#Mary Goore fanfiction

[da-rulah]

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 6]

Summary: It was only a matter of time before you asked to see Mary's band, but he can't help the rising anxiety that you might just hate what he does… Still, he concedes, and you head to their show with him. If you thought Mary was hot before, oh boy… Now he's irresistible.

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: Teasing, sexual tension, cum play, sexual harassment, unwanted physical contact, use of a homophobic slur, violence, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, masturbation (f), cum swallowing, cum play 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Well, look who's back... Mary's here. 😈 Thank you to all those who've waited to patiently for this next chapter. I hope you won't be disappointed... As always, thank you to me besties @her-satanic-wiles and @angellayercake for their encouragement and beta reading services - I adore you both.

AND, this one's dedicated to @kissingghouls, who had a birthday during the week and tested a little snippet of this chapter out for me 👀 I hope you love the rest of it 💕

You could have lay there all night. Truthfully, you couldn’t think of anywhere else in the world you’d rather be right now besides buried in blankets and pillows in Mary’s arms, looking out at the moon rippling across the water of the lake. The radio still played from the cab of his van, and you were content to listen to Mary singing along to his favourite songs under his breath.  

You could feel him vibrating beneath you as he sang, your back pressed to his chest and laying against him between his legs. Every so often, he’d press a kiss to the side of your head, or readjust the way his hands lay across your stomach with his fingers intertwined with yours. You were just so comfortable, never having felt so safe and wanted before.  

“Do you sing in your band, too?” you asked him, fiddling with the rings on his fingers absentmindedly. 

“Hm? Oh, uh... Yeah I guess I do.” You turned your head to look at him, suspicion creasing your brow. 

“You guess?” 

“Well, it’s kinda more... growling? Some screaming. Bit of singing,” he shrugged, a little sheepish. 

“Aw, and here’s me thinking I was the only one you growled for,” you teased, which earned you a laugh.  

“Well you’re the only one who can drag it outta me like that,” he flirted, bouncing his eyebrows and planting a lingering kiss to the top of your cheek.  

You got comfortable again, settling into his chest and wrapping his arms tighter around you. A few moments of blissful quiet passed as you thought about him on stage; what would he sound like? Look like? Was he good? You wanted to know. 

“I wanna see you play,” you said earnestly. “when are you playing next?” 

Mary clammed up a little behind you, suddenly wracked with insecurity and anxiety at the thought of you coming to one of his gigs. It’d feel pretty shitty if you didn’t like his music, and he was very aware that it wasn’t for everyone. While you never complained at the heavier stations on his van radio, you also didn’t strike him as the type to enjoy death metal. You were merely being polite, he was sure of it...  

But then, this was him stereotyping again. Consciously now, he could see it and call himself out before the words left his mouth.  

“Uh... We actually have one on Saturday.” You noticed the nervousness in his tone, the hesitation. You understood why; it must be a little scary to show someone you care about the passion that drives you as fiercely as music drove Mary. 

“I don’t have to come if that’s too soon, I get it,” you tried to reassure him, turning around and smiling sweetly at him. But even that was enough to quell some of his anxiety, just your consideration.  

“You know what?” he sat upright then, angling you a little better while the blankets wrapped around you fell to your waist, exposing you both to the colder night air. “I want you there. Even if you hate us, be nice to see a pretty face out there for me.” 

You rolled your eyes at him playfully, “You just want a groupie, huh?” 

“Hmm, maybe,” he hummed, grinning cheekily and leaning into you to press his lips to yours. You giggled against his lips, letting him curl around you as you melted into each other. It felt so easy to you now, so unbelievably natural. You had to ask yourself why you had taken so long to get here. You could have had this all long, if the pair of you weren’t so stuck in those stereotypical little bubbles of yours.  

But you were here now, and that’s what mattered. Not without its future flaws, you were sure, but it was a start.  

Mary finished off the last song of practise without issue. By now, the band knew every song inside and out, so band practise was only ever a formality, or an excuse to get together and jam. But Davey always called one just before a show, in case there were any issues to iron out and to put together a running order for the setlist. He had a unit where they practised often, all their stage equipment stored in there save for their guitars. 

“So where you been, Goore? Dropped off the face of the earth lately. Last time I saw you was days ago at the garage...” Forrest smirked with an accusation brewing behind his eyes – Mary could tell. He continued winding up the cable in his hands to avoid his eye contact, shaking his head with a smile he could barely hide no matter how hard he tried. That’s what thinking of you did to him. 

“Ah y’know, about,” he avoided. 

“Bullshit, you got a call and bolted. I remember.” 

Mary’s arms slumped by his sides in exasperation, the curled up cable flapping against his thigh.  

“Yeah, and before that last time we saw you was the bicentennial... Fuck’s up with you?” Jed was interested now, shoving his drumsticks into his beat up old backpack that had seen better days. Even Davey who was slotting his bass into its case very carefully – that thing was his baby, often reminding everyone it cost more than their rents combined – was suddenly very interested in where the elusive Mary Goore had been the last couple of weeks. 

“You can’t even hide the smile. It’s a girl, ain’t it?” he chimed in, teasing him like a kid in a playground. “You gone soft?” 

“Nah just had a lot of guitars to work on at the shop lately,” Mary shrugged, tucking the cable away into his own guitar case. 

“Your pants are scorching right now, Mare...” Jed grinned, hopping up to sit on an amp stack.  

Mary finally stood up straight and sighed, looking around at the guys who all had expectant looks on their faces. He knew he’d have to tell them eventually – they were only going to meet you in a few days anyway. He can’t hide you forever, especially when he’d been so sensitive about being hidden himself in your world... He was many things, but a hypocrite he was not. 

“Alright, fine... Yeah, there’s a girl.” The nerves were evident in his voice, quieter and a little stuttery. Of course, the guys all jumped down his throat with “ooh”s and “wheeey”s, Jed even shoving his shoulder in a weird masculine display of celebration.  

“Been holed up somewhere with some broad, ey?” he waggled his eyebrows at him. “Come on then, who is she?” 

Mary was clamming up, having no idea how they were going to react to this. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shuffled on his feet. Forrest noticed his change, and squinted at him as he observed.  

This wasn’t like him. Forrest was the most mature of the guys, had known Mary the longest – since they were kids – and he was very aware there were multiple versions of him. The front he showed the world, and the sensitive and broken guy underneath. Seeing him get nervous about a girl though... that had never happened before. 

“You wouldn’t really know her, she’s not really... from our circle...” Mary dodged the truth as long as he could, but it was inevitable.  

“Yeah no shit, between us we’ve exhausted our “circle”,” Davey laughed, making air quotes with his fingers. Mary winced at the thought of his promiscuous reputation; not a past he was all that proud of... 

“You remember back at the bar, a few weeks ago...?” he started, and Jed jumped in immediately. 

“That girl you stormed right past? You went back?” He leaned forward where he sat on the amp, excited to hear the gory details he definitely was not getting.  

“No-” 

“No fucking way,” Davey jumped in, recalling the night in question. “You’re still fucking her majesty?”  

“She’s not-” Mary tried to get a word in, but Davey and Jed were having too much fun with this, interrupting him. 

“The Mayor’s daughter? Fuckin’ hell, Mare,” he laughed with uncontained glee at the prospect. “I know she’s a hot piece of ass, but seriously? Girls like her ain’t into guys like us.” 

Mary’s fists clenched at his sides. It was becoming clear the stereotypes were not contained to just you and him, but you’d both grown up in a world perpetuated by them. Forrest watched the scene unfold quietly, observing Mary’s reactions that were so out of pocket for him. 

“Well she did fuck him in a public bathroom that night, Jed,” Davey joined Jed’s delight. “Daddy’s girl’s got a kinky side.”  

“Shut the fuck up, Davey,” Forrest interjected on Mary’s behalf. Everyone’s heads whipped toward him, including Mary’s. “Fucking neanderthals, man...” The smiles from their faces were wiped clean, their proverbial tails hanging between their legs.  

Forrest walked to stand beside Mary, folding his arms across his chest. “This could be a dangerous game to play, Mare. If her dad finds out...” 

“He already kicked her out. For... other reasons...” Mary didn’t want to divulge too much of your shit to them, that wasn’t his place. He feared he’d already said too much when he saw the looks of shock and confusion on their faces. “She’s been staying with me the last few days.”  

“Move pretty quick, don’t you?” laughed Jed, who was thrown a look of caution by Forrest and immediately shut up again with a mumbled, “sorry”.  

“So you like her then, huh?” Forrest enquired with a smug smile. Mary nodded, biting his thumb nail. “She coming to the show?” 

Jed snickered at the thought, effectively saying “yeah, as if she’d be into our music” without having to say the actual words. Mary shot him a warning glare. 

“Yeah, she is actually,” he didn’t take his eyes off Jed, just begging him to say one more shitty thing. He didn’t.  

“Nice, well I’ll train the apes up and have ‘em civilised for the lady. Don’t worry about it.” Forrest slapped a hand on Mary’s back in support, heading back over to pack up and clicking his fingers in the other’s direction to get them moving too.  

Mary was grateful for Forrest stepping in like that. There was a deeper bond with him than the others, not just on account of the longevity of their friendship, but he’d been there through all of Mary’s shit. For a long time, Forrest was the only friend he had and if anybody understood him, it was him.  

Forrest had his own shit too – neglectful parents, like Mary, but in different ways. High-powered, career driven types. They’d leave him with a nanny and swan off on business trips and fancy vacations, so he knew loneliness in his own way too.  

While his friends were always a good laugh, Davey and Jed just weren’t on quite the same wavelength. Where Forrest and Mary had matured a little, grown up with a smidge of respect, they were trailing behind. They were still young men, trapped in rebellion, angst and male bravado. They needed reigning in from time to time, usually by Mary’s or Forrest’s hand but on more than one occasion they’d had their asses kicked outside a bar for their mouth. The point is, they were learning. Slowly, but they were learning...  

Once the guys packed up their stuff – largely in silence – Davey and Jed muttered a ‘see ya later’ as they filtered out of the unit, but Forrest hung back as Mary rolled down the shutters and padlocked them shut. 

“Hey Mare, does uh... Does she know?” Forrest asked, his voice low as the others walked down the alley of other units just ahead of them. 

“Know what?” he asked, a little confused. “That you guys made a bet with me the first night? Yeah she knew that then, we laughed about it,” he shrugged.  

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Forrest scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He hated bringing this up, it was such a sore subject for Mary... “Does she know... what her dad did?” 

Mary’s eyes widened as it hit him – no, you didn’t know that. Mary hadn’t divulged that much to you, and he didn’t exactly intend to...  

“No. She doesn’t need to,” he shrugged nonchalantly, avoiding the subject. Forrest didn’t press the matter, not wanting to drag Mary down that road any more than he already had. Instead, they took a few steps in silence.  

“So go on then, tell me what she’s like...” Forrest nudged his shoulder as the two of them walked out to the parking lot. Mary smiled at the ground, babbling and singing your praises for as long as Forrest would allow him.  

Watching Mary apply his make-up was becoming one of your favourite past times. He was so particular about it, specifically tonight as he applied it in the dingy little mirror in the corner of their dressing room. Day to day, he cared a little less but tonight was important – every gig was, to him.  

It became very apparent to you very quickly that he took his shows very seriously. As much as he was there to have fun, this was more than just a hobby to him. He wanted this to go somewhere, to make something of himself. This was a dream that he’d worked his skinny little ass off for, and so everything had to be just right, his before-show rituals performed the same as always.  

But there you sat, watching him from the battered two-seater couch in the room as he added the final touches to his skull paint. He pulled back from the mirror, looking at his reflection and smirking with a nod of satisfaction. But then he caught you in that mirror behind him, watching him without an attempt to look away.  

“Lookin’ good, Goore,” you told him, leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your palm.  

“I guess, but it’s missing something...” He seemed unbothered, making no move to add any more paints.  

“The blood, right?” you asked, but he shrugged.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tucked your head just under his chin, letting your warm breath fan over the expanse of skin around his neck before gently placing your lips directly over his Adam’s apple. You felt it bob as he swallowed with anxiety, the tension of holding back his urges to devour you becoming almost unbearable. You loved that you had this effect on him... He was supposed to be this cocky, self-assured little badass; so how come you could have him tensing and straining with just a few simple, light kisses? Because you drove him wild. 

You lifted your hands from the edges of the sink, instead settling them on his waist while you parted your lips against his neck, letting your tongue lap at the skin briefly before pulling back with a smirk just as he let out a hum of satisfaction. You saw his head thrown back, his eyes shut just before he realised you’d disappeared and snapped his gaze back to you. The look on his face was priceless, silently asking you why the hell you’d stopped.  

“Didn’t wanna smudge it,” you shrugged, smirking. 

“You fucking minx,” he chuckled.  

“One more,” you told him, digging through your purse to add another layer of red to your lips so you could leave the most definitive print this time. Then you leaned in one more time, as if you were going to kiss him on the lips – which frankly, by now, he was desperate for. But you dodged his advance and pressed your lips just to the corner of his mouth, planting a firm, red lip stain so prettily for him.  

“There,” you leaned back, still crowding his space and holding his waist, “looks good.” 

“Not fair of you to tease me like that when the guys are gonna be here any minute, and I can’t bend you over this sink and fuck you dumb,” he growled, knowing full well the effect only his words had on you. His brash vulgarity was such a turn on to you, especially now that you’d experienced Mary’s sweeter side, his tenderness and gentility. He was like Jekyll and Hyde, and knowing what a softie he could be when feelings were involved, it was all the more exciting when Hyde came out to play... 

He pinched your chin between his thumb and knuckle, angling your head to tilt up to him a little more. “I seem to remember you wanted to see how pretty this shade looked smothered all over my cock, hm?” 

Damn him. You had said that... Back in your bedroom that night, but he’d denied you in favour of being the one to taste you instead. If you had the time right now, you’d have dropped to your knees in a heartbeat, but that door would swing open at any moment, his friends and bandmates arriving to get set up and head out on stage. You hadn’t tasted Mary since the very first time you’d slept together, and frankly, your mouth watered at the thought.  

“Shame I’ll have to wait a little longer,” you whined, pouting like a spoilt brat who didn’t get her way, but it only made Mary’s grin wider as he looked down at you.  

As if Satan himself had planned the timing, the door handle to the dressing room rattled, alerting you to the presence of his bandmates arriving and startling you both to stand upright, Mary tucking you into his side with an arm around your shoulder almost protectively.  

“Goore!” Jed strolled into the dressing room with his arms wide open, followed by Davey and Forrest lugging equipment in and glaring at the back of his head for not pulling his damn weight and carrying some of this shit himself. Jed walked straight up to Mary, ignoring your presence at first and forcing Mary into a typical ‘bro hug’ with heavy slaps to each other’s backs in greeting. But then he finally turned to you, a cheeky and mischievous look in his eye. “And this must be the Dutchess...”  

Mary froze, desperately trying to think of something to say in your defence, anything to turn the attention away from Jed’s comment that he could only imagine stung so much worse with everything you’d been through lately. But he couldn’t think of anything... He’d told them to be good. To welcome you, to be fucking decent and immediately, Jed waltzed in and had to poke at an open wound.  

Davey and Forrest stopped dead too, waiting in silence, everyone aware of the tension that lay heavy in the room just from one snide little dig at your family history...  

You looked to Mary next to you and smirked, before turning back to Jed and folding your arms over your chest. You took a step towards him, looking him up and down as if inspecting him before putting on your best snooty impression, and saying, “I think you’re supposed to kneel before a Dutchess, are you not?”  

Another moment of silence passed, Jed’s face twisting from one of slight shock, to mild amusement. “Nah, I’m sure Goore kneels at your feet often enough for everyone,” he teased, winking at you. “I’m Jed,” he introduced, holding a hand out to you which you gladly took, watching as he lifted the back of your hand to kiss the back of it briefly and bow his head in mock respect.  

“I remember,” you laughed, looking back at Mary who was looking at you with concern, but also pride... You had handled that better than he could have expected, cleverly inserting yourself into the humour rather than allowing yourself to be offended by it. You took the power away from Jed, and instead, earned his respect. You didn’t miss his exhale of relief.  

“What’s with the lipstick, Mare?” Jed asked, pointing generally at his face. The others looked over too, now registering it wasn’t fake blood on his face, but lipstick – suspiciously the same colour as you were wearing. 

“Trying something new,” Mary shrugged with a smirk. 

“That your way of telling the ladies you’re taken now, eh?” Davey laughed, waggling his eyebrows. “Goore is off the market!” 

“Better be, I don’t wanna have to get the claws out,” you warned, stepping back into Mary’s side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You dropped your voice a little lower so only Mary could hear, “at least, not for anyone but you.”  

Mary just smirked down at you, biting his lip at the thought of your nails dragging across his flesh in the heat of passion later on tonight. You were being very distracting this evening... 

Forrest and Davey reintroduced themselves to you once they’d set the equipment they carried down, the room settling into a far less tense environment. You sat yourself back down on the small couch and let the preparation for their gig unfold before you, chiming into conversation every now and then where you saw fit. Jed would throw you a few more jabs, but you managed to bat them right back at him like it was child’s play. And with each comeback, you earned just a tad bit more respect out of not only him, but Davey and Forrest too.  

The guys went to soundcheck before the venue opened, while you hung back in the dressing room citing that you wanted to see the real show first. You’d rather see Mary in all his glory and performing than playing to an empty club for the first time. When they came back in, you could see the excitement had grown within the band, the buzz starting to build for the show now that they’d set up and were ready to go.  

The beers had started to flow, just a few to keep them coherent enough to play of course, but the atmosphere was changing, building right up until the moment the stage manager came to collect them. The guys all downed the remainder of their beers, gathering whatever little bits they needed before heading out on stage. The guys wandered out of the door without Mary, leaving the two of you alone. 

Mary pulled you to your feet from the couch, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Keep yourself safe in the crowd, yeah? Can get a bit rowdy...” he warned, a hint of anxiety present in his features. Not just at the thought of you alone in a crowd of metalheads moshing without a care in the world, but at the thought that you might just hate his music. That thought had been niggling away at him for days, ever since he first invited you.  

“I’ll be fine, gonna stick by the bar so you know where to find me when you get off stage,” you assured, pulling gently on the spike of hair he’d now styled in front of his face to sharpen the point for him. “Oh, wait!” 

You rushed out of his hold and towards his backpack, digging through it until you found his make-up kit and rushed back to him. You picked out the little vial of fake blood you knew he kept in there, dropping the kit down on the couch behind you.  

“Can’t go out there and be ‘Mary Goore’ without the ‘Goore’, hm?” you winked, uncapping the bottle and resting the nozzle on his hairline, letting it drip and dribble down his face just enough that it wouldn’t interfere with the pretty lip stains you made earlier. You screwed the cap back on and threw it back into the bag behind you. 

“Part of me is starting to think the blood turns you on a little...” he taunted, that stupid little smirk on his face again. You wanted to one-up him, to have the last damn word... And so, with a quick check to make sure the two of you were in fact alone, you grabbed his wrist and directed his hand down to hem of the short denim skirt you were wearing, pushing it up your inner thigh until you could manoeuvre his fingertips to push the edge of your panties to one side and slide over the little mess that all this damn teasing had caused, coating his fingers in it... 

You pulled his hand from under your skirt and lifted it to between the two of you, giggling in a way that had him stirring beneath his jeans. 

“I think maybe it does...” you tormented, letting go of his wrist and making your way to the doorway, leaning against it as if you were about to leave. Mary stood in awe of you, his hand still hovering in front of him as he looked between you and the shine on his fingertips a few times before snapping back to reality and realising he had a damn show to put on.  

He did the only rational thing he could think to, shoving his slick fingers into his mouth to clean them off while he held eye contact with you. You felt yourself flutter at the sight, gripping onto the doorframe a little tighter. This mother fucker really knew how to rile you up... 

“I’ll need more of that later, doll,” he told you sternly, stepping towards you. You took it as your cue to run, heading down the hall towards the club laughing almost maniacally as Mary stomped after you, his anxiety over performing for you replaced with a simmering need to get it over with so he could just fucking have you.  

It had only been ten minutes since you’d left the dressing room, but you were getting a little antsy waiting... This wasn’t your usual scene, and you’d hoped that maybe your first time in a goth club you’d have Mary at your side to make the experience a little less intimidating. The majority of the crowd were men, all metalheads, and while you were more comfortable here than at any political event or frat party you’d ever been to, you were sure you stuck out like a sore thumb.  

This club was in the city, and so you weren’t worried about anybody really knowing who you were save for Mary and his bandmates. But you were still finding yourself, figuring out your style and the wonderful thing about goth clubs is that everybody here went all out for the aesthetic. You felt boring, mundane even in the outfit you’d chosen. Sure, it was all black, but you’d thought the fishnet top over a black cami was daring... But in this scene, it wasn’t.  

You felt out of place, and without Mary at your side, you were sure you didn’t blend in nearly as much as you were hoping to. So, keeping to the edge of the club by the bar felt like a safe option. While everyone’s eyes were up front on the stage, you could stand back and watch as your boyfriend – well, you hadn’t exactly talked about a label, but you figured – owned the stage. And watch, you did. 

From the second Mary got up on that stage, you couldn’t look away. You hadn’t seen him play much, just a little here and there on that battered old acoustic of his, but never like this... He had such a command to him, this enigmatic energy that captivated you. Clearly, he was in his element. He’d told you it was his dream to perform, to be successful with his music and watching him now, you could see he put every fucking ounce of his soul into it.  

His music was heavy; you expected that. The lyrics were dark, screamed and growled into the microphone like he was possessed. You could understand why he was nervous for you to hear it, to see this dark side of Mary. Music like this wouldn’t appeal to the masses, sure, but it certainly did to you. He was starting to learn there was a dark side to you too, buried and covered up with pretty pink bows and glitter but it was in there. No wonder you were attracted to Mary like a moth to a flame...  

There was something about him on stage that just sparked something... Perhaps the way he handled his guitar, his fingers moving so deftly through the manic riffs he shredded. Perhaps it was the way he growled into the microphone; a deep, gravelly noise that made your breath catch in your lungs. Perhaps it was the way the crowd responded to him, adoring him and screaming for him and yet you knew that he was yours. 

The combination of it all was driving you wild. Riling each other up before the show certainly hadn’t helped, but you found yourself forgetting you were ever anxious to step foot in a club like this alone and focussing solely on him. With each song, you fell deeper into this almost obsessive need for him. 

Your demise finally came when a few songs into the set, his eyes landed on you. And the fucker smirked. 

With his eyes trained on you, he spoke into the mic. 

“Are you morbid?” he growled. The crowd screamed back at him, but he wasn’t talking to them. Not really.  

You bit your lip, unable to look away from him or even blink as he stared at you, as if he was waiting for you and you only to respond.  

“I said, are you morbid?” he insisted, the crowd screaming back again, louder this time. All you could do was nod pathetically, squeezing your thighs together and squirming just from the way he sounded, his stare... His smirk spread into a menacingly dark grin, his make-up and the lighting acting to enhance his devilish persona. He was turning you on, and he could see it.  

“Fuck yeah, you are,” he snarled, immediately running his fingers along the strings of his guitar to make it screech and diving into the next song. You could have sworn you felt the ghost of his touch as he did, as if his fingers were running their way up your inner thigh and not the neck of his guitar – the thought had your cheeks flushing, hidden under the dim lighting of the club.  

Watching his set was like torture. You tried to focus on the songs, to get into the music and as much as you were enjoying it you just couldn’t tear your eyes from him. When you’d first met Mary at the dive bar, he’d had this arrogance, this cocky self-confidence to him that lured you in but the more you got to know Mary, the more you knew that was a front a lot of the time. He had that softer side, that insecurity that he masked. But this version of Mary? This was where his true confidence lay, and it might just be the sexiest thing you had ever seen.  

As all good things must come to an end, so did their set. The crowd cheered and roared for them, and you found yourself fidgeting while you waited for them to come off stage, pack up their gear and for Mary to come and find you. Impatience had you leaning on the bar, beer in hand and tapping your foot to the metal playing through the club now that the show was over. When you finally felt two strong hands sliding around your waist from behind you, you let out a sigh of relief, smiling to yourself as you span in their grasp. 

“And what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone in this dive, huh?” 

It wasn’t Mary.  

A strange faced smirked down at you, a thick and heavy beard to match the blonde hair that fell in untamed waved past his shoulders. His lip was pierced, straining from where he bit it while his eyes drank you in from head to toe as if you were some kind of prize. He reeked of cheap spirits and sweat, his forehead shining under the club lights as if he’d been in the mosh pit for the duration of the set.  

Beside him was someone you’d mistake for his twin, if it weren’t for the black hair and obvious difference in size and stature. The man holding you was tall, but solid. His friend was shorter, his body unhealthily thick. But still, he matched the description of your metalhead stereotype, and he too was dragging his eyes all over your body. 

Immediately your smile dropped and you shoved both hands into the guy’s chest. He stayed put, his solid frame too strong to waver but your push forced you back against the bar far enough to get out of his hold.  

“Waiting for my boyfriend, actually,” you snapped, laced with disgust. The blonde guy just laughed incredulously, as if he didn’t believe you.  

“I don’t see no boyfriend,” he said, looking from side to side as if that proved his point. He stepped further towards you, trapping you against the bar and holding onto your waist again. “Can pretend I am for the night if you want?” 

He leaned into you as if he were going to kiss your neck, but you leaned further back and out of the way, trying to push him away from you. All you could do was stop him just short, rather than rid your body of his hold completely. 

“Yeah, no thanks. Get off me!” you yelled.  

“Don’t play hard to get, darlin’. He’s just bein’ friendly!” his buddy chimed in, laughing as he took a swig of a drink he clutched with his sweaty little sausage fingers.  

“Said I’m waiting for my fucking boyfriend, piss off!” You gave him one final shove, and while he took a step back, he didn’t let go of you.  

“I got a better offer, baby. You could have us both if you wanted...” he smirked, glancing back at his friend who laughed with him.  

“Don’t think she wants either of you, Corbin.” Relief set in when you heard his voice materialising next to you, a hand with rings you recognised planting itself on this guy’s chest and pushing him back with enough force that he finally let go of you.  

Mary stepped between you both, squaring up to the blonde without a second thought.  

“The fuck would you know about it, Goore?” The blonde – who you now understood to be named Corbin – sneered, clearly irritated by the arrival of Mary instantly. 

“Well, ya see, that’s my girlfriend you had your grubby little paws all over. And I don’t really like it when people touch my things,” he shrugged, but his tone was far from indifferent.  

Corbin and his greasy little friend roared with laughter, as if the idea of Mary and you was the funniest joke they’d ever heard. That pissed you off... 

“As if a hot piece of ass like that’s gonna fuck you,” he roared, shoving Mary’s shoulder. You could see Mary take a deep, slow breath to collect himself. This guy was testing his damn patience. And you’d never seen Mary handle a situation like this before. But what you did know, was he was fiercely protective of the people he lo- well, people he cared for... You weren’t sure what was about to happen, but you just wanted these pricks to fuck off. 

“Watch your mouth, man,” he warned, his fists curling up at his sides until his knuckles turned white. Corbin and his buddy were still laughing.  

“Hey, hey darlin’... blink twice if you wanna ditch this fag and come hang out with some real fuckin’ men,” Corbin snorted, shoving Mary’s shoulder again. “A girl like you deserves a real dickin’ down!” 

You didn’t hesitate, hocking back a decent glob of spit and launching it in his direction. The laughter ceased immediately as it smacked him on his cheek with a wet splat, dripping into his beard as he jolted in surprise. He wiped it with his hand, flicking it to the floor and while his gaze darkened on you.  

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he sneered, stepping towards you threateningly as if he were going to grab you but Mary got in the way without hesitation, shoving him and landing a solid punch to Corbin’s cheek with a sickening crack that had everyone within radius turning to look at the commotion.  

Within seconds Corbin retaliated, grabbing Mary’s shirt with two fists and headbutting him, shoving him back against you and in turn, the bar. Bottles knocked to the floor, smashing as Mary took a punch to the nose before getting his footing and throwing one back.  

It all happened too quickly, a brawl breaking out so fast as you got shoved to the side and landed on shards of glass cutting into your palm. You ignored the pain and the wet feeling on your hands in favour of trying to grab the collar of Corbin to drag him off, but his black-haired friend grabbed you instead, pulling your arms behind your back and holding you against him as you watched Mary trying to overpower this solid piece of shit.  

“Mary!” you shrieked at him, turning to the asshole holding you back. “Get the fuck off me, you fucking inbred bastard!” 

From the crowd, Forrest appeared next to you and dove into the fray, grabbing Corbin’s collar like you had failed to and dragging him backwards to the floor, straddling him and landing a punch or two himself to his gut. Mary leaned over the bar, catching his breath while two men in black polos and cargos charged in, one pulling Forrest from Corbin, the other pulling him up and restraining him with his arms behind his back.  

Forrest immediately backed down, holding his hands up in the air while the bouncer who’d intervened let him go, focussing his attention on the asshole still trying to claw his way to Mary. In a last ditch attempt, you kicked your heel between your captor’s legs and tucked it behind his ankle, pulling it until he fell to the floor and freed you. You ran to Mary without hesitation, pulling him to stand upright and holding his head in your bleeding hands to inspect the damage. You couldn’t tell if all this blood was yours or his. 

“You gotta keep that bitch on a fucking leash, Goore!” Corbin screamed, still struggling against the bouncer to get a few more swings in. Mary lurched towards him, but you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back to you.  

“You’re done, man!” the bouncer yelled at him, starting to drag him through the crowd of onlookers than had gathered. Corbin’s face projected a vile expression of pure hatred, smeared in blood that matted his hair and beard. 

“I’m nowhere fucking near done, you watch,” he threatened, “you’re an easy guy to track down, Goore! I’ll fuckin�� find you!” 

Mary glared at him as the bouncers dragged Corbin and his friend out of the club, kicking them to the curb. You diverted his attention back to you, gently pulling on his jawline and cupping his face to take a good look at him and remind him that you were right here and you were okay, in the hope it might dissipate the fury in him.  

Forrest stepped up to Mary, concern creasing his brow. He’d managed to avoid injury, no fresh blood on him anywhere but his knuckles. 

“You good, man? I can’t tell what’s fake and what’s real...” He waved his finger at Mary’s face. Mary smeared the back of his hand against his bust lip, scoffing at the sight of real blood on his hand. “Corbin’s a dick, you know he’s always lookin’ for trouble, man,” Forrest scolded, “You can’t rise to it!” 

“He needs to learn not to run his fuckin’ mouth,” Mary growled.  

“Hey, enough, tough guy...” you told him, lightly smacking his chest. “C’mon, let’s get you patched up.” You took his hand in yours, weaving your fingers in his despite the blood and pulling him through the crowd towards the door you’d come through earlier that lead to the green room backstage.  

The heavy music of the club quietened to a dull roar behind you as the backstage door shut, and you lead Mary down the hall to the dressing room. He was silent, stewing in his head over the things Corbin had said to him, mulling over his anger. When you got him inside, you locked the door behind you, wanting a moment of quiet to patch him up. You let go of his hand and grabbed his make-up kit that you’d chucked on the couch, heading over to the sink you’d pressed him against earlier to wash your own cut up hands and dampen some cotton pads from his bag.  

He lingered by the door, awkwardly stood in silence while you filled the sink. You hadn’t said a word to him, and frankly, Mary was terrified he’d gone too far, that you were pissed at him – or worse, disappointed. He never wanted you to see him like that, he wanted to be better, but he’d stooped to the level of a mindless thug because he couldn’t control how he reacted when it came to you. He’d have let it slide at the comments about him, but the second Corbin spoke down to you? He may as well have waved a red flag to a bull. 

“Come here,” you told him softly, holding your hand out to him. Without a word he did as he was told, standing next to you by the sink while you ran the cotton pads under the warm water. Lightly, you began to dab at a wound by his eyebrow.  

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled quietly. “Didn’t wanna fly off the handle like that.” You smiled as you dabbed at his face, replacing the bloodied pad for another fresh one.  

“Always rushing to save me,” you cooed, “my hero.” Mary chuckled at that, because of course he rushed in to save you – as if he ever wouldn’t... 

“You’re okay though, right?” he asked, tilting your chin you guide your eyes to his for a moment. He was so gentle, searching with genuine concern. You just smiled at him and nodded. “Did you at least enjoy the show?” he asked, changing the subject now he knew you were okay, and figured you weren’t mad at him. If you were, he’d know it by now.  

“I think you know that I did,” you joked, coyly. “You were incredible up there.” 

Mary smirked down at you, battling between his sense of relief that you hadn’t despised the heavy music and his smugness at the blush that was no longer hidden in the dim lights of the club. Frankly though, you had started this. You turned him on before he went on stage, and where else was he supposed to channel that energy?  

“Oh yeah? What did you like about it?” He feigned innocence, letting the smugness win. Of course he did, this was Mary after all... You thought for a moment, avoiding his watching eyes and continuing to dab at the blood that had dribbled down his face and collected around his nose and lip.  

“Well, y’know... Just the control you had of the crowd, like they were eating out of the palm of your hand for most of it.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought, “You do like it when I take control, huh?” This fucking guy. The blush on your cheeks returned hotter than ever, radiating across your face.  

“Shut up, I’m cleaning you up,” you told him, desperately trying to hide the smile fighting to curl your lips.  

“What for? Thought the blood turned you on...”  

Only Mary could go from being involved in a bar fight that left him covered in blood with contusions on his face, to doing his very best to rile you up. But perhaps you were just the right amount of fucked up for him, because it was working.  

Your arms sagged to your sides and you finally made eye contact with Mary. He was staring down at you intensely, waiting in silence with that conceited little twinkle in his eye that was already starting to turn a shade of purple under the smeared remains of his make up. He leaned against the sink again, parting his knees and pulling you towards him by grabbing the belt loops on your skirt and tugging gently. You followed him too easily for your liking, only needing the gentlest of coaxing.  

“I thought... you were morbid,” he tormented, just like he had from the stage. Your chest seemed to flutter, heart stumbling over its own rhythm just as the words in your brain you thought you might use to respond did. But you were rendered speechless, hypnotised even.  

Even partially cleaned up, Mary looked rough. What you couldn’t understand, is why it seemed to excite you the way it did. Was it knowing that he’d suffered his injuries while fighting for you? Was it the thought that he’d fought a guy twice his size just to defend you? Or did the split lip and bruising just give him an even more menacing look that flooded your body with uncontrolled heat? 

You found yourself leaning into him, hesitating as your lips barely brushed his when you remembered they were injured, and a kiss would surely hurt him – especially the kind you were looking for.  

He raised his hand to pinch your bottom lip again, just as he had earlier, inspecting the colour of them once again. 

“That really is a pretty shade, doll...” His voice rumbled in his chest; you felt it, now that you were so close to him.  

“Blood red,” you whispered, slightly garbled thanks to his grip on your lip. He grinned at that, the most beautifully sadistic little grin, before he let go and pushed his battered lips against yours in a deliberate and heated kiss.  

He grunted on impact, pain shooting through his lip but it only spurred him on. Mary was no stranger to mixing pain with pleasure and for you he’d take it all. He didn’t hold back and didn’t expect you to either, your lips clashing together as you found a rhythm. Your hands – now barely bleeding, but still tender – planted themselves on his chest when he pulled you closer by your belt loops again, having you lean so far into him your hips crashed into his.  

His hands held you in place like that as he forced his tongue past your lips, lapping at yours almost grotesquely. It had been a while since you’d seen Mary’s feral side, but here he was under the dressing room’s harsh luminescent lights trying to devour you as if you were his last meal on death row. Your hands grabbed at his chest, nails scratched at him to try and grip onto him but falling short thanks to the barrier of his shirt.  

Hands grabbed at everything they could, both of you seeking the other out and feeling as if close just wasn’t close enough no matter how harshly you pressed against each other. You could feel his jeans growing solid, taught under you and just the mere thought of him hardening at this alone had you pressing your thighs together and pushing your hips into his as much as possible.  

Mary pulled his lips from yours just for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as he groaned at the intoxicating mix of the pain that pulsed through them and the pleasure that pulsed through his growing erection. 

“Now’s your chance, doll,” he panted. You looked him in the eye, glaring intensely back and forth at one another. “Show me how pretty it looks, hm?” 

It took you a second, but then the penny dropped...  

“I seem to remember you wanted to see how pretty this shade looked smothered all over my cock, hm?” 

When that penny dropped, so did you, immediately falling to your knees between his feet and reaching for the studded belt that held his jeans up. He watched through hooded eyes, gripping the sink behind him to lean his body weight on it while you undid his jeans and pulled them down just enough to expose the trimmed hair that tapered from his stomach down past that delicious ‘v’ line of his hips.  

You reached past the hem of his boxers and fished your prize from its confines, laying heavy and thick in your palm. It was almost shameful, the way your mouth watered at just the sight of him, the feel of him in your hand but there wasn’t even the tiniest part of you that cared. 

You looked up at him through your lashes, gently stroking his length and taking in the view from below him. The lust in his eyes had your body setting itself alight from the inside out. He looked dangerous, waiting for you to do as he wanted. He had full control of you with just his stare and without a single word... What he wanted was very clear, and you were more than happy to oblige knowing that obedience would earn you a reward.  

Truthfully though, you wanted to do this for him just as much as he wanted it. Even when he was on stage, all you could think of was bending to his will, doing whatever the hell he wanted you to in order to derive his pleasure from him. You wanted him to take control of you, to channel that same darkness you saw in his eyes as he played and growled into the mic and use it on you.  

And so, as you stared up at him through those pretty lashes of yours, you opened your mouth and lay your tongue flat on your bottom lip, never breaking eye contact as you leaned in and lay the reddened tip of his cock on it. It was your turn to put on a show for him now, to prove yourself worthy of reward and worship him like you were kneeling at an altar rather than his feet. 

He inhaled sharply, hissing through clenched teeth when your tongue made contact with his head. You kept your eyes on him still, circling your lips around him and relishing in the purr that sounded from above you. How had you failed to do this for him since that very first night in the dive bar? How had you resisted? The way he’d reacted to your mouth last time should have been enough incentive – it certainly was now. 

Frankly, you were appalled by how long it had been since you’d taken him in your mouth like this... You’d more than make up for it now, slowly leaning further into him to take as much of his length into your mouth and throat as possible while still holding your gaze on him.  

The eye contact was driving Mary insane, seeing right through you and knowing you wanted him to watch, to see how good you were being for him. You were freakier than anyone would give you credit for, and only he knew that. Only he got to see it.  

“That’s my girl, huh? Fuck...” he praised, one of his hands letting go of its death grip on the sink and running through your hair as you bobbed slowly. You whimpered a little at the approval, particularly when his fingertips grazed over your scalp, nails scratching and massaging. The pleasure was nothing like what you wanted, what your body craved but you’d take any bit of praise, any kind of encouragement he was willing to give.  

When he wrapped his fingers in your hair, tugging at it gently to encourage your movements you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his thighs, grounding yourself while he groaned above you. You relaxed your throat, swallowing more of him until your nose nuzzled against his skin and his grip on your hair tightened, holding you there.  

Mary was losing his mind, his head rolling back and eyes squeezing shut when he felt your throat constricting around him. He pulled on your hair to lift your head off him, giving you an opportunity to breathe but all you did was hollow your cheeks and breathe through your nose, using your fist to pump the half of his cock that was now exposed.  

You suckled at the tip for a moment before pulling off him completely, holding eye contact again and stroking him where you knelt. You made sure he was watching you when you began to press deliberate kisses to his shaft, leaving slightly dull lipstick stains against his pale skin. Mary grinned wildly, stroking your hair and allowing you to mark his cock in red stains like you’d promised him.  

“Dirty girl,” he keened, “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” You didn’t answer with words, only nodding as you started leaving open mouthed kisses, tongue laving wetly at the ridges of his cock where veins protruded. “Such a pretty colour...” he chuckled, starting to lose control of his hips as they rolled towards you, chasing the feeling. He so badly wanted to be buried in your mouth again, surrounded by that delicious wet warmth... 

You didn’t tease him for much longer, taking the tip past your lips again and sinking down on his length. The moan he released had arousal pooling between your legs, and your own need was becoming hard to ignore. But you would, knowing that Mary would pay you back for your patience – if not now, when he got you home... 

“So tempting to use this pretty mouth of yours, doll... See how much you can take.” That was an invitation, an open hint to ask for your consent to do just that. The thought of pulling back to give verbal consent was just not sitting right with you – a second of neglect to his now weeping cock was a second too long, and you weren’t about to neglect him at all. Instead, you gripped the hem of his jeans and pulled his hips towards you, indicating you wanted him to use his hips, to move and use you just as he’d said.  

“Oh, you want that, huh?” You nodded, pulling again. “Shit...”  he hissed, pushing himself up from leaning on the sink to stand in front of you, all the while you never let him slip from your mouth.  

With his feet firmly planted to the floor either side of you, he wrapped his hand in your hair again and began to rock his hips; slowly at first, savouring the feeling and watching intently as you sat so prettily for him, obediently taking everything he gave you. But he couldn’t help himself – the sight at his feet completely maddening – and he found himself thrusting a little faster, testing how much you could take. When you didn’t struggle at all, he amped his thrusts up again, grunting and moaning above you. It took all your willpower not to let go of his jeans and dive between your own legs for some friction, some kind of relief from the arousal overtaking your body. 

As if he read your mind, Mary used his free hand to rip yours from his jeans. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, “Until I can feel your fucking moans on my cock.” 

You had no willpower to deny him, immediately diving your hand beneath your skirt and pushing your panties to one side to circle your clit with the juices that had gathered there. You whined in satisfaction, the sound vibrating along Mary’s shaft and spurring him on to bury himself to the hilt in your throat.  

“Don’t hold back, make yourself cum.” And you didn’t, wasting no time building up to pleasure and doing everything you could do get yourself to the edge. It never took long with your own fingers, not when you knew the goal was just to cum as quickly as possible. There was nothing to savour, you were rushing not for yourself but to give Mary exactly what he wanted.  

“You fuckin’ wait, doll... I’ve been too sweet on you, hm?” he warned. Truthfully, the sex recently had taken more of a sensual turn now that feelings were involved but there was still a filthy side to Mary, and he knew you had it too. There was no harm in mixing it up a little here and there... “Wait ‘til I get you home. I’ll have you fucking screaming for me...”  

You believed him. You knew what he was capable of, and you had no problem letting him do whatever he deemed necessary to elicit those screams that you couldn’t create here. But his promise had your hips bucking against your hand, chasing the high that fast approached. Your moans echoed around his head, vibrating down his cock over and over as he used your throat.  

“Come on, doll, cum for me. I’m not letting go ‘til you do,” he groaned, tightening his grip in your hair until your roots burned but all it did was spur you on... You hollowed your cheeks for him, using your tongue to please him as he fucked your throat. Your fingers sped up, furiously circling your clit and pushing you closer and closer to the brink until you snapped... 

Your hips jolted and thrashed where you knelt, the floor harshly bruising your knees. Moans ended up as choked garbles as you came harder than you’d expected for such little build up. The only thing keeping you remotely in place was Mary’s grip on your hair, holding your head for him to continue fucking your throat with reckless abandon now, too turned on to hold off as soon as you fell over the edge of euphoria.  

“That’s it, doll... Fucking hell...” he growled, biting into his already injured lip and trying desperately to hold onto his own control. He waited, watching you as he used your mouth, getting closer and closer until you stopped squirming beneath him.  

“Where?” he panted, desperate now, “where can I finish?” He sounded frantic, panicked. Truthfully he was, because if he didn’t get some kind of answer soon, he’d be unable to hold off, and the thought of ruining his orgasm was too devastating after all the work you’d put in for him... You just pointed at your full mouth and sucked at him harder, earning you a roar of “Fucking SHIT” as he threw is head back one final time and lost all control. 

You took every drop of his spend you could like a champ, holding what you could on your tongue as his hips slowed to a shallow splutter and he whimpered and grunted above you like an animal. He looked ethereal, despite the injuries to his face as he found his pleasure in you. 

You waited patiently as he caught his breath, the last dribbles of his spend finding their way onto your tongue as you lapped at his now over-sensitive head. He leaned back against the sink again to steady himself, looking down at you sat prettily waiting for him like a puppy dog waiting on a treat. Your lipstick had smeared across your face, messed up by your kisses and his borderline brutal motions. And yet, you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. 

Even prettier when you opened your mouth for him, and showed him what you’d collected on your tongue.  

“You waitin’ for permission, or something?” he laughed, pinching your chin to tilt your head side to side and inspect you. You just waited in silence, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Lipstick’s ruined, baby. Gonna need a fresh coat...” he bent down until he was eye level with you, “Or maybe a gloss?” 

With a wink, he dipped his finger into your mouth, coating his finger in his cum and spreading it over your lips gently as if it were lip gloss. It sparkled under the lights of the room, matching that playful twinkle in your eye. 

“So pretty...” he complimented, watching as you now closed your mouth and swallowed what was left. Mary watched in awe, almost pissed off that his cock had softened and for now, he was spent. Just that act alone had him wanting to worship you like the goddess you were. But he’d have to wait until he got you home...  

But Mary being the nasty little shit he was, wanted nothing more than to do whatever he could to keep the fire going, to fan the embers and turn you on as much as you did him. And so, he took your hand in his, helping you up off the floor. Then with one hand, he wrapped his fingers around your neck and held you still, moving in to kiss his gloss from your lips. 

You knew from the first night you spent with him he had no problem with the taste of his own release, but as long as he kept finding new and ridiculously sexy ways to show you that, you’d always find it one of the hottest damn kinks of his... You melted into his kiss immediately, adoring the taste of him on your tongue mixed with the fresh blood of his split lip he’d bitten into. Was it a nice flavour? No. But it was the very essence of Mary, and it had you drifting into a world of your own as you made out with him. 

Suddenly, the doorhandle rattled, followed in quick succession by a heavy thump on the door and an “ow!” being yelped through the wood. It sounded like Jed, trying to get in without knowing you’d locked the door when you came in to clean Mary up. He’d tried shoving the door open with his shoulder, only to collide with it instead.  

“Hey, what the fuck?” he yelled through the door. Quickly Mary parted from you, tucking himself back into his jeans and doing them up. He stepped to the side and made his way slowly to the door, giving you enough time to take another cotton pad from his kit and run it under some fresh warm water, wiping away the red smears from your face to look somewhat presentable. Your hair was still wild from Mary’s grip, but you didn’t quite have time to get it back to normal before Mary let Jed into the dressing room, followed by Forrest and Davey on his heels. 

They looked around the room, flitting between the two of you who in your effort to look nonchalant looked more guilty than if they’d caught you mid-blowjob.  

“You fuckin’ animals...” Jed laughed, slapping Mary’s chest as he walked further into the room to gather up their kit. “Glad we got here in time, don’t need your ass print on our shit Mare.” 

They thought they’d caught you before anything happened... Good, you’d let them believe that. 

“You good, man?” Forrest asked, “I know he landed a few punches. You look rough.” 

“Thanks,” Mary scoffed. “Did he look worse at least?” 

“Oh yeah, think you broke his nose. Blood everywhere, looked crooked. Nice,” Davey laughed, “Bouncers shoved him out on the street while I was having a smoke, he was pissed.” 

“Bastard deserved it, has done for a while,” Mary shrugged.  

“We’re gonna load the van and head out, you two alright to get yourselves home?” Forrest asked, picking up some of the kit they’d brought in the dressing room after their set. 

“Yeah we’re good, not over the limit,” Mary turned to you then, “you ready to get outta here, doll?” You just nodded, turning to pack up Mary’s kit and drain the sink of the pink-tinted water.  

It didn’t take long to shift the gear into Forrest’s van with you and Mary helping out. Surprisingly, all the guys gave you a hug as they were leaving, citing it was nice to meet you and hopping into the van – not before Jed got in a jab about ‘going easy on Mary’ despite his new ‘bad boy look’ when you got him home. You just promised him you wouldn’t with a wink, to which he laughed.  

As they drove out of the parking lot, Mary turned back to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him.  

“Shall we?” he asked with a suggestive tone, swaying you in his arms and smirking down at you.  

“We shall...” you sang, leaning up onto your toes to plant your lips to his in a slow and delicious kiss. He hummed against your lips, his hands grabbing at your waist as you introduced your tongue to the mix – but he soon cut you off. 

“Get in that van, right now,” he ordered, earning a giggle from you. You span in his arms and felt a playful smack to your ass as you began to walk towards the passenger side of his van, Mary making his way into the driver’s side. 

The tension in the front seat was thick and heavy, anticipation for the moment he finally got you home building with each passing second. At some point, Mary reached over and placed his hand on your thigh, stroking his thumb over the bare skin and letting it slide inwards. You twisted in your seat, allowing him the room to slide a little higher, just to tease...  

Once out of the city and back on home turf, you threw caution to the wind and leaned over the centre console to kiss at Mary’s neck, nibble at his ear, anything and everything you could do while he drove – very carefully – through the streets he knew like the back of his hand.  

“You want me to total this thing, doll?” he growled. You just giggled, sucking a hickey into his neck.  

Eventually, he pulled into his apartment complex, parking up in his designated spot. As soon as he took his seatbelt off he was shoving you back over to your side and climbing over the console himself, his hands everywhere all at once as his lips engulfed you. You fucking loved riling him up like this...  

“Do you know how tempting it is just to fuck you right here?” he growled as his lips made the descent down your neck.  

“I’d let you,” you laughed, “but I gotta stop by the 7/11...”  

“Huh?” he pulled back from you, confused. “You didn’t fancy mentioning that before I dived over here?” he teased. You giggled again – and of course, had no idea what that did to him, inevitably making the unfolding situation in his jeans worse. 

“What? I’m out of birth control...” you whined. “And as much as I love the idea of you railing me until the sun rises, I really don’t fancy motherhood any time soon. Pharmacy isn’t open this late, so condoms it is. Just for tonight.” You leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to the end of his nose.  

“Fine by me, condoms make me last longer anyway,” he smirked. “I’ll come with.” He started to retreat back to open his door, but you stopped him.  

“No no, it’s fine. It’s just around the corner. I’ll be like five minutes. You take your stuff upstairs, get a little rest – you're gonna need it...” Mary sighed in defeat.  

“Alright fine, you got your phone on you, yeah?” he checked, a little concern on his face.  

“Yeah yeah, I’m good. I’ll see you up there,” you leaned in to press another kiss to his lips, jumping out of the van and heading down the street in the direction of the local convenience store.  

Mary watched you walk away – absolutely nothing to do with the way your ass looked in that skirt, of course – and gave in, knowing there was no arguing with you on this. So instead, he got out and fished his guitar case from the back, along with his backpack of make-up and guitar picks and headed upstairs. He hummed to himself as he climbed the two flights of stairs up to his floor, content and happy despite the bar fight that had broken out.  

Truthfully, Mary couldn’t believe his damn luck. He’d landed a girl like you, worked at the differences and insecurities and whilst it was still a work in progress, you were his. He’d won the biggest battle, let his walls down just enough to let you in so you could take care of the rest together, brick by brick.  

Mary rounded the corner to his apartment, shoving his hand into his pocket for the keys to unlock the front door when he stopped, frozen and staring straight ahead... Something wasn’t right. 

The door to his apartment was slightly ajar, the wooden frame splintered by the lock as if it had been forced open with a crowbar. He couldn’t hear anything, only silence spilling from the crack in the door, but Mary knew better than to go charging in...  

“I’m nowhere fucking near done, you watch!” Corbin’s threat echoed around his head. “You’re an easy guy to track down, Goore! I’ll fuckin’ find you!” 

Corbin had made good on his promise. And for all Mary knew, he was still inside, waiting for him. Waiting for you.  

Quietly, Mary set his things down in the hallway, rifling through his bag for his cell phone, typing a quick message and hitting send before he fished into the hidden pocket inside and pull out a Swiss army knife. Handy little thing to own, when you own a guitar workshop and play in a band. Never know when you might need it to screw something together, or cut or saw something. He’d never needed to use it for self-defence before, and frankly, he felt sick at the thought of it. But he wasn’t going into that apartment without something. 

Slowly, and quietly, Mary stepped towards his front door. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat beginning to form on his brow as fight or flight began to kick in.  

He took a deep breath, flicked the knife attachment out of its hiding place, and slowly pushed open his front door...  

You sifted through the aisles of the 7/11, humming to yourself one of Mary’s songs that you particularly liked from the show tonight. With condoms in hand, as well as some assorted snacks, some beers and a few toiletries, you headed over to the register ready for the sluggish teen employee to ring you up.  

They took their sweet time, and you tried your best not to look impatient. It was late, after all, and this poor kid had the graveyard shift. You wouldn’t wanna be here either, in their shoes. Not that you’d worked a solid day’s work in your life, mind you... 

As the poor kid moved at the pace of a turtle scanning each of your items, your phone buzzed in your purse. Figuring Mary was asking you to pick something up for him, you checked it, only to have your heart jump into your mouth, and your stomach fall out of your ass... 

Don’t come home. Not safe. Call Forrest +1 (618) 107-1423 

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 14th

Orgasm Denial, Mary Goore x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 3.9k

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

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

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

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

Lemon.

Good.

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.” You said, quietly.

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

“Yes.”

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

“Yes!”

“Good girl.”

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

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

“Yes!”

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

“C-can I cum?”

“Can you cum… what?”

“Please! Can I cum please.”

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

“Please what?”

“Let me t-touch you!”

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

“Yes!”

“Go on, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes! I like it!”

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

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

“M-Mary, I’m gonna c-cum!”

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

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

“Cumming!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are!”

“Say my name.”

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

“Again.” He slapped your thigh.

“Fuck! Mary!”

“What a good whore for me.”

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

“Do you need to use the safe word?”

You shook your head in response.

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

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

“Mary, I’m gonna cum.”

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

And then he moved the vibrator away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mary, I’m close! Please.”

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

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

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

You blinked. “Mary?”

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

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

“What happened?” You asked weakly.

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

“Not tonight, love. I’m tired.”

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

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

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[ramblingoak]

The Repugnant

Chapter Two: Setting Sail

Read Chapter One / Check out amazing art by @foxybouquet HERE

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

Mary Goore x Female Reader

Warnings: vampire!pirate!Mary Goore and special appearances by Copia and Terzo, vampire shenanigans, horror, violence, no one is dead but they're not exactly alive either so ye be warned, um canon accurate Terzo?, nsfw 18+only mdni, 2,500 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the banner, collage and dividers!)

Your blood was on fire.

Mary had spent a few moments licking over your pulse, chuckling at your continued pleas to let you go.  At the first touch of their fangs your knees went weak and Mary settled more firmly against you to keep you upright.  The pain was blinding, making your mouth open in a silent cry as it seemed to build and build.  You had never felt pain like this before, never felt anything like this before.  Your hands clawed at Mary’s back but it was no use.

You were going to die in this alley.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind Mary pulled away.  You couldn’t stop the whimper that left you as his fangs pulled out of your neck.  Despite his bite only going on for a handful of moments it felt odd not to have them there anymore.  Like you were empty almost.  The feeling scared you, your mind wandering to the stories your nanny had told you about those that fell under a vampire’s thrall.

“A thrall?!”  Mary’s head whipped up, their eyes brighter than any ruby you had ever seen and their smile wide and dripping with your blood.  “That’s adorable.  Do you wanna be my thrall, little starfish?”

“I don’t want to be your anything.”

“You say that now but I bet I’ll change your mi–shit!”

Mary doubled over when you jammed your knee into his crotch.  Their grip lessened enough that you were able to shove them down onto the mist covered ground and escape past them.  You stumbled across the uneven cobblestones, desperate to at least get to the street.  If you got there you’d have a better chance of getting away and hopefully either finding somewhere to hide or one of your father’s soldiers.  

As you reached the end of the alley the mist became thicker and nearly impossible to see through.  Mary shouted behind you and you dared a look back right as you reached the street.  The only thing you could see were his red eyes glaring at you from the mist and you knew that would be something that would haunt your dreams for years.  You gasped when your foot got caught on a stone and you stumbled, bracing yourself to land hard on the ground except the ground never came.

“Steady now, ragazza.”  

The heavily accented voice drifted over you as you tried to steady yourself in the man’s grip.  You looked up to thank him, expecting to see a soldier but your words froze in your throat.  

There was nothing there.

“Wh-what…”  You tried to pull away from whatever had a hold of you but the grip was firm and a chill began to creep up your arms.  “Let me go!”    

“Yeah, Copia,”  Another chill ran through you but this had more to do with the monster now standing at your back.  “Let go of my snack.”

“You were supposed to bring her to the ship, idiota.”

“I’m working on it.”  Mary wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you back against their chest.  “Just got a little sidetracked is all.  Did her daddy get the note?”

“Sì, Phantom left it on his front door.”  

The hold on your arms finally disappeared and you quickly wrapped them around your waist.  Behind you Mary laughed and you whimpered when you felt their breath on the wound they left on your neck.

“What’s the matter, starfish?  Never seen a ghost before?”  Your eyes searched the mist before you, trying to make sense of what was happening.  A ghost?  “You have to focus now.  Just watch.”

As Mary spoke the mist before you seemed to get thicker, swirling and concentrating until it began to resemble a figure.  Your eyes trailed up from the cobblestones, taking in the man that was seemingly appearing from nothing.  He was still not entirely there, the building behind him visible through his body.  The only things that seemed solid about him were his green and white eyes and right now they were focused on you.  

“Ciao, bella.”

“Hey!”  Mary slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you securely against their chest.  “None of that, she’s mine.”

“I just said hello!”

“Yeah but that’s how it always starts.”

The ghost, Copia, rolled his eyes but you could see a hint of a smirk on his face.   

“We need to go.”  Copia took a few steps back, his form briefly disappearing into the mist before he was visible again.  “Before the spell wears off preferably.”

“Where are you taking me?”  You tried to dig your heels in but Mary was too strong, easily pulling you along as they began to walk down the street.  Ahead of you Copia’s eyes appeared off and on but he seemed mostly concerned with if anyone was following you.  “Are you…can I go back home?”

“Nope!  Someplace even better.”

Fighting was useless so you let Mary pull you through the streets.  There was random shouting around but you never caught sight of anyone else.  Occasionally Copia would disappear completely only to come back with blood dripping from a very real looking sword in his hand.  So many questions were building up inside of you but you kept your mouth shut until you finally saw your destination.

The Repugnant.

“No!”  You shoved at Mary with all your might, kicking at him when they lifted you into the air.  “Let me go!”

“Sorry, starfish.  You’re stuck with us for a while.”  Mary grunted when your foot connected with their knee, letting go of you with a curse.  “Copia!  Take her!”

You quickly looked up from where you had fallen onto the street, your eyes immediately meeting those of the ghost.  The moon peeked through the clouds and you were able to make out more of his face.  Hair that was blowing wildly around his head despite no breeze around, sideburns and then a mustache perched over a smug grin.

“Mi dispiace, bella.  Captain’s orders.”  

All the fight left you then and you didn’t say a word when the strange cold hands lifted you up onto your feet.  There was no telling what they’d do to you if you kept fighting them.  At least for now it seemed they were trying to get something from your father so perhaps you were safe for the time being.  You turned your head to look at Mary, shivering when you saw their ruby gaze on you.  The bite throbbed under his stare and you couldn’t help but press one of your hands over the still bleeding wound.

Maybe safe wasn’t the best word to use.

Mary started stalking towards you, their eyes glued onto your neck.  You shivered when they reached a hand out to pull yours away from the bite wound.  Copia muttered something behind you and Mary jerked their head towards the ship.  Mary’s grip tightened on your hand as the ghost disappeared, leaving only cold air behind you.

“Are you going to behave, little starfish?”  When you nodded weakly Mary smiled and licked their lips.  “Good.  I’d hate to have to tie you up.”  Mary brought your hand close to their face, sniffing at your skin briefly.  To your horror they stuck their tongue out and lapped at the blood that had gotten on your hand.  “Has anyone ever told you how good you taste?”

“Please…I’m sure my father would pay anything you asked for to get me back.”

“Oh I’m counting on it.”  They laughed when you tried to tug your hand away, holding it even tighter.  “On second thought maybe I should tie you up.  Drink my fill of you while you can’t do anything about it.”

“No!”

“No?  You don’t like that idea?”  Mary grinned and yanked you against them, one hand slipping around your waist and resting low on your back.  “You’re right, it’ll be more fun to have you put up a fight.”

Their mouth descended on your neck again but instead of teeth you just felt the wet strokes of Mary’s tongue.  They lapped at your neck slowly, cleaning up the blood that was quickly drying in the night air.  You let yourself go limp against them, silent tears streaming down your face while they worked. 

What would become of you on Mary’s ship?  Was it full of more ghosts like Copia?  Or were there worse things on board, things that you’d only be able to imagine in your nightmares.  Would Mary drink from you again? 

Oh don’t worry, starfish.  I’ll be tasting you again.

You froze when Mary’s voice drifted through your head, looking at him in alarm when he straightened up to meet your eyes.  When you started shaking your head Mary just laughed before starting down the dock towards the ship, dragging you along behind them.  You couldn’t help but stare at the ship in awe as they tugged you towards it.  The tall black sails disappeared into the night sky but you could just make out the jolly roger flag billowing in the wind.  Mary stopped at the edge of the gangplank, a bright grin on their face while they reached up to cup your cheek.

“Soon you'll be begging for it.”

The deck of the ship was chaotic.

You found yourself hiding your face against Mary’s shoulder, scared to see what was around you.  There were shouts, snarls, growls…sounds that you had never even heard before.  You couldn’t even imagine what they might belong to.  It was almost a relief when you heard Copia’s voice.

“Are you putting her in your cabin?”

“No, she’ll be too distracting.”  Mary wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lifted your chin up with a single finger.  “She can stay with your brother.”

“Terzo isn’t going to like that.”

“Yeah?  Well Terzo is in no position to dictate what I do on my ship.”  The vampire poked the tip of your nose before addressing you.   “You don’t mind hanging out with Terzo, do ya starfish?”

“Wh-what is Terzo?”

“Ah, he’s mostly harmless.”  Mary tugged at your shoulder and started leading you towards the stairs that led into the ship’s belly.  “Honestly it’s probably the safest place on my ship.  Hard to say what the others might be tempted to do to you.”

“What are…”  You dared a look around you, freezing when your eyes landed on something that could only be described as a giant insect.  The creature cocked their head and blinked at you before a set of wings spread out behind them and they took off into the air.  “I think I’m going to faint.”

“Don’t worry, starfish.  They might be tempted but they know not to touch you.”  Mary continued to lead you through the inside of the ship, past various doors until they stopped before one at the end of the passageway.  “Only I get to do that.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Come on, we both know that’s not true.”  They began to move closer, crowding you back against the wall.  It was beginning to be overwhelming having them this close.  All you could think about was their tongue on your skin and their teeth in your neck.  Mary pushed their head up close, their lips grazing your cheek when they spoke.  “It sure feels like you enjoy it when I touch you.”

“That’s a lie!”

Mary easily blocked your knee and grabbed your hands when you tried to hit him.  You felt like crying when they spun you around to face the door to the cabin.

“There’s no use lying to me, I can already feel your emotions.”  They lowered their head and licked across the bite wound, their chest vibrating with laughter when you whimpered.  “Just imagine what I’ll be able to do when I get an even better taste.”

Mary had the cabin door open before you could think of an answer, shoving you inside roughly before slamming it closed.  You took a few tentative steps as your eyes adjusted to the dark room, nervously looking around for whoever or whatever Terzo was.  The small window barely let any moonlight in so you could just make out a bed, a dresser and a table with a couple chairs.  There were a few items on top of the dresser, one almost looked like a mannequin head but you were too scared to get any closer.  When your eyes finally adjusted to the dimness you were able to make out what looked to be a figure sitting in one of the chairs in the far corner.

“H-hello?”  You gripped your dress skirts in your hands to try to stop them from shaking.  “Terzo?”

“Buonasera, dolcezza.”  Your head jerked over to the dresser, startled when the voice seemed to come from there instead of the chair.  “Mi dispiace, I would have cleaned up if I had known I was going to have a guest.”

“I’m not a guest.”  It was hard to keep the venom from your voice but you couldn’t help it.  You looked back at the chair when the legs moved, one leg elegantly crossing over the other as you watched.  “I’m a prisoner.”

“Ah, so the Captain was successful then.  Bene, molto bene.”

“Yes, he kidnapped me.  Him and that ghost.”

“So you met mio fratello then?  Quite the sight isn’t he?”  Terzo laughed then and you nervously glanced towards the dresser top again.  “What you can see of him anyway.”

“Are you a ghost too?”

“Un fantasma?  Oh no dolcezza, I’m as solid as they come.”  

A horrible tingling sensation started crawling over your skin as you watched the figure in the chair straighten up.  There was something off about it but it was too dark to get a good look.  You couldn’t help but take a step back when they got up and began to walk towards the dresser.  The sparse moonlight caught the figure and when you finally realized what was wrong about them your jaw dropped.  

“You…you…”  

You couldn’t even get the words to leave your mouth as the horrific sight before you started to make sense.  No, not sense, nothing on this ship made any damned sense.  The sound of a match being struck filled the room and when you got a better look at Terzo as he lit some candles you stumbled back until you hit the door of the room.  The knob rattled uselessly in your hand, locked and unwilling to turn.

“Is everything ah, okie dokie, dolcezza?”  Terzo finished with the candles and then held the match out to the mannequin head.  You jumped when a face was briefly lit up in the light before the match flame was blown out.  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“How are you…”  Your vision started to swim as Terzo picked up the head, his head, casually holding it in his hands at his waist.  “But that’s your…”

“Sì, I’m afraid my head got separated from the rest of me.”  Terzo lifted his head up higher, close to where it should be on his neck.  “I’d almost rather be a ghost to be honest.  Or un mostro.  What do you think, dolcezza?” 

Terzo thrust his head your way then, his lips turned up in a bright grin.  You barely were able to make out his features before the room began to get dark again.  As your knees buckled and you fell to the floor you could have sworn you heard Mary’s voice in your head...

Sleep tight, starfish.

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[kissingghouls]

The Date (Mary Goore x Reader)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess you’re alright,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for this.”

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t that why you like me?”

“Of course, it is darlin’.”

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

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

“Maybe. You like it though.”

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

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

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

“Bring it on, Goore.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Should I be worried?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never said that.”

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

“You know you don’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mary?” you start softly.

“Hmm?”

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

“Fucking hell, darlin’,” they groan.

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

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

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

“About me?” he asks in disbelief.

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

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

“Yeah, I think that’s a good plan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, actually.”

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

-x-

more stuff by me // ko-fi tip jar

[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.

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.

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!!

[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. Masterlist

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.

[fishwithtitz]

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

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

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

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

ao3 link

Hook-up #4: Thomas’ Room

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

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

But I had to admit, I really missed Des. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

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

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

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

“Now, spill.”

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I had really come to know that voice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brutus and I go way back,” he said. 

“Really?” I said with raised brows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a shit remake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They could have been.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Everything okay back there?” he asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were saying?” he snickered. 

“Oh, fuck off Goore.”

“Sure thing. Wanna watch?”

“I’ll leave that to Brutus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You good, Doll?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hadn’t noticed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That feel good, Doll?” 

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” I sputtered. Fuck dignity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Des: how’s it going over there? 

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

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

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

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

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

Des: you still never told me about his dick btw

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

“Desiree,” I replied in a neutral tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No shirt I noted. 

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

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

“I’ve got Brutie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tickles,” he murmured atop my head.

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

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

I let out a chuckle. “Gee, thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mary,” I breathed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lulusdiary]

Current hyperfixation is writing what I thought was going to be a oneshot that has turned into an entire thing about Mary Goore meeting a bartender at a gig and convincing her to go on a date with him and it's slow burn with hand holding and stolen kisses and might throw in some smut for fun I dunno yet

[library-ghoulette]

Under the Spell - Chapter 2/?

Pairing: Mary Goore x f!OC

Rating: Mature (mostly for language, SFW, later chapters will be NSFW)

Tags: first person POV, unnamed Sister of Sin OC, he/they Mary Goore, slowburn, banter, jealousy, stressed out overachiever, if I don't admit that I'm attracted to you then it's not really happening

Words: 1704

Summary: Mary Goore is spending the summer at the Abbey to assist with the Ghost Project when one of the Sisters of Sin catches his eye. Can they find love--or even just a place to hook up--under the wrathful gaze of Sister Imperator? (chapter one)

A/N: Sorry not sorry ghesties, but I love a slowburn. And making them fight! It's their foreplay, I promise.

ao3 link

divider by @gothdaddyissues

I spend the next week haunted by Mary Goore. They don’t appear again at the courtyard bench where I take my furtive stress-smoking breaks–not that I hope they will–but that seems like the only place in the Abbey unmarked by their presence.

Everywhere else? They seem to follow like a song I hate but can’t get out of my head. They brush past me in the hall on my way to class. They’re leaving Sister Imperator’s office right when I need to talk to her about something. They even sit on the far end of my pew during mass–which I’m sure they only attend to annoy me–leaning forward across the other worshippers to catch my eye and wave.

They talk too loudly, and they laugh too much, and I have no idea how they’re managing to get any work done for the Ghost Project when they never seem to be in the music room. Why would they do any work, when they could be following me? 

Or when he could be sitting across from me in the dining hall, surrounded by a gaggle of Sisters, all of whom are looking up at him with bright smiles, playing with their hair and giggling at remarks that I’m certain couldn’t have been that fucking funny, touching his arm and–

My roommate nearly shouts my name from across the table, and I snap my attention back to her. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

She sighs. “I was saying, that’s so annoying.”

“What is?” I realize that I’ve lost the thread of our conversation so thoroughly that she could be talking about anything from being put on extra cleaning duty to the cafeteria not having the good french fries today, and I have no idea which. 

She flaps a hand Mary’s direction. I look over just long enough for them to catch my eye and give me a wink before I turn away again. 

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. He acts like he owns the place, and everyone falls all over themselves trying to get his attention.” She adjusts the clip holding back her profusion of dark curls and says something that I don’t quite catch, because there’s another wave of giggles from Mary’s table and I look over to see him stretching his arms over his head, the hem of his shirt rising just enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin right above his studded belt–

“Huh?” I ask, when my roommate reaches out to poke my hand.

“I said, I’m glad you’re not taking part in all that nonsense.”

“Oh. Yeah, I uh… I don’t really see the appeal.”

She gives me a suspicious look, eyes narrowing and lips twisting to the side in an expression that I know too well. “You’ve been so spacey lately.”

“Yeah, I know.” I drop my eyes to my plate, dragging my fork through the remnants of my salad. “I’m just kind of stressed out about my classes and everything.”

“Well, if you want to do some extra studying together, let me know,” she says. “The summer is going to be over before we know it, and if you want Sister Imperator to approve you to take your vows this fall–”

“Yeah, that would probably be good,” I cut her off, before she can fully launch into yet another reminder of why I’m spending my summer studying instead of… whatever it is that fun people do with their summers. “I’m free tomorrow after–oh shit, what time is it?”

She checks her watch. “Uh, 1:30?”

I swear under my breath, a litany of shitshitshit as I gather my things. “I’m half an hour late for my library shift.”

“Go on,” she says, stopping me as I toss my trash onto my tray. “I’ve got this.”

I might feel annoyed with myself for eliciting the look of concerned pity she gives me, if I had the time to spare. As it is, I almost sprint out the door and across the Abbey to the library.

I stash my bag in the librarian’s office with my apologies, shrug on my cardigan to ward off the air-conditioned chill, and collect a cart of books ready to be returned to their shelves.

I love my shifts in the Ministry library, hours when  I can disappear into soothing work, cushioned by the susurrus of research happening all around me, the turning of pages and the tapping keys forming the perfect backdrop for my thoughts. 

I’m looking forward to resuming the comfort of my usual routine, to clearing my mind and maybe passively mulling over Secondo’s notes on my most recent Latin translation. But when I locate the correct range and turn down the aisle, an all-too-familiar disheveled head peeks around the next shelf, stopping me short.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss.

“Research?” Mary offers.

“Nice try, but try again.”

“Okay, fine. I saw you giving me the eye back there in the cafeteria. Thought you might want some company.”

“You followed me?” I can already feel that tell-tale blush that I hate creeping up out of my collar and across the face, the one that makes people confuse pissed off for something else.

Mary grimaces as they approach. “Followed makes it sound creepy.”

“It is”--my words come out louder than I intend, and I catch myself, because they are not going to bait me into making a scene in the middle of the library--”it is creepy. Go away.”

Of course, he doesn’t go away. 

“Are you trying to deny a humble seeker of knowledge the opportunity to improve their mind and grow in their dark faith?” he asks, voice dripping affronted piety as he plucks a book from the shelf at random. 

“Fine,” I sigh. “But be quiet. And don’t bother me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” They lean against the shelf and flip the book open with an exaggerated motion that makes me cringe for the poor book’s spine. I try to go back to my work, but I can feel their eyes on me, and it can’t be more than a minute before they’re talking again.

“Did you know that weird Cardinal has, like, a whole stash of antique porn hidden in here somewhere?” Mary asks, snaping the book shut, voice getting progressively louder. “I hear it’s the really weird stuff!”

I hear a grumble from one of the nearby study carrels as someone shoots us a glare, and I shush Mary with a light slap on the arm with the book I’m holding.

“Shut up. And go away.” I turn to shelve the book in my hand. “I’m trying to work.”

Mary doesn’t leave, just cocks their head at me mischievously and rubs the spot where I hit them, right over the devil inked into their skin. “Sure, I’ll go away. If you come meet me tonight.”

The retort is poised on the tip of my tongue, but to my surprise, what comes out of my mouth is, “Meet you? Where?”

“The cemetery.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“No, Goore.”

“Ugh! So impersonal!” He clasps a hand over his heart, wounded. “Don’t you think we’re on a first-name basis, babe?”

“No. And I’ve told you not to call me that.”

I start to wheel the book cart away, rolling down the aisle to the next range of books I have to shelve, finished with this conversation. But Mary’s hand shoots out, grabbing me gently around my upper arm, their calloused touch setting off sparks inside me, sparks that I refuse to label as anything other than anger.

I’m about to say something scathing, but they lean close, and the openness of their expression stays my tongue.

“I’m sorry,” they say. “I’m an asshole, I know. But seriously. The cemetery, midnight. We’ll have a little picnic, just you and me.” A lopsided grin. “It’ll be nice.”

I bite my lip, considering, looking down at their hand where it still rests on my arm. For whatever reason, I don’t shrug it off. And they don’t take it away.

Here is the part when I say no, I think. But what I say instead is, “Maybe.”

Mary smirks like he knows, just knows, that “maybe” really means “yes,” and it makes me want to take it back now to spite him. But I can see where the conversation goes next if I say no: the way he will relish teasing me for not having the guts while I get increasingly flushed and flustered, looking every bit the good girl being pestered by the bad boy who won’t leave her alone. Worse, looking like the good girl who doesn’t want the bad boy to leave her alone.

They’re leaning in close enough now that I can smell them: clinging smoke, the salty tang of sweat, and something spicy and earthy. There is a small voice inside of me that urges me to lean in closer, to breathe in more of that oddly intoxicating scent. That small voice assures me that if I just tilt my head up ever so slightly and close my eyes, then Mary will meet me halfway. 

Stupid. What would I want that for? He’s distracting, and annoying, and–

“Midnight,” he says again, breaking my train of thought and the inexplicable spell I had fallen under. “Don’t be late.”

I roll my eyes. “Maybe,” I say again.

“I’ll take maybe.” They squeeze my arm gently, briefly, before finally releasing me, having gotten what they wanted from me. 

I should let them go, should be relieved to be left alone, left to get back to the work I’m here to do. But for reasons unknown even to me, I say, “I’ve seen it, by the way.” 

It works: they turn back, intrigued. “Seen what?”

“Cardinal Copia’s porn collection.” Nonchalant, eyes cast down as I rearrange a misfiled book on my cart.

“No shit? Was it weird?”

I shrug, leveling him with a deliberate gaze. “I’ve seen weirder.”

And just for a moment, I’m rewarded with the rarest of occurrences: Mary Goore rendered speechless. 

And then one of those smiles that says I’ve won this round, while promising that there will be another.

“See you tonight, Sister.”

[copias-juicebox]

me just minding my own damn business.

@fishwithtitz and her mary story:

[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. 

[da-rulah]

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 5]

Summary: It's the morning after the night before, and there are still things left unsaid. You find yourself asking where you go from here and quickly realise, you're both going to need to work on this a little more. Whatever 'this' is...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 13.6k (lol I did it again...)

Warnings: Angst, more family trauma, emotional discussions, smut, cunnilingus, body worship, emotional sex, unprotected sex (birth control)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Apologies for the delay - I ended up pretty sick for like 2 weeks after I posted part 4... still, thank you for coming back. I missed ya! Thank you again to @angellayercake & @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading 🖤

You felt like you were floating... Drifting as you walked the thin line between consciousness, aware that you were beginning to rouse from a sleep that you had so desperately needed. That floating feeling; you felt so weightless, like bobbing slowly through a place where gravity hardly existed. As you began to stir, your eyes fluttering open, you became aware that that feeling was actually the sensation of your head slowly rising and falling rhythmically, as if buoyant on a gentle ocean. 

Except, the surface of the ocean felt warm, solid. It took a few moments, but as you came to you realised – it was Mary’s chest beneath you, his soft, gentle breathing lulling you in the same way it had last night as you’d fallen asleep in this exact position. In your sleep, neither one of you had moved – a sure fire sign that you had both been so exhausted and so comfortable with one another, that you could let down your guards, and drift into a deeply restorative sleep. 

When your eyes finally fluttered open, you allowed yourself a glance around his humble little apartment; sunlight streamed in through his windows, narrowly missing the bed but highlighting the specks that floated in the air like glitter with a mind of its own. A pattern on the ceiling at the end of the bed caught your attention; little reflections of light hitting the plaster. Sunlight had hit your dress, still folded neatly atop Mary’s dresser, and the light refracted up to the ceiling from each and every little sequin and rhinestone.  

No longer wanting to look at the offensively bright material nor think of the memories attached to it, you turned your head in search of something far more comforting to look to; Mary.  

Still fast asleep, his pretty long lashes fluttered every so often as he dreamt, his features so relaxed and at peace you were terrified to disturb him. Even in his relaxation, his arms were wrapped around you snugly as they were last night after the two of you had shared possibly the most important kiss you had ever had. 

You wondered, then, if that kiss had meant as much to him as it had to you – if he’d felt, in that moment, what you had felt... For you, there was no longer any denying it. This man – this strange, dark, twisted little sweetheart of a man – had become incredibly important to you, to say the least. He was the one you called in a crisis, he was the first and only person you wanted when the world burned around you.  

And despite his anger at you, feeling like he’d never wanted to see you again, he’d come running immediately. 

You couldn’t help but watch him as your mind began working, thinking of all the reasons you liked having Mary around. For one, he was unapologetically himself; something you had always strived to be. Two, he had never once made you feel unsafe or looked at you like a piece of meat – even that night at the dive bar... He had a respect for you that men usually were void of. Three, he made you feel more beautiful and more desired every time you’d seen him than anybody ever had. Four, there was a softness he was allowing you to see, slowly peeling back the curtain you knew he kept drawn to others. And five – probably the most important to you right now – he came when you called. 

Guilt still stabbed at your chest while you lay there thinking of how this guy had showed up for you unlike anyone else. Maybe Mary had judged you, put you in the princess box like everybody else but at least he had still wanted you. Despite that, he wouldn’t have been afraid to walk hand in hand through the town centre with you, to be seen with you, to show people there was something between you. What you had done was arguably far, far worse.  

Not only had you stereotyped him – that would have left you on par, on a level playing field, at least – you had decided that your stereotype of him was that of a person you could never be seen with, that you would hide away in secret out of shame.  

Given that your father had cast you aside as quickly and easily as a candy wrapper, you wondered what you were doing that for now. ‘Daddy’s image’ had been so important to you, but why? If he was so willing to throw you out of his town rather than see you happily doing something for yourself, then why on earth did you still give any kind of shit about him? You’d sacrificed so much of yourself over the years for your father, to the point where you really didn’t know who you were beneath the facade. He’d turned you into a little version of himself, shallow enough that you had treated perhaps the only authentic person you had ever had the pleasure to meet like shit.  

No more.  

“You’re a fuckin’ creep, doll,” Mary rumbled beneath you, his chest vibrating against your cheek and startling a jump out of you. You’d thought he was asleep; he certainly looked like it, his eyes still shut, and his body still comfortably limp beneath you. You stared at him for a moment, wondering if you’d imagined it, or maybe he’d spoken in his sleep... At least, until his lips quirking up into a smug little smirk. 

“Sorry, I was just... thinking,” you mumbled, suddenly shy as you settled your head against his chest again.  

“About...?” he encouraged, the smugness in his tone completely vanishing. He sounded more concerned, with just a touch of insecurity. You turned your head back to face him, your chin now settled on his chest instead of your cheek. He was looking down at you with both eyes this time, waiting patiently for you tell him the worst case scenario; that coming here had been a mistake and you didn’t want to be around him anymore. That’s what he expected, anyway. 

“Just...” You didn’t want to ruin the moment, to bombard him with heavy thoughts first thing in the morning... “how pretty you are,” you smiled, masking the guilt and hurt you’d conjured up. Mary just smiled a goofy, ridiculous smile. His arms tightened around you, and suddenly he was rolling you from your side onto your back, the cold, neglected half of the mattress shocking you further awake as Mary’s weight pressed into you. He lay on his elbow above your head, his other hand still wrapped around your waist. 

“Tell me more,” he teased, smirking down at you. You giggled – Mary's favourite fucking sound on the planet – and pulled the blankets up a little further, a knee jerk reaction to the sudden cold of the mattress beneath you.  

“Well, I couldn’t possibly contribute to that ego of yours, Goore,” you objected, prodding a finger to his chest just below his collar bone.  

“Hmm,” he hummed, his gaze flickering across your face as he took in your smile. He noted how genuine it looked, how content you seemed to lay in his bed, wrapped up in him. His chest swelled with warmth, the desire to kiss you as he had last night overwhelming him.  

But he wouldn’t. Neither of you had really talked about what had happened between you before you’d drifted to sleep in his arms, but it had been one of the many things that crossed his mind as he struggled with his memories into the early hours.  

Just as you caught Mary gazing back down at your lips, thinking maybe he might kiss you again, longing for it... He met your eyes again, with a hint of anxiety. 

“I suppose that... two mature adults would probably talk about everything that happened last night?” he asked tentatively. He was right, they probably would.  

“Probably...” you agreed, looking down towards where your hands were fiddling with the edge of the blankets. A wave of nausea passed over you, dull fear settling in the pit of your stomach. Mary sensed your change in demeanour, immediately regretting bringing it up. He switched back to his mask immediately, putting that wall back up and fighting the feeling with comedy.  

“Good job we ain’t all that mature then, huh?” he laughed, eyes lingering on the frayed edges of the sleeves of his shirt you wore. The two of you were so hopelessly inexperienced at dealing with emotions, let alone talking about them with anybody. But after where your mind had drifted to that morning as you’d watched him sleep, you knew you had to say the things you’d missed last night. He needed to know how much you regretted treating him like that.  

“I do want to apologise to you though, Mary...” Mary’s eyes snapped to look at you then, brow furrowing in confusion. But you persisted; you hoped he’d hear you out. “I was a bitch to you.” 

“Nah, you’re fine, doll...” he began, but you cut him off gently, pressing your fingertips to his lips.  

“Please, hear me out...” you asked him. When he saw the look in your eyes, the regret on your face, he nodded against your fingertips, willing you to continue. “I know you judged me, and I don’t blame you for that at all. I was putting the act on a little too well. But I judged you too, and then I did something worse... I let my world get in my head, and I locked you out of it because you didn’t ‘fit’ in it,” you made air quotes with your hands, awkwardly wringing your fingers while you spoke, not daring to look in his eyes.  

“I’ve let my dad run my life for too long, and he got in my head. He made me feel like I should be ashamed to be around someone like you; or, y’know... the ‘you’ people think you are. I just...” You looked up at him then, his expression unreadable, but you looked him in the eye as you continued, “That’s bullshit, Mare. I don’t want that life. I don’t want people telling me I can’t be seen with someone because they don’t suit my ‘lifestyle’. I want to form my own opinions, my own relationships and... I don’t want to shut out the good people.” 

You raised your palm to his cheek, desperately hoping that he knew what you meant; that he was good people. You didn’t want to shut him out anymore.  

The arm that was wound around your waist lifted, his hand wrapping around your wrist gently as he stroked his thumb over the back of your hand.  

“I’m not wasting another second living for that man anymore,” you whimpered, your waterline blurring your vision where tears gathered. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you, Mary.”  

Mary’s features softened, his head turning in your hand to press a light kiss to your palm where he held it still. Those words meant more to him than you’d possibly know, a tension releasing from his shoulders he hadn’t known he had built up.  

“It’s okay,” he mumbled against your palm between pecks, “I’m sorry for missing the signs of control. I shoulda seen it, and I missed it. Or just ignored it, I don’t know, but... I’m sorry too.” 

Silence settled, a comfortable moment to soak in the apologies you’d owed to each other, to settle any possible lingering bad feeling. It was Mary who broke the silence with a small laugh and a shake of his head above you, hair flopping into his face. 

“It’s not like I can stay mad at you for long anyway, doll. Believe me, I tried,” he said, biting his lip cheekily as he smiled down at you.  

“Oh yeah? You just couldn’t ignore the cries of a damsel in distress,” you joked back, expecting Mary to laugh and come back with another quick-witted quip. Except... his face faltered, his smile dropping in a flash. Instantly, you knew you’d said something wrong. Why it had been wrong, you weren’t sure, but you jumped into damage control. “B-but, um... you know, just meant to say thank you... you didn’t have to do that-” 

“Yeah, I did,” he interrupted, his tone serious. “I’d never just walk away if you needed me...”  

Another silence settled as his words lay heavy on your mind. You believed him, wholeheartedly. There was no glimmer of uncertainty or comedy in his expression at all – Mary meant it. He’d never turn his back on you if you needed him. But the way his face had dropped... A flicker of sadness you hadn’t missed... You raised your hand back to his cheek, cradling his jaw as your thumb swiped gently against the stubble that was starting to rise.  

“No one ever came to save you... did they?” you asked him, hesitantly. The way his jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck tightening only confirmed your suspicions. You could feel the tightness where you held his jaw, and all you could do was continue to stroke your thumb over the skin, trying to soothe him.  

“I’d like to try,” you told him, sincerely. Oh god, you wanted to try. You’d do anything you could to save him, if he’d let you. From what, you weren’t sure, but you’d fight tooth and nail for him.  

Mary didn’t know what to say. You’d hit the nail on the head, seen him for what he truly was, and it scared him. It scared him so much, to be that transparent to you. His heart hammered inside his chest and before he knew it, he’d lurched forwards to press his lips to yours in place of words.  

He held you so gently as he kissed you, careful not to come on too strong with him laying above you but he took note of how you held him too, how you easily melted into his kiss and allowed him his vulnerability. Just as it had last night, this kiss led nowhere in particular and served only the purpose of affirming your connection; whatever that connection was at this stage.  

As you drew yourselves apart, Mary avoided your gaze and instead found himself fiddling with your hair that lay against the pillow as if suddenly very interested in your split ends. He wasn’t one to ever verbalise how he felt, never spoke up about his emotions either positive or negative. Instead, he felt awkward, like anything he’d say right now might ruin the moment in some way. He didn’t trust himself to speak, but he knew he had to say something and so he thought carefully as he played with your hair, still hovering above you with an arm wrapped around your waist.  

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he admitted honestly. “I... I don’t know what this is.” 

You understood his predicament – you weren’t sure what this was either. You weren’t someone who’d had any kind of relationship or felt this way about another person before, and you weren’t sure if Mary ever had either – of all the times you’d noticed Mary before your first night at the bar together, you’d never seen him with the same girl twice.  

“I don’t know either, Mary. But... I just know that it’s something,” you told him, “something I’m willing to fight to protect, if that’s what you want.” 

Mary’s lips curved into a smile, and without his usual face paints there was no hiding the slight hue of pink that tinted his cheeks as he looked away with a shyness you found incredibly cute on him.  

“You gonna fight for me, doll?” he asked, a cheeky smirk returning as he looked back down at you beneath him. 

“With my bare fucking hands, if I have to,” you grinned.  

“That’s my girl...” he winked, lowering himself to press another kiss to your lips, giving you no time at all to dwell on what he’d just said other than to have those two words swimming around your head on a loop as he spoilt you with the kind of kisses he felt you deserved; slow, impassioned, with feeling.  

“My girl.” Mary’s girl. His girl.  

His. 

“Try these,” Mary offered his hand to you that clasped a pair of black skinny jeans. “They’re women’s cut anyway.” 

“That can’t be comfy...” you laughed, taking the jeans from him and holding the waistband up to your own hips, surprised to find they might actually fit.  

“Wrong. They’re tighter, yes, but weirdly fit better. Give ‘em a go, and I got this tee you can wear too for now, maybe some boxers that are too small for me...” he rifled through his drawers, pulling out garments that would do just for today as you stood by the edge of his bed in the pyjamas and old shirt he’d given you last night. He turned to you with the aforementioned clothes in his arms, handing them to you.  

“You know where everything is if you wanna shower, but you gotta let the water run for like 5 minutes before you get in. Unless you like being pelted by icicles first thing in the morning,” he shrugged.  

“I do not,” you laughed. “But a shower sounds good.” Mary nodded, rubbing his hand up and down his arm as he stood awkwardly across from you, still shirtless with his shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. You pretended you hadn’t noticed... 

“So, uh... What do you think you’re gonna do?” he asked, “I mean, you can stay here as long as you want, but-” 

“I should get some stuff from my place, yeah. My dad will be at the office all day, I could always sneak in my bedroom window. I doubt my mother would notice...” you shrugged. “Are you sure you don’t mind me crashing here?” you asked, biting at your lip. You didn’t want to impose, but truthfully you had nowhere else to go and you certainly weren’t crawling back into that house with a fake apology and diving headfirst back into that life. Not now. This was too far gone... 

“’course not, doll. Never read a fairytale where the knight sends the princess back to the dragon...” he smirked, folding his arms across his chest.  

“You can read?” you teased, earning you a playfully indignant scoff. 

“Don’t push it, doll...” He stepped towards you then, tilting your chin up with his finger curled underneath it. His eyes darkened and his voice dropped to a menacing pitch, “How can you be so sure I’m not the bad guy?”  

That shouldn’t have done something to you. But with your arms full of a bundle of clean clothes there was no hiding the blush on your cheeks, nor the way you gulped or shifted your weight from one foot to another. And Mary was observant. He raised his head proudly, taking a step back as he booped you on the nose like a good little puppy dog and chuckled to himself. 

“Go on, go shower. We’ll swing by yours and then maybe we can grab some food. I’ve got nothing in, so...” he shrugged, turning back to his dresser to pull out some clothes for himself.  

“What, like... a date?” you asked, maybe sounding a little too hopeful. Mary looked up from his drawer and squinted his eyes at you in mock suspicion. 

“You tryna get in my pants, doll?” he taunted. You rolled your eyes, kicking your bare foot against his shin.  

“No, I just... Never mind, probably not your style or something,” you shook your head, regretting mentioning a date at all. 

“Hey, I’m great at dates,” he defended, “Just don’t do ‘em very often. And I mean, I don’t think I can live up to the dates you’ve been on with the kind of guys in your circle. Don’t exactly have the cash for a fancy dinner or a helicopter ride over the city or whatever.” He waved his hand in your direction, pretending to be overly interested in rummaging through his drawer. 

You scoffed at that, shaking your head. Of course he’d jump to that conclusion, assuming your experience of dating had been like a scene out of The Bachelorette. He was stereotyping again, in an attempt to defend himself. There was a pattern here, you were noticing... Mary was a very defensive guy. But if he’d bothered to ask, maybe he’d be shocked to learn none of the guys you had ‘dated’ had ever taken you on any kind of date. Dinner at your place to be scouted by your father as being good enough for his image was not a date. 

“You’re doing it again,” you told him bluntly. Maybe he didn’t even realise he was.  

“What?” he snapped, dropping the pair of jeans in his hands back into the drawer in a move that showed he was irritated. Now it was your turn to get defensive.  

“Stereotyping me. Maybe it’d shock you to know I’ve never actually been on any kind of date,” you griped. Mary hollowed his cheeks, swallowing his pride when you called him out. You were right, and he knew you were right. He looked over at you from the corner of his eye, unable to hold eye contact as guilt burrowed its way into his chest.  

“I just thought-” he tried to make his excuses, but you were tired of hearing them. 

“Well, you thought wrong,” you snapped, heading towards the door to his bathroom.  

“Wait, doll...” he called after you, frustrated with himself and how quickly he’d managed to turn what had been an almost sweet morning with you into pissing you off.  

“Forget it, Mare,” you called back without looking, shutting the door behind you and dumping the pile of clothes in your arms to the counter in front of you. You didn’t want to fight; not with him. You’d had enough of that and while he had pissed you off, part of you knew that maybe you’d started that... ‘Not your style’, what had you even meant by that?  

Clearly, the two of you still had some clichés and stereotypes to iron out of your heads. It was easier said than done, when both of you had only ever known the world to be as it was in your bubbles. You only had your previous experience to go off, blindly following what you’d been told and staying in your own lanes. This relationship – or whatever it was – would take some work, and there were still wounds that couldn’t be healed overnight, cracks that a bit of dry wall stuck over them wouldn’t fix. Maybe you’d have to tear it down to its foundations, and rebuild instead. 

Outside the bathroom, Mary was thinking much the same thing. You were right to call him out, and he muttered a “you fucking idiot” to himself when you’d shut the door on him. Instead of getting defensive, he should have had the compassion and understanding to know you weren’t trying to be malicious. All you’d done was ask if he was suggesting a date, and his walls went right back up again. 

‘What are you protecting yourself from now, idiot?’ he thought to himself. ‘If you like her, you gotta let her in.’  

You’d told him you’d fight with your bare hands for him. Was he willing to do the same for you?  

‘Yes’ he thought, ‘teeth bared, and claws sharpened.’ 

The plan was simple – mostly because the air had been too awkwardly stale between the two of you to stomach a better, well-thought-out plan than the brief outline you’d concocted in the shower followed by a brief agreement from Mary.  

Mary would drive you back to your house, park up and let you sneak back into your bedroom through your always-unlocked window while he waited for you to pack up your bag and climb back out again. No fuss, no mess, no interactions.  

The drive was mostly silent, save for the music settled between a low and medium volume from Mary’s usual radio station. You didn’t mind it, the heavy mashing of guitars and drums mixed with barely intelligible screams and growls. Perhaps you were even growing to like it, for all the time you’d spent in Mary’s van. You could find rhythm to tap your foot along to, and lord knows you often felt like screaming like this too – except, you would have to into a pretty pink and frilly pillow.  

“I’ll wait here, no rush,” Mary told you as he parked a little way down the street, on the opposite side of the road.  

“I won’t be hanging around, trust me,” you mumbled, nerves eating away at your sanity as you plotted your route over the wall and up the side of the garage. You’d done this plenty of times throughout your adolescence, sneaking in and out, it wasn’t new to you. Yet, the stakes seemed higher today.  

Quickly, you rushed out of the van and across the street to avoid being seen by neighbours. Your father’s car wasn’t in the driveway when you climbed over the wall; a sure-fire sign that he was at the office today ruining somebody else’s life. With practised ease, you climbed the side of the garage and tip-toed across the roof towards your bedroom window. Just as you’d expected, it was unlocked, and you could crawl inside without detection.  

First, you swung the backpack Mary had lent you from your shoulders, unzipping it and pulling the dress and heels from the night before from it. You folded the dress and lay it on your bed, the heels neatly placed beside it. You knew they’d find them – you wanted them to find them. This was your way of telling them you were done, you’d come home and taken your things and you were gone. There was no crawling back to them.  

From your closet, you dragged a duffel bag from the top shelf and began to fill it with your clothes and shoes – at least, the things you wanted to keep. Too many pretty little dresses that weren’t your style at all, too much pink and lace and poofy things you’d dress a china doll in. No, you focussed on the clothes you’d bought with your own money, the basic shirts and sweaters, the jeans and sweatpants, a few pairs of leggings. You had an entire section of your closet you’d never touched, tags still on the items you’d bought but didn’t have the courage to wear.  

Mostly black items, things your father would have called ‘too depressing’ or ‘not pretty enough for a girl like you’. He hated black clothing on you, preferred pinks and whites and pale colours that reflected that innocent aura he wanted to get across. So, the black dresses, the ripped jeans, the tighter black tops and oversized graphic tees never saw the light of day. Now, you were stuffing them into your duffel with every intention of wearing what you wanted.  

Next, you headed to your drawers to grab your underwear and socks, stuffing them into the bag alongside your clothes. Once empty, you pulled the drawer from the dresser until it was barely hanging on, and ran your fingertips along the bottom until you found the edge of the tape you’d stuck there years ago that held an envelope to the bottom of the drawer. You ripped it off, and stuffed that in your bag too.  

As you turned your back to your room shove a handful of jewellery into a side pocket, you heard a creak behind you, near the door. Instantly you froze, waiting for another creak, praying you were hearing things in this big and old house.  

“Oh, thank God,” you heard your mother’s voice, whining like she was holding back a sob as she brought her hands to her mouth in shock behind you. You shut your eyes and breathed out a sigh; a mix of relief and regret. You’d so hoped no one would see you, and yet, you were just so glad it wasn’t your father.  

You turned to look at her, to see her in her usual put-together wife-of-a-politician attire, clutching her pearls and suppressing a sob as her made-up eyes let tears stream slowly from them. 

“Oh, honey... I’m so glad you came home, I’ve been worried sick!” she sobbed, rushing to stand in front of you. Her hands held your shoulders, then one came to cup your cheek as she looked you over for any signs of harm. Her brows creased in concern when she saw the jeans and old AC/DC shirt you’d been given by Mary to wear today. “Where did you-”  

“I haven’t come home, Mom,” you pushed her wrists from you gently and walked around her, grabbing various beauty products from your vanity. “I’m just getting my things and I’m leaving again.”  

“Leaving? But sweetie, you can’t just leave... Your father was angry, but he’ll come around. H-he... He’s just stressed at work, you know? He loves you-” 

“Mom, please!” you snapped, turning back to her. “I don’t know what he told you happened, but he wants me out. And frankly, I’ve put up with his shit for too long. I’m tired of living in his image all the damn time like he’s some fucking messiah!”  

“Darling, please,” she pleaded, stepping towards you as she held her hands out to you as if trying to cup your face in her hands again to calm you, “that language sounds so vulgar coming from such a pretty-” 

“Stop!” you pushed her hands away, “I don’t want to be daddy’s pretty little trophy, I don’t want to be forced into this life of fake people and pageantry. He doesn’t care that I’m a grown woman with my own thoughts and feelings, he doesn’t care that I went to college to find my own career, or that I want to meet people that I find interesting or that I want to dress how I want, be who I want,” you ranted, letting it spill out. “Look around you, mom. Even my bedroom belongs to a little girl. I don’t like any of this stuff, I don’t want any of this shit! This isn’t ME!” you yelled, the anger manifesting as tears of your own as your mother stared blankly at you, taking it in.  

Silence settled, and she turned on her heels to walk over to your bed, sitting herself down on the edge beside your overflowing duffel bag. She flattened her palm to the bedspread, tracing the pattern of the pink lace.  

“I told him you never liked pink,” she chuckled sadly. “God, he insisted... Said ‘every little girl likes pink’. He really was clueless.”  

You shuffled your feet awkwardly, wiping at the tears in an attempt to remain strong.  

“You always were a headstrong little thing. I loved that about you, always thinking for yourself and making your own mind up. I remember the tantrums you had when you asked to have a go-karting party for your 10th birthday instead of a garden party,” she laughed. “I understand more than you think, you know. How your father can be.” 

“And you go along with it?” you questioned, confused. She’d never said anything like this or encouraged your freedom of thought before.  

Your mother sighed, picking at her manicured fingernails as guilt overwhelmed her.  

“I suppose I thought I was doing what was best for you, or maybe just trying to make life easier for the both of us. That doesn’t make it right, I know,” her brow furrowed, still unable to look up at you in her shame, “he’s a persuasive man. That’s politicians for you...” 

When she looked up, she smiled softly at you, her eyes once again roaming over your outfit as she let her prejudices down for a moment. Her eyes settled on the shirt, her smile growing just a little more.  

“Your grandfather liked them,” she nodded towards the shirt. “Used to play their records all the time.” You looked down at the shirt, completely unaware that your Pops had liked AC/DC. You’d heard the odd song on the radio before, always seemed to like what you’d heard. You found yourself hugging yourself, awkwardly mulling over what your mother had been saying. If this was some attempt to make you stay, to talk to your father, it wasn’t going to work. He’d never let you live under his roof without going back to what he’d moulded you into... 

“Mom, I can’t come home... Not if I want to live my own life,” you told her, “I’m sorry...” 

And you were, but only for her. Your father had done to her what he did to you, just slower over the course of their 30+ year relationship. She’d been microdosed for decades, until she barely recognised herself anymore. This touch of empathy proved that. 

Your mom shook her head, taking a deep breath to steady herself.  

“Are you safe?” she asked, her only concern. “I won’t have you on the streets, I need to know you have a place to go.” You nodded at her. “Same place you got those clothes?”  

You looked down at them again, trying to figure out what to say to her. You didn’t want to tell her about Mary, you couldn’t. Instead, you just looked back at her blankly. “I’m safe, mom.” 

“Good. Well... if this is what you truly want, I won’t stop you,” she stood up, coming to stand in front of you and holding your hand in one of hers, the other tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “Go and live your life, my love. You let me handle your father.” 

“Why do you stay with him?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. But it was too late now. “You laugh along with his bullshit jokes, you let things slide, you let him push you around and tell you how to live your life too. Why?”  

“Because it’s too late for me,” she smiled, her eyes glassing over with fresh tears. “But I’ll be okay. There’s good and there’s bad to this, but I love your father. I’ll keep doing my best to influence only the best out of him, because I know it’s in there. I remember when he started his political career, he had nothing... He wanted to help people, to make life a little easier for people. But politics has a way of moulding you into a puppet, like he has with you... All I can do is keep reminding him of where he came from too.”  

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, silent tears rolling down her cheeks before she turned away from you with a sniffle and wiped at them.  

“He’ll be home soon, you’d better hurry,” she said, picking up the folded dress and heels on your bed. You nodded wordlessly, heading into your bedroom with Mary’s empty backpack to gather the rest of your toiletries. You were in there perhaps two minutes, gathering your things and shoving them into your backpack, but by the time you came back out your mother had disappeared. Your bag was zipped up and ready to go, the dress and heels taken with her.  

Without giving yourself the chance to dwell on your decisions, to question yourself or doubt your choices, you hauled the backpack onto your shoulder, hoisted the duffel bag up by the straps and carefully climbed back out of the open window. The front door certainly would have been easier, but if your father was due home soon, you’d rather not run into him. This was safer, and the thought of coming across your mother again drove a white-hot blade straight through your chest.  

Carefully, you managed to find your way back over the garden wall, cutting across the street towards Mary’s van. When you wrenched the door open, Mary was laying further down in his seat, one foot up on the dashboard and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He sat up immediately, reaching across the two passenger seats to help drag the duffel back into the footwell while you climbed in, strapping yourself in without a word – just a deep sigh, throwing your head back against the seat.  

“You okay?” he asked hesitantly, holding his pack of smokes out to you in offering. You took one wordlessly while Mary pressed the lighter on the centre console in for you. It popped out quickly, having already been heated for his own.  

“I will be,” you mumbled, dragging a lungful of smoke in to dull the rising anxiety in your chest. “Let’s go.” 

Mary didn’t argue, nor press you for your thoughts. Instead, he switched on the engine, pulled his van away from the curb, and headed off down the street. 

At the living room window, your mother stood behind the net curtains, watching you leave. Her chest ached with the heavy sobs she kept from ripping up her throat. She clutched your dress against her, biting her lip and tasting the salt of her tears on them. While she understood why you needed to leave, your father telling her everything you had said to him and how you had ‘betrayed his trust’ by doing so, it still cut her to the core to watch her only child have to run away from her home in order to find her own happiness. 

The only comfort to her, was watching you get into a black van that you weren’t driving. You had someone with you, someone who waited for you, who had your back. You had told her you were safe, and she believed you. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see who was driving the van from here, but it was enough to know that you weren’t alone in the world.  

She trusted you enough to know you were going to be okay.  

Mary drove you straight back to his apartment at your request. When he pulled up outside, he met you at the passenger door and took the heavy duffel bag from your grasp despite your protests, and headed up to the third floor with you in tow.  

He dropped the duffel bag on his bed, immediately heading over to his dresser to empty as much space for your things as he could. He compacted his half-filled drawers, shoving jeans in with tees and socks in with underwear to give you the room to empty your duffel. He didn’t think it fair to live out of a bag for however long you might be here.  

With a few drawers emptied, he turned back to find you sat on the arm of his couch, defeated and curled in on yourself as you stared at the floor.  

“There’s uh... room now, for your stuff I mean,” he mumbled, still feeling awkward. Partially about this morning, that air never really clearing, and partially because he just didn’t know how to help you right now. He had no idea you’d spoken with your mother, no clue of the heavy feeling on your chest and what had caused it. But he noticed something was different when you got back in the van.  

“Thanks... You didn’t have to,” you shrugged. Mary ignored that last part. 

“There should be room in the bathroom cabinet for your stuff too, but anywhere is fine. This place is yours for however long you want it, so... make yourself at home.” You nodded appreciatively. "I should get some food in, fridge is empty as fuck, so...”  

He gathered his keys from the kitchen counter where he’d left them, and moved towards the door. 

“Wait, Mare...” you called to him, standing from the couch and quickly walking over to him before he had a chance to open the front door. He turned around, confused and was met with arms wrapping around his waist and your body pressing against his, head laying against his shoulder. Stunned, Mary stood still for a moment, arms raised and eyes blinking. 

“I’m sorry. For this morning...” you told him, not ready to burn another bridge over something pathetic such as that. Mary’s shoulders slumped in relief, his arms wrapping around your shoulders and holding you tightly against him.  

“S’alright, doll. I’m sorry too. But you don’t gotta panic, alright? We’re fine. We’re gonna be fine,” he assured, resting his chin on the top of your head. He held you for a few moments, feeling the tension leaving your shoulders and your body relaxing into him.  

“I’ll be back soon, alright? You unpack, relax,” he said, kissing the top of your head and pulling back from you. You nodded with a half-smile, watching as he left you alone in his apartment.  

With a sigh, you walked over to the duffel on his bed, unzipping the fully stuffed bag ready to remove your clothes and sort them into the drawers Mary had emptied for you. But as you opened the bag, your eyes fell on something you hadn’t packed for yourself.  

A photo, folded up with a note written on the back of it.  

‘Find yourself, angel. All my love, Mom. Xo' 

As if your heart wasn’t already busy shredding itself at the note, the picture you unfolded only made it harder to swallow the lump in your throat.  

It was you as a toddler, sat on your mother’s knee at a picnic table while your father, younger than you could ever remember him, sat beside you both, feeding you messily from an ice cream cone. No shirt and tie, no matching tweed sets, no pearls – your father wore a plain t-shirt and jeans, your mother dungarees and a ringer tee.  

You’d never seen them look so normal... just a sweet, young couple with their little girl on a day out at the park.  

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your ribcage vibrated at the force of the sob you set free, forcing yourself to sit on the edge of Mary’s bed to allow yourself a moment to lose it. You needed that; just a flash of time to mourn the loss of a life stolen from all of you by the pressures of politics. The smiles on your parents faced showed a time they were truly happy, they weren’t faking for a camera or a crowd.  

You had to wonder what had changed, why your father lost sight of his own values. He hadn’t always been a cruel and stoic businessman. He had loved you, wanted to do right by you.  

What changed? 

By the time Mary came home, over an hour had passed. He carried arms full of paper grocery bags that you rushed to help him with, now calmed and collected from your earlier breakdown. Why he’d bought so much you couldn’t understand, nor how he had the money to do so. As far as you were aware, he had no day job. Guilt washed over you, wondering if he’d filled the cupboards and fridge just because he knew you were staying with him.  

“Let me get some cash, it’s not fair you paid for all this if I’m eating too,” you told him, heading for your wallet you’d stuffed into the backpack Mary had given you.  

“Nah, you’re fine, doll. I got this one,” he protested, shoving the last of the groceries into the fridge. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, worried about burning a hole in his pocket.  

“If you’re worrying about money, don’t. I get by,” he shrugged, leaning up against the kitchen counter. “I restore guitars, get ‘em back in shape and ship ‘em back to their owners. Decent enough money for rent and bills, little extra pocket money here and there since the band funds kinda go back into the band.” 

“Damn, you do? I didn’t know... I guess I never asked, huh?” You headed back into the kitchen, hopping up onto a kitchen cabinet opposite him.  

“Yeah, learned some carpentry from Mr Rogers? He had this workshop in town. I helped out as a kid, he taught me some things...”

Mr Rogers was a name you knew well, a sweet older man even when you were a child. Everybody in town knew Mr Rogers. You looked around his apartment again, seeing the electric guitars up against the wall and the battered old acoustic he’d removed from his bed. 

“Is that one you’re working on now?” you asked, pointing to the acoustic. It really was in rough shape...  

“Oh, uh... no. That’s... that’s mine. I kinda like it how it is,” he shrugged, clearing his throat. “And I don’t restore them here, I got myself a little storage unit outside of town to do all that when Mr Rogers retired. Anyway, you all unpacked?” he asked, changing the subject quickly.  

“Oh yeah, thanks. I didn’t bring much, most of it wasn’t exactly my stuff anyway.”  

“Nice. You hungry?” His eyebrow quirked up, his arms folding across his chest. As if your stomach had ears of its own, it growled at the mere thought of food. Through everything today, you’d forgotten to eat and yes... you were hungry. Mary chuckled at the sound of your growling stomach. “Sounds like a yes.” 

“Kinda,” you smiled.  

“Alright, well get dressed then. We’re going out,” he told you, smiling to himself.  

“Out? Where?” you asked.  

“Just out. Wear something you like, makes you feel good,” he pushed himself off the kitchen counter, rounding the half wall to sit himself on the couch and flicking on his TV. “Take your time.” 

You stared at him in confusion from your seat on the kitchen counter, looking at the back of his head as if he’d grown another one.  

“Alright, don’t take that much time...” he teased, “go, go!” He flapped his hand out towards the bedroom half of the apartment, snapping you into motion. You jumped down from the counter, in search of something to wear.  

Something that made you feel good, he’d said, as if that was important to him. Not something you thought he would like, not something you thought anybody in the world would like, other than you.  

A smile tugged at your lips, flicking through the garments you’d brought with you with the tags still on, the things you’d always wanted to wear, but never had the guts to.  

Finally, it was time to figure out your style. 

It felt like staring at someone you’d known your whole life, and yet, you’d never met before... Your reflection stared back at you, made up how you wanted, dressed up how you wanted. Darker eye make up, a deeper red lip shade, and a fitted black knitted dress just past your knees with some squeaky-clean black converse. This was the you you’d envisioned when you bought the damn dress, but never had the guts to become. If you’d walked downstairs at home in this outfit, your father would have made you change immediately.  

But now, as you reached behind you to rip the tag from the back, you felt like yourself for the first time. This was definitely something that made you feel good, despite it being so simple. 

With a deep breath, you stepped out of Mary’s bathroom with an audible “ta-da!” His head whipped around from where he sat on the couch, his eyes scanning over your body, lips quirking up into a smirk. 

“Not wearing that just to impress me are you, doll?” he asked, raising an eyebrow cheekily. But truthfully, he was worried you were... He didn’t want you to feel like you had to dress a certain way to be with him or be around him. If you wanted to wear pretty pink dresses, he didn’t care. But if you wanted to wear darker clothes like this? Well... he certainly wasn’t complaining.  

“Nope. Pretty much everything I brought with me still has the tags on, because this is how I always wanted to dress and just... didn’t,” you shrugged. Mary stood up then, walking over to you to lift your hand in his and twirl you like a real doll on a music box.  

“And how do you feel?” he asked, still holding your hand as you came back around to face him.  

“Like me,” you grinned. Mary’s smile widened, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead.  

“You’re missing something though...” he said, wagging his eyebrows at you as he darted off behind the outer bathroom wall that hid the front door from view. When he came back, he’d taken his leather jacket from the pegs next to the front door. When he stopped in front of you, he opened it for you. “Can’t let you get cold.”  

“Mary...” you cooed, “after what you went through to get it back?” you teased, threading your arms into the sleeves as he held it for you.

“And I'll go through that again, if that’s what it takes...” he flirted from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and lowering his voice to a far more seductive tone. Naturally, you leaned into him, sighing happily wrapped in his jacket and him. “Just gimme 5, doll.” He patted your hip as he unravelled himself from around you, and disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged, he’d styled his hair, painted his face in his usual make up and fake blood, and he smelled distinctly like that night in your bedroom... His cologne. 

“Alright, let’s go,” he draped an arm around your shoulders and led you back towards the front door, picking up his keys on the way and a distressed denim jacket that was hung up on the same pegs his leather one had been.  

You had no idea where Mary was taking you... He seemed to be driving forever, through town and out the other side, down winding roads and country lanes. Was he taking you into the city? He refused to tell you, instead turning the volume up instantly with a cheeky grin every time you whined about not knowing where you were, and only turning it down again when you stopped talking.  

It wasn’t until you found yourself surrounded by trees and on a dirt path that you started to wonder what the fuck Mary was really up to...

“Mare, seriously...” you sat up in your seat, looking out of the windows at the scenery, the sky turning orange and pink as time went on, “where the fuck are we?”  

He didn’t touch the volume dial this time, instead focussing on the road ahead with sneaky side glances to you every so often, watching you look around for some kind of clue.  

“You trust me, right doll?” he asked, smirking.  

“I did, but you’ve brought me to a secluded woodland, alone, in a van,” you joked, only the slightest hint of anxiety in your voice. After all, you hadn’t known Mary that long... “I thought we were going to dinner...?”  

“We are. Just trust me,” he assured, losing a bit of that smugness after hearing the slight nerves in your voice. He hadn’t wanted to make you genuinely anxious, and he was trying to quell that as best he could. “Almost there.” 

After a little while, the trees started to thin, the burnt orange of the sky more visible to you as you looked out over a huge expanse of water, stretching right out to the horizon where the sun was threatening to dip underneath. The dirt track you were on opened up into what looked like a turning circle, the water lapping at the edge of it. Mary slowed the van down, using the space to turn around and back up just a few feet away from the water’s edge before putting it into park and switching off the engine.  

The radio cut out, and left the two of you in silence. Mary turned to you with a smug look, and you waited for him to do something, to say something to explain how on earth you were meant to get dinner here. He said nothing.  

“If you think I’m fishing for my dinner, you got another thing coming...” you told him, folding your arms over your chest. Mary just laughed, pulling the keys out of the ignition and jumping out of his side of the van. You stayed put, scowling at him with only a half-serious air of annoyance. He came to your door, opening it for you.  

“M’lady...” He bowed and held out his arm to encourage you to step down from the van. You did so gingerly, squinting at him with suspicion.  

With the door shut behind you, he walked around to the back of the van, and opened up the double doors to the back. You heard a small click, like a switch, and peered around the doors to look inside half expecting to find a rack of various sharp objects, maybe a chainsaw and plastic sheets from an episode of Dexter...  

But instead, you were met with possibly the cutest little sight you’d ever seen.  

You’d never seen so many pillows and blankets stuffed into such a small space, the entire back of the van covered in comfort to laze about on. Battery powered fairy lights were strung up across every wall, sitting over patterned wall hangings to make the space look more cozy, almost bohemian. In the middle of the blankets, sat a disposable barbeque, and a grocery bag of burgers, buns and snacks to keep you going for the evening.  

“I don’t really do restaurants...” he shrugged, kicking at the dirt at his feet.  

Looking around at the setting you found yourself in, you almost felt like crying. He’d put effort in, he’d thought about this, he’d prepared. This felt more intimate than any restaurant could, gave you a chance to just exist with Mary in your own world for a moment, away from the judgement of others and the obvious stares and whispers from a public that knew you all too well.  

You were speechless. You had nothing smart to say, no quick wit or little quips. Instead, you were filled with an overwhelming warmth and gratitude.  

Before either he or you knew what you were doing, you stepped closer to him and grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt, pulling him closer to press your lips to his. Words had failed you, but actions spoke louder anyway, right?  

Mary stumbled back a little, but promptly held his hands out to grip your hips as he kissed you back with a chuckle. When he pried his lips from yours after a while, he still didn’t let you go, far too comfortable holding you close to him while you still held onto his t-shirt. 

“So, you’re not mad at me?” he asked smugly. You shook your head no, biting your lip to contain the grin. “Good... I just wanted it to be us tonight. No one else shoving their noses in our business, y’know?” 

“It’s perfect, Mare. Shouldn’t have doubted you,” you told him. “But you better get that barbeque going stat, before I take a chunk out of you instead.” 

“Ooh, don’t threaten me with a good time, doll,” he teased with a wink, letting you go and reaching into the van for the supplies he’d brought. As he was setting up the barbeque, he threw his keys to you, “half-turn the key, you’ll just get the radio. Tune it to whatever you want.” You nodded, letting him get on with it while you searched through the stations for something a little less screamy, a little more old-school... You settled for a station known for its classic rock – a middle ground for you and Mary for now.  

Getting comfy amongst the pillows and blankets Mary had collected – whilst he’d been grocery shopping, so he told you – you watched him get to work, using his zippo to light the coals and throwing a couple of burger patties on the grill with some chicken skewers. Golden hour was certainly upon you, the gorgeous scenery bathed in an ethereal orange glow as the sun descended.  

The sky grew darker as Mary cooked for the two of you, both of you making your way through the burgers, skewers and snacks he’d brought just chatting, laughing, enjoying the company of one another in a way that had so far been impossible. If you had any doubts about Mary’s personality at all, this evening had squashed them completely. He was a dork, a loser, a cheeky little shit and so incredibly charming, sweet and hilarious.  

Swapping stories of your adolescence took you well into the darkness of the night, laughing at the shit he’d pulled as a teenager, the trouble he’d gotten into with his friends while you told him of the stupidity of a fake life, the tales of pettiness and girl-drama from high school and the asshole boys you’d dated through the years.  

“So, you’ve only ever dated assholes then, huh?” he asks, taking a sip from the soda can in his hand. 

“Yep, sure know how to pick ‘em... Or maybe I attract them, I don’t know. Didn’t exactly want most of their attention,” you scoffed, biting the end off a strawberry twizzler.  

“Like that asshole at the fair?” he asked, taking another sip. You made a face of disgust, remembering the way that Devon had claimed you that night.  

“Mhm. He decided I was his the second he met me. Gross. I spent all evening trying to get him away from me without causing a scene. Like I said, just attract assholes,” you shrugged, turning to face him with a sly smile, “still do.” 

Mary swallowed a large gulp of the soda, finishing his can and sat up from where he leaned on his elbow in the pillows, his eyebrow quirked upwards and chest puffed out.  

“Oh, I’m an asshole?”  

“You deny it?” you teased, taking another bite of the twizzler.  

Mary crushed the soda can in his fist and threw it behind him, keeping his eyes on you as he moved closer, practically crawling on his knuckles. You swallowed your bite, butterflies awakening in your stomach at the dark look on his face. His make up only made him look more menacing, a spark of excitement igniting inside you.  

“Well, if you only date assholes, does that mean we’re dating, doll?” he challenged, the corner of his lips twitching. Neither of you had labelled whatever this was between you, the conversation this morning only settling on it being something. Was he asking you to officially be his? You grew nervous, worried you’d scare him off with an admission that yes, you wanted to date him. Officially. 

“I-I...” you stumbled, trying desperately to think of something smart to say. You fell short.  

“I seem to remember you telling me you’d ‘fight for me’ this morning, doll...” he practically growled, continuing to crawl over you until you shuffled back, slowly leaning into the pillows behind you as he loomed over you. His body lay beside yours, and yet, he leaned on his fists either side of you, contorted to cage you in. “’With your bare fucking hands’?” 

For the second time tonight, you were speechless. All you could think about was how close he was, how menacing he looked, how your body melted under his and you seemed all too willing to submit beneath him.  

“I suppose what I’m asking you, doll, is...” he lowered his head to whisper in your ear, “Are you mine?”  

Where words failed you, the involuntary little whimper you let slip spoke for you. Mary had to bite his lip and turn his head away to look at the far wall of the van to contain the proud grin and laugh he wanted to let out. Composing himself, he looked back down at you, gaze drifting over you.  

“You just gotta say the words, doll. Easy as that.” He raised one of his fists to toy with the edges of his leather jacket you still had wrapped around you, fingertips grazing your collarbone beneath the knit of your dress. “What do you say, hm?” 

You let a beat of quiet pass between you, the low melodies of classic rock still playing from the cabin of the van. He waited patiently, still toying with the badges and spikes of his jacket, admiring how pretty they looked on you.  

“I want to be yours, Mary...” you confessed.  

Mary’s eyes instantly flicked back up to look into yours. He searched for a moment, looking for any insincerity, anything that made him think you regretted those words slipping from your tongue or you had only said that because he’d asked you to.  

Nothing of the sort.  

The kiss Mary surprised you with knocked the wind out of you, bruising and all-consuming as his body all but collapsed into you, his lips moulding to yours and smearing your lipstick in such a heated moment of need he surprised even himself. His hand slipped beneath his jacket, palm flattening against your collarbone and sliding up to hold the back of your neck, his thumb stretching to hold your jaw in place and manoeuvre your head to the perfect angle. 

He leaned his body weight into you, his elbow propping him up enough to save you from being completely crushed but the weight on your chest was welcomed. You just wanted him close, everywhere all at once.  

His lips commanded movement from you, parting them over and over to welcome his tongue into the mix as well as yours. His grip on you tightened, his body rolling into yours with a desperate need to make you his as you’d asked. Your heart hammered against your chest, pounding so hard you thought it might burst through just to get to Mary.  

The hand on your neck dragged itself down further, palm flattened against your collarbone and down between the valley of your breasts, over your stomach and quickly dipping to your hip where he squeezed the flesh he adored. With a second squeeze he pulled your hip closer, colliding with his own and earning a groan that parted his lips from yours and spread the heat of his breath against your chin where he was now mouthing recklessly, leaving sloppy kisses on your skin.  

“Can I have you now?” he pleaded, the sloppy kisses moving along your jaw to beneath your ear, and down your neck.  

“Please, Mary...” you begged, hands fisting the soft blankets beneath you.  

He sat up abruptly, pushing himself away to kneel at your feet with every ounce of willpower he could muster to be away from you. You sat yourself up on your elbows wanting to chase him, panic ensuing that he’d changed his mind but when he sat himself at your feet and lifted one to his thigh, you calmed a little, watching with intrigue.  

He pulled at your shoelace, slowly unravelling them to loosen your high tops and pull at the heel, removing it along with your sock. He gently placed it between his knees again, lifting the other to do the same except this time, he didn’t lower your foot. Instead, he raised it higher, pressing his lips gently to the inside of your ankle. He leaned forward on his knees, holding your leg to easily trail more slow, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of your calf muscle until he was dipped low enough to rest your ankle on his shoulder, yet still travelling his kisses up to your knee. With his hand now free, he could push the hem of your dress up and chase it with his lips. 

You watched him take his time, the heat in your stomach growing inescapably. You wanted to press your thighs together for some kind of friction but in this position, Mary would never allow it. All you could do was wrap your arms around your stomach, gripping onto the material of your dress in anticipation.  

 The dress bunched against the middle of your thighs, and his lips made their way up the inside of your knee, mouthing at the flesh with gentle scrapes of his teeth and puffs of hot breath as he groaned against you. He looked so lost in his worship of your body, eyes closed and eyebrows knitting together with each moan. Before he could get too close to where you needed him, he sat up again, both hands reaching underneath your dress on the outsides of your thighs and finding the hem of your panties. He dragged them down from under the skirt, pulling them off you and dropping them to one side. Before coming back to you, he stripped himself of his denim jacket and reached behind his head to pull his t-shirt off again, leaving him shirtless with his jeans belted low on his hips.  

You allowed yourself to linger on the sight of his little happy trail dipping beneath the material, the distinct ‘V’ shape your remembered from the night in your bedroom making your mouth water and your thighs press together like you’d wanted before.  

Without another word, he lowered himself to his stomach, lifting your ankle over his shoulder again and leaning on his elbows. His lips found your inner thigh where he’d left you, and began their ascension with more wet kisses and gentle bites. You helped him with your dress, finally feeling him nudging his nose against the very top of your inner thigh. Raising your hips, you pulled the dress over the swell of your ass beneath you, and exposed your core to him.  

Mary couldn’t help but to stare... How pretty you looked for him, practically sparkling with arousal already. Like a man possessed, he was drawn to your centre, his lips pressing to your mound right above where you glistened for him. Instinctively your fingers threaded in his hair, pushing that signature spike in front of his face out of the way and gripping onto the strands to ground yourself.  

Finally, he kissed your lips as he wound his arms underneath your thighs, hands flattened to your flesh and pulling your hips down to his mouth. His tongue snuck between your folds and swept across your throbbing clit, getting a taste of you that awoke something primal inside him. His fingers dug into your flesh tighter and he pushed his face deeper into your core, tongue now swishing and flicking over your nerves while you threw your head back at the pleasure.  

At the sound of your first breathy and high-pitched moan, he grinned, tongue still laving at your clit. He’d fucking missed that... And with no one around for miles, he had no need to gag you, to stop you from singing for him like a siren’s call. The two of you were finally alone, this time in no danger of being caught or found out. He could hear you tonight, completely unbound.  

One of the arms snaked around your thigh unwound, his palm pressing to your abdomen and his thumb stretching to flick over your clit as his tongue dipped lower, burrowing between your folds and finding a well of arousal to lap at where it had gathered at your entrance. You spread your legs wider for him, encouraging him as he drank you in. Mary’s tongue was like fucking magic, casting spells that had your mind dizzy and hazy.  

“Mary...” you whined, your hips lazily grinding against his tongue until he pressed further, dipping inside you while his thumb flicked over your clit. You were going to lose yourself quickly, completely drunk on pleasure. Mary didn’t care, so long as he could hear you singing his name over and over.  

Somehow, he burrowed his face deeper, groaning into you. When you looked down, you could see his ass rising and falling behind his head, grinding his cock into the makeshift bed beneath him. He was too turned on to stay still, enjoying himself too much to even notice he was humping the pillows and blankets like a horny teenager. And fuck it turned you on.  

The coil inside you was winding itself tighter and tighter by the second while Mary only intensified his movements, worshipping you so completely. When you called his name again, your fingers tightening and scratching at his scalp, he only got faster, desperate to bring you to an end like he had so many times before. Your hips bucked despite how hard his palm pressed against your stomach and his other held your thigh down, and soon enough, you were losing your mind with your first orgasm ripping through your body.  

Mary drank every drop of fresh arousal he could get, continuing to pleasure you through the waves of your orgasm. Your cries and whimpers only encouraged him to keep going, until your body started to go limp beneath him, muscles contracting in your aftershocks. He only slightly pulled back, pressing light kisses to your clit and chuckling when it had your body jolting in overstimulation.  

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to gag you again, doll... You sound too pretty,” he remarked, looking at you from between your legs with a coy smile. You giggled, blushing furiously as you combed your fingers through his hair. He crawled his way up your body, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand and pressing his lips to yours again. You cradled his cheeks in your palms, dreamily losing yourself in his kiss.  

Kissing him again allowed you some time to recover from such a strong orgasm, until you found the energy to lift your thigh to his hip and press inwards, rolling your body to force him onto his back while you straddled his waist. He allowed it, moaning involuntarily when your bare core brushed against his erection behind his tight jeans. His hands slid from your waist to your ass, squeezing the exposed flesh like fresh bread dough.  

You pulled yourself back, sitting upright and shaking his jacket from your shoulders, dropping it to the side. He joined you, rolling the dress up past your waist for you to take over, lifting it above your head and off your body. He leaned forwards, pressing his lips to your collarbone and sternum, resuming his earlier open-mouthed kissing spree across your chest while you reached behind you to unclasp your bra. He scrambled to pull it from you, never letting his kisses cease while he made his way across your breast to take a nipple into his mouth, nipping and sucking at the bud.  

You ground your hips down into him, reminding him you needed his focus there as much as you enjoyed his attention on your breasts. It was all well and good him worshipping you and making you feel good, but you were so desperate to please him too... Yes, it turned him on to make you feel good, he derived most of his pleasure from it, but you wanted to give him the same. 

“You focus too much on me,” you told him, slipping your hands between you both and reaching for his belt. “What about you, hm? Don’t I get to make you lose your mind too?” 

Mary looked up at you in total awe, “didn’t you notice? I lost my mind the second you told me you were mine, baby...” 

You grinned down at him, overwhelmed with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint but it didn’t stop you from undoing his belt and jeans and slipping a hand beneath the layers of material separating you. When your hand wrapped around him, he threw his head back, groaning and rolling his eyes into the back of his head.  

“Help me get ‘em off, Mare,” you told him, and he didn’t have it in him to argue at all. Why would he?  

You shuffled back, pulling at the hem of his jeans and boxers while he planted his palms to the blankets beneath him and lifted his hips so you could shimmy them down. He helped to push them further, while you reached behind him to take off his boots and socks. He kicked the jeans and boxers from his legs, leaning back on his palms again as you shuffled yourself back to straddle his hips.  

“You got any idea how beautiful you are, doll?” he asked, watching his own hand dance across your thigh and up over your hip.  

“Never felt like that until you came along...” you admitted shyly. His head snapped in your direction, his eyes meeting yours.  

“That’s a fucking crime,” he told you, pressing his thumb to your chin and pinching gently. You turned your head to press a light kiss to the heel of his palm, then leaned in to steal a real kiss from him again. While his mind was preoccupied with your lips, you reached between you both again, taking him in your hand with a stroke and beaming at the praise that came in the form of a whimper. Without disconnecting your kiss, you lined your hips up with his, and slowly began to sink down on his length.  

Mary’s jaw swung open with a loud moan, one of the hands he was leaning on shooting to your thigh and digging into the flesh as if it would stop the world imploding around him. You understood, your own body reacting much the same with your arms latching around his neck to keep you stable as he filled you. You felt so tight around him, walls already contracting as you derived your pleasure from the intrusion.  

You had to take a moment when he had nothing more to fill you with, stretched around him and overwhelmed. His grip on your thigh never lessened, the two of you pressing your foreheads together with parted lips and hot, uneven breaths fanning each other’s face. It felt so incredibly intimate; whatever this connection with Mary was, it was all-consuming. If it weren’t for the throb of need between your legs, you’d have been content to stay like this for as long as he’d allow. 

But now accustomed to his size and the depths to which he filled you, you couldn't help yourself. Slowly, you began to roll your hips against his, your fingers snaking into the hair at the base of his neck as you brushed your nose against his. The hand on your thigh slid to your hips, his nails biting at your curves.  

As you found a rhythm, moans dripped from his lips like the sweetest syrup. You taking control, needing him so close you could practically swallow each other whole was driving Mary wild. In his head, he was battling between begging you to ride him faster and wanting to keep you like this as long as possible, prolonging both of your pleasure. All either of you cared about was how the other was feeling – your own pleasures were simply a bonus. 

“Take what you need from me, baby,” he panted as your pace picked up a little, your hips rocking into him and body rolling against him. “I’m yours just... just as much as you’re mine.” 

Hearing that, you lost yourself. Your head fell back, hair cascading down your shoulders and body rolling faster into him. He shifted his weight beneath you to relieve the need to hold himself up with one hand, instead wrapping his arms around your back and digging his fingernails in there too. Feeling him clawing at your flesh, you felt so wanted it drove you insane.  

Mary’s lips collided with your chest again, mouthing at the skin as he groaned and whimpered into you. His hands were all over you, feeling every inch of you surrounding him, guiding you in your mission to capture bliss with every roll of your hips. You felt Mary everywhere, and it was fucking perfect. 

Unbridled moans filled the van, spilling out into the night and across the still waters of the lake under the moonlight. In such a picturesque snapshot of Mother Nature’s work, nothing felt more natural than this moment with him. No insecurities, no doubts, nothing to be unsure about.  

The way you rode him had his cock reaching every spot inside you, the control allowing you to pinpoint what felt the best and demand more of it. Mary could feel you squeezing him, massaging every inch of him as he sunk further and further into madness. The spell you were casting on him was a welcomed hex, and he was a willing victim. 

“M-Mary?” you called out to him, your eyes shut so tight; you were afraid to open them in case everything you were feeling disappeared. 

“I’m here... Fuck, I’m here, doll. Not goin’ nowhere,” he vowed, his grip tightening, his promises muffled by the swell of your breast.  

You became almost frantic, chasing both of your highs. It was the only thing that mattered to you; that bond, that simultaneous desire to prove to each other how vital this attachment was. Mary let one of his hands slither between you both, giving you his palm to rut yourself against while you took him deeper with each thrust against him. The direct contact with your clit had you fluttering around him, and he couldn’t help but bite down on your breast and send a brief flash of welcomed pain through your body.  

The yelp you let out snapped his head up to look at you, finding your face contorted into an expression of euphoria. His free hand gripped your neck, his thumb curling around your jaw to hold your face tightly.  

“Look at me,” he demanded, growling through grit teeth, his orgasm hurtling towards him like a runaway train. He needed to see you. “Baby look at me, c-come on, please...” he begged. 

Your eyes shot open at his request and the blissful tears in your eyes were all it took to send him over the edge. He pulled your face to his and smashed his lips to yours, rocking underneath you to match your thrusts while his cock pulsated and kicked inside you, spilling everything he had deep inside you. The lewd sounds of his cum and your slick mixing and were so intoxicating, and the warmth of his release had you whimpering into his mouth.  

His didn’t remove his hand from between you, nor from your neck. If anything, his palm pressed harder against your clit, and there really was no hope of containing your orgasm if you had wanted to. A powerful wave of ecstasy sucked you under the surface, tumbling you until you couldn’t discern which way was up or down. You gasped, the air being punched out of your lungs to separate your last desperate kiss.  

Mary cried out as if he was in pain, overstimulated by the way your core sucked him inside and refused to let go. The hand at your clit shot to your back to stop you from falling backwards, your balance long lost. Instead, you fell forwards, Mary powerless to stop your weight from sending him flying back into the pillows.  

Now laying in a heap of limbs, you convulsed and whimpered while your climax ebbed away. Mary too, the shockwaves jolting him every time your walls contracted on his still semi-hard length. Neither of you could speak, simply exhausted and almost catatonic. It took all of his energy to wrap his arms around you. 

Minutes passed as you caught your breaths, like astronauts floating through space and finding a safe place to land. This felt different to any other time with Mary... It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t rushed, you weren’t in danger of being discovered and you weren’t suppressed. You were simply so drunk on each other, so completely enamoured that words weren’t enough anymore.  

You’d never had this before. Neither had Mary. Both of you were just as clueless as to what to do with these feelings – and you were both as terrified as each other for whatever were to come next.  

You lifted your head to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked back down at you too, and before either of you knew what you were doing, you both erupted into laughter.  

You couldn’t pinpoint why; was it relief? Was it at the absurdity of how you got here? Was it just noise to fill the after-bliss void? Perhaps all of the above, but as Mary cuddled you into his side and wrapped you both in a blanket to stave of the chill of the night seeping into the space around you now you’d stilled, neither of you could stop the laughter.  

“What the fuck are we doing, doll?” he laughed, running his palm down his face as his laughter calmed to a chuckle.  

“Being young and dumb...” you gleamed, pressing a kiss to his chest and grinning up at him.  

“...and full of cum,” he teased, earning a loud slap to his bare chest and more laughter erupting from the two of you.  

“You had to ruin it!” you accused. 

“That’s me, doll. Ruin everything,” he winked, pulling you to lay higher next to him so you were face to face. “Certainly ruined your life.” 

“Wouldn’t change a second of it.”  

Mary’s smirk turned into a genuine smile, his fingers tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear. 

“Nah, me neither,” he declared, before cradling your cheek and leaning into you for another kiss; this time, one that had butterflies dancing in your stomach to a different tune – a more mellow, contented melody. 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

TAG LIST: @writingjourney @anamelessfool @astro-ghoul99 @sodoswitchimage @through-thebrokenglass @ghoulette-knell @thylacourt @onlyhereforghost @mikathemushroom @jaymechaos @gardenghoul22 @mustluvecho @mlioravanfleet @tobbesdiscordkitten @the-did-i-ask @love-is-all-you-need-13 @fishwithtitz @xshadyladyx @redthefieryginger @preqvelle @arhiannababe @namelessdrool @jokerofthepack52 @popialover @alonso123 @copias-sewer-rat @kadedoesthings @popiaswife @thew0man @siouxbauhaus @copias-juicebox @ghostfangirlsweden @rainstorms-library

[her-satanic-wiles]

Commissions are open!

Masterlist

Words: 4.5k.

Warnings: begging, body worship, choking, corruption kink, cum eating, cunnilingus, dirty talk, dry humping, dubcon elements, fingering, hand job, humiliation kink, licking piss off a hand, making out, masturbation, mentions of dark kinks (but nothing explicit), mentions of penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, nipple play, omorashi, orgasm denial, partner worship, plus size!Reader, positive degradation, PIV sex, rough sex, salirophilia, spanking, sploshing, squirting, switch Mary & Reader, they acting like horny teenagers, under/non-negotiated kinks, unprotected sex, use of the word “bitch”, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, watersports

Taglist: @bitchywitchygardener @astro-ghoul99 @jogjosmowwdkfs @ohgoodnesswhatdo @malixxxmistress @gardenghoul22 @m0rbidmacabre @herb-welch @inkstainedrat @angellayercake @xshadyladyx @ghoulette-knell @da-rulah @th4t-em0-k1d @mae-mei-m @in-ghost-we-trust @onlyhereforghost @ultraghostproblems

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Mary didn’t look like much of a cuddler, but he was - and he was completely unashamed of it, too, he’ll have you know. He was a person who loved heavy metal, blood, guts and gore, and snuggling with you on the couch and watching movies, giving you sweet little loving pets and listening to your breathing when you’d fall asleep on him. Bright smiles, warm hugs, a kiss on the forehead and gentle touches down your back. But, there was a really, really tiny, super small, minute, little problem: his libido ran like the Duracell fucking Bunny and he had the self control of a moth when it sees light. Your genitals fit the analogy so on and so forth.

He wouldn’t have you in his lap often, as much as he loved it, because it was somewhat of a sexual trigger for him. It didn’t matter how many layers you both were wearing, if your pussy was on his cock in any capacity he could feel it. He could feel every little twitch, any movement, any heat radiating off your body like radiation seeping into the ground at Chernobyl - and it made him feral. A rabid animal rutting into you desperately needing to cum. Turned on and raring to go at you no matter what. Was it exhausting? Too fucking right. Did you enjoy every second? Absolutely.

You were both watching a horror movie on the couch and all you did was bend down to kiss him once you returned from getting you both a drink, but he scooped you into his lap, stuck his tongue down your throat then feigned surprise when he started chubbing up beneath you, playfully scolding you for capitalizing on his little problem as you rubbed your clothed cunt against him a tantalizing two times. All his chastising, however, clearly had no ground to stand on as his hands had sunk into your plush hips and pushed you further onto him, applying more pressure between you both and groaning at the impact. But there were still too many layers between you, so he began to tug at your pants and pull them from you, taking the opportunity to remove his own when you briefly climbed off him to remove yours from you. The second his ass touched back down on that couch, now only covered by his grey briefs, he pulled you into his lap again and had you rub against him.

“Doesn’t that feel better, my angel?” He muttered into your mouth.

You moaned in response, the noise being caught by his tongue as he ran it over your top lip. Your hands clutched at his sleeveless tee, the fabric practically hanging off his paper-thin body. The faster your hips moved, the tighter your grip became. All the while, Mary whimpered beneath you, fingers digging into your hips and then your thick thighs, squeezing at the fat enough to keep you comfortable but so he could still have his fill of your voluptuous body.

Mary did things to you you didn’t realise you liked - and especially when he had you pinned beneath him, bent in half with his cock driving into you. But even though he was the one ruining your body for his own pleasure, he made noises as if he were the one submitting. His mouth would utter the filthiest of dirty talk, the most profane shit, in between little bitch-boy whimpers that had your cunt clenching every time - and right now was no exception. He’d mutter things desperately in between kisses, but most of the time he would just whimper and moan while his fingers moved across the expanse of your body like they had a mind of their own. Sometimes his words would become clear, but most of the time you just died at the sound of his desperation.

“This fucking cunt, baby, shit! I can feel you through my underwear- you’re so fucking wet already.”

“I - fuck - I blame you for this.”

He also began moving his own hips as best he could from beneath you, but this position didn’t allow him much movement, so he pushed himself down the sofa just a little, allowing his ass to hang off the edge ever so slightly, and give him more room to recline and fully take in the sight of his goddess using him for her pleasure. “I know I’m always horny for you, but this just proves you’re exactly the same for me, hm?”

“Only you get me this turned on, Mare.”

He groaned. “Too fuckin’ right. So desperate for my cock got you humping me while we watch a fucking horror flick.”

“You started it.”

“I love that you get so fucking horny for just opening your legs for me. My own gorgeous, little slut, yeah?”

You whimpered for him, your clit dragging against his impossibly hard cock as your hips moved faster, gearing up for an orgasm. You felt one of his hands roam over your breasts, finding your nipple and begin playing with it through the fabric of your t-shirt. He loved that you never wore a bra at home, mostly because it gave him easy access to your tits. Sometimes he just wanted to grab and grope at you, other times he wanted to rest his head on them and hold you against him. His eyes were fixated on the way they jiggled slightly with your movement - not quite as much as when he’d ravage you, but even still they were utterly captivating to him.

“Fucking hell, Mary. I’m gonna cum!”

“Yeah, baby? You g-gonna cum in your panties for me, hm? Desperate little wh-whore can’t wait until my cock is inside her, she has to - fuck! - hump me like a bitch in heat.” His other hand that was on your thigh moved to your ass, gave you a quick squeeze before it came down hard on your flesh, making your ass cheek ripple deliciously. He was sad he couldn’t see it, but watching you take your bottom lip between your teeth and lift your shirt up to pull at your nipple, he found himself grinding against you harder. “Let go. Cum for me, angel. Please. L-let me see that perfect face a-as I make you cum.”

The sound of Mary’s whimpers and the feel of him against your cunt had you tipping over the edge in what felt like no time flat. He had a dark look in his eye, filled almost entirely of lust, with just a smidge of adoration.

“That feel good, baby?”

“So fucking good.”

He held you by your hips again to keep you steady as he gently continued rocking into you. He looked down at where you both were connected and saw that your juices had dampened his briefs just a little. If he didn’t get inside you soon, he’d simply perish. He moved down and pulled himself out of his underwear, gasping at the freedom.

But you made to move. “Hold on, Mare, gotta piss.”

“___.” He whined.

“I’ll be back.” Mary tightened his grip and refused to let you leave. “Mary, you gotta let me go.”

“You can hold it.” His bare cock was now rubbing against your panties over your clit, eyes fixated on it.

“Mare, I’m not kidding. I gotta go!” You were laughing at his ridiculousness. He could be so petulant when he wanted to be.

Mary returned your laughter, a cheeky, love-drunk smile plastered on his lips and a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m telling you, you can hold it. Move your panties to the side, baby, I want in.”

“Mary, you can fuck me any which way you choose, just let me go to the toilet! I will piss on you.”

He dared to let go of one of your hips, moving to grasp onto your wrist instead. With his other hand now free, he pulled your panties to the side exposing your cunt to him completely, then moved it to your stomach. “Please, on this couch? You wouldn’t dare.” He was now sporting a dangerous look, daring you to do the unthinkable. He knew you wouldn’t, but took great fun riling you up to annoyance. Calling your bluff for the shits and giggles.

“Mary.”

His thrusts got a little rougher, clearly taking so much pleasure out of being a nuisance. Your eyes closed, feeling of his bare cock rubbing through your folds and catching your clit so deliciously. You didn’t want to move. You wanted him to keep pleasuring you, and fuck you into the couch cushions until you couldn’t feel your legs. You also didn’t really want to piss on him, though. Your protests were still there, but weak. So weak. “Y-you have to let me go.”

“I wanna fucking bury myself so fucking deep inside you, angel. Fuck, baby, this pussy is so wet for me. So warm. Shit!”

He began pressing on your stomach over your bladder, making your need to pee much more urgent. “Mary, I’m gonna pee. I can’t hold it.”

“Yes you can.”

“I can’t. Mary, please!”

He pressed harder. What he didn’t realise was just how bad you actually needed to go, and just how much pressure he was putting on your body with his hand. You tried to hold it back, but it was just too much. What started as a small trickle turned out to be a full, broken dam bursting at the seams and flooding the valley below. The valley was your partner. At first, Mary kept thrusting, thinking that it was just your cunt providing extra cream with just how worked up you were, cock twitching at the feeling and the warmth surrounding him. But then he felt it, the unusually warm wetness that began pouring itself over his cock. He looked down, thrusts slowing, and watched as his light grey briefs became darker and darker with each drop that spilled onto him. He couldn’t believe you’d done that, but more importantly, he couldn’t believe just how hot that actually was.

“I’m so sorry!” You started, managing to cut your flow before too much damage had been done. When you spoke, and he heard the panic in your voice, he looked up at your face to see you flushed and embarrassed. Innocent. Sweet. He was the one in the wrong, but there you were, halfway drained your piss onto him and still thought that you should have tried harder to hold it.

It took Mary to find his voice again, mouth wide open in disbelief but pupils entirely blown. He looked insane. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I really tried to stop but I-”

He sat up and pressed his nose to yours, and the movement made you feel his briefs, now sopping wet with your piss. “Can you do it again?” He asked.

Now you were the one wearing disbelief. “What?”

Mary’s patience was starting to wear thin. He grabbed your chin in between is index finger and thumb, and his voice turned stern. “Don’t look at me like that. When you just fucking pissed yourself on my lap, don’t you fucking make me look like the disgusting one. The fucking innocence about it all too. Big wide eyes. The fucking audacity. Now, finish what you started.”

“Y-you liked it?”

“___, that was the hottest thing you have ever fucking done. I’m dying here. Piss on me.” He lay back to his original position and let his eyes drop to your cunt.

You nodded, and fully let yourself go this time, groaning at the feeling of finally emptying your bladder. “Fuck.” Mary whispered. He didn’t realise it was loud enough for you to hear. “Filthy bitch.”

You saw him staring, felt him desperately rutting against your cunt as your piss poured onto him, this time worse than before. His once light grey briefs were growing saturated with you, his bare cock growing wetter and wetter as his hips bucked against you, nudging against your clit and spreading the stream further and further. Every time he nudged against you felt like a jolt of electricity which merged with the relief of your bladder emptying, and you found yourself enjoying it so much more than you ever thought you would. Your hips moved, too, desperately rubbing against him as your hands moved back to your nipples to play with them.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.” He gritted his teeth. “Just fucking like that, oh shit!”

It was hot. A stream of warm liquid splashing down his cock, seeping into his underwear and sticking to his skin. He trembled in excitement, cheeks burning. Gut twisting as it rolled down his ass cheeks and pooling on the sofa.

The look of disappointment on his face when you’d finished was so obvious, and if you weren’t quite so horny, you probably would have laughed. But Mary was in a different headspace altogether.

He couldn’t stop himself. He was rabid. He reached down and lined himself up with your entrance, shuddering as his hand grazed his briefs. His cock, now covered in your piss, was pushed all the way inside of you, burying himself to the hilt in one fell swoop. Your mouth hung open at the sensation, eyebrows furrowed in pure, unbridled pleasure. You watched as he removed his hand from between you both and ran his tongue over where his skin had touched his underwear, and you realised that it was your piss he was licking off his hand.

“And you’re calling me filthy.” You told him through a smirk.

His only response was a cheeky grin, before he planted his feet on the floor, gripped your hips so hard they might bruise, and roughly fucked into you in the way he knew you both loved. You received a hit to your cervix as punishment for your cheek, but of course, the noise you made when you felt it sounded less like a reaction to a punishment.

The faster Mary thrusted, the more noise filled the air. If it wasn’t your combined, wanton moans, then it was the sound of him fucking you. Yes, there was the usual sound of your wet pussy shlucking with each movement, but the sound was amplified by the piss and the dripping underwear that kept sticking to your thighs as they jiggled with Mary’s force.

Mary growled. “Filthy f-fucking slut pissing all over me.” He slapped your thigh. “Getting off on it. Look at that fucking face. You love it don’t you? Shit! Getting railed with your piss all over my cock, hm?” He slapped one of your tits. “God fucking help you now, baby. We’ve started this, we’re not stopping now.” He moved his hand up to your throat as he continued assaulting your cunt, revelling in the sounds your body was making on top of him. He didn’t apply any pressure to begin with, just content with the threat of it, but even still you tightened around him.

“M-maybe next time, I’ll piss down your throat.”

“Fucking hell.” He thrust into you a little deeper, causing you to scream out. “Please.”

“Yeah? You want that?”

“Fuck yeah! So fucking much, angel.”

“I will. The next time I sit on your face, I’ll - fuck -”

His fingers involuntarily tightened around your throat. “Finish that sentence. I fucking dare you.”

“I’ll open your mouth and make you drink every drop.”

“Fuck!”

There was no warning, no prior movement that prepared you for what happened next. In a rush of adrenaline, Mary pushed you off of him and lay you on the coffee table, your head hanging off of it. He forced your legs further apart, and buried his cock inside you for the second time, showing no mercy as he pounded your twitching cunt and fucked you with such a force that the coffee table began to slide across the floor, groaning under your combined weight. He reached down to the water bottle that was rattling against the wood and wrapped your fingers around it.

“Chug it.”

“What?”

“The whole thing, fucking chug it. You’re doing it at least one more time today.”

You nodded and obeyed, wrapping your lips around the straw of your bottle and sucking down the water. It was difficult to do, given the roughness of Mary’s thrusts, but you managed it, nonetheless.

A thin sheen of sweat had joined the other bodily fluids over Mary’s exposed skin, and his breath had become laboured and shallow. His voice only released grunts and groans occasionally now, too deep in his mind so talk to you, but eyes heavily focussed on your body. The way you bounced and jiggled blow him had completely enraptured him, that and the thought of you pissing on him again.

When he saw you taking in his cock and enjoying every minute of it, he growled. Your mouth was hanging open and drool was seeping out of the corners because the sensation felt so good. Your brows were furrowed, your eyes rolled back, and your body was drenched in sweat. You were soaking wet for him, slicking Mary’s dick as he caught the strings of your fluids flex and break in time with his movements. The sound of your urine, which was now dripping residually on the coffee table beneath you, was still exquisite.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He all but screamed, backing away from you like he’d just been electrocuted and pulling out entirely, falling against the sofa. His body splayed on the cushions, chest rising and falling as he tried to bring himself back from whatever place he’d just gone to.

“You good, Mare?” You asked, sitting up.

“Almost came. Pussy so good, making me have a midlife crisis.” He finally tore his eyes away from the ceiling to look at you, legs spread and mindlessly playing with your clit. “God, baby, don’t do that.”

You giggled and dipped two fingers inside of you, only to pull them back out and suck on them, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time.

“You fucking spawn of Satan.” He pushed himself to his knees and rested your legs over his shoulders. “What happened to my angel who always did as she was told, hm?”

“You let her piss on you.”

He plunged right in, sucking and licking at your clit. He forgot to take it easy and instead let himself take whatever he wanted from you because he was so needy and desperate for you. Your half-open mouth gave a loud whimper that was good enough to rouse his desire, motivate him to carry on his wanton caresses, and cause your legs to tremble. “Right there, Mare! Just like that!” You muttered, breathing heavily from the forceful suction he applied, punctuating your words with an especially breathy moan.

His face was pushed further into your cunt as one of your hands tightened its grip on his black hair, revealing your own neediness. Your hips bucked as you used his mouth for your own pleasure. The other hand came up to pinch at your nipple. He didn’t want to cum too soon? Fine. He could give you what you exactly what you needed. He had a tendency to pull away from you right as you were about to cum, but the closer you reached, the tighter your thighs locked around his head, forcing him to stay where he was until he actively tapped out.

He traced your labia with his middle and ring fingers then pushed them between your folds, making a line from clit to the hole, but not yet pushing it in. He timed it with a particularly rough suck to your clit, causing a pornographic moan to fall from your mouth. He kept making the same pattern a few times before a little accidental push slipped the tip of his finger in. His self control slipped entirely, and he continued pushing into your tight, wet heat and tapping up. You were a squirter, and he knew your body like the back of his hand. This was a surefire way to get you to cum and squirt all over his face. Except, this time, it wasn’t just your cum he wanted to escape from your body.

“F-fuck, Mary! I know what you’re trying to do. Shit. You’re sup-supposed to be good and wait until n-next time!”

He growled and shook his head, keeping your clit between his lips as his head moved, ripping another moan from you.

“You want m-more, huh? Pissing all over your c-cock wasn’t enough for you? Greedy fucking bitch.” You could feel the pressure building in your glands, that familiar tingle returning telling you how close you were to cumming for the second time. “I’m so fucking close, Mare. You want it, yeah? You wanna drink my piss like a filthy fucking animal?”

He nodded.

“Nuh-uh. I wanna hear you.”

The whimper Mary released in response to your order had your hole clenching around his fingers. It was the kind of whimper you only ever heard him make in subspace, when he was completely pliant for you, and willing to let you do everything and anything you wanted to him.

“Oh fuck! Mary, I’m cumming!”

That was all the warning he got before your cunt trembled with your second orgasm, clenching around his fingers and pushing out the water you drank earlier. Mary let the copious amount of piss that gushed out of you fall into his mouth, wide open and waiting, his tongue playing with your clit and keeping your orgasm going. His open mouth allowed your piss to roll from his chin to his t-shirt and all the way down to stain the floor. A few drops made it passed his cock, which he gathered in one hand and lubricated to resume stroking himself, self-control be damned.

He guzzled each drop greedily, swallowing as much of it as he could as though he were dehydrated and you were a lifeline. There wasn’t as much of it as there was the first time, much to Mary’s dismay, but even still, he revelled at the salty and bitter taste, and continued to stroke himself quickly. He was so painfully hard and ready to cum, moaning wildly with each stroke and each drop swallowed. When your stream tapered off, you watched him lick his lips, pupils blown and a look of horny insanity on his face. You let him pull back and watched his Adam’s apple bob as he drank the remainder down.

“Fucking hell…” you said, breathlessly, getting on your knees and taking his length into your hand. “Was that good, baby?”

Mary nodded. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

He groaned at the feel of your hand tightening around his girth, stroking just as quickly as he did to begin with. “Fucking hell, yes!”

“We need to get you to cum, huh, baby? Been holding out on me for too long now.”

“Please.”

You hesitated for a second, but still continued to stroke. You wondered why Mary loved it so much - and if you ever could. Curiosity got the better of you, as it happened, and, along with your hand, you decided to just… “Do you think you could do it, too?”

Mary’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Think you could piss, too?”

Mary’s hips bucked. He was surprised enough that you indulged him today with his newfound curiosity - but now you were actively asking him to piss on you. Pissing with an erection was difficult, something he knew from the amount of times he decided he needed to go during either sex or playing with himself, but not impossible. So, with a dumb look on his face, he nodded, and continued to lose himself in the feeling of your warm hand rubbing your piss over his length.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, baby just like that! Don’t fuckin’ stop. It’s coming.” He told you suddenly, hips bucking wildly against your body. His hands clutched onto your wrist and your shoulder, and when his face contorted in pure pleasure, you allowed your eyes to drift from his face to his cock, just in time to watch the show begin. You aimed his cock towards his already soiled shirt, and continued stroking him through it.

At first, it was a small dribble that didn’t even reach his shirt, instead coating your hand. But the more you stroked and the more he concentrated, the stronger his stream became and poured onto his abdomen, hidden beneath the shirt. The dark grey, muscle tee, soiled with your urine on the chest, now became saturated with his. He took his bottom lip in between his teeth and muffled his moans, allowing the sound of his stream to overpower everything else. His grip on your body became tighter and tighter the longer the stream went on, clearly gaining a lot of relief from the feeling of both emptying his bladder at the same time you vigorously stroked his cock, very obviously wanting the reward at the end.

You were mesmerized by it, feeling the blood rush to your clit again and tingling with desire. If it weren’t for the threat of oversensitivity, you might even touch yourself again, and go for a third orgasm. But Mary’s pleasure came first now.

Mary couldn’t keep himself to himself anymore, the hand on your shoulder moving to the back of your neck and pushing your head towards him, capturing your lips in a needy kiss, all tongue, and teeth, and desperation. You could taste the bitterness of your own piss still on his tongue, however faintly it appeared, and it caused you to whimper into his mouth. That whimper was what tipped him over the edge.

With his tongue down your throat, your piss all over his body and his on your hand, now lubricating your strokes, he came, muffled screams falling into your mouth as your hand got coated with his semen. His entire body shook with the force of his orgasm, his heartbeat racing like he’d just run a marathon and pale cheeks flushed with blood. He hissed at oversensitivity, the hand on your wrist stiffening to slow your movements down and eventually stop them altogether. “Fucking hell!” He breathed, teeth tingling from the numbness of his whole body.

“Good.”

He kissed you again with as much fervor as before. “So fucking good, baby, holy shit!” He started pressing kisses all over your face. “Thank you so much.”

“Well, you started it.”

“Would… would you be willing to do this again?”

“Absolutely.”

Mary grinned like the cat that got the cream, very clearly chuffed at what just transpired. He looked down at your hand, and saw just how messy it was. As you reached for a tissue, he stopped you, took your hand to his mouth and licked his cum off of it, tasting the two fluids together.

“I think we need a shower.” You told him, smacking his shoulder playfully when he waggled his eyebrows cheekily.

He sighed. “I think so, too. A very long… hot shower.”

[ramblingoak]

The Repugnant

Chapter One: Little Starfish

Check out amazing art by @foxybouquet HERE / Chapter Two is HERE

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

Mary Goore x Female Reader

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

“Don’t leave the house at night.”

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

In retrospect you probably should have listened to her.

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

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

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

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

It was said that Captain Mary Goore was a vampire.

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

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

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

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

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

They were becoming far less human sounding.

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

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

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

A foolish girl indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s funny?”

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

“I work in the kitchen.”

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

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

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

“Doesn’t smell like you work in the kitchen.  In fact it smells like you don’t belong here at all.”  He laughed when you tried to pull away, not letting you move even an inch.  “To me it smells like you belong on that hill above town.  In a house your daddy built.”

“Let me go!”

Mary growled when you tried to pull away again and the sound seemed to reverberate through your body.  With a snarl they shoved you roughly back against the wall, your head hitting the stone painfully.  

“Sorry little starfish, I won’t be letting you go.  Remember when I said I was looking for something good to eat?”  Mary reached up to grab their hat, tossing it down on the ground.  Their black hair fell across their face and they quickly brushed it away all while smiling down at you. Your eyes fell to those fangs and you were unable to look away.  “I think I found it.”

Read Chapter Two: Setting Sail

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[kissingghouls]

Question Marks (Mary Goore x Reader)

Summary: A night out with Mary has you wondering some things, but Mary presents you with an offer you can't turn down. (3200 words)

(continuing from: Part One - Winter Chill, Part Two - The Date, but can be read on its own. choose your own adventure 💜)

Tags: Fluff, Kissing, the return of the feral cats, marshmallows, blanket forts, he/they Mary

The bar is loud and completely overflowing with people. They spill out in all directions—some to the street, some to the patio, and some are taking refuge nearby, crowding the tiny hallway by the stage. You’re hardly surprised by the sight—there wasn’t much to do in this town and even fewer places to do it in. But you can’t hear your own thoughts, let alone what anyone else is saying and your back hurts from standing so long. The clock keeps ticking later and later while other people get to demand your date’s attention.

At least, you think this is a date. You’re not quite sure and neither of you said it out loud, but the way Mary’s barely left your side all night seems to at least imply that it is. And that’s where it starts to get complicated in your head. Is this your third date? Or just the second? Does making out by the river even count as a date? And if it wasn’t a date then what the hell was it?

It doesn’t really matter, but you know people will start asking soon. They’ll all start trying to make the two of you define whatever this is with strict labels and someone else’s rules. All you really want is for this thing to keep going. Everything is easy with Mary, at least when no one else is involved, and you like that. You like that you haven’t had to think about things or second guess your every move while worrying if he even likes you. You’re not sure Mary could even pretend not to like you.

Some guy, Chris or something, has been occupying Mary’s time for a good five minutes. It’s all band guy talk you don’t have the energy to follow, a conversation you’d barely have anything to contribute to even if you weren’t so fucking tired. Mary squeezes your hand as he talks and you’re not quite sure if it’s a silent apology or a cry for help. You really don’t mind that they’ve been the life of the party the entire night, but having Mary to yourself and making out in a dark corner is slightly more appealing than anything anyone else could possibly want to talk about. 

He leaves you with a soft touch and a cheeky grin, a sure sign that they’ll be right back. You don’t need the reassurance, but sometimes Mary’s just so unpredictably sweet and you’re not going to do a damn thing to discourage that. You watch them for a moment, smiling to yourself as they move through the alley behind the bar. Outside it’s all obscenities and playful insults exchanged between various groups, borrowed lighters and “did you hear that album?” There’s a shuffle underneath, a running current moving like ants on a hill as various dudes squeeze bodies and gear between a tank of a van and a door that’s more rust than anything.

You lean against the wall doing your best to keep out of the way. Your head rests against old flyers and graffiti as you let your attention drift from a certain metalhead to nothing at all. The bar smells of smoke and cheap beer, both scents reaching from different directions to converge directly under your nose. It should probably be gross, but it’s mostly just familiar in a comforting way. A sense memory of nights exactly like this. Nights with Mary.

Your eyes find them again, slowly tracing the silhouette of their frame in the alley. The cigarette between their lips wavers slightly as they smile at you, the bright orange ember bobbing up and down. It’s ridiculous the way fondness washes over you. Mary’s not even doing anything and you’re fucking swooning.

You’re aware of all of it, aware of the implications and possible declarations your presence presents. The simple act of standing where you are is enough to suggest something is going on between the two of you. Something that is made even more obvious with each touch or grin Mary gives you. There’s a feeling in your stomach, the proverbial butterflies have been replaced by what feels like drunk bees. It only intensifies when Mary lands in front of you, unable to stay away any longer. Smoke and cold hang around their jacket, another sensation that is decidedly Mary Goore. But the way they lean over you with one hand on the wall and the other tilting your face up to match the angle makes your brain stop completely. Their lips are cold, but the kiss is so heated you find yourself gripping their jacket and holding on for dear life. It’s tongues and teeth, messy with the sweetness of the cherry cola the two of you split earlier. Kissing Mary is like a sugar rush, a burst of all those feel-good chemicals flooding your body.

This wasn’t part of the plan of course. You and Mary were still figuring things out, trying to really get to know each other rather than relying on secondhand information and crazy rumors you’d heard over the years. But the trouble with taking things slow was that sometimes when you were meant to be doing other things you still found yourself focused solely on Mary.

The look his gives you as he pulls away suggests he’s struggling with something similar. It’s not curiosity or even attraction really—it’s more like desire disguised as hunger. A predator and prey. The amount of fake blood smeared all over their face easily gives away who is who. You’re so hopelessly caught in their web that the cocky smile he shoots your way is both too much and not enough, but god how you don’t want them to let you escape.

Mary knows they’ve got you right where they want you. Knows they’ve figured out how to make your knees weak, how to weaponize their body against yours. It’s a challenge you’re all too happy to accept even if technically you’re supposed to be moving at a glacial pace. But Mary just shakes his head and grins as he shrugs out of his jacket and carefully transfers his prized possession to your shoulders.

“You ok, sweetheart?” they ask and reach up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I’m good,” you reply with a nod. “Just tired.”

“Aw I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to keep you out so late.”

“No, it’s fine,” you insist. “I’m having fun. It’s just been a long night.”

“You want me to take you home?”

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you drive my car, Goore.”

“Worth a shot,” they reply with a laugh. “What if…you crash at my place? We can have a little sleepover? I’ll build you a blanket fort.”

“Hmm…will there be popcorn?”

He laughs again. “Darlin’, I will get you whatever your little heart desires.” 

“In that case, I desire snacks and this blanket fort. Maybe a little more making out.”

“I think I can do that.”

“You’ve got a deal, Goore.”

He grins and takes your hand, quickly pulling you through a cluster of your friends and his, ignoring anyone who calls out your names. The gossips in this town will have the two of you married by morning, but you couldn’t care less when Mary looks at you the way he does.

It’s a quick stop to pick up way too much junk food, but they refuse to let you pay for any of it. The girl behind the counter is visibly annoyed by the two of you play fighting over the cost of candy, heaving an angry sigh as you swipe Mary’s wallet and take off down the aisle. They catch up to you somewhere near the beer cooler and maybe you let them have this little victory. You’re too content in their arms to try to get away again anyway.

He keeps his arms around you all the way up to his front door, tucking them into the jacket you’re both somehow trying to wear at the same time. You can’t help but laugh as he buries his face in your neck and asks you to unlock the door. It takes half a second to their neighbor to appear and scowl at the two of you before slamming their door to prove a point.

“Gonna get me in trouble, darlin,” Mary groans, but it’s obvious he doesn’t mind at all.

“Better be quiet then.”

He growls low in your ear, holding you a little tighter as he urges you toward the door. It’s warm inside the apartment this time, not that you would complain about sharing a blanket with Mary. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t kind of hoping it would happen again. You doubt they’d turn down the offer.

They reluctantly pull away and excuse themselves, darting through the kitchen to check on the cats outside. As soon as they hear him coming a chorus of desperate meows starts at the back door, a little more pitiful each time. He laughs and greets them, temporarily quieting their tiny screams with replenished bowls of food.

They’re three steps away, but somehow it’s still too far. While they’re carefully patting one of the cats between the ears, you reach over and run your hand through their hair. Mary almost moans, bending backward to look up at you as your nails graze their scalp. Their eyes close as you give their hair a little tug and bend down to kiss them and this time Mary definitely moans.

With Scratch and Sniff fed, Mary’s attention centers back on you. He pulls you down to capture you in a kiss—innocent at first, but neither of you are interested in breaking away so the only thing left to do is escalate until you’re both a little breathless. They grin as you finally separate, kiss-swollen lips now a darker shade of pink and you wonder if you’re wearing the remnants of their black lipstick on your own mouth. As if to answer your question, they reach up and swipe their thumb across your bottom lip. 

“We should go back inside,” he suggests softly.

You nod lazily and let him pull you to your feet, happy to follow him anywhere at this point.

“You wanna borrow something to wear, sleepy darlin’?” he asks as he heads toward his room with your hand in his.

It wasn’t necessary for you to change into Mary’s clothes. Your own t-shirt would have been just fine to sleep in, but once the offer was made how could you do anything but accept? He searches his dresser for something acceptable, looking almost nervous as he hands you a shirt and some boxers.

“They’re clean, don’t worry,” they tease, trying to dodge as you swat at them with their clothes. “The bathroom’s through—”

“I remember.”

“Right. Yeah. Cool.”

It’s an odd tone and you can see the gears turning in their brain, a wave anxiety suddenly working overtime. It’s a side of Mary you haven’t seen before, all that cool confidence stripped away. You’re not sure what’s causing the sudden doubts, but you cup his face and press your lips to his to offer as much comfort as you can without making them explain. They lean into you, body practically melting against yours as they relax completely under your reassurance.

“I’ll be right back,” you add with a grin that rivals theirs.

“Wait,” they say and pull you back in for another quick kiss. “Ok, I’m good now.”

“Try not to miss me too much.”

“Ah, in that case, come back for a second. Maybe two seconds.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you head for the bathroom. Maybe it’s supposed to be weird. Maybe it is weird for Mary, but you try not to think too much about it as you change clothes. You take a moment to admire the softness of the shirt, tracing a hand over the once-black-now-grey cotton and the cracked letters of a logo.  You’d seen Mary in this shirt a hundred times at least. It was clearly one of their favorites and if you were honest, you didn’t hate the way it looked on him. But now those cut off sleeves are on your shoulders and the thing smells like him in the most wonderful way. You like it so much that the thought makes you blush hard, cheeks flaring red-hot until you’re stuck gripping the bathroom counter to calm down.

Once it finally ebbs, you slide back into the bedroom and find them hard at work. The look of determination on their face is so cute you want to cry, but you settle for leaning against the doorframe and watching them create a masterpiece. In the few minutes you’ve been gone they’ve managed to pull together what must be every blanket they’ve ever owned. The bed is almost entirely buried under a mountain of varying colors and textures with all your collective snacks stacked neatly on top. There’s a good three feet of stuff piled up with no real indication on where he intends either of you to sleep. If he’s done this much, he probably has a plan and you’re hardly going to be upset if you’re Mary’s little spoon.

You just can’t believe he was serious about the blanket fort.

He stops as soon as he spots you standing there, jaw hanging open at the sight of you in his shirt. “Fuck,” he breathes before scrambling around the bed to get to you. “Look at you.”

“See something you like, Goore?”

“You have no fucking idea, darlin’. Looks fucking good on you. Fuck.”

“I think you said that already.”

They nod slowly, eyes still tracing over the lines of you. “Yeah, I’m uh, I’m gonna need a minute to wrap my head around this. Might need you to pinch me.”

You shrug and reach out, pinching one of their nipples between your fingers just enough to make him squeal.

“My tits!” Mary howls, cupping their chest dramatically as they dodge your next attempt. “This kind of behavior is prohibited at Fort Goore!”

“Fort Goore?” you ask with a laugh, and he beams so proudly at you that your heart actually hurts from the cuteness of it all.

“This is my opus,” they explain excitedly, gesturing to the mass of soft behind them. “Most comfortable place on the planet. It’s my best work, really.”

“You’re real serious about sleepovers, huh?”

“Well, yeah.” They reply with a shrug. “Kinda want you to stay.”

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head as your face gets warm. “It does look it’s pretty comfortable in there.”

“It’s the pinnacle of comfort, sweetheart. You won’t find anything cozier than Fort Goore.” They lead you toward the little hideout and pull a blanket aside to reveal the inside. “Go on. Check it out.”

You crawl under the tented blankets and follow their shadow as they run around adding a few finishing touches to their castle. As far as you’re concerned it’s already a modern architectural marvel. A system of tacks, pushpins, an entire spool of twine, a chair and a precariously leaning guitar case holds the ceiling up, suspended over the top of Mary’s TV. The interior is a nest of blankets and more pillows than can reasonably fit on the bed, but they’ve built a retaining wall from the sofa cushions to contain them. The whole thing is cute and silly and the amount of thought they’ve put into the construction is nothing short of impressive. You wonder if maybe this was how Mary spent their childhood, creating their own elaborate little worlds out of whatever was available. It wouldn’t surprise you to learn that this wasn’t the first fort—you doubted it would be the last—but this one…this one Mary built for you. It’s the kind of thought that has your chest feeling tight like it so often does near Mary Goore.

A minute later he turns out the light and climbs into the fort beside you. He shoots you another one of those trademark Mary grins, all crooked and toothy in the dim light from the tv. He looks so adorably happy as he tears into the first packet of candy that you can’t look away. He pats around until he finds the remote and hits play on some old black and white monster movie.

“You were so right about snacks. How’d you get so good at this date thing?”

“Ah, so this is a date,” you tease with a grin of your own.

“Wait, is it not?”

“I don’t know. You could be casually building blanket forts for everyone in town.”

“Are you kidding? That would take way too much time. Plus, there aren’t that many people in town I like enough to share a fort with. This is all for you, darlin’.”

“You’re a marshmallow, Goore.”

“Yeah, I might be. Just don’t tell anyone, ok? It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Cross my heart,” you promise and draw an X over your chest. “But, for the record, I like marshmallows.”

“C’mere,” he says with a grin and pulls you close enough to drop a kiss on the top of your head. “I like you too, darlin’.”

“Yeah, you’re kinda terrible at hiding it.”

“Sorry, you just make it so damn easy to like you.”

“Stop,” you whine and hide your face against their shoulder.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“Mary?”

“Hmm?” he hums in response.

“Kiss me.”

“Happily.”

He claims your mouth with his—a sweet, gentile kiss until he gets his hands in your hair. Your lips part and the two of you are sinking down into the bed as your tongues and legs tangle together. It’s a little hurried, a little clumsy, all wandering hands and the softest sounds while the pile of snacks and pillows inevitably ends up on the floor. You’re too warm—dizzy and a little drunk on Mary Goore, but you don’t want to let them go. You don’t want to stop; don’t want to think about anything other than the way he bites your lip and that self-satisfied chuckle rumbling in his throat when you gasp into his mouth.

Neither of you hear the front door slam. It’s the “what the fuck, Mare?” screamed from the other room that finally breaks you apart. Seconds later someone you assume is Mary’s roommate is pounding on the door shrieking about the missing blankets and the state of the sofa. You slap both hands over your mouth to keep from laughing while Mary rolls their eyes and makes faces as their roommate continues to yell.

“Ooh, I think you’re in trouble, Goore,” you tease in a whisper.

“Ugh. That prick has ruined two of our dates now,” he groans, shaking his head.

“I don’t think either of them were ruined, but…” You trail off and bite your lip. “Maybe next time we can go to my place?”

“Next time, huh?” he repeats with a grin. “You got a little crush on me, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I might,” you admit. “Can’t help it. You just make it so damn easy to like you.”

Mary shakes his head and pulls you closer, letting his eyes close as he holds you. It doesn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep after that, curled up together under a canopy of his roommate’s stolen bedsheets.

-x-

thank you all so much for reading and commenting on the last two parts. 💜 should I do a tag list for these?

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[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.)