Even marked it with sharpie. He does so every single time they give him a blowjob.

So if you see Mary with a sharpie line on their throat, just know they've recently sucked Tom's dick.

Or with a cut, since they both agreed it feels and looks better.

Of course, there's no patching up or anything. Mary's dead, they can't get an infection or die, so what's the harm in letting them bleed a little?

It's a 50/50 on who's topping.

If it's Mary, there's definitely some cannibalism involved. They'll gladly bite off a piece of Tom's side, for example.

If Tom's on top, there's usually just general roughness involved... and experiments.

They both consider Mary deepthroating Tom's drumsticks, both made of someone's ulna as the best experiment they did.

Or just... well, there's a general usage of bones as sex toys. And there's a big collection of bones always available.

~

Written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @callmeicaro @thecuriouss @thermodynamic-comedian @vampyrolesbos

#ask #anon #repugnant #repugnant band #repugnant fanfic #repugnant band fanfic #mary goore #tom bones #tom bones x mary goore #mary goore x tom bones

[kissingghouls]

SOFT PROMPTS ok ok...how about "you're shivering. here, take my jacket" with Mary x Reader ORRrrrr Secondo x Reader?? I can't decide

beloved anon. you were so right about this 💖✨

Winter Chill - Mary Goore x Reader

no warnings, relatively fluffy, kinda soft Mary, he/they Mary, first kiss, 2300 words

-x-

“He’s a dick,” a familiar voice states behind you. It’s followed by the tell-tale sound of spit hitting the pavement.

You’re not exactly surprised to find the silhouette of Mary Goore appearing like a ghostly apparition in the dim light of the porch. It was in their nature to just show up like that—especially when there was something to be said about your ex—but you were surprised by the lack of singsong taunting in their tone. Mary didn’t usually hold back when it came to voicing their distaste for him.

It’s obvious from their presence that they’d seen the confrontation inside—a fact that makes you feel slightly embarrassed as he shuffles around in the dark. The rotting wood of the aptly named Chaos House creaks under his boots, the thick soles landing with a thunk! thunk! thunk! as he stomps down a few steps and drops next to you. They shoot you a crooked, toothy smile and gently nudge you with an elbow.  “But you knew that already.”

“You’re a little late for an ‘I told you so,’ Goore,” you warn with a sigh. The breakup between you and that asshole was well beyond old news. There was next to no way Mary hadn’t heard and probably celebrated by now. Gossip travels fast in small towns, even faster in small social circles like yours.

“Aw c’mon,” he groans, arching his back to stretch his long legs like a cat. He pats down the pockets of his tight jeans and produces a pack of smokes and an old lighter. With a cigarette tucked between his teeth, he draws his knees back up before turning to you. “I’m not here for that.”

“Why are you here, Mary?” you ask softly.

Inside, the party swells with sound. A cluster of people all shouting to be heard while a metal band starts their set in the basement. It’s a mix of rumbling bass and the crack of drums with the occasional scream. The noise is just as normal as the hint of stale beer and body odor that permeates the old house. It’s as natural as the stains and cigarette burns on the weirdly orange tinted carpet that covers the stairs. Neither of you bat an eye as cymbals crash under your feet.

Mary flicks the lighter over their thigh, sparking it to life and drawing the flame toward their lips. They breathe deep, inhaling the toxic burn before leaning back on their elbows and letting out a puff of smoke. “To offer you a ride home.”

Your eyebrows knit together as you turn to the metalhead sprawled on the porch next to you. Pale, bony knees jut out from the holes in his jeans. The trademark leather jacket covered in bright patches and studs hangs loose around his skinny frame as he reclines against the steps. Underneath their battle jacket the faded, well-loved t-shirt older than either of you is barely held together by more than a few threads. A shock of dark hair styled haphazardly hangs over those pretty green eyes that hadn’t moved from your face since he sat down.

It was a well-known fact that Mary couldn’t be trusted to operate a vehicle. Every time they’d tried had ended in varying degrees of disaster—one of which included a cliff.

“You can’t drive,” you remind him through a laugh.

“No, but I got you to smile.” He sounds triumphant, proud almost. “You got a good one, you know?”

“What?”

“Your smile. It’s…I dunno.” He shrugs and waves his hand through the air. “It’s…nice.”

“Goore,” you level. “Are you drunk?”

They shake their head and take a long drag. The orange glow of the embers hits just right, illuminating the places on his face painted white. The shadows are darker, the blurry edges of makeup smeared into the hollow of his cheeks look more intense in the dark like this. It’s a look you’ve appreciated once or twice before at other house parties or in the dim light of the local dive bar while you pretend not to notice how they only charge you for every other drink they slide your way.

Your heart skips as he grins up at you, dried fake blood cracking on his face.

“I’m sober as a judge, sweetheart,” they tell you as they sit up, a well-practiced smirk playing on their lips.

There’s a tightness in your chest again, a feeling so familiar around Mary. While this thing between you started a long time ago, you never took it too seriously. After all, you couldn’t take Mary seriously half the time. So, the teasing and light flirting never really meant anything and that was how the two of you had operated for as long as you could remember. It never went further than that because neither of you ever seemed to be single at the same time.

But that didn’t mean you hadn’t found yourself a little curious from time to time.

The rumor mill spun both ways when it came to Mary Goore. Some days the story was they were some delinquent hellbent on burning the entire town to the ground. Other days there were tales of kindness that extended as far as feeding the feral street cats that lived in the alley behind their apartment. He was a loyal friend to the point of violence on more than one occasion, but everyone who dated them considered them a caring partner despite their apparent fear of commitment.

In your estimation, Mary was no different than anyone else—not all good or all bad, just another human trying to get by. When it came down to it, you’d rather have Mary in your corner than not. The fact that they were out here with you now, well, that just meant they already were.

“As a judge, huh?” you ask and lean forward to pluck the burning cigarette from his fingers. His eyes follow your movements as you set the filter between your lips and take an easy drag before offering the thing right back to him.

“Careful darlin’,” he warns, fingers brushing yours as he accepts. “These things are worse for you than I am.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

They raise an eyebrow, half-expecting you to follow up with a “just kidding” or a “not like that.” When you don’t their composure slips, and they struggle to hide a look of surprise mixed with a little bit of excitement. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, soft as the stubble poking through his makeup.

Those green eyes sparkle in the moonlight, watching as you stand and stretch your arms over your head. The wind picks up, carrying the undercurrent of much colder weather slowly moving in. It should be snowing by now, but the air is just a mist of wet fog soaking into everything without the beauty or smell of rain. The lawn is soft under your feet, little more than an oversaturated lump of clover and weeds that fails to connect the muddy patches from one end of the yard to the other. It’s all still as green as Mary’s eyes somehow, still thriving and you’re standing outside in a t-shirt next to Mary Goore in December.

The end of the cigarette whips past you and lands in a shower of orange sparks near the driveway. Mary leans up, the last little bit of smoke curling from their lips as the hole in the left knee of their jeans rips loudly.

“Aw, fuck,” Mary whines helplessly, leg now exposed halfway to the calf.

“C’mon,” you offer with a soft smile and hold your hand out to a guy who might or might not be trouble.

“Where are we going?” they ask, wiping their hands on their jeans as they stand.

“No idea,” you admit with a shrug. “Somewhere else.”

“Alright then,” Mary agrees with a grin and takes your hand.

You make it to the end of the block before you realize neither of you have let go. Their hand is warm and much larger than yours, their palm an odd mix of soft in places and calloused in others. For every step he takes, you take two to keep up though there’s no real destination in sight. Maybe you should have thought it through a little better, but being around Mary always made your brain a little fuzzy. And maybe that was why you’d avoided situations like this before—because the fear of something was too great. The risk of Mary was like jumping into a body of water completely blind. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Thrilling. Incredible.

The two of you walk east toward the river, passing patrons on the main drag crawling from one bar to another. A few toss looks your way, judgements whispered under their breath as they hurry by. If Mary notices, they hide it well. Their shoulders never seem to sag with the weight of what everyone else thinks you and him should be.

At the crosswalk you wait to pass and he rather impressively digs out another cigarette, lighting it one-handed. You’re unsure of how many cars pass under the stoplight or how many times the two of you miss your chance to cross, but you’re acutely aware of the way Mary looks wrapped in a haze of smoke and the city lights.

It’s not bad.

“Do I have something on my face?” they ask with an eyebrow raised, using the hand holding yours to pull you closer.

“Yeah, actually,” you respond playfully.

He frowns and pretends to swipe at his face. “Better?”

“Eh, your face is still there,” you tease with a shrug.

He tugs you even closer. “Don’t act like you don’t like my face, sweetheart.”

“It’s ok. I guess.”

“Just ok?”

It’s a question you barely hear. It’s not the rush of traffic or the random people walking past, but your heart hammering away in your ears that nearly deafens you. Warmth radiates off Mary like he’s the fucking sun. You know because he’s so close, close enough that you catch a hint of cologne under the nicotine and leather. And god those eyes, with them fixed on you like this you spot the soft flecks of gold they hide from everyone else.

You nod carefully. “It’s a good face. Ten out of ten. Would look again.”

He breaks first, averting his eyes as he struggles not to laugh. “I guess I better stick around so you can keep looking.”

“I appreciate the effort, Goore.”

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

You shake your head and let the moment fade as you pull them across the street.

Mary leads now, their other hand placed carefully at your hip as they guide you down the wet stairs. It’s dead quiet by the water. There’s never much of a crowd on the riverfront but this time of night it’s completely deserted. Traffic roars across the bridge overhead, a stream of bright red brake lights stretching across the river. You feel like you’re in another world entirely, tucked against Mary Goore of all people. You stand still, watching the gentle current roll over the rocky shore and pretend not to notice the way he moves closer and closer.

Winter arrives and surrounds the two of you within seconds as the wind picks up again. A blast of frigid, arctic air that smells like snow bites at the exposed skin of your arms. It’s cliche but as tears sting your eyes, you can’t help the chill that seeps into your bones.

“Huh. I think it’s gonna snow.”

Mary’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, barely more than a whisper. It’s a sharp contrast to all those times you’d seen them growl their way through songs about blood and corpses, but it makes the butterflies stir in your stomach all the same. Maybe there was something behind all those free drinks and flirty words. Something different.

The thought sends a shock through your body, the electric hum of realization. You like Mary.

He shifts slightly, turning his body toward yours. “Shit, you’re shivering. Here, take my jacket.”

Before you can say anything, they’ve shrugged out of the thing and wrapped you in soft, worn leather. You hide your hands in the sleeves, but they itch to reach out, to pull him in. The lining is still warm and it’s heavier than you expect, but none of it matters as Mary’s gaze falls to your lips.

But they don’t kiss you. At least, not in the way you thought they might.

“Goore?” you ask as they pull away slightly.

“Uh-huh?”

“Did…did you just…kiss my forehead?”

“Yep.”

“Instead of like…actually kissing me. You kissed my forehead?”

“Well, I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I’m not just gonna put out for you because you expect me to.”

“Oh my god,” you huff with an annoyed roll of your eyes. “You—hmph!”

Mary cuts off your complaints by grabbing the lapels of the jacket and smashing his lips against yours. Your arms loop around their neck, pulling them as close as you can. There’s a warm hand pressed to the small of your back, under the jacket and under your t-shirt. Mary’s other hand tangles in your hair as they break the kiss to speak.

“Sorry darlin’,” they whisper. “You’re just so fuckin’ cute when you’re annoyed. I can’t help it.”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Goore.”

It’s rough and brash when his mouth claims yours, and you think Mary kisses like he plays guitar—aggressive with a practiced ease. He nips at your bottom lip, practically melting against you when you let out a little whine in response. His tongue brushes yours and he tastes of smoke and something sugary you can’t quite place. It doesn’t matter anyway because your senses are filled with all things Mary and you’re content to keep them that way.

“Mm, I always knew you’d be trouble, sweetheart,” they groan as you press your body against theirs.

“Aw Goore, do you have a crush on me?”

“Yeah, actually. For so fucking long,” he admits freely.

You grin and lean up to kiss him again as tiny snowflakes begin to collect in his hair.

#anon prompt #my writing #mary goore x reader #mary goore fanfic #reader insert #x reader #repugnant fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction

[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

[gasolineghuleh]

A dirty-ass prompt: getting down and dirty with Mary Goore in a cemetery 👀

okay so this is what i was trying-- second person, past tense, and timed.

disclaimer; i don't like this one. it didn't turn out how i liked but i'm getting itchy trying to fix it. i feel like i fucked up tenses somewhere, but i'm trying to force myself to try a new tense for me.

creampie mary, weehaw

It was the coldest night of the year when you walked into that shithole dive bar down the road from the Abbey, practically looking for trouble. You were still covered in snow from a freak early-November storm that had caught you on your way out to meet up with your best friend, and you distinctly remember the snow flakes drifting from your shoulders and head to land on the floor of the bar, already melting away. The bartenders eyes met yours in a moment that would have heated the snow off of the sidewalk if you were outside.

It seemed you'd met Trouble.

He was a little taller than you and about thirty shades heavier handed with his eye makeup. His pale arm waved you forward to the bar, gesturing at a seat until you hopped up into it and settled down, giving him a simple drink order. The small talk that he made was comfortable; practiced. He asked what you did and you vaguely mentioned the Abbey, and then asked the same of him, and he replied with the name of the dive bar. The bar's name was stupid, like a joke you'd forgotten the punchline of, or one that the author couldn't bother coming up with, and you found yourself wondering if his name was any better. You almost smiled when he introduced himself as "Mary Goore", your brain already looking for the pun.

Your drink appeared in front of you and he raised his own to meet your glass with a gentle clink. "To Lucifer."

"To Lucifer," you replied, eyebrows shooting up into your brow line. He had some prior knowledge of the Abbey, it seemed... or he was just a tool. You were willing to jump his bones, either way. The two of you sipped your drinks and talked more about the Abbey and how he had been to shows before, that you just must not have noticed him in the crowds of people that congregated in the big cathedral. That, or he had a great knack for making himself invisible.

Eventually he changed the subject, asking you how long you've been a member of the Abbey and how you were liking it, if you felt it was for you or not, what it was like to live on the premises, and before you knew it, the glass you'd been sipping was empty, and he was asking you if you wanted to go for a ride with him. You swirled the dregs of your glass as you thought it over, wrestling with yourself about the safety of the choice-- it was dark and snowing, you were most certainly at least buzzed, and Mary is a new person to you.

Your eyes met his again, a cool green, and he broke into a toothy grin. The laughter lines around his face were prominent, and something behind his eyes was enough for you to agree.

It was Mary.

A small duffle bag was retrieved from somewhere in the back room and the lights were flicked off as Mary yelled at the remaining people at the bar to fuck off out the door; he's locking up for the night. Judging by the way that the patrons move, this wasn't a new experience for them. A few people lightly protested but a death glare from Mary had them hurrying their pace as he slammed the door closed behind them. He took off his black apron, draping it over a stool as he turned to you and clapped his hands together sharply.

"So," he grinned, "you want a ride or what?"

His car was a simple vehicle-- a low sitting two-doored thing, with fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror and several bumper stickers. One of the stickers that had caught your eye said "Hella kids up in this bitch". When you made a comment about it, he had laughed and shrugged with one shoulder, motioning towards his balls.

The Abbey was on the other side of town from the dive bar, but somehow you and Mary arrived at the back doors before you could really process that you'd left. The ride over was filled with quiet ambient music from his stereo, and a rambling introduction from him that left you even more sure of your decision. He parked his car by the back door of the Abbey and turned to face you, slinging one arm over the back of his seat. The graveyard of Emeritus family lineage and the Siblings was visible over his shoulder, the snow on the graves melted from the heat of the nearby greenhouse.

"What?" you asked, your cheeks growing warmer with every second that passes.

"Nothin'," he countered with a shrug, "you're just hot." The smile that spread over his lips was wicked as he waited for your reaction.

"Are you hitting on me, Mary?"

He licked his lower lip with a nod before popping them together loudly, grinning. "Yup."

He didn't say anything more as you exited his vehicle, drumming your fingers along the hood of his car until you made it to his side. Mary's eyes were wide, watching you carefully until you leaned down and opened his car door, extending a hand to him.

"Enough small talk. Come rail me against a gravestone." Mary exhaled a bark of laughter, taking your hand with his left and turning off his car with the right.

You led him through the garden and around a hedge that opened up to reveal the more expensive crypts that dotted the square acreage of the Abbey. This was the most up-front and ridiculously blatant thing you'd ever done... but it was a thrill, wasn't it? His hand was still clasped in yours as you continued through the maze-like layout of the graveyard, passing stones and statues of Papa I and II and a few others you recognized until you arrived at an ornately carved stone angel. It was kneeling at a cross, hands clasped in prayer and face buried in the crook of their arm. You stopped and spun to face Mary, one hand already hiking up your dress.

Mary was grinning again as he pulled you closer to his body, pressing you up against the cool stone of the grave, his hands finally skating along your goose bumped skin. Your arm slid neatly around his shoulders, pulling him closer until his hips were slotted against yours perfectly. When your lips met it was electric, and Mary's shaky moan was enough to melt any remaining nerves you had. The sound of his jeans unzipping and boxers rustling was almost a relief. Your own dress was lifted up to your waist and pushed over your hips with ease.

"How are you gonna--?" He didn't bother answering you. Instead he lifted one of your legs around his hip, taking you by surprise as he hooked it behind him, allowing your foot to rest on his lower back. With his help you wrapped your legs around him as tightly as you could, leaning heavily on the statue behind you as his cock rubbed against the slickness between your lips. Your hand snaked down to grab him and hold him still as he lined up, teasing you for only a moment more before sinking deep into your heat.

"I catch on quick," he growled directly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

It wasn't the most comfortable position you'd ever been fucked in, but as Mary picked up a faster pace it felt less and less like the stone of the grave behind you was cutting into your skin and more like the heady mixture of pleasure and adrenaline you craved. His thrusts were rough but even and precise, the slapping sound of his hips against the back of your thighs almost drowned out by your shared heavy breathing. Mary's mouth was hot against your throat as he moaned, teeth sinking in lightly until he stopped at the juncture between your shoulder and neck to suck and bite at your flesh, making you cry out for him. Your body arched as he slammed into you, trying your best to move your hips in time with his to take him in even deeper, desperate for more of that feeling of being filled up.

"You going to cum for me?" he growled, his hands tightening on you where he held you aloft. You gasped in response, your cunt tightening around his cock as a sudden heat washed over you, spreading from your clit and up to the tips of your toes, the only response you could manage as he hit just the right spot over and over. Mary huffed out a breath of pleasure at the way that you tightened up around his dick, your orgasm causing you to involuntarily hold on tighter, nails digging into his skin through his thin shirt. "Cum all over my cock for me, babe. Fuuuck, you feel so fuckin' good."

"Mary--" Your voice was breathy as you felt another wave of your climax crash through you. The cool November night air around you did little to dampen the heat that Mary's body radiated or your own body heat, but it felt good, your sweat covered skin prickling with goosebumps. You managed to lift your head slightly, looking down to where you and Mary were joined. His jeans were open, cock sticking through the hole in the front of his boxers-- in fact, it seemed as though he wasn't even using the full length of his cock, pants bunched as they were.

"Fuckin- cunt, I'm gonna-" Mary cut himself off, mashing his lips against yours with a long and drawn out moan, hips kicking forward in time with the waves of his own climax. His teeth sank into your bottom lip and tugged, his breath coming in ragged pants and growls against you. When you were both sure you were finished, you carefully extricated your legs from their spot on Mary's hips, the two of you watching as he slowly slid out of you, leaving behind a warm trickle that ran down the insides of your thighs-- a hot reminder of your impulse decision. The sight made your face hot, but the look of pleasure on Mary's face when you made eye contact was worth it.

"Thanks for the ride," you said with a laugh, rubbing your hands along your thighs to warm up the muscle again. Mary snorted and dragged his hands across his face before looking at you. He waited for a beat before speaking.

"I haven't done something like that in years."

"I never have." You shrugged noncommittally, but Mary balked. "What? You were hot."

"So I'm your first, then? First one-night?" he corrected himself quickly. When you nodded he laughed again. "Look at you, making moves! But uh... I'm sorry to burst your bubble." Your eyes snapped to his, convincingly apologetic.

"What?"

"I uh.. Wouldn't mind if this wasn't a one night thing." Mary's hand went to the back of his head as he laughed shyly.

#the band ghost fics #the band ghost ficlet #ghost bc fanfic #lorraine writes #mary goore #repugnant #reader x mary goore

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 Mary has certain rules you should both stick to for your relationship to work. However, rules are made to be broken and Mary hasn't always played by the rules. 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Sex turning into making love 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Mary Goore x AFAB!Reader 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 Smut (18+ only, MINORS DNI), PiV unprotected sex (use protection yall!!), Mary becoming emotional, crying during sex, love confessions, rough sex turning into slow love making. The word cunt is used to refer to reader's genitals once. 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1090 words. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 Made myself feel all mushy and sappy writing this, damn. This fic has been v briefly proofread because we don't proofread here, we die like Terzo I mean what. 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 𝐓𝐢𝐩 𝐉𝐚𝐫

There are rules Mary has in place for your relationship. Rules that he insists you both should stick to for things to go smoothly with no complications. You confine your sexual relations to two days a week, you go on a date every weekend to bond away from intimate activities, but the most important rule (to Mary at least)?

No eye contact during sex.

It’s not that they don’t want to see you. They’ve memorised the way your mouth drops open, and how ecstasy morphs your features when they bring you to completion from the many times they’ve watched your face during sex. They just don’t want things to get messy. Your relationship works so well because you’re not privy to how truly vulnerable and powerless they’ll feel under your gaze if your eyes meet in the throes of carnal passion. It works because they’re in control, they set the pace, and you respect their boundaries and needs without prying. And it works because you’re happy to let them take the lead and offer you pleasure and companionship without feelings muddying everything. They’re not sure they could handle it if you realised how deeply they cared for you beyond friendship and sex. The rejection would crush them.

Worries about you ending your relationship are far form his mind right now, however. Instead, he’s preoccupied with the feeling of your walls squeezing him as he pistons his cock in and out of you, skin slapping on skin mingling with the squelching of your arousal. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, heels of your feet digging into his ass, and your nails claw at his back as he moans into your neck. He can feel himself crawling closer to climax each time his pelvis meets yours, but there’s another feeling too. Something unfamiliar. He tries to dismiss it as getting caught up in the moment but he’s not sure that’s what it is. He can’t pin it down to pick it apart and analyse what it is, so lost in the way you cling to one another.

“Fuck, Mary, stop. Stop!”

Your demand snaps them out of their thoughts immediately, pulling out of you and removing their face from your neck to look at you with wide, panicked eyes.

“Did I hurt you? Shit, I didn’t mean to.”

You shake your head and offer them a comforting smile as you cup their face in both hands. “Let’s just… go slow, yeah? I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world.”

Mary blinks. It’s the first time you’ve asked them for something like this. Usually, you’re content to let them drag orgasm after orgasm out of you and treat you as rough as they need to. They’re not accustomed to you asking for something different and what you want from them feels scarily close to something they’ve never allowed themselves to experience with you or with anyone else.

“Let me take care of you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as they freeze, uncertain.

Maybe it’s the heat of the moment, maybe it’s that unidentifiable feeling, but Mary nods and allows you to reach down and guide them back inside your cunt. They gasp when you pull them so that you’re laying side by side and throw your leg over their hip to pull them closer.

“Is this okay?” you ask. Neither of you move as you wait for their answer.

Eventually, he nods. “This is good. Should I… should I move?”

“Don’t forget to take it slow.”

With another nod, Mary rocks his hips against yours and slides in and out of your wet heat. His thrusts are leisurely but deep, both of you moving in tandem and pulling one another so close that there’s no space left between your bodies. Mary’s nose bumps against yours and he reaches up to brush his jet black hair out of his face, eyes accidentally meeting yours.

The moment he catches your gaze, it’s like something snaps into place in his brain. Things start to make sense and for once he’s not terrified of what might happen if he lets down his walls for you. The fear of losing you and what you both share dissipates in that moment as you smile reassuringly and your foreheads touch. Mary’s arms scramble to wrap around your lower back and he rolls so that you’re on top of him. You continue to roll your hips against him, and he feels himself hit deeper within you as you move your legs so that you’re straddling his hips but with your torso still resting on top of his. One of his hands reaches up hesitantly to caress your cheek and he realises that he’s shaking.

“Shh, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” You wipe away a tear that had started to trickle down their face and seal your lips over his once more. It’s a kiss that feels more tender and emotional than others you’ve shared. It feels like what Mary thought first kisses were supposed to feel like. It makes their chest swell and a fuzzy warmth flood their body and their eyes flutter closed as you both lose yourselves in one another. The world beyond their bedroom, beyond even their apartment, may well not exist.

Mary doesn’t know how what comes over them, but when they finally break the kiss their stare into your eyes once more. The way you smile adoringly, doing the majority of the work and trailing delicate fingers over their skin and through their hair, makes their breath hitch. Their lips part in preparation to say something but you press a finger to their lips and gently shush them.

“You don’t need to say it. I love you too.”

I love you too.

Fresh tears spill down their face as they finally climax, gasping as their cock kicks and they paint your insides. A few seconds later and your walls flutter and convulse around them, milking them as you let out a soft moan. Your movements slow gradually, both of you coming down from your climaxes after a few minutes, and you place a chaste kiss on their lips.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, easing you off his softening dick and placing you on the mattress beside him before immediately snuggling up to you. “I love you so much.”

The last thing he hears as he starts to drift into a peaceful sleep is your murmuring voice as you hold him close.

“I love you more.”

#spicy content #mushy may #mary goore #mary goore x reader #repugnant #smut #fanfic #my fanfic #mine

[ghuleh-recs]

every day this month I'm going to recommend a different spooky ghost fic! today's rec is:

Epiphany - @belle--ofthebrawl 2.2k, E

"It's Christmas." "It's January sixth." What was the point of a Satanic Abbey celebrating Christmas? It defeated the whole purpose. Unfortunately, a tidbit of folklore leads a strange creature to Copia with a very odd request.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, leave kudos and/or comments!

(browse the other rectober posts here.)

#i know it sounds like a christmas fic #BUT! #vampire! eldritch being! hereditary boytoy!Mary Goore #you understand #mary goore x papa iv #rectober 2023 #mary goore fanfic #mary goore #repugnant #repugnant fanfiction #mary goore fanfiction #repugnant fanfic #papa emeritus iv #copia

[fishwithtitz]

The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 3

Summary: I swallowed roughly and let out a shaky breath. What I was experiencing wasn’t feelings. No, it was need, and the anticipation of an orgasm from Mary paired with my own touch deprivation was all it took to bring me to the edge. 

And I hoped that tomorrow he’d fucking push me off.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Mary Goore x OFC / 11.4k words

Warnings: language, vaginal sex, graphic depiction of manual stimulation, recreational drug use, alcohol, mention of death/post-mortem care

aO3 link

Chapter Three : Hook-up #3: The Kitchen

It had been a while since I’d been out in public past 3 am. Hell, it’d been a while since I’d made it to last call. 

Tonight had been one of Thomas’ band’s bigger shows, and this time, it didn’t take much begging from Des for me to join in on the fun. It was the weekend which meant work was a distant thought easily shelved to the back corner of my mind. After a couple too many cheap tequila shots and a peer-pressured beer before drinks were cut off at the venue, I felt loosened but content, and I made no argument to Mark’s suggestion to hit up an all night restaurant for some greasy food to soak up the booze that coated our stomachs. 

So, here Mark, Des, and I sat at a rounded booth at a 24-hour diner as we waited for the rest of the group to join us. Cracked vinyl scratched against the backs of my knees and the dark yellow foam all but clawed its way through the time-worn rips. As I crossed a leg over the other, my arms came to fold underneath my chest and rest against the chipped tabletop, lost in unimportant thought. 

“Doll,” A hazy voice tickled my ear and began to break me from my daydream. “—hey, Dahlia!” 

I jerked a bit as I felt a hand brush my shoulder and looked up to see Thomas, Greg, Mary, and another one of Thomas’ band mates that I couldn’t remember the name of for the life of me. 

“Mind letting us in?” Thomas asked, hand just barely reaching out to motion to the empty booth seating beside me. 

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” I chuckled a little, tone more embarrassed than I’d like to admit, and slid out of the booth to let Thomas slide in next to Des. The momentarily nameless drummer and Greg popped in beside Thomas, leaving myself and Mary to squeeze in last. Mary gestured to the seat as if to nonverbally say ‘go ahead,’ and I crammed myself in next to Greg. Mary slid in beside me, weirdly careful not to accidentally knock elbows or brush his leg against mine in the close quarters. I tried not to think anything of it.

Greg dipped forward over the table and grabbed at the small stack of menus. He tossed one to Mary and I before distributing a few more across the table. I pushed the sticky, laminated menu closer to Mary and relaxed my forearms against the stained tabletop. 

As everyone settled, chatter about the show was drummed up and compliments were slued around the table to the three sweaty musicians that occupied the booth. They explained that they were held up by the venue and a nearly stolen guitar, though luckily no fists were thrown and the instrument had been misplaced by the bassist by accident. 

The conversation was cut short by an older employee approaching our table, apron tied high over her robust hips, and she looked around at our motley crew before asking what we wanted to order. She had a gritty voice — tone so rough that I could visualize the sandpaper coating her vocal cords — but her kind, tired eyes showed through the otherwise roughened demeanor. 

We took turns ordering and by the end of the ordeal, I debated submitting the waitress’s name for a Presidential Medal of Freedom for the sheer amount of patience she demonstrated with a group of overly drunk adults. 

Thomas and Des had decided to share a fairly large breakfast platter and a ginger ale (and due to the queasy look on Des’ face when Thomas ordered it, I imagined that most of the food would be sanctioned to Thomas while the ginger ale was her futile attempt to even out the alcohol-to-stomach acid ratio in her gut). Mark insisted on a burger, and Greg had (almost too quickly) insisted on an entire chocolate silk pie. The drummer, who I was now certain was named Vince, stuck with the carafe of coffee we had requested, while I ordered French toast and extra crispy bacon. I had jokingly requested it to be nearly cremated, which did not amuse the waitress. Mary stuck with pancakes. 

As the waitress bustled off to ring in our food, Greg raised an eyebrow at Vince. 

“You’re going to try to eat my pie, huh, asshole?” He said disbelievingly. 

The drummer shrugged and leaned back in the booth. “Ask me nicely enough and I’ll eat your ass, too,” he said with a wink, puckering his lips for a kiss before earning a swift shove in the shoulder and what I swore sounded like a “fuck you”. I heard Mary and Mark laugh and I couldn’t help the chuckle that seeped past my lips. 

Feeling a little bolder after settling down with our anything-but-ordinary group, I leaned a couple inches closer to Mary, our height difference putting my cheek close to his jaw. 

“Never pegged you as a pancake man, Mary.” I said quietly enough for him to hear (or at least I had hoped). “It’s oddly endearing.” I smirked at him from his side, flashing my own grey eyes with a snarky glance. 

Mary raised his eyebrows with near mock disapproval. “Almost as endearing as you giving post mortem instructions for your breakfast side,” he quipped, his own stare never leaving mine as he fumbled with the paper tie on his silverware.  

“At least I didn’t order something with a face on it,” I shot back, referring to the whipped cream and strawberry smiley face that came with every stack of pancakes. 

Mary shrugged. “Cremation tends to get rid of the face, doesn’t it? I’m sure your order had one at one point.”

I shot him a glare that bordered on playful and somewhat offended, and before I could even open my mouth to retort, the waitress returned with a large carafe of drip coffee and enough mugs for each of us, announcing that she would be back with Des’ ginger ale in a moment. Vince all but tackled Greg to get to it, knocking elbows as he quickly filled up his cup. The acidic, distinct smell drifted across the table to settle between us, and after Greg poured his own mug, I filled a couple for Mary and I. 

Vince took a sip of the blackened liquid in his mug and almost groaned, while Greg shook his head, adding a packet of sugar to his own. “Oh, hey, Mary,” Greg began, “you think you could fill in on bass on Wednesday when we play at The Shredder? Pete has to work and if he calls out again, he’ll get fired.”

Mary took a sip from his own steaming mug. “Can’t man,” he said. 

Vince looked past me to Mary, leaning forward a bit over the table, “Fuck, why not?” he asked. 

Mary shrugged and looked down at his cup. “I have plans.”

Greg raised his eyebrow at Mary. “Dude,” he began, his tone growing a little more combative and most definitely annoyed, “if you don’t want to do it, just say so.”

“I fuckin told you man, I’m busy.”  Mary’s voice was now somewhat louder as he leaned forward to peer around me and back at the two bandmates, his sandy hair falling like a curtain over his left side as if to unknowingly shield other tables from the conversation. 

I could feel the tension building between the three men. In my still drunken haze, I reached forward to grab a single-serve plastic container of coffee creamer and stabbed the paper top with my fork. 

“Can’t you reschedule or something? This is important. We can’t cancel this gig,” Vince pleaded, his own tone much more reserved, and if anything, a little desperate. 

 “Sorry, I don't know what to fucking tell you,” Mary started, lifting his hands up halfway in the air as if to punctuate his point, his annoyance now glaringly obvious. 

I could feel the anxiety at the conflict rising in my chest as he spoke. In the middle of his sentence, I had turned the creamer cup upside down and squeezed it into my coffee, four streams of the thick, room temperature dairy squirting audibly into my cup. “Mooooooooo!” I droned out in a low tone as I roughly milked the container like an udder. 

“-I can’t exactly fucking reschedule my mom’s birthday- why the fuck are you mooing?!” Mary’s gaze shot over to me as he interrupted himself, a look of frustration painted on his features. 

I didn’t exactly know what to say, so I kept my widened eyes locked on his, fingers still kneading the plastic creamer as it let its last few drops into the mug. A round of snickers bordered the table at this and I licked my lips and swallowed.

“Just, uh…breaking the tension…” I murmured, folding my lips under my teeth in defeat. 

Luckily, Vince’s voice sliced through Mary and I’s tense moment. “…you’re missing a show for your mom’s birthday?” He looked at Mary as if he had grown another head and chuckled incredulously at him. 

Thomas, who has been chatting with Mark and Des on the other side of the table, must have overheard this as he suddenly cut in with a serious retort. “Don’t talk shit on Mary’s mom, man. She’s fucking rad.” His face stretched into a defensive scowl as he turned to Vince. 

Mark, who had decided to finally get his own mug of brew, quickly poured the rest of the carafe into the final mug. Thomas must have gotten his own cup earlier. “She helped out when they couldn’t afford some of their gear,” he explained emptying some creamer into the now cooling coffee, sans mooing, “used to drive us to shows when we were younger, too.”

I knew that Mary and Thomas definitely went back a ways, but I had no idea they had been friends for that long. Even more surprising was that Mark was also included in their history. I suppose I had assumed that they would have all been in the same band if they had been close for so many years, which even in my intoxicated state, I realized was ridiculous.

Tail between his legs, Vince mumbled something to the effect of “let us know if something changes” and shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he drank from his chipped mug, eyes cast down at the stained laminate. 

The table grew awkwardly silent for a quick beat, which luckily was broken as the elderly waitress sauntered over with a couple of large, oval-shaped plates in hand. She set down what appeared to be the greasiest burger I’d ever laid eyes on right in front of Mark. Thomas and Des’ shared heaping breakfast platter of eggs, bacon, and hash landed at their place setting and Des (who looked notably less queasy) quickly snatched a triangle of sourdough toast to munch on. I took the opportunity to break the ice with Mary while everyone was distracted by the wafting aroma of diner food. 

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s sweet of you,” I said softly as I leaned in, just close enough so that he could hear my compliment. I looked up at him and flashed him a softened smile. 

Mary looked at me with a millisecond of surprise before his own features relaxed a bit, and I swore I could see a hint of a redness creep onto his cheeks. I filed away to save for later - I had made the infamous Mary Goore blush. 

“What are you getting your mom for her birthday, Goore?” Des’ mouth smacked on her toast as she all but sputtered out the words. Yep, I thought, looks like she’s feeling better enough to pry. The girl may be hot, but she wasn’t always the most couth.

Mary ran a hand through his hair, raking his fingers through to the nape of his neck. “No clue” he sighed, “she’s fucking difficult to shop for.”

“Why don’t you just make her something?” Des replied, crumbs dotting her lips and threatening to fly as she chewed. 

Mary let out a chuckle and grinned in response. “I gave up on the macaroni crafts years ago,” he said, tone dripping with sarcasm. 

Des rolled her eyes and reached over to grab a strip of bacon from the breakfast platter, earning her a side-eye from Thomas. “I meant, like, dinner,” she clarified. 

The waitress returned with Greg’s pie and a stack of small plates. She sat down the pie in the middle of the table and Vince reached towards it, Greg slapping his hand as he swooped in to scoot the pie closer to him. He waved his hand as if to say “we won’t need those” as the waitress tried to set the dessert plates on the table. 

Mary shook his head at Des. I couldn’t tell if he was used to Greg’s antics or if he just wasn’t paying attention. “Already have that part covered. We do Chinese takeout every year. Birthday tradition.” 

By now, Thomas was stuffing eggs into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and I was impressed with Des’ fortitude in keeping a straight face at the sight. “Dessert?” he said after swallowing. 

“Just make her a cake or something,” Mark added, dipping a fry in the ketchup slathered on Thomas’ eggs. 

“Or a pie!” Greg added. I turned to my right to see him with an abnormally large slice of chocolate silk in his hand, filling and chocolate shavings dripping down his fingers as he began to chomp at it like a slice of pizza. This was apparently the line for Des — she looked at him with an expression of pure disgust— something short lived as her face seemingly lit up with an idea.  

“Doll could help you!” Des waved the stub of bacon at Mary, before motioning it towards me. “She’s great at baking.”

Mark groaned in delight, eyes rolling up at the ceiling dramatically. “That cake you made Tommy was killer. Are you sure you didn’t put crack in it?”

This earned a genuine laugh from me, and I took a small sip of my now cooled coffee. “The only powder I fuck with is sugar,” I jest.

“Seriously, Mary, you should have Dahlia help you,” Des said soberingly, earnestness etched in her voice, “This is her wheelhouse.”

This time, it was my cheeks that began to flush. She wasn’t wrong. I had spent years honing my baking skills and often used them to cope with stress or as a way to show my love for friends and family. Hell, I’d made her more snickerdoodles than I’d like to count. Despite this, I still felt a deep discomfort at my talents being broadcast in front of a table of much more talented musicians. I’d always longed to have a “real” talent — one I could hang my hat on at the end of the day — but whatever higher power that existed (if one existed) decided to grant me the power of edible chemistry. To humor me, they also added a slow metabolism and abysmal self-control. 

I paused for a couple of seconds before turning my head to look at Mary. He had been staring at me, for how long I wasn’t sure, but I drank in the strands of hair that framed his sharp jaw peppered in stubble, tracing the line of his strong brow bone that seemed to mellow whenever I tried to study the meaning behind his eyes. I wet my bottom lip with the tip of my tongue before casting him a small smile, hoping he’d pick up on the telepathic signal that of course I’d be happy to help, and curl my fingers around the pitted ceramic glaze of my mug. 

He returned the look, and for a moment, I felt as if my guts were melting into my ass. I’d been staring, AGAIN, and not only had he caught me, but he seemed to be figuring out just how to make my knees weak as he spoke. “Yeah, maybe.”

Much to my relief, the waitress came back once more, nearly out of breath as she plopped my french toast down in front of me. She muttered out an apology and explained that a few more tables had arrived and they were understaffed. Mary’s plate came next, sliding across the smooth surface of the table as it landed inches from the edge. 

I grabbed a crisp piece of bacon and chomped down on it as I looked at Mary’s stack of flapjacks. The once beaming face of fruit and whipped cream had turned into an almost unrecognizable blob of melted goo and droopy berries that weirdly resembled Sloth from The Goonies, only incapacitated. A giggle bubbled up from my stomach and I clasped a hand onto Mary’s shoulder, leaning in to murmur in his ear. 

“Looks like yours is ready for post-mortem care, afterall, Goore.”

 🜏🜏🜏

A few days and a pounding hangover later, I lazed on my living room couch with a homemade smoothie in one hand and my phone in the other. My cat, Bones, was perched in my lap as I listened to the light rain pelting the window pane across the room. It was a lights-off kind of evening. Although it was still bright enough for some of the glow to filter in through the glass, it was dim in the small front room, and I felt it the perfect ambiance for comfortable socks and silent scrolling. Nights like these weren’t made for the radiant glow of TV against the walls. 

To put it simply, today was shit. My coworker, who was habitually late to arrive, showed up hours late to work with not as much as a peep as to why. Though I wasn’t the kind of person to continuously cover for her irresponsible ass, I knew that if both our responsibilities weren’t done by the end of the day, it wouldn’t matter who arrived on time and who arrived late: we’d both be fucked. So, in true pushover fashion, I sped through both of our laundry lists of tasks in remarkable time. The clock was pushing 4PM when I finally sat down to shove a KIND bar in my mouth as some sort of respite meal. 

After any other difficult day at work, I’d likely be downing a glass of wine or sucking the life out of my vape pen, but the taste of this past weekend still hung heavy on my tongue and threatened to turn my stomach every time I thought of it. I’d seriously contemplated skipping dinner and going straight to bed. Still, my grandmother’s voice hung heavy in the back of my mind as I passed the fridge and I begrudgingly plopped some frozen fruit, spinach, yogurt, and juice into my blender. If I didn’t have the energy to cook my meal, I’d just have to liquify it. 

As Bones purred aimlessly in my lap, I rubbed my feet together in circles, enjoying the feel of my cotton socks on my sore soles and the comfort of the throw pillow tucked haphazardly underneath them. I swiped past various poems, artwork, and occult content on my screen, sipping my green drink intermittently, and tried to mollify my anxious (and still very much frustrated) mind. Unexpectedly, my phone vibrated, a message popping up in the notification bar on my screen from an unrecognized number. 

hey 

I crinkled my eyebrows and opened the text message. There was no history of a conversation and a quick search of my contacts turned up nothing. I contemplated just ignoring it, but I could see the unmistakable three dots dancing underneath the text.

is that offer still open?

I rolled my lips over my teeth in thought and wracked my brain to try to think about what the mystery person was referring to. Nothing came to mind. I quickly typed out and sent a response. 

Who is this?

Again, the three dots flashed - this time just briefly before the sender replied. 

Mary

All the progress I’d made in stilling the stressed leech feeding in the pit of my stomach instantaneously vanished. Mary and I weren’t really on texting terms. We’d seen each other around more than a handful of times since the first night we officially met at Thomas’ house party. Yes, we’d gotten to know each other in ways that I didn’t know my other friends, but in no way were we close. We didn’t make any efforts to see each other — especially just the two of us. Just like Mary said during our roof rendezvous: we were two people engaging in some platonic head. There were no feelings, no complications, and no expectations. Still, just the thought of exchanging words back and forth made my chest palpate and my muscles tense. Why the fuck am I anxious right now? I found myself thinking. I let out a slow breath, shook my head, and tapped out a response, his own lighting up my screen a split second later. 

Oh hey. Which offer?

The baking one. For my moms birthday It’s cool if you cant

I barely realized the smile pulling at the corners of my lips. Mary hadn’t seemed that interested when we talked about it at the diner. I felt a tug of pride swell deep within me that he’d reach out to me privately for help with something important to him. 

I can help. Are you wanting a cake? Orrrr

Yea sure

Flavor?

Shit I didn’t think about that. Ummmm Not chocolate

I let out an audible snort at his answer. From the little I’d gotten to know about Mary, he wasn’t one to extrapolate. 

Very specific, Goore. Thanks.

Her birthday is Wed. When should I be over there to help and what do you want me to bring?

I stared at the screen for a minute and chewed at the chapped skin forming on my bottom lip to quell the flop of the smoothie in my stomach. I’d just assumed that Mary had wanted me to make the cake for him, but no, he wanted me to help him make it. The two of us. And apparently, at my place. 

I opened the calendar app on my phone and scrolled through Tuesday to confirm I hadn’t committed to anything else before shakily sighing and typing out a text back.

Tomorrow at 5? I have everything here.

Cool. Address?

394 Rosway

See ya then

I plopped the phone down on the cushion space beside me and inwardly groaned. This would be the first time that I’d be intentionally meeting with him alone. I hadn’t really hung out with a guy in a pre-planned way since I’d been with Brody. Each time Mary and I had been around each other, the night had started with another purpose in mind, another social reason to share the same space. 

Bones chirped from my lap, his yellow eyes nearly glowing up at me as he studied my response in the muted evening light. Had I known any better, he was using the moment to comment on my reaction. 

 “It’s just a friend helping out a friend. I’d do the same for Des,” I said, reaching out to pet his soft fur before quickly adding, “-or Thomas, for that matter.”

Bones exhaled, his arms reaching out in a stretch with claws curled before spiraling into a sleeping position, chin resting on my thigh. I followed suit, sinking back into the comfort of the couch cushions that enveloped me, shutting my eyes as my smoothie glass found its way to the side table. It took a conscious effort to bat away at the butterflies rounding about in my gut. I didn’t know why my body was reacting this way. Friendships with guys weren’t a new concept to me, and that’s what this was — a friendship. One still in its infancy. 

Nevertheless, snapshots like movie stills stretched across my closed eyelids. My dress hugging Mary’s thighs as he moved his fingers inside me. His hand clasped against my mouth as he purred out “Shhh,” emerald eyes hooked on my own slate ones. My legs squeezing the sides of his head, golden brown locks of his hair brushing past my thighs as I came undone on his mouth. His spend dripping down my thr-

I swallowed roughly and let out a shaky breath. What I was experiencing wasn’t feelings. No, it was need, and the anticipation of an orgasm from Mary paired with my own touch deprivation was all it took to bring me to the edge. 

And I hoped that tomorrow he’d fucking push me off. 

 🜏🜏🜏

I’d managed to leave work a whopping ten minutes earlier than I’d expected to, which I’d hoped was enough to allot extra time to take a shower before Mary stopped by. Luckily, working through lunch had actually allowed me to leave my job an hour earlier than usual, so I was ahead of schedule. I’d managed to make a strawberry filling for the cake before I’d left earlier this morning, and I’d crossed my fingers multiple times throughout the day hoping that it’d be set enough to use by the time he arrived. 

After filling Bones’ bowl with kibble and tossing my keys on the counter, I kicked off my shoes and beelined to the bathroom. I glanced down at the clock on my phone. 4:30. I only had a half hour. 

Tying my hair up in a claw clip, I stepped into the steam of the shower and soaped up in a matter of minutes. After a quick shave and final rinse, I stepped out, dried off, and reapplied some basic makeup before unclipping my tresses.

I ran my fingers through the strands to release the few tangles that had gathered throughout the day and made my way back into my bedroom to scout my closet for something to wear. I found myself flipping through the hangers of dresses before stopping myself. I had zero reason to dress up. I was baking, afterall, and this wasn’t a date or a social outing. I opted for a pair of black leggings and an old Misfits tee, leaving my feet bare. 

The next fifteen minutes began with me setting out the ingredients and baking tools we’d need, but my flow was continuously interrupted by my mind’s need to tidy the house. After the fifth interruption, I scolded myself. You’re not inviting the damn Queen to dinner, Doll. I shook my head and threw the shoes I’d absentmindedly picked up back in the living room. A living room needed to look lived in, after all — and the dishes in the sink could go fuck themselves.

A knock on the door brought me back from my mental argument and I padded through the short hallway with a withheld breath to unlock it. Beyond the oak entryway stood Mary in a ripped Carcass tee, jeans, his infamous leather jacket, and Chuck Taylors, his hair falling around his shoulders in messy light brown waves. His left hand clutched onto a couple of grocery bags, while his right was miraculously slid into the tight confines of his studded pocket. 

“Hey,” I stepped to the side and shot him a quick warm smile. “Come on in.”

Mary made his way through the threshold and I clicked the heavy door shut behind him, turning to watch him take in his surroundings. His hand still shoved in his pocket, I studied his reaction to my small home, the bag hung around his wrist swishing slightly as he scanned his head from left to right. 

The house I occupied was fairly small — just about 1,000 square feet — and was old. I didn’t mind the size. On the contrary, it was the perfect set up for a single person and I felt that the old cottage feel gave the home character. The breezeway into the house was short and opened up to the left into the quaint living room. Just past the end of the living area, a doorway led straight ahead into a dinette attached to an open kitchen poised on the left, while a doorway at the right opened up into a hallway that turned to the bedrooms and bathroom. 

“This place is yours?” He asked before craning his neck to look at me. 

I nodded. “Yep. Just me.” I went to shove my hands in my own pockets before remembering that I’d chosen leggings and awkwardly sliding them down my thighs as if I’d totally meant for it to happen. “Well, and Bones,” I added as I felt the black feline rub up against my ankle.

Mary crouched down and offered his hand out to the cat, who tentatively sniffed it, whiskers twitching, before slowly approaching the leather-clad man. Bones rubbed his cheek against the outstretched hand and let out a soft purr when Mary began scratching under the feline’s cheek. My mind flashed back to our conversation as we’d walked from the convenience store to the roof that one night so many weeks ago, and my lips curled with nostalgia as warmth pooled in my gut. Mary wasn’t joking about being an animal person. 

I realized that he was still holding the bags and I suddenly felt like a huge asshole and terrible host for not offering to help. “Here, let me grab those,” I said as I reached forward, taking the plastic bags before pivoting to move down the hallway. The bags were heavy. “What the hell did you bring, Goore?” I asked him lightly with a chuckle as I walked through the threshold to the kitchen area, plopping the bags on the countertop with an audible thunk. 

Mary followed and came up beside me, battle jacket having been discarded and thrown somewhere in the living room, before pulling the plastic sheathing down to reveal two bottles of cheap red wine and a two liter of Coca Cola. While it suddenly made sense why the bags were so heavy, I still had no idea what his thinking was behind the combination of drinks. 

“Red wine and Coke?” I questioned, turning to look at him quizzically. 

Mary was balling up the plastic bags. “You’ve never heard of a calimocho?” He slid past me into the kitchen over to the sink and opened up one of the cupboards beneath, closing it quickly before snapping the next one open to find the trash can. 

“...I can’t say I have.” I replied as he tossed the trash in and made his way back to the wide, open countertop, grabbing one of the bottles of wine. Luckily, he’d bought one with a twist-off top, so there was no need to worry about a cork. He mirrored the action with the bottle of Coke, and I shifted to grab a couple of tumbler glasses from the cabinet before filling them with ice.

I set down the glasses and watched as he poured in enough red wine to fill the glass about halfway in each. He topped both off with the cola and gave each a quick swirl before handing one off to me. I accepted the glass tentatively from him and lifted it to my nose. The smell was distinctly soda-like, but the earthy, sweet, spiciness of the wine came through as I took a large inhale. 

“The last time I trusted your drink-making choices, Mary, the result was a watery beer in a leaky gas station cup,” I said as I lowered the glass from my nose. 

Mary scoffed. “That was an impulse buy. This is a real drink - one of my Basque buddies introduced me to them a few years back.” He reached out his cup and clinked it against mine, causing a bead of the liquid to drip down over his rough fingertips. I felt a pang of heat in my core as I thought about those fingers curling inside of me. Stop it, I scolded to myself. 

We both took a sip and as soon as the drink hit my lips, I let out a surprised noise of delight. He wasn’t lying. It was ridiculously good. I took a small gulp before setting it back down on the counter. “Touche,” I admitted in defeat. 

A quick beat passed as Mary leaned back against the counter, sipping his drink, and I shook my head and clasped my hands together awkwardly. “Right, so,” I took a few steps to the counter space that hugged the near wall, facing him, “I was thinking of a vanilla bean cake with buttercream frosting and strawberry filling. Is that okay?”

Mary shrugged, but I could sense that instead of his usual nonchalance, his posture insinuated trust. “You’re the expert. I defer to you.”

We both put our drinks to the side and washed our hands in the clean side of the sink (me trying not to imagine where those hands had been as the sudsy water slid over the chipped black paint that donned his fingernails) before setting up shop at the larger run of counter. I pulled my hair back into a high ponytail with the spare tie on my wrist. 

“Okay, so you have your dry ingredients and your wet ingredients,” I started, hand motioning to each pile of pre-organized ingredients that I’d set out for us. 

“Are the dry ingredients hard to please or are the wet ones just perpetually horny?” he asked with a smirk. I shot him a look and he put his hands up to his chest in defense. “Just curious!”

I ignored the comment and grabbed a glass bowl to place in front of him, before playfully shoving a box of cake flour to his chest. “Put three cups of cake flour in here. Be sure to level each cup so they’re equal.”

Mary obeyed the instructions carefully, then added in the leavening ingredients and salt as I gave him directions for each, mixing them (albeit somewhat awkwardly) with a fork. 

“Dry ingredients are done. Now for the wet-” I shot him another look when he wagged his eyebrows at me with a smirk, “-unwrap both of the sticks of butter and plop them in here.” I pointed to the mixing bowl, then moved the paddle attachment aside to give him room. 

After the butter was added, Mary cautiously measured out the sugar and added it into the mixer. “I thought you said these were wet ingredients?” He questioned, pointing to the sugar. I let out a chuckle. 

“They are. Sugar is considered a wet ingredient because of how it acts with moisture.” I could see another one-liner brewing behind his eyes, but he must have gotten the hint that I was at least trying to be serious, because he bit his tongue. 

After showing Mary how to cream the sugar (“Gently - I don’t need to scrub chunks of butter off the walls!”) I watched in amusement as Mary tried to crack each egg without getting shells into the batter, a litany of curses following each egg as he had to fish the slippery pieces out with pinched fingers. Some vanilla bean paste and almond flavoring later, and we were ready to combine. 

“Okay, so we’re going to add the dry ingredients and the buttermilk in batches,” I said, turning my head to pick up the carton of buttermilk. As I looked away to grab the last ingredient, Mary dumped the flour into the mixing bowl and turned on the mixer, bumping the lever to full speed. 

A cloud of flour poofed up into the air, swirling around the both of us as if a midwestern tornado, and I fought the urge to cough as I tasted the salty baking soda that coated my lips. I flung forward and shut the mixer off. 

Turning around, I saw Mary shaking out his shirt with a guilt-ridden grin. A light dusting of the dry mixture coated his cheeks and brows, with some of it clinging to his hair. I let out a puff of air to blow the flour-smattered strand of hair from my eyes and looked at him with a seething glare that did a piss-poor job of hiding my amusement. 

“You’ve lost mixer privileges.”

Ten minutes and a quick sweep later, the batter was finished and poured into three round cake pans. After throwing them into the oven and setting the timer, we dusted ourselves off a little more thoroughly, grabbed our drinks, and headed to the living room to wait. 

I sunk into the right side of my plush brown couch with a large exhale, Mary rounding the other side of the couch to follow. Plopping my feet up on the coffee table, I leaned back, head rolling to the side to look at the metalhead next to me. 

I was expecting to meet his eyes, but instead, he was taking in the decor of my living room. The walls were a jewel-toned green (a painting project that Des and I took on a couple of years back) and the furniture, which was nearly all old and thrifted, contrasted the cool tones with warm wood and brass accents. An out-of-commission fireplace sat just in front of us, while a line of bookshelves stood soldier-straight against the right side of the back wall. A bar cabinet and plant shelves hugged the far right side of the room, while the left side held a series of paned windows floating above an old record cabinet. 

As Mary surveyed the room, I chewed on my lip, trying to drink in his reaction. His eyes roamed across the various paintings and prints I had hung on the walls, some of a more occult nature, while some boasted a more classic mix of impressionist influences. When he saw the record cabinet, he popped up and over, sitting cross-legged as he started to thumb through the crate of records beside it. 

“Quite the mix you’ve got here,” He said as he held up a Carpenters record with a smirk. I chuckled and nodded, turning to face him as I snuggled into the arm of the couch. 

“I like a lot of different types of music. Some of those are inherited, some I bought.”

I took a sip of my calimocho and watched as Mary perused the collection, stopping as he pulled out an Alice Cooper record. I nodded towards the turntable as if to say “go ahead.”

With Billion Dollar Babies playing in the background, Mary popped back onto the couch, converse skating across the tip of the coffee table as he leaned back with a sigh. My head was still turned to him, fingertips clutching the sweaty tumbler glass, and I took in the curve of his eyelashes and slope of his cheekbones. 

Other than the sounds emitting from the turntable, it was oddly quiet. Time with Mary was usually filled with easy conversation, but I was having trouble knowing exactly what to say. He must have picked up on this because he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me, smirking.

“Do I still have shit in my hair or something?” he asked as he caught my stare. 

“Shut up,” I laughed, reaching over to throw a pillow at him. The tension seemed to break as he laughed, throwing the pillow back at me playfully. I smiled at him and brought my legs to criss-cross underneath me. 

Mary took a sip of his drink before setting it back on the coffee table. “Thanks for, uh, this. All this.” He reached up to scratch at the back of his neck somewhat nervously. 

I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s what friends do.” Reaching down, I dusted a little smear of leftover flour from my knee and continued. “She seems really special to you. Your mom, I mean.”

Mary mirrored my posture by turning to face me a little more head on. “Yeah, she is. She’s fucking great.” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back a little, moving his legs from the table to cross one ankle over his knee. “She’s never been anything but supportive. Even when I fucked up. Or when I was too stubborn to listen to her.”

I cast him an encouraging smile, a look of both understanding and empathy on my face. “Just the two of you then?”

“Yeah,” Mary said with a sigh, reaching over to take another long drink of his calimocho. “Dad died when I was young.”

My eyes widened a little at this admission and my expression fell to one of concern. “I’m sorry. That’s-” I let out a shaky exhale, “...that’s really shitty.” I didn’t do well with death. I never knew how to comfort those who’d lost someone important to them. I mentally cursed myself for such a bland response, but Mary didn’t seem to mind.

“Eh, shit happens.” he swirled the half empty tumbler glass, ice cubes clinking against the cool shell. “Besides,” he shot me a playful smirk, “it left me with just the right amount of daddy issues to farm sympathy from hot chicks with nice tits and a penchant for leather.”

My face dropped for a split second before I let out an incredulous and obviously uncomfortable laugh. “Jesus Christ, Mary. What the fuck.”

He laughed and raised an eyebrow at me in response, taking another sip of his drink before standing up. “Refill?” he asked. I nodded and he disappeared into the kitchen to pour us another round. 

As I reclined a bit, my vision moved to study the patterns that danced across the painted plaster of the ceiling. Mary was starting to open up to me (even if it was in his usual “sarcastic Mary” way). I wondered if that meant there was an expectation that I also open up to him, or if sharing anything too personal would scare him off. He already knew about my bad breakup with Brody, but the majority of our conversations centered around music, movies, and our mutual connections. 

Mary gently clunked my glass against the top of my head to alert me that he was back, and I grabbed it with a small thank you. This time, he plopped down a little closer to me — our legs brushing up against each other — and I felt the skin prickle underneath the fabric of my leggings. 

“So, how’d you score such nice digs?” he asked, his right arm coming up to rest across the back of the sofa. 

I looked down at the ice in the cup. He must have replenished it, because the cubes were bigger, and each breath I took seemed to shake them just barely within the cup. “I inherited it,” I began, “From my grandma. She left it to me in her will when she passed.”

“No shit?”

“It’s been a point of contention in the family ever since.” I paused for a moment, trying to hide the sad smile that automatically painted the corners of my lips. “But I like it. It’s perfect for just me. I don’t have to worry about a house payment, and I’ve been able to transform it into my own space over time.”

Mary’s tone sobered a little as he shifted in his place on the sofa. “Do you like living alone?”

I pinched my brow in thought for a brief moment. “Most times,” I let out a breath. “It does get lonely. Des used to practically live here, but she’s got her own thing going now — which, good for her, of course — so… it’s just me most of the time.”

Mary leaned back a little, body still facing my own as he looked up and craned his head around to gaze at the decorated walls. “I’d love to have my own place. No one to clean up after except yourself. Walk around naked. Put shit wherever you want.” He stretched out his legs to rest on the coffee table once more. “I room with Mark and he can be a huge dick sometimes,” as if to make a point, he pointed the glass towards me, finger aimed dramatically, “and he snores.”

I let out a laugh and felt that warm, comfortable joy that Mary seemed to bring with him creep back into my stomach. “You’re welcome over here anytime you feel the urge to put a pillow over his face while he sleeps.”

Mary chuckled. “Cool, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Shifting in my seat to bring my legs underneath me, I took a long gulp of my drink, now feeling the buzzing effects of the red wine. I’d drunk enough that I was past the point of feeling drowsy and had safely arrived at feeling loosely confident. “Not to disappoint,” I started, a smirk blooming across my lips, “but I don’t walk around the house naked.”

“That’s easy to fix. You’ve already got the ‘put shit wherever you want’ part down pat.” Mary motioned towards the pair of shoes that I’d thrown earlier that sat towards the wall and I felt myself bristle, a touch of embarrassment coloring the apples of my cheeks (or maybe that was the wine?)

“Wow, asshole. Thanks for pointing out my flaws as I do you a favor.” I tugged my thumb backwards to motion towards the kitchen behind me, doing my best to ignore the innuendo he clearly wanted me to catch. 

The long-haired man in front of me leaned to the side to set his glass on the coffee table, kicking his feet off as he snaked his body closer to mine. “Sorry,” he began, legs adjusting as he started to close the distance between us, the volume of his voice lowering in both pitch and volume, “let me make it up to you.”

Mary’s hand reached out to clasp right above my knee, his thumb pressing into the meat of my leg just enough to drive home his point. By now I could feel his exhales dancing across the pores of my lightly freckled skin. It seemed that things had gone from zero to sixty in mere seconds. I lightly swallowed and my eyes traced a path across the Carcass logo hugging his chest and up his neck, landing on the lips that were now dangerously taunting me. 

I didn’t realize that I had been inclining towards him as well until his free hand grasped onto the back of my neck, my hair catching between his fingers as he pulled us together. Immediately, I noticed the tang of the Coke and wine on his lips and caught the faint smell of smoke lingering in his hair from a hours-past cigarette. 

A noise that was somewhere between a squeak of surprise and a whimper tumbled from my throat, just barely audible as it escaped into his own mouth, and I brought my hand to curl across the curve of his shoulder, thumb pressed to his fabric-covered collarbone. Nearly as soon as our lips met, he pulled away, but before I could complain, he dove back in with a tilt, opening his mouth to swipe his tongue across the soft bend of my bottom lip.

As we kissed on the couch, his thumb now curving around to press lightly on the side of my throat as he gripped my neck, the world seemed to pause in time. I was completely consumed by his taste, the feel of his fingertips against my skin, and the aggressive need that both of us breathed as our movements became more hurried. 

Mary’s right hand began to travel up the expanse of my leg, inching along to rest against the curve of my hip and ass, and I felt fire shoot through my ribcage as he squeezed the flesh there. Without another thought, both of my hands moved to slip underneath his shirt and dance along the skin underneath, warm and surprisingly soft against my fingertips. 

With a loud jolt, the timer to the oven began to sing, causing me to jump and Mary to pull away simultaneously. I cleared my throat just barely and raked my hand through my hair. “Timer to the, uh — cakes are ready to be taken out.”

I sprang up and into the kitchen to turn the blaring alarm off. Luckily, a quick test of the pans showed that each cake was almost perfectly cooked. I pulled them out and set them on the range to cool, tossing the tea towel I’d used as a potholder aside as I turned to face Mary, who’d followed me into the kitchen. 

“We, um, need to make the frosting while they cool,” I explained, motioning back toward the mixer. 

I couldn’t quite decipher the look on Mary’s face. He clearly wasn’t flustered by the quick makeout on the couch. In fact, he looked oddly composed, if not a little arrogant at my excitement. 

Pulling out a spare mixing bowl, I gestured towards the makeshift workstation with a slight swing of my head. Mary came up behind me and rested a hand on the countertop, caging me in. 

“You’ll want to add in both sticks of butter,” I said as I wet my lips, handing him the two sticks. He unwrapped them and plunked them into the bowl. As I turned it on, one of his hands came to rest on my hip, the other returning to the countertop. 

“What next?” His lips were just a couple of inches from my ear, eyes cast forward as he watched the rotating paddle. 

“V-vanilla,” I stammered out as I felt his fingertips squeeze at the meat of my hip. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. He picked up the vanilla and one of the measuring spoons, waiting until I nodded in response to his guess at the amount before letting it drizzle into the whirling mixer. 

His other hand grasped the other hip before traveling down my thigh, grasping onto the front as he twirled his wrist inward to dance between my legs. “...and then?”

My arm jutted out as if in reflex to grab the bag of powdered sugar resting against the backsplash. “Dry- urm - w-wet ingredients.” 

“Hmm,” his voice now sounded arguably more sultry — reminiscent of when he was shushing me on the couch with his fingers deep inside me — and I felt a shiver run down the length of my spine. “I’d help, but I lost mixer privileges. Maybe you should show me how to do it?”

I nodded and dumped half the bag in, pulsing the speed so as to not recreate Mary’s cloud from earlier, and waited a beat before pouring the rest in, repeating the motion. Once it combined, I drizzled some heavy cream in, fighting the urge to slam my eyelids shut at the chuckle that fluttered across my neck as Mary fought the urge to undoubtedly make a cum joke.

Careful not to elbow him, I scraped the sides of the bowl and mixed in the last bits of the dry powdered sugar before detaching it and setting it aside. Slowly, I turned around in his arms and looked up at him. The iconic Mary smirk was permanently etched into his face. I could tell he was having a field day with my reaction to him, and I cursed my inability to keep my shit together in front of the bullet-belted thrasher in front of me. 

It was silent for what seemed like ages but in reality was probably a few seconds. I half expected Mary to resume what we’d started on the couch, but after staring directly into my soul, he pushed back and dusted his hands before shoving them in his pocket. 

“Alright, what’s next?” he said coolly.

I nearly glared at him. Instead, I took a mental breath and grabbed the frosting, shoving it a little harder than I’d intended to into his chest. 

“The part you’re best at: getting frosting everywhere.”

Mary beamed. 

🜏🜏🜏

Mary continued his cool demeanor as we leveled the cakes, only breaking slightly when I gave him a piece of the scraps and he nearly moaned at the taste with a “Fuck, I made this?”

I showed him how to set and frost each layer, and when I turned around to grab the strawberry filling out of the fridge, I pretended not to see him swiping a taste of the frosting out of the bowl. Moments later, the cake was filled, the crumb-coat was completed and briefly chilled in the freezer, and I was showing Mary how to put on the final coat of frosting. 

He stood at the counter with the icing spatula in hand, rubbing the frosting against the side of the cake gingerly. I almost snorted at his dainty touch and reached around him, my front to his back as I grabbed his hand and directed it against the confection. 

“You can be more forceful. It’s not a porcelain doll.” 

Mary shot me a smug look. “Is that a subtle way of telling me you don’t like it rough, dollface?” 

I felt the familiar pang of heat at my insides and I fought back another groan before realizing the compromising position we were in. Taking matters into my own hands, I gripped onto his wrist a little more forcefully, pushing myself up against him as I peered around his height at the cake. 

“Not everything needs a delicate hand, Goore.” I snapped back, pushing his hand with the knife down to evenly coat the side of the cake, my other hand wrapping around him to turn the cake plate. As much as he tried to act unbothered, I could feel his breath pick up as my leg brushed against the back of his. 

We finished the final coat and I handed him the remaining strawberry filling, watching with amusement as he pooled it on top of the cake, letting it drip down the sides while commenting on how it wouldn’t be from him if it didn’t look at least slightly bloodied (which, to be fair, earned him a solid laugh from me). 

“Voila,” I said, standing back with my hands on my hips. Mary mirrored my action and I felt a soft warmth in my chest as I watched his proud reaction. “I’ll be right back to help move it into the fridge. Just give me a sec.”

I popped down the short hallway to the bathroom and quietly shut the door. Leaning over the vanity, I looked at myself in the mirror and studied my features. There was still a tiny bit of flour at the back of my scalp, and my leggings had a smattering of white fingerprints across them. Reaching down, I rinsed my hands with cool water before splashing some on my neck and drying it with a cool towel. This punk was going to be the death of me. 

When I returned to the kitchen, Mary turned around abruptly, the frosting bowl in one hand while the other was scooping a finger full of frosting into his mouth. 

“Go at it,” I chuckled, “You earned it.”

I met him in the kitchen and leaned back against the counter peninsula, arms crossed over my chest as I watched him with poorly hidden glee. 

“Just had to make sure you’re not trying to poison my mother,” he reasoned, and I laughed again, shaking my head. “This is seriously fucking tits, Doll.”

I felt the heat tinge in my face again. “Thanks, Goore.”

He moved toward me, taking his finger to scoop a bit more frosting before setting the bowl down beside me, his body now inches from mine. He held out the icing covered finger just millimeters from my lips and I thought about his chipped polish digging into my thighs. 

Parting my mouth, I dipped my tongue out just enough to lick at the tip of his finger before bringing it between my lips. He was right — the frosting was fantastic, but as I savored the sweet and salty creaminess that coated my tongue, I let my mind wander to how he tasted in my mouth not long ago as I lapped up the spend he shot down my throat. Maybe it was that thought that caused me to start sucking at his finger, eyes gazing doe-like upon his, while I swirled my tongue across his fingertip. 

I could have sworn that I saw Mary’s emerald eyes physically burn as he watched me, moving from flirty to completely feral as he popped the finger from my mouth and dipped his head in, tongue tracing against the line of my bottom lip. 

He pulled away, hunger still nearly evident as he grabbed onto the curve of my hipbone with his now frosting-free hand. 

“I think I missed some.”

With that, he crashed his mouth into mine, this time much harder, and he immediately shifted to deepen the kiss and roll his tongue against my own. His hands moved down to box me into the countertop and I whined, snaking my own arms up to loop around his neck as I pulled him fervently into me. 

All of my self-reserve clambered from my body. Despite feeling fairly sober from the mixed drinks, I knew my core had been poisoned with need — lust-drunk and willing. If Mary tried to take things further, there was no way I’d be able to resist. 

Gripping the backs of my legs, Mary pulled me to sit up on the wide, open countertop, and used his knee to kick my legs open as he gripped onto my lower back, all but shoving me into his lean frame. 

His hips rolled to grind against me and I let out a pleased hum against his lips. As my tongue danced against his own, lips moving as if in song, I could taste the saccharine proof of our time spent together, the vanilla mixing with an aftertaste of coke and wine and the flavor that was so distinctly Mary. I inhaled deeply against him through my nose, and felt my senses beam with the mix of smoke and his since shed-leather and my own growing arousal slick between my legs. I thought about his torso on top of mine, of the length I’d only felt in my mouth finally pumping into me, and my abdomen tensed at the vision painted behind my eyelids. 

My legs moved to wrap around Mary’s middle and he growled before he broke the kiss just briefly to pull at the hem of my tee shirt to rip it over my head, my bra immediately following. My arms returned to his middle and I began to fumble with the clasp to his metal-adorned belt, struggling just briefly before I heard it fall to the floor with a loud, heavy clunk. 

Mary took the opportunity to tear his own shirt off and toss it haphazardly behind him. Our lips came back together hungrily, nearly tearing at each other like we would wither without taking and giving and taking and giving, and I’m certain I almost broke the button to his jeans as I aggressively popped it open and ripped down the zipper fly. 

Even with the painted-on tightness of his jeans, they were down his legs in record speed, and he reached a hand down to awkwardly pull on the laces to his converse before shaking and kicking both them and his pants off, earning a giggle from me against his lips. His hands returned to my sides and I felt the pads of his thumbs dig into my pelvic bones wantonly, aggressively. As if I wasn’t just Doll, but his doll.  

Pulling back, I took in the sight of the man in front of me. My eyes flitted over the tattoos on each of his arms, raking over his shoulders and pecs as they trailed down his abdomen and to the trail of hair framing the waistband of his boxer briefs. This was the first time I’d seen him so exposed, skin on display, and I mirrored his feral gaze with my ashen eyes as I raked a hand through his golden brown locks, pulling him eagerly back to kiss me. 

Mary’s fingers dipped into the waistband of my leggings and he began to roll them down, almost hesitantly as if asking silent permission, so I moved to grab onto the edge of the counter and lifted my lower half to allow him to push them, along with my panties, down past my ankles. 

After I kicked the remaining clothing off my body, the cool air kissed at my skin, and I swallowed the feeling of exposure away while Mary closed the gap between us. I could feel his warmth as it tickled my goose-bumped flesh. His lips traveled down the line of my jaw to my neck, and I instinctively craned it to the side to allow him better access to the spot above my collarbone that made my knees putty. I could nearly feel myself dripping onto the counter beneath me, and his still-clothed cock twitched against my inner thigh. 

“Mary?” I let out breathlessly, eyes still closed at the sensation of lips on skin. 

He let out a low hum. “Mmm, dollface?”

I reached past the band of his boxer briefs and wrapped my hand around his shaft, holding it firmly before I started to stroke it. He let out a choked noise and I, myself, sputtered out, “Condom?”

Mary detached from my neck hastily and reached down to his jeans piled on the floor, rifling through the pockets until he found his wallet. I heard the unmistakable wrinkle of foil as he pulled the condom out, and I reached forward, snatching it from his hands eagerly before ripping it open. Mary shoved the fabric covering his cock down his legs, kicking them off mere seconds before I grabbed his length once more, expertly rolling the condom down to the base of him. His head dipped forward to my shoulder and he groaned out a breathy “fuck”. 

Reaching between us with one hand, Mary grabbed his member from my grasp, his other hand pulling my hips closer as he slid the tip of himself against the wetness of my pussy. He flicked it up and down teasingly, and I whined out, hands coming to clasp at his neck. 

My slick now coating him, Mary pushed my inner thigh to the side and lined himself up with my entrance before pushing in tantalizingly slow. It was as if he wanted me to feel each inch of him while he felt each clench of my muscles around him. 

We both let out breaths we didn’t know we had been holding. Mary pushed in to the hilt and I let out a slight gasping noise, an intake of breath at the pure fullness and stretch of him, and my forehead came to rest against his as our lips all but brushed against one another. 

“You are so goddamn tight,” he purred, pulling out halfway before sinking back into me. I uttered a moan, helpless and wanting, and he began moving more steadily in and out of my core. My legs wrapped tightly against his hips and backside and I finally connected our lips again, though the jolts of each of his thrusts served as distraction from my attempt to all but swallow him whole.

We moved like that, rhythmically at first before he picked up the pace, a hand coming to cup at my breast, thumb pressing at the nipple as he fucked me into the counter. My head unwillingly tipped back and though my eyes were open, my vision clouded with swirls of grays, purples, and fiery oranges at the heated sensations between my legs. 

Mary grabbed my breast roughly before reaching up to pull my chin down, thumb on my lip as he looked me directly in the eyes. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he grunted, his other hand gripping roughly just above my backside as he pulled me into his hard shaft. I looked down and saw my arousal gathering around the base of his dick and I bit my lip, feeling that tugging in my abdomen increase with every movement. 

My hands moved to wrap under his arms, curling around his back as my fingers dug into the flesh there, half moon shapes and scratches likely patterning his skin as I held on like letting go would mean certain death. 

On his next thrust, Mary shifted his hips up and grazed against my sensitive spot, resulting in an unrestrained cry of pleasure from deep in my lungs — a noise I didn’t know I was capable of making. I looked back into his eyes, my own threatening to water from complete overstimulation and ecstasy, and he used his free hand to rub over my mound. “Please,” I choked out, not above begging for him to slip his fingers against my clit. 

His lips tugged into a devilish smirk, and the dark Mary that I’d heard whisperings about throughout town flashed before me. “You want me to touch you, babydoll?” he practically growled out. I nodded restlessly, biting my bottom lip as I held back another keening noise bubbling in my throat. “You promise to cum on my cock?” he asked, beginning to stroke the circumference around my clit as he maintained a powered look into my eyes. 

“Yes,” I breathed out, swallowing roughly as I pushed my hips back against his to show my enthusiasm and obedience, “Yes, Mare, I promise.”

He grinned at the nickname I’d never before used and danced his thumb across my nub like a whisper before bearing down harshly, flicking it twice before shoving his hips roughly against mine in quick succession. My vocal cords all but melted from my throat as I groaned out, completely depraved and taken, and I squeezed my eyes tight at the sensation. Mary let out his own string of curses as I clamped down around him. 

“S-so-...close,” I rasped out. He must have been too, as I could feel him increase his speed in his thrusting, his chipped black fingernails digging into the flesh of my backside as the other hand stroked me sloppily yet steadily. The pulling that had been building since our collision on the couch began to spill over, and I felt the electrical bolts spreading like lightning down each limb, across my scalp and to the tip of my nose. “Mary!” I shrieked out, my restraint betraying me, virtually screaming as I came undone around him. 

As each part of my body tensed from my orgasm, Mary picked up speed, removing his hand from between my legs to grasp at my other hip, fucking into me with wild abandon. His own moans were nearly as loud as mine, and each movement burst starlight through my cunt. Mary’s body trembled, pelvis stuttering as I felt him twitch inside of me. Mere moments passed before I could feel his cock roughly kicking inside of my walls and for a split second, I wished that we’d forgone the condom so I could feel his spend as it coated me. 

After a few more pumps to ride out his high, Mary leaned forward, hands bracing himself on the counter around me as his forehead rested against my shoulder. We were both breathing heavily, him more so, and I reached up to play with the sweat-dampened hair at the nape of his neck, kissing against his shoulder. 

He let out a breathy laugh and slid out of me. I could feel him pulling off the condom and tying it, but as he moved to throw it away, I caught his wrist and pulled him back into me. 

“Stay for a second,” I asked, surprising even myself at the request. He humored me and ran a hand up my thigh to rest there, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. 

“Was this the real reason you came over?” I asked after a minute had passed, our breathing now somewhat evened and the chill of stillness pricking at the sweat on our bodies. 

Mary shook his head. “It was just the icing on the cake.” He flashed a grin at me, and I groaned, slapping his chest playfully and earning an “ow, fuck” in return. 

He stepped a few feet away to throw away the condom before returning, hands rubbing soothingly at my thighs as I tried to ignore the feeling of the edge of the countertop biting into my ass. 

Extending his arm out, Mary brushed some of the scarlet hair matted to my damp forehead. I closed my eyes at the touch and allowed myself to smile at the sweet gesture. The smile was short lived, however, as I thought back to his joke.

“Fuck…” I said, eyes opening to stare back at him, “...we forgot to put the cake in the fridge.”

#mary goore x female character #mary goore x ofc #mary goore fanfic #mary goore #repugnant band #repugnant #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #ghost bc fanfic #repugnant fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic writing

[copiousloverofcopia]

HERE IT IS! The moment some of you have been waiting for...well maybe not really lol...

Since I completed The Red Dress as promised I have started on one of my promised other new works.....UNDER THE SPELL!

Please be nice I am SO not used to writing for Mary, so I hope its ok!

Mary Goore x OC Piper!

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 1: Fishnets and Regrets

Also available HERE on AO3!

Eventually will be NSFW below the cut 😈

She was trying her best to stay cool, staving off the tears that relentlessly pricked at her eyes. The sharp-winged cat eyeliner and heavily mascaraed lashes sent a trail of black down her cheeks. A battle lost, but only for a short moment until she could bring herself to carry on. Piper stared into the mirror of another random bar's bathroom, angry at herself for not realizing what she wanted to do with her life sooner. Despite her upset, the show must go on. Knowing that would need to stuff it down before heading out to face them again—her chosen family and partners in crime, Repugnant. 

She had spent the last 6 years of her life traveling with them and when the sounds of humming amps kicked on and the guitars screamed as they were being tuned—she needed to move her ass. Before heading back out, she adjusted her tattered fishnets, that had seen better days, and re-tied her scuffed up black combat boots. They were her favorite—a gift from Mary many years ago. Piper checked the mirror, once more, just to be sure that her mohawk hadn't fallen, before using her foot to kick open the door.  

Her mind was still heavy with anger and hurt. The fight she and Sid had was only a short time ago and it left her feeling heated, like she was roasting from the inside. Now she'd have to go and watch them perform—pissed off but having got her shit together enough to keep the peace. After all, there were still a bunch more gigs to go and the road home, for her, didn’t really exist. 

It was the first time in a long time Piper wished she was somewhere else. Traveling with the four guys and Tom's girl, Annie, had been a dream come true. She lived for the music, the lights of the stage, and the energy from the crowd as the guys performed. Having grown up with Mary and getting close with the rest of them, it was only natural that they all worked so well together. So, when Mary and Sid asked her to tag along while they toured the world, she thought she couldn’t ask for anything more—that was until last week. 

She was late—very late. Her period, which had normally come like clockwork, had decided to give both her and Sid the scare of a lifetime. Both of them in a full-blown panic as the reality of that drunken mishap set in. Sid was pissed, throwing shit around the hourly rate hotel room, spouting comments about her needing to get shit taken care of and him not wanting any damn kids. Piper wasn’t at all surprised at his psychotic meltdown, but what she was surprised about was her reaction to the negative test. In that moment everything changed, and she was, for lack of a better word, conflicted. 

When only one line appeared on the stick, Sid was ecstatic. Jumping up and down acting like a complete and utter fool. Thrilled out of his mind that he had dodged yet another bullet despite his recklessness. Piper was relieved too, in a way. Sid was not necessarily the "fatherly" type, but the idea of having a kid hadn't left her—even a week later. 

That's when the fight happened, and of course it just had to happen before the show. Sid couldn't let things go and give her the space she needed when she told him nothing was wrong. So, with his incessant pushing and Piper's built-up anger, the truth came spilling out like blood from a gushing wound. Not her finest moment to be sure, but she wondered if all of this was what needed to happen.

Things had been rocky for some time with Sid. He was a good man deep down, but definitely immature and Piper was pretty sure his photo was next to "man child" in the dictionary. She loved him, but she knew at this point it was over between them—Piper had figured out she wanted more than just a spot in the tour bus and glorified groupie status with the band. She told Sid she wanted to move on with her life and settle down. And with that revelation, blow up number 1,346 began. Leaving them officially split up and Piper in an awkward place—feeling empty. 

She took in a deep breath before continuing down the hall and stepping out onto the floor, the band playing when she had made her way to the pit. The guitars were drilling into the audience’s skulls and the drums banging hard, vibrating in her chest. The feeling of the music coursing through her, was truly something she'd never get enough of. Piper watched Sid playing his guitar, Tom on drums, Carlos on bass, and of course Mary absolutely slaughtering the vocals. The frustration, hanging itself within her soul, shredding with the sounds of the death metal they came to play. 

The smell of cigarette smoke was heavy in the air and the sticky floor pulled at the bottoms of her boots, but she didn't care. Piper head-banged her way through Draped in Cerecloth and tried to just let go. Her mohawk swinging around and the chains on her belt rattling as she jumped up and down, screaming into the universe and giving every last bit of energy she had to Mary and the guys. Thankfully it was gonna be a great night of music, but also a night she would never forget.

The show was a blast, the crowd losing it over the performance and tearing the place up as they rocked out to what their parents surely referred to as “deafening noise”. As their spot was over, Mary and the guys along with Piper and Annie took the opportunity to throw a few back before heading out for the night. All of them laughing and celebrating another show well done, Piper being a bit less enthusiastic as usual. Mary, taking note that she and Sid had been keeping their distance. 

The bar had now been closed for over an hour and while everyone else minus the stagehands had left to head back to the bus, Piper decided to hang out for some time alone. She sat by herself with a beer in hand and picked at yet another tear in her fishnets, when she saw Mary coming towards her. Fuck , she thought to herself knowing exactly where this was going.  

Mary Goore had been covered in blood since the beginning of the show. Preferring to start things out with a bang. Dripping with it as he raged in sonnets of death and the defiling of corpses. The metallic liquid, now managing to cover his shirt and matted a bit of his hair, but he didn't care. It was another glorious night for him and the guys, though he couldn’t let go of the feeling that things were off with Sid and Piper. 

He felt a connection to her like no other—the best of friends since the cradle. Their families were close from the beginning. When Mary's Dad took off and Piper's parents were killed, they were the ones to help each other hold it together. She had been a staple in his life. A constant he knew he could always count on. Things had been weird lately between her and Sid, that was for sure. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out things were at an all-time low. 

"Pipes? Why aren't you on the bus?" He asked as he slumped down beside her on the edge of the stage. Piper shrugged a bit, taking another swig of her beer to finish it off before speaking. 

"Just didn't feel like it quite yet. I figured I'd wait till everything got packed up and then head over."

"Bullshit." Mary said straight faced and serious toned. He was a bit intimidating after a show, all that blood over his face and the tiniest amount of grumble to his voice—after having pushed it so hard.

"Oh come on. Don't do that thing you do." Piper begged—her words futile. She knew he could sense it, there was definitely something she wasn’t telling him. Piper was surprised that Sid hadn't told him yet about their break up, since he had never known how to keep his mouth shut. 

"You know better sweetness than to lie to my face." He told her as he widened his gaze and tried to lean in closer. Piper pressed her lips together into a tight line and furrowed her brows before dropping her eyes to her lap. Damn Mary for always being right and always knowing when she was hiding something. 

“Sid and I well…we aren’t a thing anymore.” Piper said calmly before looking back over at Mary. His face was filled with disgust, imagining the multitude of things Sid could have done to destroy things with Piper, who had stuck by his ass for so long. 

“What did that rat bastard do now?” Mary growled knowing full well how asinine his friend could be. Piper put her hand on Mary’s shoulder to calm him. It was slick with blood and sweat and some face paint, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Mary grabbed for her hand and gave her a concerned look. 

“No Mare, it’s nothing like that. We just decided that we want different things—I want different things.” Piper explained. 

“Well what the fuck does that even mean?” Mary laughed, though a bit nervously.

“I think this may be the end of the road for me. After the next few gigs, I’m gonna have to figure something out. I got other things I wanna do with my life and being stuck on the bus isn’t it anymore.”

“Where is this coming from? I thought you loved being on tour with us?” Mary asked her, completely confused and honestly more shaken than if it had been only the Sid issue. He didn’t want Piper to leave. Half the time she was the only thing that kept him from going off the deep end. What’s got her ready to run if it ain't Sid , he asked himself. 

“I wanna settle down, take up root somewhere and well that's not gonna happen with Sid or while I’m on the road with you all.” Piper admitted. She and Mary had usually been upfront with each other. Each appreciating the other's candor, saving them from misunderstandings but tonight she was withholding something. And while Piper might have wanted to keep the intimate details of her heartache to herself, Mary would know she was lying before she could speak the words.

“What a pussy.” he snorted, angry with Sid for spurring this whole thing on, thinking to himself anyone would be lucky to be committed to Piper. “Honestly Pipes you are better off without him…but I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that I want you to stay. Don’t go.”  

“Uh…fuck…Mare that’s not the start.” Piper explained, swallowing back the knot forming in her throat. Now Mary was on red alert. All his senses, buzzing with something big about to come out of Piper’s mouth—and then she said it. 

“I wanna have a baby.” she told him, Mary turning even paler than his face paints. It was only when his stunned stare turned into a dissociated blink, that Piper knew he hadn’t gone catatonic, “Mare?”

“Ah…umm…” he began smearing the blood through his hair as he ran his hand over his head. Clearly still in shock from Piper’s confession, “...what happened to you starting that band? What were you going to call it? Crazy Chrysanthemums or something?” he asked, unable to think of anything else to say in his stupor.  

“It was Wild Violets…That doesn't matter. That was just a fleeting idea.” Piper explained, “You’re missing the point.”

“And this ISN’T a fleeting idea?” Mary continued. 

“No…I honestly hadn’t thought about this kinda thing at all, but we had a scare and well… I can’t stop thinking about it.” Then Mary stood up, beginning to pace the stage as he took in everything his best friend was saying. Her words, hitting him like daggers to the chest.  

“Piper…”

“Yes?” She asked as Mary walked over to her and held out his hand. Waiting for her to take it so he could lift her up onto the stage. Piper gave it to him, quickly getting up on her feet as Mary and her eyes met in what remained of the stage lights. 

“So not a joke…not a fleeting idea?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Pulling at the worn neckline of his Morbid t-shirt.  

“Not a joke I swear.” Piper replied, putting up her hands like some girl scout signaling her pledge to the troop. Mary got quiet again—his eyes dropping away from hers and down to the scratched up remnants of old band stickers and other crap that had adhered to the floor of the stage. “Mare?” she called to him, watching him get lost in thought. 

“Sorry I am still trying to wrap my head around you wanting Sid to be a dad.” Mary jabbed, trying to insert some humor into the situation, but he could tell it only made Piper more upset. 

“Oh come on Pipes you know this whole thing is a little fucked right? Hell, even I'd be a better Dad than..." Mary began when the idea struck Piper like a ton of bricks. One she instantly knew felt right, but oh boy was it going to be a bitch to convince Mary. He could see it—the look in her eye told him she was scheming and now his anxiety went through the roof. “…what are you thinkin’... 

“Mare…here me out. What if you—” Piper barely got out the first words before Mary began pacing around once more, his eyes blown wide and his jaw dragging across the floor. 

"Nope, nope don't like that." Mary said, shaking his head. “No way you’re even considering what I think you are considering.” 

“But Mare…you are my best friend. My other half, I can’t think of anyone else better. I don’t wanna waste my time with some deadbeat guys…not when I have you. Not when I know that you’re perfect.” Piper finished, a newfound energy surging through her. Wondering why she hadn’t thought of this before tonight. Mary was visibly in shock. His mind swirling with the implications of his best friend’s words. Wondering if he was finally losing his mind from all the stress of touring.  

“Perfect for what Pipes?” he asked her, straining against the words he knew were about to leave her lips. 

“I want it to be you. I want you and I…to have a baby.”

#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

[m0rbidmacabre]

One night with Mary Goore

4084 words

Summary: You go to a death metal show and meet Mary Goore, you soon find out how much you want each other. Notes: One night With Mary Goore - This series has started due to feeling creatively sapped with my other fics - wanted to get my hands "Dirty?!" is that the word? haha! Enjoy.

WARNINGS: Smut, One Night Stands, Sexy Times, Fucking, Bathroom Sex, Exhibitionism

One Night With: Mary Goore

READ ON AO3

You were about done getting ready to head out to a local gig. You had picked out a little black velvet dress, your hair tumbled down your shoulders like waves in the ocean, your eyes covered in deep black eyeshadow, and your bright lipstick burned into your skin like shimmering rose petals. You looked good, like a vision of death herself. You had been looking forward to the show tonight, it wasn’t often that the local venue had Death Metal bands playing in your hometown, and you were looking forward to letting your hair down and enjoying your favourite genre of music, even if you hadn’t heard of any of the bands on the line up, you knew you would have fun.

You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and called for a cab. It was not long until you were at the venue, tonight was one of those nights where the venue was packed full, the only ladies in sight seem to be the ones with their partners. You though, you were ballsy, headstrong and it didn’t bother you if some gent came up to you unrequested, you knew how to get him to leave you alone. You did this often, and you never felt like you needed company to enjoy a show. You were here to enjoy the music and unwind, and that is about it.

You headed to the bar and got yourself a drink, “Vodka and Coke, please”. The bartender just looked at you, smiled and nodded his approval. you go to this venue a lot and by now you were coming up to speaking terms with the bar staff. It was always the same dude, and you were sure he knew your order off by heart by now, but you still asked politely as you always did.  While you were waiting for him to return with your drink you stood watching him as he made it up, counting out the cash you would need to pay him when you were rudely interrupted “Hey Hey Hey, Can I get a beer? We have got to go on stage soon” You glance to your left and meet the gaze of the man stood next you. He looks at you with a ridiculous smirk on his face, you look him up and down. He was heavily covered in stage make up, pale as night with bright red fake blood dripping down his face, His raven black hair covering up most of his face and his t-shirt torn but fitted and his jeans just as ripped up. “He’s just grabbing me a drink; He won’t be a minute” you say to him with a polite smile, trying give the bar man a little space. “Oh, is he… isn’t he lucky” He smiled at you. “ALSO, get this lady another one of what she ordered too, stick it on my tab with the beer.”  He cheekily winked at you. You could not help but smile at how forward he was, you almost had to hold back from laughing at him. you took your drinks from the bar man, nodding thanks to both, and found yourself a decent spot for the show.

You stood by yourself enjoying the support act for the night, they were another heavy death metal band that you did not quite catch the name of. They were heavy, and you liked how much energy they were giving off. It was not long until you noticed the guy from the bar was walking around, almost strutting with confidence oozing from him and talking to a few people who were dotted around the venue, he was making his way around the room greeting people and handing out flyers. You stood watching him, averting your gaze from the band currently giving it their all on stage. He was hot you thought to yourself, and clearly very sure of who he was. He moved on to talk to another person who was closer to you, they began talking and you could just see him over the man’s shoulder, they both stood laughing, and his face lit up when he handed the man a flyer. you kept watching with intrigue when suddenly, he spotted you looking at him and that cheeky devilish smile appeared back on his face. He finished talking to the man he was currently having a conversation with, glancing at you in-between talking, like he wanted to see if you were still checking him out and since he had now noticed where you were standing, he made his move towards you.

“Hey beautiful, you come here often?” He smiled.

You laugh out a response at the weak chat up line. “I do… But I have never seen you here before.”

“I am Mary… My bands Repugnant, we are headlining tonight’s show.” He said puffing out his chest to make himself look good. “You look good by the way, very pretty” he smiled with his eyebrows raised and your cheeks flushed red, before you knew it you were both talking about your favourite subject, music. You were both laughing at your similar tastes and how much going to these shows meant a lot to you both because you both loved the death metal scene you were both drawn to.  You both stood talking for a while until Mary noticed one of his band mates gesturing to him to come over.

“I have got to go; we go on soon but are you going to be hanging around after the show? I will buy you another drink” He smiles at you with another devilish grin that leaves you wondering what was going through his mind.

“It depends on how good you are on stage…  I guess.” you smile back, laughing at your own sarcasm.

“I guess, I’ll see you after my set then…” He laughs, cocky as well as headstrong. It looked good on him.

The band on stage finishes and you see the techs setting up the stage during turn around, you don’t see Mary again until his bands intro begins to play. You can feel butterflies flying around your stomach at a million miles an hour, you were intrigued to see him on stage. After all he had made his band sound awesome, He was hot as fuck too… Why wouldn’t you be?

The stage went black as the introduction played out, you could hear the rustle of the crowed as the energy began to build in the room and then suddenly, the band members appeared on stage bathed in red light. All you could hear was the sound of people cheering around you as Mary took the lead. The sound was powerful, captivating, drawing the audience in and wrapping them up in the band’s performance, Mary began letting out screams that could have summoned Satan himself. You liked their strong presence on stage, they did not stand back in the dark. Even though the lighting was dark and dull you could feel the energy ripping through your body as they played and Mary, well Mary looked like he could have been an angel in the body of the devil himself and he more than intrigued you at this point. The lights flash, the drums and guitar pounding to the beat and Mary’s voice echoed through the venue. You could feel your core getting wet as you watched him taking command of the stage, he was good at what he did, he had every right to be that cocky shit he seemed to be when you talked.

You stood at the back your gaze firmly on him, and then he let out a deafening scream... His gaze shifted upwards from his guitar, looking for yours finding you instantly as he let the scream rip through him. Again, showing you his cocky side. You bite your lip, hardly able to control his intense stare and his screams at the same time. He was making you melt, and he could see it. How could he miss it?

They played their hour-long set, and You enjoyed every moment of it, but your underwear did not enjoy it as much as you did. You were wet, you could feel the wetness forming in your panties. The excitement from the show was clear, and you knew that he could tell how excited he made you. It was written across his cocky face as he looked at you with purpose. He wanted you, and he could tell you wanted him too.

After they had finished playing you made your way to the bar and ordered another drink, you stood waiting, thinking if hanging around is the right choice. As you stood nursing your drink, you lost track of everything around you and stood in your own thoughts, but you were quickly pulled from that when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turn around to see a sweaty Mary looking at you with a smile on his face. His face paints now smeared all over his face, He looked even hotter the messier he got.

“I told you you wouldn’t leave…” he laughed. You smiled at him, nudging him. “You're so cocky Mary…” you laugh back at him.

“But you like that about me, don’t you? He grinned and without pausing he continued “Why don’t we get out of here? I have a few hours before I need to be back for the bus... We are playing some other city tomorrow.”

You look at him trying to figure him out and decided to throw caution to the wind, what did you have to lose? Nothing. It was not often you were adventurous; it was not often you let your hair down.

“Okay” you looked at him and smiled. You finished your drink and you and Mary head for the venue door. “I know a little bar around the corner we could hangout in. it’s quiet, and the jukebox is impressive.” You say to him with a smile.

As you both head out the venue door, Mary grabs your arm and pulls it into his tucking it under his arm. “So, this bar… You say its quiet, how quiet?” he askes curiously, you smile back at him wondering what he was he was planning for you both. “It’s normally pretty dead, I’m sure we could most likely grab a booth in the corner” you say to him with a little smug smile. “Great, I want you all to myself” He responds. Just him saying that sends a shock of warmth through your core. You can’t tell if he’s teasing or if he’s being truthful, your mind wonders too what you could both get up to in the next few hours alone with each other.

Arriving at the bar Mary opens the door for you, watching you intently as you smile at him as you enter the bar area. It was just as you thought, it was quiet, just a few people around. “You go grab us a booth, I’ll get us drinks. Make sure we are alone! I don’t want us to be disturbed” Mary says to you with an evil grin. You sit down in the corner booth; nobody can see you both from here and you were pretty sure that nobody would bother you. It wasn’t long until Mary appeared with drinks for you both and he slid into the booth next you and without even a thought he placed his hand on your knee. You both sat discussing the tour his band are currently on, and Mary was telling you how well it was going and that he felt like a big change was coming, like something might finally be happening for them. You smile sweetly at him, you could tell he was proud of his music, you could tell it was his passion as he told you all about it. His face glowed when he spoke about his music, and it was electric. It wasn’t long until his attention was fully turned to you, and the hand on your lap was moving closer and closer to your core. You didn’t stop him; you just went with the flow. It felt good to feel his hands on you, to feel the heat from his hands, and he looked at you with purpose every time your eyes locked. Like he was going to take you and make you his, and you would happily oblige him.

You move your leg onto his lap, and you move in closer to him, he was radiating warmth and you felt yearning for him. He felt like a warm blanket that you just wanted to wrap around you. You give him a sultry look, looking at him to close the gap between you both. He cupped your face with his free hand, leaning in to kiss you but he didn’t… he stopped right before your lips met and he just held you there... you could feel the tension building between you both as you could both feel the warm breath of the other on each other’s lips. “You’re so pretty, such a pretty girl” he whispered to you as he held your face to his... your eyes both never leaving the other. He broke the gaze with a lick, licking your soft lips instead of kissing them. All you could do was bite your lip back at him, the teasing was becoming too much for you, your flushed cheeks said it all.

“Mm... You taste good…” he whispers to you.

“Mary, stop teasing…” you smile at him.

“Tell me what you want then pretty girl?” he replied.

“You, Mary.” your confession echoing in your ears.

He closes the gap, kissing you hard and sliding his tongue into your mouth... just enough to let you taste him as your tongues intensely dance with each other. His hand moves to the back of your head, and you move your head back allowing him to kiss you deeper, harder. He pulls your hair, letting you know that you’re his tonight. It wasn’t long until that hand on your lap decides to wander closer to your core, his hands reaching your panties and he can feel your heat growing “You’re so wet for me already… Naughty girl” He hums in your ear but by this point all you wanted to do was be on top of him, under him or anyway else he wanted you. He begins to rub circles through your panties, your core instance wanting his. You kiss him harder as you use your foot on his lap to rub circles on his crotch through his jeans, he was hard, ready, primed for you and you could feel him growing harder the longer you both sat teasing one another.

“Fuck, you’re driving me insane… What am I supposed to do with this” he laughs at you, his gaze looking down at his pants. His hard cock fully formed and pressing hard against his tight jeans.  

You just smile at him. “Follow me” you whisper to him cheekily. You got to your feet and adjusted your dress and walked firmly across the bar to where the bathrooms were. Mary could see where you were heading and followed you slowly behind with a look of wanting written across his face... like a pray animal stalking its victim.

You enter the bathroom and stood by the sinks looking into the mirror as Mary walked in behind you. You hear the click of the door, As Mary found the lock. He stood at the door, just watching you in the mirror. Your breathing heightened from the excitement; your gazes met through the mirror on the wall. It only took him two steps to reach you, he stood behind you while you still faced the mirror. He pushed your hair out of the way and buried himself into your neck, Kissing, biting… a moan slips from your lips, and you can tell this is going to heat up quickly, that this was going to be instance and you expected nothing less from him.  He lifts your dress while his face is still buried into your neck, he slaps your ass and gives it hard squeeze, pushing you against the sink you stood in front of just so he can squeeze that bit harder. His name slips from your breathless lips, and he stops and looks at you in the mirror.

“Do you want me pretty girl? Do you want me to fuck you? You’ve made me so hard that I can promise you it will be rough. Tell me you want me?” he whispered into your ear, still biting, and nipping you as he hushed out words to you.

“Mary…. I want you Mary… please”.

That was all he needed to hear, and his hand reached around in front of you, pulling up your dress to reveal your panties, he slapped your ass again...

 “Take them off…” he grunted at you.

You slowly pull down your panties, and Mary huffed, too impatient to wait and began to help you pull them down. You step out of them and return to looking in the mirror at him, he looks at you and grins and you smile back at him, your sultry eyes piercing into him.

He reaches around the front of you, finding your mound... using his two middle fingers to open you up for him “You’re so wet, So wet for me. Urgh, you’re so fucking hot… How am I supposed to leave you after this?” he whispers in your ear as he begins to circle your clit using his thumb. You moan at how responsive his fingers are, pushing yourself back into him, feeling his hard cock through his jeans on your rear... rubbing yourself onto him as he circles your clit, adding pressure, just enough for you to feel your slick becoming all too much. You stop and turn yourself around to face him, you needed him desperately and without a second thought your hands were on the button of his jeans... pulling them open as you both fall into a deep kiss. His cock sprang free, and Mary moaned against your lips at his newfound freedom. You reach between you both, finding his cock and begin to play with him... breaking your kiss to lick your hand, you put your hands around him and begin to play with him. His lips return to yours as he moans through as you begin to find a pace that keeps him on the edge of wanting you.

“Urghhh… turn around, turn around I want to fuck you” he moaned into your mouth. You turn around again, watching him in the mirror as he kisses into your neck. “Bend over pretty girl… I’m going to fuck you so hard” he instructs you. You lean onto the sink, pushing your butt into him, feeling his hard cock pushing against you. You watch him as he begins to line himself up to you, and within what felt like an eternity, he pushed into you… your eyes rolling back into your head as he stretches you out, your back arching as you finally feel the fullness of his cock inside you. “Fuck… you’re so tight, you feel so good...” He whispers to you. He begins to move, thrusting with purpose, thrusting hard… making you moan and cry out his name as his cock hits your sweet spot. All that can be heard in the bathroom is the echoing slaps as he pounds himself into you. He gathers up your hair, and pulls it, pulling your head up to meet his gaze in the mirror “Watch me, you slut... watch me fuck you”. Your eyes meet his, watching him move with purpose as he bites his lip, chasing his own orgasm. “Spread your legs, wider, play with yourself” he instructs you one more.  You move your hand to your core, finding your clit and you thumb circles into yourself, getting rougher and rougher as your orgasm builds, matching Mary’s pace.

“Mary… Mary... I’m going to cum” you echo out to him.  “No, No, you wait for me little slut…”  He continues to move, hard and fast... and then he stops. Dropping your hair and pulling out of you, you moan at the loss of him, he turns you around to face him and kisses you deep as he picks you up, placing you onto the sink. “Spread your legs baby, wide” you oblige, not wanting to waste time, not wanting to lose the chase you were building, and he pushes back into you... your body shuddering against his as you feel him enter you deep... you could feel the heat radiating off him as your bodies press together and he begins to drill into you again... “I’m close baby, so close” he whispers into your ear. You run your hands through his hair as you hold onto him, every nerve ending in your body was reacting to him. Your orgasm so close that you didn’t think it was possible to stop yourself from letting go any more “Mary, Mary… I’m going to cum, please, can I? I don’t think I can… wait any longer Mary” you whisper to him.  He looks at you, with a devilish grin, his eyes saying everything you needed him to say... He pounds faster, hitting your sweet spot over and over as your orgasm builds and you feel your whole-body shudder and as your core tightens against him as you let go... “Fuck… baby... urghhh” He whispers at you as your orgasm races through you, milking him for everything he has. You feel him stiffen against you, his body letting go, spilling himself into you as he collapses against you. You both stand there for a while, catching your breath as you can feel him coming down from his orgasm. You both saw stars, it was intense. He lifts his head up, peeling himself off your shoulder and he looks at you with a smile. “Fuck, you’re so hot” he says to you slapping your thigh, you run his hands through your hair and give him a kiss on the forehead. He pulls out of you, and you moan at the loss between your legs as you feel him spilling out of you and your eyes meet again. Another dirty smile from him.  He walks into the stall and cleans himself up, putting his cock back into his ripped jeans... he retrieves wipes for you… “Open your legs for me baby…” he says to you and cleans you up, picking up your panties from the floor and returning them around you.

“Let’s go…” He looks at you. “I don’t have long until I need to be back at the bus” You look at him with a little sad smile, and he leans into hug you as you put his hair back into place. He picks you up off the side and returns you to your standing position as you pull your dress back into its place. You leave the bathroom first and return to your booth. Mary follows, stopping by the bar to get you both drinks and slides back into the booth next to you. You rest your head onto his shoulder as you both drink still catching your breath from your bathroom escapades. Mary pulls his phone from his pocket, 3 missed calls. You watch him as he texts, placing your hand on his lap as he replies to his missed messages. He throws the phone on the table with a smile and kisses you on the forehead as you both sit together in the company of the other. No words needed, just sharing the afterglow of your time together.  “Look, I need to go...” He says to you, you look at him and smile... “Can I see you again?” he asks. You sit up and take his phone from the table and put in your number. “Text me later” you say to him as you hand him back his phone.  He smiles at you and puts his phone back into his pocket. He leans in and gives you a deep kiss, one that was meant to cause wanting, a want that successfully achieved its purpose sending your stomach to fill you with butterflies at his touch.  Breaking the kiss “I’ll text you later then” He smiled pulling himself to his feet, and taking one more look at you before walking off into the night…

#ghost fandom #ghost #ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #the band ghost #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #mary goore #band ghost #smutty fanfiction #smutty smut smut #mary goore x reader #repugnant

[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

[lady-necropolis]

If you are taking requests I would love a story with Mary Goore involving some road head and them returning the favor. :-]

Hello anon! Sorry how long this one took, But here you are! 18+ under the cut!

“Told you we should have left earlier.” Mary grumbles something under their breath in response, the steering wheel squeaking as they tighten their grip on it, knuckles going white. “What?”

“I said you were right,” they muttered. You sigh, peering out the window. You’re barely crawling along, stuck in a tight bottleneck. The one time you and Mary have a break that lines up—you a full weekend, they no band obligations—and decide to get out of the city for a bit, of course it couldn’t go right. You’d told Mary that you ought to wake up early to pick up the car rental, get a head start on the way out the city, and of course it took them forever to get out of bed, mumbling that it would be fine. That you were worrying too much when it was supposed to be a fun weekend. Mary groaned, dropping their head against the steering wheel.

“We haven’t moved in fucking ages.”

“I know,” you sigh, offering your partner a pitiful hand on their shoulder. You feel how tense their muscle is beneath your hand, how stressed they are. Mary was never patient, never good at waiting, this would practically be torture for them.

“Babe,” they whine. “We’re gonna fuckin’ expire out here.” You roll your eyes.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m not! They’re gonna find our fuckin’ bones in this car.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do,” you murmur, your hand sliding up to massage their neck gently. “Just try to relax.” Mary’s eyes flutter shut, and they let out a deep emptying sigh, rolling their shoulders under your ministrations.

“Yeah okay,” they mumble.

“It’s not that bad,” you muse, and they creak their eyes open and frown at you. “At least you’re stuck with me?”

“Touché.”

“Mmm,” you hum, and lean in to press a soft kiss to Mary’s lips. You feel your partner melt into it, moaning deeply against your mouth. A large hand wraps around the nape of your neck, digging into you hair, pulling you closer as Mary deepens the kiss, their tongue exploring your mouth, dancing across yours. You unbuckle your seatbelt, and as you wrap your arms around their neck, pressing yourself as close as you can get to your partner, you can’t help but feel grateful for the rental’s partially tinted windows. You break apart for breath, and Mary’s lips chase after you, your foreheads bumping softly against one another.

And then a thought pops into your head, and you offer Mary a wry smile. They furrow their brow in confusion. But your hands are already on the move, sliding down the plains of their chest, their stomach, and you get to work; unbuckling their heavy belt, unbuttoning their pants and tugging down the zipper.

“Babe—” Mary’s breath hitches as you run a hand over their growing bulge, and you press a kiss to their jaw.

“Just wanna make you feel good,” you murmur against their skin. “Don’t want you to be stressed.” You kiss down their neck, your hand sliding under the waistband of their boxers. Mary’s already hard, and they let out a long hiss, their chest heaving as you pump up and down on their length.

“Fuck.”

“Feels good?” you whisper, nuzzling the crook of their neck.

“Yeah,” Mary groans, their head falling back against the headrest.

“Good.” And then you’re pulling Mary’s leaking cock out, running your thumb over the head. Their hips jerk and you slide back in your seat, settling your knees on the floor of the car.

“Fuck yes,” Mary hisses as they realize what you’re doing, their hand finding its way to the back of your head. You bristle in delight at the slight sting as Mary’s nails dig into your scalp.

You start slowly, licking a long, languid stripe up the underside of their length, swirling your tongue around their head as your hand wraps around the base. You stay like that for a while, kitten-licking the pre-cum from Mary’s cockhead, revelling in the huffs and moans from above, until Mary’s impatience catches up to them, and with a snarl, bucks their hips, their fist tightening its grip on your hair, pushing your head down gently.

You take the hint, hollowing your cheeks and taking their length in your mouth, and start bobbing up and down in earnest. Mary groans loudly above you.

“Fuck doll, mouth so fucking good.” You suck on Mary’s head, a harsh fuck! Muttered under their breath. You let go with a pop, running your tongue down to their base, sucking at the sensitive flesh on the underside.

“Love sucking your cock Mary,” you moan, taking them all again, you fight your gag reflex, tears running down your cheeks, drool spilling down your chin as Mary ruts into your mouth.

“Fuck I’m close.” You breathe deeply through your nose, letting Mary fuck your throat as hard as they can, hollowing your cheeks, digging your fingers into their hips. “So good,” they groan. “Yes, y-yes, yes, yes, Fuck!” The salt of Mary’s cum hits your tongue and you groan, sucking on their head, licking every drop, following them through their high, their hips twitching with the aftershocks. “Fuck,” Mary sighs, running a hand over their face. You pop your mouth of their cock, wiping away your spit from your chin with a mischievous grin.

“Feel better?” Mary nods.

“yeaaah, yeah that was—fuck that was good.” You huff, laughing under your breath. “C’mere.” Mary pulls you into a deep kiss, and you moan against their lips, their hands burying themselves in your hair. And then a loud honk! Coming from behind breaks the moment, and you startle, jumping off Mary.

“Fuck! We’re moving!” Mary scrambles to tuck themselves back into their jeans and you buckle your seat. The car behind you honks again, and Mary flips them off through the rearview mirror. “Yeah I’m going, on going,” they mutter, giving you a bewildered smile. “Good fuckin’ way to kill time, babe.” You bite your lip as Mary puts the car in drive, smiling to yourself.

It’s a few hours later when you finally pull into the driveway of the rental cabin. You’re stiff and itching to get out of the car, but just as you go to open your door, Mary pushes you back into the seat.

“Mary—” You’re cut off as Mary presses their lips to you, their hands sliding down, unbuttoning your jeans.

“Think I’d let you out of the car without returning the favour?” they growl, crawling over to the passenger seat and settling down on their knees before you.

“There’s a whole bed in the cabin.”

“Nuh-uh sweetheart,” Mary answers, a devilish grin on their face, “Only when I’m through with you here.”

#mary goore #mary goore fanfic #mary goore x reader #mary goore smut #ghost bc #the band ghost #repugnant band