#ghost bc fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

portaltothevoid · 5 months

Text

God Called In Sick Today — Chapters 1 & 2

Summary: It’s the ghafia fic you didn’t know you needed… When a mission goes south, Copia is left scrambling to figure out a plan to get the mayor-to-be in favor of the Emeritus family. That’s where Arianna Diodati, the Mafia Princess of his (very Catholic) rival, comes in. He plans to use her as a bargaining chip to get what he wants. Did he place the right bet or did he take more than he bargained for?

Word count: 5.8k ~//~ Warnings: mafia au, copia x oc, death/murder, gun usage, angst, physically and verbally abusive relationship, domestic violence (between oc x oc), (brief, almost subtle) dacryphilia, kidnapping, dark copia, cliffhanger, enemies to lovers, slow burn

A/N: Surprise! It's a double feature! Fair warning, the next chapters won’t be up til I have a few under my belt so that they can be posted regularly and since I’m still working on You’re Losing Me as well… it might be a while. But I am so so excited for this, that I had to give you all a taste! Massive, massive thank you to @fishwithtitz @da-rulah and @copias-juicebox for beta reading and listening to me talk about this non-stop as I worked out the plot 🖤(photos in mood board all found on pintrest and dividers by @gothdaddyissues!)

Chapter One -- The Sermon and The Plan

It was never a good sign when Papa Emeritus IV demanded a mandatory mass that wasn’t on Sunday. Usually, meetings such as this would be for the upper echelon of the clergy and the Ghouls, but this time around, every single member of the Satan’s Ministry was in attendance. No one dared speak or even look away from their Papa as he stood, eyeing everyone in the room like the disappointed father he was.

Those in the front row could hear his leather gloves squeak against the oak of the pulpit as he gripped it like a stress ball. His unique set of eyes, one green and one white, focused on one specific Ghoul. His expression darkened like an approaching storm, which made for his already intimidating skull-painted face to become menacing. As for the Ghoul, if it weren’t for the silver-horned mask covering his face, even Papa would have seen the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of it. He knew he was the reason everyone was here and why Papa looked beyond furious. He knew it the moment he saw the blue and red flashing lights at the docks.

“As most of you know,” the Satanic pope began, “our latest operation was thwarted by carelessness. All of you deserve to know why, but first, it isn’t a true Mass without a sermon, hm?”

He clasped his hands behind his back as he turned to walk to his right, addressing those in the pews in front of him. “Pride and greed. Two sins that often go hand in hand. Sins which we celebrate here. It seems I need to remind you all that the celebration of sin, any sin, does not give one a free pass to do whatever the fuck they want, eh?”

He turned again, to walk to the other side of the sanctuary. “Every coin has two sides. At what point does living in sin, celebrating sins, become a hindrance?

“Pride. An excessive belief in one’s abilities. Pride can make one think they are untouchable. Pride is the sin that pushes us to achieve greatness not just in the name of Satan, but for ourselves. And there, we find greed. A desire for wealth, for gain. But, again I ask you all, when does celebrating these glorious sins become a hindrance?”

Now, he was in front of the pulpit. Leaning against it was a cane, something he only brought out for show or to inflict pain. While he was addressing everyone, his dichromatic eyes landed on the trembling Ghoul in the center. “Excessive or grandiose sinning becomes a deterrent when it puts the lives of others at risk, when it puts an institution, a family, that you’ve devoted your life to at risk.” Grabbing the cobra head handle, Papa gracefully jumped down to walk in front of the first row. “Many of you are aware of a mission we set out on recently. A mission to save helpless women and children from a sex-trafficking ring. There also was to be an exchange of money. These degenerates were exchanging quite a large sum of money for this transaction. Those prisoners were denied the choice of freedom we offer here. We were denied what was to be used as payment to put the malleable Gregory Osorio in our corner. We have very little time to come up with this sum to get a powerful, up and coming politician in our corner. One who could turn votes in our favor. One who would look out for us. One who would defiantly oppose the Diodati dickheads.

“This mission was not successful. By the time our Ghouls arrived, the prisoners were ‘rescued’ by the police. The money – that should have been ours – confiscated. I know many have wondered how this could have happened. Well, children, the answer is simple.

“Pride… and greed…” he spoke slowly, as he walked down the center aisle, dragging his cane along the ends of the pews. “Someone felt too secure in themselves… Felt they could just… open their fucking mouth to anyone who would fucking listen… while not realizing… They were fraternizing with an informant for the enemy.” He paused his promenade. “This was not a simple mistake. This was blatant negligence from someone who I know, for a fact, knew better. This Ghoul broke our Sacramentum Secreti (Oath of Secrecy).” He began walking again. His cane hit a pew with every word. “Internal problems will be dealt with.”

He stopped. Everyone turned to look at Papa, except for one Ghoul. Papa reached over, using the tip of his cane to force him to look at his figurehead, his boss. With a look that could kill and a wave of his hand, he indicated the Ghoul to walk in front of him back up to the sanctuary.

After twenty paces, “Ghoul, you seem to be limping. I wonder why that is… Is it because your pain and suffering is a message from La Famiglia Diodati?” he remarked snidely.

When Papa planted himself behind the pulpit, he pointed the cane to indicate a spot on the ground. “Kneel,” he commanded. On shaky legs, the Ghoul did as he was told.

Papa dragged his gaze up to the choir loft before him, where one of his best Ghouls was waiting for the signal. Painstakingly slow, he looked back at the insurrectionist. “Per aspera, ad inferi,” he prayed. Again, he made eye contact with the one in the choir loft, giving a solitary nod.

In the blink of an eye, the Ghoul to Papa’s right jolted back slightly, a red dot forming in the center of his forehead. As deep burgundy liquid dripped from it, the congregation gasped, and the Ghoul toppled forward onto his masked face with a deafening thud.

Papa bowed his head, but his eyes passed over everyone clutching their rosary beads in front of him. Somehow, this look was more sinister than it was at the start. “Let it be known that internal problems will be dealt with,” he paused dramatically, “by whatever means necessary.”

And with that, he turned heel and left through the back door, concluding mass.

“Do we really need Osorio this time around? Putting our efforts into driving back the Diodatis would be more beneficial,” Secondo, the second oldest Emeritus, argued. The highest members of the clergy and of the Emeritus family were gathered in their meeting room reserved for familial “business” matters.

A leather clad fist slammed on the dark cherry wood table. “And what the fuck do you think getting Osorio on our payroll would do?” Papa snapped. Secondo just rolled his eyes in response. “We’re running out of fucking time.”

“There’s that charity gala, or whatever the fuck, tomorrow. I could just use my lascivious charm to reel in Osorio,” Papa’s predecessor and brother, Terzo, waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Papa pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his luxurious leather office chair.

“Copia, he actually–and it pains me to admit this–might be onto something. That gala could be a way in,” the eldest Emeritus agreed as he pressed his elbows into the table, his fingers interlacing in front of him, as he stared down his youngest brother and the church’s current Papa.

Terzo waved his hand and his smirk deepened with Primo proving his idea had some merit.

“We have nothing to give Osorio! The whole point of that mission was to dangle that money in his face,” Copia countered.

“So instead we ask him his price,” Terzo shrugged nonchalantly.

“How many of Sal’s men will be there?”

“I believe just his right-hand, Alessio Fidanza and his fiancée and probably only a handful of his associates,” Primo relayed.

Copia’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of the fiancée. “Isn’t that Sal’s daughter? The prim and proper Mafia princess?”

“Sì.”

“For what it’s worth, my advice as your consigliere would be to attend this gala for recon purposes only. Yes, our time is running out, but we still have time to sway Osorio.” For the first time an older woman, who everyone called Sister Imperator, spoke up. She had been keenly observing Copia’s every move, just as any mother would her son, carefully watching knowing he was especially volatile right now.

“And Sal, what about him? He’ll be there too?” Copia asked, ignoring the woman beside him.

“As far as we know, yes.”

A wicked, devilish smile spread across Copia’s face, exaggerating the black paint reminiscent of a rat’s skull around his mouth.

“No… Copia, what are you thinking?” Sister Imperator asked hesitantly. She knew that look. They all did.

“Oh we’ll get some information. We will find out Osorio’s price and we will get Diodati’s attention.”

“Elaborate, brother,” Secondo said wearily. They knew Copia had just hatched a plan and from the look on his face, it was going to be far from easy.

“Diodati thinks he has the upper hand, sì? We can kill two birds with one stone. Show him who has the power here and get the money from him to pay off Osorio so those Catholic fucks can’t use God as a basis for politics.”

“And how exactly… would we do that? Are we intercepting one of their shipments or–” Sister Imperator began to ask hesitantly until she was cut off.

“It’s simple,” Copia stated. He leaned back in his chair casually this time, his elbows perched on the chair’s arm rests. He waved his hands in front him as if he was presenting a physical idea. “We kidnap la Principessa di Dio.”

Chapter Two -- You Should Be Scared

The last thing Arianna Diodati wanted to do was attend some pompous charity event chained to her fiancé wearing a designer dress she hated and a fake smile. She thanked God that she didn’t have to endure the after parties; she could retreat to solitude and her husband-to-be could do whatever (and most likely whomever) he wanted there. Not knowing what happened at those parties used to ruminate in her mind like a catchy pop song… until she actually found out.

The infidelity bothered her at first, caused her to lose sleep at night, and question her worth. She used to be confrontational. She used to stick up for herself. She used to care. Arianna learned the hard way that Alessio Fidanza never actually wanted her or truly loved her. Maybe at first he did, but as time marched on, she came to realize the only thing he cared about was having an in with the most illustrious mafia family in New York City. The closer he got to her, the closer he got to Arianna’s father aka the boss of the Diodati family, and the higher up in the ranks he rose, the less he paid her any attention – or respect. In less than a handful of years Alessio was promoted as Salvatore Diodati’s right hand man. He learned the ropes, got enough blood on his hands, and eventually helped call the shots. She was used to her father dictating her life, but now, finding herself under the thumb of another man? There were only two things she could do: watch her life pass her by from behind barred windows and pray to God someone would eventually notice (and care enough about) her imprisonment to save her.

Nevertheless, she admired herself in the mirror; for once, she wore a dress that made her feel confident. Her black cherry red curls cascaded around her face. For a moment, she could see a sparkle, or a glimmer of hope, returning in her hazel eyes as she noted how the asymmetrical dress framed her body perfectly. Satin jersey panels on the two thirds of the dress accentuated her curves as it snaked down the length of it. It draped up, slightly off one shoulder while the other was a simple strap clad with the subtle (yet signature) Versace Medusa emblem. That side of the dress was a simple satin. A slit allowed one of her toned legs to peek through adding an air of sexy sophistication to the look. She was almost smiling until she heard her fiancé behind her.

“You’re wearing that tonight?” And with that snide question, the sparkle in her eye dimmed once more, returning to their usual lackluster shine.

“Um, yes? I showed it to you, remember? You said it would be fine…” she said hesitantly, her voice dancing on eggshells, and her small smile fading.

Alessio scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Do you think I pay attention to half the stuff you show me? If I saw something like that, I would have remembered. Wear the other Versace dress. The one I had Roberta pick up for you.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Specifically for tonight,” he added, his tone proving he had little patience for her tonight.

“But what’s wrong with this one? It’s not like it’s–”

He sprung at her, his nostrils flaring as he gripped her arms tighter than a blood pressure cuff. She fought back the tears that pricked in her eyes. “You look like one of Satan’s whores. Now,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “put on the other dress.” He shoved her back, her arms flew out to find purchase on the dresser beside her so she wouldn’t fall. The few perfume bottles that toppled over made an almost deafening sound amongst the tension. Her breathing was ragged as she glared at him. His look back at her served as a warning.

She never understood how someone who claimed to be so devoted to God could be so evil, but she had to trust God’s plan for her. This all had to serve a purpose, didn’t it?

Her eyes closed as she composed herself, doing her best to stuff down the ever-raging storm of anger that lately seemed to be constantly brewing inside her. “Yes, Alessio. It’s the one still in the garment bag?”

Slowly he rolled his head up to look at the ceiling, before bringing it back to glare at her. “Obviously, you dumb bitch. Hurry up and get fucking changed. I can’t afford to be late tonight because of you,” he spat as he walked out of their room.

Once more, she took a deep shuddering breath, her whole body trembling on the exhale. Stepping out of her preferred dress, she left the almost four thousand dollar garment lying crumpled on the floor.

Now as she looked at herself in the mirror again, she saw a stranger she didn’t even recognize despite the only thing that physically had changed was her dress. She noted how her eyes seemed more hollow. The color in her face had paled. There was nothing but a stranger who once had dreams and ambition staring back at her. None of this felt real.

The worst part of it all was that under any other circumstances, she would have loved wearing this. It was a black viscose material. A slim-fitting, hooded crêpe dress with a plunging V-neckline that was much more revealing than her own choice, but this one had long sleeves and went down to her mid-calf. There was a criss-cross belt also adorned with Versace’s Medusa logo, only this one was more prominent than the one on her choice of dress.

She let out a humorless laugh as she adjusted the long sleeves. All she wanted tonight was to feel confident, to show off some skin, because things had been relatively quiet as of late. Alessio was kept busy, his attention divided elsewhere. For the first time in a while, her arms didn’t look like an abstract painting.

If she had been the one to pick out this dress, her sentiments towards it would have been different. She didn’t want to hide, but this was what Alessio wanted her to wear. There was no way around that unless she wanted to pay the price. Letting out a heavy sigh, she put the hood up. This dress felt like the most high end and lavish prison jumpsuit. No one would know how much it felt like she was wearing shackles, a stark reminder that her choices were never own. But at least tonight she wouldn’t have to come up with a lie to explain the fresh bruises on her arms.

A single tear slid down her face, which she quickly wiped away. With a shake of her head, she put her emotions under lock and key, tucking it away into a dark corner of her mind. She practiced her million dollar smile and nodded to herself, putting her shoulders back and her chest out –a mirage of confidence and happiness– and made her way to the Bentley that was waiting for her.

No matter the formal event, the routine was almost always the same. Arianna would find her father, talk to and dance with who he (or Alessio) told her to, have two strong drinks (but no more than that or else she’d have to deal with a very irate Alessio), fake pleasantries with the other ladies who were just as much a prisoner to this life as she was, then once the crowd began thin, could she retreat. Tonight would be no different. At least, that's what she had assumed.

She greeted her father with a kiss on the cheek. “Arianna, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he father said, ushering over to a man that was just about six or seven years older than her. He looked just like everyone else here like he came from money and would stop at nothing to get more. “Greg, this is my daughter, Arianna. Arianna, this is Gregory Osorio, our soon to be Mayor.”

This Greg guy let out a low whistle as he looked Arianna up and down. “Sal, you weren’t kidding. She is absolutely stunning. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so many things about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” she said with a smile that would never quite reach her eyes.

“Oh, absolutely! Your dress looks like it was made for you. Ah, how do you say it… You look… bellissima!”

“You’re too kind. Alessio convinced me to wear this tonight. I have to give all the credit to him,” she laughed, keeping up the ruse of niceties as Alessio dug his fingers into her side. It was his retaliation for the subtle jab she just made at him, even though these people would never ever know that it was.

“Fidanza, you are a lucky man!”

“I thank God everyday for her,” Alessio said, giving one more bruise-worthy squeeze on Arianna’s waist. He dropped his hand when everyone’s attention snapped towards the door. The group that had just arrived turned heads as they sauntered in.

“Who invited those Emeritus fucks?” Sal snapped.

“Copia put a call in himself to my office about a sizable donation for tonight. I figured if he's willing to be a top donor–perhaps even the top donor tonight–they might as well enjoy some of the festivities, no?” Osorio responded cautiously. “If you’ll excuse me, Sal…”

They exchanged nods as Gregory meandered through the crowd. Sal snapped his fingers. “I want eyes on them. They’re fucking up to something. Never once have they given a shit about things like this.”

“On it, boss,” one of his men said before he disappeared amongst the throng of people.

Arianna never liked the Emeritus family. In fact, she borderline hated them with their menacingly painted faces and blasphemous way of life. She never quite understood how they rose to rival that of her family. Perhaps they really did make a deal with the devil.

“I’m going to grab a drink,” she said quietly. Alessio just waved her off, her father already in a passionate discussion regarding something she couldn’t care less about.

She made her way to the bar, getting the attention of one of the bartenders. “Your usual, Ms. Diodati?”

“Yes, please,” she smiled.

It wasn’t long until she felt a pair of eyes on her from the other end of the bar. She looked up to see Copia, the ringleader of the Satanic circus, staring her down like a hunter watching its prey. It sent a shiver down her spine, but all he saw was the scowl that encapsulated her face. That only made him smirk at her.

She rolled her eyes in disgust, looking away from him. Out of the corner of her eye, though, when she knew his attention was back on someone that wasn’t her, she couldn’t help herself from taking in his appearance. She hated to admit, he looked… elegant. His burgundy pants were impossibly tight in all the right ways. It pained her to acknowledge the way they perfectly hugged his thighs. He had foregone his suit jacket, leaving just his matching burgundy vest and black dress shirt and tie. His sleeves were rolled up and she could see his muscles flex as he grabbed his drink.

Her eyes lingered for a few seconds too long. This time, he caught her watching him. His mouth curled up again into a sly half-smile as he took a drink. His dichromatic eyes never left her. The instant her drink hit the counter, she brought it to her lips and weaved her way through everyone back to Alessio in hopes of putting distance between her and whatever exchange had just taken place.

Shortly after she resumed her role as the token arm candy she was, did her father tense up when a leather clad hand slapped his shoulder. “Salvatore! Come stai (how are you)?”

“Copia,” he greeted stiffly. “To what do we owe this… surprise?” The words rolled off his tongue as if they made his skin crawl.

“Can’t a man just be willing to support a good cause such as this?”

Sal’s only response was to purse his lips. Copia was reveling in the fact that just his presence alone was getting under his enemy’s skin. “Say, Copia, did you hear about the girls that were rescued from trafficking by the docks the other day?” A condescending smirk now replaced the sour look on his face.

Copia’s eyes darkening was the only acknowledgement of Sal’s jab he let slip. “Ah, yes, thank the Gods below they’ve been transferred from one prison to another, being treated as criminals instead of victims.”

“Well, a whore contained is better than a whore on the street.”

Copia laughed sneeringly. “Ah, and I’m sure by whore, you mean a two-bit one. Tell me, though, what are the plans after this? Anyone escorting you to the after party?” he smirked as it was Sal’s turn for his expression to darken.

Arianna didn’t realize she was watching this with bated breath, or that she was clinging to Alessio until he shook her off him. Copia's eyes immediately darted to Arianna’s fiancé breaking free of her almost death grip to take a step towards him. “You know, since you’re here, a thanks is in order,” Alessio said cunningly. “Those girls couldn’t have been saved without the helpful information one of your soldiers let slide right off his tongue. I’ve gotta say, that was a lucky group of girls.”

“Life’s just a game of luck, isn’t it?” Sal chimed in with a shrewd smile directed at Copia.

“And I thank you as well, gentlemen, for helping me shed some dead weight.” The tenison grew thick as the flames of their rivalry were fanned with each remark. “But, a real man makes his own luck.” He casted a quick astute glance with an accompanying nod to Sal before he turned to directly face Arianna. “Perdonami,” he murmured gently, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Arianna, e come stai stasera, principessa (and how are you tonight, princess)?”

Her heart thumped wildly against her sternum and her eyes flashed nervously over to Alessio. She knew somehow this man’s unprompted actions would be her fault. Both men noted immediately how her body stiffened. One was amused by her fear while the other felt a pang of pity. “Bene, grazie (good, thank you),” she piped up meekly.

“Would it be alright if I stole la bella donna (the beautiful woman) for just one dance?” he asked the two men beside him, only taking his eyes off Arianna for a mere second.

Giving Alessio a slap on the back, “She’s practically yours now, son. That’s your call to make,” her father laughed as he walked off towards the bar.

Arianna widened her eyes, begging Alessio to say no. Rolling his lips between his teeth as he pondered his decision quickly. He nodded, another sly smile curling the edges of his mouth. “One song wouldn’t hurt, eh? Careful though, she’s a pistol. Hope you can handle her. Lord knows some days I barely can.”

Copia laughed dryly. “I think someone of my stature knows how to handle one of those quite well,” he challenged, ushering Arianna away quickly.

Alessio reached out and grabbed her by the arm, just like he had earlier, turning her towards him. She inhaled sharply through gritted teeth at the pain as he had constricted her already tender bruises. “I’ll be waiting by the bar for you,” he hummed as his eyes flicked back and forth between Arianna and her new dance partner, before they lingered on her. She knew that look on his face. It was another warning. Without a sound, he let go of her, and followed the path of her father.

Copia’s arm snaked around her waist. He made it a point to do it gingerly, but that did nothing to calm her rattling nerves. “You’re trembling, cara,” he noted quietly, turning to face her, placing a hand on her hip on the same spot Alessio’s fingers left painful imprints. Her eyes fluttered shut when she involuntarily shied away from him. He eyed her curiously as he switched hands, placing one on her opposite hip and taking her hand in his other. She never quite understood the random ballroom dancing that happened at some of these parties.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

A sinister laugh quietly bubbled from him as he leaned to whisper in her ear, “You really should be.”

“And why’s that?” she challenged as they stepped in time together. Unsure of how, or why, but she could feel some of her old fire ignite inside her.

“Now, now, if I answered that it would ruin the surprise.”

She spoke in a way so her lips didn’t move, but Copia could understand her muffled words perfectly: “My father has eyes on you, you know.” This came off as more of a warning of caution than a threat.

“I’d expect nothing less from him. The real question is, does he have eyes on you?”

“I highly doubt it. I’ve proven to him I’ve learned from my rebellious ways,” she scoffed.

“Oh?”

“The consequences aren’t worth the… It serves no purpose anymore.”

After a few beats of silence, Copia asked, “Why do you let them treat you like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like they own you.”

For the first time since their dance began, she looked directly into his two-toned irises. Her breath hitched. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone, never mind a practical stranger, had even acknowledged her feelings or that she might have any at all. Her life wasn’t her own; it was already planned out. She could picture her life with Alessio as if she already lived. It’s mostly the reason she had become a shell, a carbon copy of herself. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a tall cliffside with no one to pull her back and no one who noticed, or even cared… So why was her father’s sworn enemy acting as if he did? And why in God’s name did it make her stomach flip and her heart flutter? “Because they do,” she finally managed to say through barely parted lips.

As the song ended, Copia regarded her with a smug, yet sympathetic look. He stepped towards her, pressing his body against hers, bringing his forehead down to hers. Standing there frozen, there was nothing she was able to do except stare into the most intriguing pair of eyes she’d ever seen. “Il mio agnellino (my little lamb)…” he purred. A devilish smile creeped onto his face. “I’ll see you soon.”

He abruptly left her standing there like a deer in headlights with her heart hammering in chest, and disappeared into the crowd. She sucked in a deep, ragged breath as she looked around checking to see if there were any witnesses to what just happened.

That man was evil. She knew this. He was ruthless. He worshiped the devil. He was the enemy.

And yet, what terrified her the most wasn’t his veiled threats, but her reaction to them. There was an allure to him, an air of mystique. Someone heard her faint cries for freedom… She shook it off and went to find Alessio, fearing what he would do if she waited any longer.

Arianna caught his eye as she walked up to him leaning against the bar, alone. He knocked back the remainder of his drink and forcefully grabbed her wrist, dragging her out to a deserted hallway. Not a single person batted an eyelash as they rushed past.

Once he assumed they were completely by themselves, he forced her up against the wall. Her back stinging in protest as the coolness of the concrete seeped into her skin. Unbeknownst to the nowhere-near-happy couple, Copia and his ghouls were waiting in a nearby room. Every part of his plan was falling in place like dominos.

“Alessio wh–” Arianna started to question, but was cut off by Alessio slamming his fist on the wall right next to her head.

While he now had her caged in, he pointed a finger in her face. “What the fuck was that about? You fucking wanted to dance with that vermin?”

She stared at him in horror. Even though she knew he would pull this card, it never made it easier any time it happened. “What are you talking about?! Did you miss the look I gave you? I wanted nothing to do with him! I wanted you to say the ‘no’ that I couldn’t!”

“You wanted–” he scoffed. “You wanted me to say no? Since when do I make your decisions for you?”

“Only every fucking day of my life!” she spat back at him, seething. Though he embodies sin and everything unholy, when Copia switched the hands on her hips, when he noted her fear… Those actions, so subtle, spoke volumes. She was reminded of what it means when a person has compassion, empathy, and even a trace of humanity inside them. If she ever experienced that with Alessio it had long be wiped from her memory, overridden by every terrible thing he had done to her and put her through.

The rage that erupted from him, the hatred that bled from his eyes, haunted her nightmares. Instantly after the words left her mouth, her whole body tensed. When the blow from his hand landed across her face, she didn’t even have time to react before he gripped her arms again, somehow even harder than the two previous times.

“You think you can just go dance with another man without looking like one of the devil’s whores? Maybe I should have let you wear that dress, since here you are, being one instead of just looking like one.” He shook her as he berated her.

“Alessio, please, you’re hurting me,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her face as her fiancé screamed at her. His voice drowned out from the thumping music and the raucous party-goers in the other room.

“You little fucking cunt, if it wasn’t for your father I would have left your pathetic ass years ago,” he snarled through his teeth just before he tossed her to the ground like a rag doll. “Get the fuck home. I don’t want to deal with this right now. And you better think of a good way to make this up to me…” he warned before he cracked his neck, fixed his shirt cuffs, and sauntered back into the party.

Quietly, she sobbed into the tile floor. Her body was alight in a flame of pain. “Please, God. Please help me. I can’t… I just can’t…”

A hand gently touched her shoulder. She recoiled, flinching, and pressed herself into the wall behind her.

“Oh, Principessa,” Copia tutted. He crouched down in front of her and used his thumb to wipe away her tears. She watched as he brought his hand closer to inspect how they glistened on his leather glove. His eyes bored into hers as he brought his thumb to his mouth, nearly sensually cleaning off her agonized tears with his tongue. Fear coursed through her harder than the adrenaline did when she spoke back to Alessio. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that God called in sick today,” he leaned in closer, hovering over her forebodingly, “and he sent me to handle your prayers,” he cooed disparagingly.

He stepped back from her, offering to help her up. She stared at his hand, her eyes wide with panic. When he waved it to snap her out of her trance, she scrambled to her feet. Automatically fearing supposed repercussions.

“How much… how much of that did you hear?” she whispered.

“All of it.” With a snap of his fingers two ghouls appeared, seemingly out of nowhere from Arianna’s perspective, and grabbed her arms. Their grip firm, but it wasn’t lost on her how they somehow managed to avoid touching where Alessio had hurt her.

“Wh-what are you doing? Let me go. Let go of me!” she cried out, feebly attempting to wriggle from the ghouls’ grasps.

Copia stepped forward, taking her face in his hands. His thumbs stroked her cheeks. With his face inches from hers, that diabolical smile reappeared. “I’m sorry about that too, but I can’t allow that. You see, il mio agnellino, you won’t be going home tonight.” He snaked his hands down from her face and along her neck before he leaned in so close to her, his breath tickled her ear. The way his lips moved against her skin sent shivers down her spine. “I told you. You should be scared of me.”

As he backed away from her, a third ghoul put a cloth over her mouth. Her screams were muffled as she tried to thrash and escape from her captors. Soon, her movements slowed and her vision blurred. The last thing she remembered seeing was that haunting pair of eyes, one green and one white, watching her with a smirk that rivaled that of the devil’s, before something covered her head and plunged her into darkness as her body went limp.

Next Chapter || taglist: @gorie-talks-a-lot @haelithra @love-is-all-you-need-13 @lydzlore @megachaoticstupid @onlyhereforghost @state-of-longing @werich @whenparadiseislost

#the band ghost #the band ghost mafia au #mafia au #copia #mob boss!copia #mob boss copia #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus 4 #papa copia #copia x oc #papa emeritus iv x oc #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #ghost bc fanfic #copia angst

93 notes · View notes

black-moon-bunny · 1 year

Text

Private Confession

A shy sister decides to walk into the confessional to relieve some weight on her shoulders, she needs to confess the filthy dreams she has been having with the image of her Papa Emeritus the Third and take some guilt off , what she doesn't know it's that Papa himself is taking the confessions today.

Word Count : 4300 words.

Warnings: Smut with plot basically.+18 NSFW Oral Sex (male on female) Unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of praise kink, a dash of Dom!Terzo, a bit of corruption kink he just want to break her mind and shit. Y/N is used, some broken Italian that I took from Google translate sorry if it sucks. Minors DNI. All the pictures were found on Pinterest I just edited them so credits who made them. No betad. today I die like a woman (?).

The cute dividers that I used this time belong to @firefly-graphics 💕

A.N : I promised this a couple of days ago but I never thought that it will be that long, again I just got carried on. The fires are still burning near my city, everything was covered in ashes and smoke so I just locked myself in my home and spent all day writing and playing monster hunter on the switch. I hope you enjoy this filthy piece of work. Take care, drink water, eat your three meals and hug your loved ones. 💕

She was nervous, the last time she confessed to a member of the clergy was years ago, and she wasn't sure if it was ok for her to confess her latest dreams with the new Papa of the church. Papa Emeritus the Third was like a breath of fresh air into the Rituals, he was too charming, too charismatic, too flamboyant. And it was magnetic, since the first ritual she felt pulled to him not being able to keep her eyes out of him during performance, the purple gowns, the modals, the way that he moved and walked on the stage. It was even worse in church and the abbey, the way that he talked with the sisters, and walked around winking his eyes and smiling. That's when she couldn't even look in his direction. After a few months of this martyrdom she began to have the most unholy thoughts of the man in the sheets of her bed, most of the time giving herself pleasure in the process. She felt guilty, he was on another level completely away from her own level in the clergy, she shouldn't be having those lustful dreams with him! So she decided that the best thing she could do about it was going to confess, get the weight off her chest and get some advice in a more private scenario. She greeted without entering the little space of the confessional waiting for the clergyman permission

—Come in, sister. Please.

—Thank you Cardinal...

And the men inside the other side.of the confessional tensed, he was no Cardinal. He was Papa himself, the change in "title" shook him a bit, it had been a long time since someone referred to him as cardinal.

Terzo found himself bored in the abbey so he changed his place at the confessional with Cardinal Copia, he was one of his closest friends in the church so he was always down to help him, after the last ritual he ended up with a raspy deeper voice because his over exigence and that helped him to mask his identity behind the confessional. He wanted to talk to other people, he was tired of only talking to the upper clergy most of the times, he wanted to talk with anyone else besides Imperator and his dad

—What's your name, little lamb?...

— It's y/n , Sister y/n. —He smiled trying to get a look at her to confirm his suspicions, but he was sure that he knew her. She was the soft lamb that always seemed to shiver around him, but was always at the rituals supporting the Ghost Project. She was particularly interesting to him, she seemed to change every time he went on stage, her eyes fixated on him more than any other sister or brother at the rituals. So he was aware of her existence and presence in the church.

— Tell me Sister y/n ... why are you here? What is the thing that lingers in your mind? The burden that you charge...

She didn't recognize the voice...It was not the Cardinal , but she couldn't quite guess, it sounded a bit raspy

— Sister, are you okay? It's okay, this is a private moment, a moment of trust. I'm not going to judge you.

She felt the guilt and the shame in her head but he was right. It was just a confession and besides he was there to help her and not judge her. And most probably he didn't even know who she was.

— I have dirty thoughts... sinful and dirty dreams every night...

— And why do you think it is wrong to have sinful dreams my dear?

— It's not because of the dreams....It's about who I am dreaming in those dreams..

—Why do you feel bad about dreaming with this person?..

—Because he is our excellency, our guide in this place...I'm having dreams with...—She took a breath and let out a sight before saying it. — I'm having dreams with our new Papa. Really nasty and naughty dreams...

Terzo was amused, this cute sister was having dirty dreams with him? How could he be mad?

— Sister, what kind of dreams? Why are they naughty?....You mean sex dreams?...

—Y-Yeah....they begin always the same, Me and Papa talking after a ritual on his back stage...and then I gave him a shoulder massage to ease his tense muscles and...we ended up fucking. It's always the same and...I feel that is wrong! How could I dream such dirty things with someone that I admire...

— Sister....you like what Papa does to you in the dreams?..

— Y-Yes....he feels so good...the way he kisses me, and rubs me, and soothes my skin with his hands, and move me like I was a doll on top of him...

— So, do you desire your dream to become true?

She stood in silence for a moment. She really wanted that dream to become true? Or she just wanted to leave it as part of her dirty imagination?

—...I don't know....he would never look at me in that way! It's almost impossible...

— That is not an answer, little lamb...

— I'm sorry ...I would like to be true ...but I know that it's almost impossible.

— Ah little lamb...who says that dreams do not come true?...—Terzo laughed a bit leaving his spot inside the confessional and opening the door of the side in which she was seated.

She looked at him in utter disbelief, she just confessed to Papa himself that she was having sex dreams about him! . But Terzo did not look angry, he had this flirty expression, that arrogant and sly smirk in his face looking down on her. He grabbed her chin with his fingers and made her look up to him as she was trying to not look him in the eyes.

— What's wrong sorella...are you ashamed that I heard your secret?...—He caressed the skin of her cheek with his thumb slowly, without looking her right in her eyes. Her cheeks were red, and her eyes had this glisten in them, her expression was a mix of fear and excitement.

—P-Papa I'm ...I'm so sorry....

—Don't be sorella....do you think I'm mad at you? I'm amused....you who always shiver when I go near you, you who are always so supporting during Mass or in the rituals...all of this time living with the burden of those dirty dreams with me...Poor thing...did you get your relief after those dreams? You were touching yourself thinking about me?.....

She felt her thighs clench together, her chest was on fire. Her breathing stopped for a moment before answering

— Yes Papa....

—Don't worry my sweet sorella...I know this place is too small for you to enjoy...-He let go of her chin and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the confessional — Follow me...we are going to have a extended talk about your dreams....If you are really repented you are going to show me how did you pleasure yourself.

He dragged her to his room, she felt lightheaded. She sure was having a dream again, because none of this could be part of reality. She was being dragged to Papa Emeritus the Third room to "show remorse" and "talk" about her sin.

He opened the door and guided her into his chamber, seating her on the bed. The luxurious deep purple bed sheets, the soft cushions and mattress, the smell of roses and leather. Everything felt too dreamy to be true. She sat there, waiting for him to say something, waiting for her to wake up from her dream.

—Sorella...tell me...how did you touch yourself?

— I...I....

—Don't be afraid little lamb...we are not going to do anything that you don't want to...but I want to know how did you treated yourself...So I can know where to start your penitence, and don't worry about the old hag...This is our secret of confession ...Now my dear sorella....—He took a seat in front of her, not before removing part of his "working clothes''. He just had a white silky shirt and his black tight pants left as he sat in front of her— Show me, how you enjoy yourself after dreaming with me...

Her pulse was completely messed up, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her eardrum. Her legs spread slowly, shyly she took one of her hands and lifted her skirt showing her red lace underwear.

He felt his cock twitch inside his pants, who would have thought that the shy sister used such sexy lingerie? He was delighted, her soft and embarrassed expression contrasted so well with the sexy red lace between her legs, he could even see the dark spot where she leaked her fluids, he swore that he could smell her in the air.

— Take those off and give them to me...

— Yes papa....—She slid them down her legs and handed them to him, she couldn't do anything more but obey him. She opened her legs once more, but this time showing her exposed core to him, her folds were coated and slick with her fluids, she froze for a bit looking at the darkened and lustful expression in Papa eyes.

— Please continue...show me more, I want to see you give pleasure to that perfect pussy of yours...—He licked his lips, he wanted to go down on her and lick her fluids while fingering but he knew that if he waited the reward was going to be much better.

—.....Y-Yes....Mnhg...— A whimper left her lips as soon as she brushed her clit with the tip of her fingers. She was so sensitive already, she felt her insides twitch wanting something inside to fill them. She gave her clit slow grazes and applying some pressure, his middle finger slid slowly between her folds tempting the entrance of her hole for a bit before pushing it inside. She moaned and cursed herself on her inside for the embarrassing sounds coming out of her mouth. Her free hand was on her right nipple, pulling and pinching the button sending shivers down her spine directly to her pussy.

He was stroking lazily his cock under his pants, the show she was putting for him was completely outstanding. The way she moaned, how her hips moved looking for more contact with her hand. How she squirmed and giggled at the pleasure. He wanted more of her.

— Keep going....show me more, I want to see you fully sister.,..come on, obey your Papa..

— mnhg...ah! No...Papa per favore...

— Oh my little sorella....you know Italian huh? ...—He positioned between her legs, standing over her looking at her trembling body — la mia tentazione dolce e peccaminosa, così bella, solo per me, vero?....—He leaned on her just a bit, touching her face and caressing her skin, looking at her glistening eyes, waiting for an answer — Vero?...

— S-Sí....just for you....

He felt his cock pressing so hard against his pants just by hearing her. It was all the confirmation he needed to make his move. He dragged her to the edge of the bed and kneeled in front of her, taking an intense look at the wonder in front of him.

— Sorella....we are not going to do anything that you don't want, I need you to say it, say that this is what you want....—There was a deep growl inside him trapped, her smell was driving him nuts, she was so wet that it dripped down her ass to his bed , directly into his velvet bedspread leaving a wet spot that grew by the minute.

— Papa please....I want you!.I need you!...are those dirty thoughts enough proof for you?....I desperately need you....—She whimpered and moaned, she was so needy of him. Her sweet and shy demeanor was long gone, she needed him, she wanted to indulge in the sin of Papa Emeritus the Third and never be the same again.

— Lucifero per favore, fammi godere per sempre di questo piacere peccaminoso....—He looked at her, his eyes completely darkened by lust, he began placing small kisses along her thighs, getting closer and closer to her wet impatient core, he spread her folds with his fingers to leave her clit exposed to him, he blew a bit of cold air and she moaned by the feeling.

After a sly smirk he got closer and closer

— Thanks dark lord for this delicious meal....—He gave a long lick to her clit down his folds before completely attacking her clit. Sucking slowly and moving his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands left to her thighs caressing and tracing the skin with the claws of his gloves, her moans sounded like the most delicious choir of sweets sounds.

She was losing slowly her contact with reality, she had never felt something like this before, she had been with boys during her teenage and young adult era, but nothing like this, nothing like the sinful dexterity of Papa's tongue, the feeling of his leather gloves and claws along her thighs as she moved her hips looking for more contact ,her hands playing with her nipples pulling them every time he gave a long lick.

He felt how she was melting under him. He took his gloves off and carefully placed one of his fingers at the entrance of her pussy, pressing slowly letting her suck him inside. She was so wet that his finger slipped inside easily, but she felt tight around it at the same time. He moved one finger and then added another one, spreading her insides preparing her for him.

— Don't try to muffle your voice, my little songbird....—He moved his fingers slightly up inside her, touching that rugged spot over and over — I want you moaning my name...say it....

— Papa....Mngh papa, please made me cum....

— No no....not papa....—He finally released his erection from his pants and underwear , he kept moving his fingers inside her, brushing her clit with the palm of his hand every time he pushed into her, and with his other hand he was stroking himself.

She was about to climax on his fingers, she needed to release the pressure in her belly, she needed to let loose the coil that was about to snap. She moved her hips wanting more. She couldn't say his name, she was going to burst if she heard herself saying his name, no not papa, Terzo.

—Say it...or else I will not let you come, how about that? Enough motivation for you...puttana?....

She whimpered and moan obscenely at the nickname, her hips jerking from the bed moaning out loud his name

— T-Terzo! Terzo please! I need to....I want to...

—....You little filthy sister....—He positioned himself between her legs and without much warning he pushed inside, gasping and moaning deeply at the feeling, she felt the most blasphemous pleasure in the world.

Something inside her snapped after his thrust, her whole body felt like wildfire and she could swear that she was seeing stars and glistens all over the place, with the last part of her coherence she moved his arms towards him, looking for more of his touch, she wanted to feel him completely. He kept thrusting into her while taking of his shirt, he leaned over her and kissed her, her lips were soft and plump, as they kissed her moans got trapped in her throat and left only as breathy whimpers as he moved his hips and his bodies became one sweaty wet mess.

— I can feel you squeezing me so good....such a good girl for your Papa...—He bit her neck leaving marks all over the skin, she scratched the skin on his back and pectorals, she looked at him completely lost in her lustful dream that came true , adoring his expression, his passion and the delicious way in which he was devoted to give her pleasure.

For him, she was a devil that came from hell to make him lust over and over. He already had many affairs under his sleeve, but no one of those compared to the sinful sweet adoration of the sister. Her body seemed to perfectly fit with his, the way her legs hugged his hips, how her breast moved hypnotizing him, the delicious tightness and the way his name sounded on her lips. He wanted more of her, he wanted her for him and only him, this egoist desire of consuming her, of corrupt all if her shyness and all of her politeness into a pure lustfull mess, a fuck doll , a slut just for him.

He stopped for a bit to lift her legs over his shoulders and letting one of his hands wander from her tits to his neck and to his face, drawing the shape of her lips with his finger, looking at her and licking his lips at the sight, she licked the tip of his finger and he slide his thumb on her mouth. She began to suck desperately, her glossy eyes dropping tears of pleasure as he rolled his hips so deliciously over her, her insides twitched with anticipation of a climax that was already there. She was sure she scratched so hard that he bled a bit, but the pain turned him even more. He helped her ride her orgasm and lowered the pace of his thrusts for a minute.

—How was that dolcezza?....—He grabbed her by the waist and placed a pillow under her back for extra support and then proceeded to give her sweet kisses helping her ride the last waves of her orgasm before keep going further. — Are you okay?

— More....—She looked at him blushed, slightly drooling. Pupils fully dilated by pleasure, sweaty and still gasping for air but begging for more. "Such a good girl "terzo thought admiring the sight in front of him , but he needed to make sure she was okay, because after her approval he was going to go full feral on her.

— First, are you okay? Nothing hurts?....I plan to make love to you all afternoon and then at night if you are still needy give you some more but I need to know if you are well...—He brushed some strains of hair out of her forehead and caressed her cheek.

— I'm okay....I want more. Please....

— Mnn...I'm not sure if you are well...—He smiled devilishly moving his hips with one hard thrust — You seem quite agitated and...—He thrusted again — you look too red...—Once again another thrust — and you are gasping for air...

— Mnh...p-please ....ah! Don't....don't tease me....I ...I want more...

— And are you sure that you could...—His thrust were slow but hard and deep, he took his subtle time between thrusts just to make her squirm underneath him —.... take it?..

— I'm sure! I just....please fuck me! I want to feel your cum inside of me!

— Mngh....fucking hell y/n....you filthy puttana...want more of your Papa?....—He lifted her in his arms and sat on the bed with her on top but with her back pressed against his chest , he had her hold by the thighs with the rest of her legs clinging in the air. — Then take me....

After this sentence he began thrusting into her making her almost jump in his lap, her moans were obscene and loud, the wet slapping sound echoed in the room mixed with the moans of them both. His nails dig into her soft skin , her neck and back as his full disposition to bite and kiss , leaving marks all over her skin. He was close, he could feel the tightness in his abdomen. He dropped one of her legs and lowered his hand to her clit pressing and making circles over it as he thrusted, she squirmed and moaned his name over and over.

— Mnhg...y/n I'm...I'm close....you want it inside huh?....You filthy whore....so dumb fucked by your Papa...this is what you dreamed of isn't it?...mnhg! Ah! Fucking Satanás! ...

His hips moved faster and harder searching for his climax , but he couldn't indulge until she came at least one time more.

— Mmngh terzo! Together please....I want to come with you Papa! ...I want to be your personal..ah! Fuck toy! ...

— You sure are a bag of surprises sister...— His gasp and moans reverb on her ear, the praises and filthy remarks made her even closer, with only two thrusts more she came undone over him, squirting hard and wetting his bed, sofa and floor. He felt like he was melting in the caldrons of hell with her, he came with a loud and deep growl thrusting some more before collapsing in the bed with her underneath him. He pulled it off and watched as his cum leaked from her, this filled him with pride, looking at her so disheveled on his bed.

— mnhg...ah....don't leave...

— I'm not leaving....—He brushed some strains of hair out of her face and gave her a sweet peck on the lips as she turned around to be face up on the bed— but I need to prepare something...wait a minute dolce...

He went to his bathroom and prepared the tub for her, he took her in his arms slowly and carefully before letting her down slowly in the warm water. She was dozing a bit.

— You will stay here in my chambers today, and tonight you will make me company at the mass and ritual, then right back here with me si?...

— But...papa....—As she came down from her high the weight of reality became real, she knew that this will probably be a one time thing and she needed to get back to her chores— Sister Imperator is going to punish me if I do not finish my chores...

— It will be arranged as soon as we leave the tub, sí dolce?...—He entered the tub with her and she cuddled instantly on his chest, such a cute sight...

— Are you sure Papa?...

— I'm sure...and do not call me papa when we are alone si? Just terzo...Don't worry about the old hag , she is going on a trip with the old man and my brothers, we are going to be alone all week...Just me and the Cardinale, and of course you in my office all day wearing your cute dresses just for me...—He nuzzled her hair messing with her....

— Oh...I thought that...you know...I was going to be your one day off and stuff...—She looked up at him and he melted again, so innocent and yet so filthy, who would think that about her? He needed to thank his dear Amico later for letting him get in the confessional, maybe she would never had approached him otherwise, and yes , maybe he wouldn't done either . He was glad that Satan put her in his path.

— I know about my reputation sister...

—Just...y/n is fine if I can call you Terzo...just between us ...

— Well...y/n I know about my reputation but that's mostly a ...eh....it's part of the job...and I know that i have my fair share of affairs with a lot of sisters but no more than Secondo did or even Primo in his "prime" — He joke about his lame joke to ease some of her tension — You are right in be suspicious but I'm being honest...I want you for me as long as you are right with it , maybe we could get to know more about each other...I'm a bit tired of the running around with the sisters if I'm honest I'm bored about everything this days that's why I asked Copia...I mean, Cardinal Copia the favor of being on the confessional and that lead me to you, I will take it as a signal from our dark lord..

— So...you are asking me out?...—She smiled, it wasn't a dream right? — I'm not dreaming of this? Please tell me that I'm not..

— You are not ....— He laughed before pinning her slowly against the marble of the bath — But I'm going to make you feel like you are walking on air after this....—He laughed a bit at her expression of sudden lust and hunger— So eager....another round then?...

She used his weight in her favor and the slick of the water and turned around this time pinning him, he felt his dick bounce to his abdomen as soon as she was over him and her tits hanging in front of his face. She rocked her hips back and forth slowly over his cock

— Another round then ....—She took a deep breath and let him slide inside of her in one seat — Mnhg!...fuck...why it's so big?...mgnh....

— Mgnh...y/n ...so eager....—He bit his lip and grabbed her hips to give her more support, she moved wonderfully. She looked like a dark goddess of lust over him. His breast moving up and down with her, tempting him to bite and lick every piece of skin on them and so he did, he trapped one of her nipples between his lips sucking and biting, his hands traveled from her hips to his ass, squeezing and slapping her precious butt cheeks.

— Mnhg...Terzo....—She put her arms on his shoulders for support and started to move harder and faster, moaning his name over and over. The echo in the bathroom made her sound like a choir of devilish succubus filled with pure and primal desire. Her whole body was invested in giving him the biggest pleasure as a way to retrieve the pleasure that he gave her, the way she moved and breathed, how she moaned his name, how the tightness inside her felt. He felt his whole body sensitive, the way the warm water soothes his skin while being in the hot embrace of that marvelous woman on top of him, he moaned her name as a prayer. His wet hair falling on his face, her hair dropping over his shoulder everytime she moved, the heat of both bodies becoming one through the ritual of pleasure and lust.

— Mnhg! Fuck....y/n I'm not....mgnh...you are too...mgnh... damn hot ...I want to feel you more...ah la mia dolce puttana...così buona per me, così desiderosa del mio sperma....

— Sí Terzo please! Fill me with your cum...I'm getting closer...mgnh I want to come all over your dick...

— Mgnh...Sí dolce ... everything that you desire my sweet little devil....—He grabbed her hips, thrusting hard and fast over and over until she came with a high pitched moan. He came shortly after, filling her again with her cum..

— Mnhg ...ah!...don't ...move....—He smiled a bit — Too...sensitive....

— Oh...let me just ...—He plopped out of her and lifted her slowly.

— Mnhhh.....—She cuddles with him again. Caressing his chest and brushing his chest hair slowly. Giving kisses on his shoulder and chest.

— You are so cuddly...—He sighed in relaxation— so warm...

— You...don't like it?....—She asked a but worried of being too much all of the sudden.

— I love it....—He kissed her over and over, making her blush. — Let's get out of here and shower, I will make a ghoul go for some clothes for you and then you can sleep a bit on my bed while I take care of some duties...Don't worry about a thing of your chores, it's all ready....now, let's get cleaned up si princesa?...

They showered and rested on his bed, she fell asleep quickly, he brought his paperwork to his chamber and worked on his desk while watching her sleep, he was sure that it was the right decision following the devil's sign that guided him to her. All of it just for a simple private confession...

A.N : Heeeey! I hope that you enjoyed it, I was in the mood for a filthy sexy smut with our slutty Papa but I could keep the fluff away, I like fluff. If you have comments suggestions or want me to write something specific you can comment something down below or leave and question on the ask me page. 💕 thanks again for reading and I hope you have a great day/night/afternoon etc. 💕

#ghost fanfiction #ghost bc fanfic #ghost the band #emeritus iii x reader #terzo x reader #terzo emeritus #terzo smut #papa emeritus fanfiction #papa emeritus lll #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo emeritus x reader #terzo x y/n #ghost terzo #terzo ghost #ghost bc fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction

360 notes · View notes

fishwithtitz · 3 months

Text

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

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

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

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

ao3 link

Hook-up #4: Thomas’ Room

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

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

But I had to admit, I really missed Des.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

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

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

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

“Now, spill.”

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I had really come to know that voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brutus and I go way back,” he said.

“Really?” I said with raised brows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a shit remake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They could have been.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay back there?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were saying?” he snickered.

“Oh, fuck off Goore.”

“Sure thing. Wanna watch?”

“I’ll leave that to Brutus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You good, Doll?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hadn’t noticed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That feel good, Doll?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” I sputtered. Fuck dignity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Des: how’s it going over there?

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

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

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

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

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

Des: you still never told me about his dick btw

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

“Desiree,” I replied in a neutral tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No shirt I noted.

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

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

“I’ve got Brutie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tickles,” he murmured atop my head.

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

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

I let out a chuckle. “Gee, thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mary,” I breathed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let it go, Doll,” he murmured to me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🜏🜏🜏

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

62 notes · View notes

eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 4 months

Text

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 20. hate sex

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “just this once”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ stuck in a log cabin with an old enemy, except ifrit’s been feeling extra lonely this christmas

pairing: ifrit ghoul x gn!ghoul!reader

a/n: ifrit is so hot and i want his dick inside of me rn

cw: nsfw content. hate sex. rough sex. penetration. dubcon (?). spanking. hair pulling. exes fucking each other. intense sexual tension

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“i’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be begging to have me back. and you’re going to fucking like it.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

“can’t believe i’m stuck here with you, of all ghouls.”

“oh really? how do you think i feel!? it’s certainly not a ray of sunshine to be around you too!”

the two ghouls glared at each other, the tension between them palpable. you couldn’t believe it, out of all of the damn infernals that walked the topside, it had to be him.

you wanted to rent yourself out a little log cabin for christmas, to get away from the city and have some time to yourself. however, upon renting the cabin, you realized that both you and your ex-boyfriend got rented into the same, private log cabin on accident.

just great.

you’d never thought you’d see ifrit again, but here we are.

the fire ghoul only eyes you up and down, before rolling his eyes and throwing his suitcase to the side. both of you were unglamoured, showing off your demonic traits to the world. ifrit let out a snarl and gripped a chunk of his hair as he tried to calm himself down, but the very sight of you just agitated him.

“why can’t you just go get a different cabin? it’s clear we’re both supposed to have our own.” ifrit asked, but the tone in his voice was clearly agitated, which in turn only made you more upset.

“hell no. i’ve waited far too long for a cabin like this one. and i’m not about to let some pansy take it away from me.” you chided, referring to ifrit as the pansy.

that comment only made his tail swish in annoyance. ifrit huffed, smoky embers of frustration emitting from his mouth.

“well isn’t this just great! i’m stuck in a log cabin with the most obnoxious and overbearing ghoul there was to ever walk the earth!” ifrit complained, showing that he definitely wasn’t excited to be sharing a cabin with you.

your tail stiffened from annoyance, and you turned around to punch ifrit in the shoulder, making him yelp and cling onto the spot where you had punched him.

“well geez it’s not like you were any better to be around! oh and how i wonder why i broke up with an arrogant prick like you.” you insulted, clearly trying to get under ifrit’s skin.

and it was working alright.

ifrit just snarled and rammed onto your shoulder with his head, his horns poking at your shoulder blade, making you screech and hold onto your arm, rubbing it to try and soothe the pain.

“arrogant prick?” the fire ghoul repeated, a bitter and dry chuckle escaping his lips before he threw a few jabs himself. “i know damn well i’m not hearing this from crybaby over here.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, pupils dilating like a cat’s.

“who the hell are you calling crybaby, asshole?!”

“who do you think, genius? or do you have to repeat elementary school because you’re too stupid to understand?”

the arguing eventually escalated to a point where you and your ex were locking horns like two goats, both trying to push each other and make the other loose balance. the fight was… kind of pathetic to be honest. both of you were too stubborn to back down, baring your fangs and growling like rabid animals as you both fought. eventually, both of you got tired and collapsed on the singular bed, chests heaving as you both panted heavily.

ifrit was the first to turn over and face you, and both of you shared a brief glare.

“fuck you.” is all he could utter out.

and you just nodded.

“right back at ya.”

neither of you didn’t say anything for a moment. what were the odds of two ghouls wanting to go to a winter vacation home and accidentally ending up in the same cabin? slim chances alright, but it just so happened that you and ifrit got those unlucky chances.

the fire ghoul groaned and looked up at the ceiling, just starting to realize how petty and pathetic your guy’s fight was.

“what the hell are we even doing?” he sighed out. “we broke up, and are fighting like children over something so petty and fixable.

“i can’t believe i’m saying this, but i actually agree with you for once.” you panted out, agreeing with your ex. that’s probably the only thing you’ll ever agree on in a while.

the two of you sat in silence on the bed for a moment, not bothering to look at each other. it was quiet for a good while, but you both could tell that there was still some unresolved tension between the two of you.

suddenly, ifrit shifted his body, and slowly moved to climb on top of you, quickly grabbing your wrists and pinning you down to the bed. your eyes widened in shock, and you were about to say something, but ifrit shushed you by putting the spade of his tail against your mouth.

“shut up.” he spoke, still clearly aggravated and having some pent up energy within him. “i need a release.”

you already had a feeling where this was going, but you needed to hear the words from ifrit himself.

“so… what are you going to do?” you asked in anticipation.

ifrit just leaned down and growled in your ear, his claws tightening around your wrists.

“i’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be begging to have me back. and you’re going to fucking like it.”

—

how did you end up like this again?

the bed was rocking heavily against the wall, with you and your ex being the cause of it. bent over doggy style with your ass in the air, you were moaning loudly and whorishly while ifrit pounded into you hard from behind, groaning and grunting in the process.

one of his hands was gripping the base of your wagging tail harshly, while the other grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back, making you cry out in pure pleasure while ifrit’s fat, hard cock stretched out your hole in a needy way. you almost forgotten how good ifrit fucks, and he was just proving it to you over and over again with how hard he was fucking you right now.

“fuck yes.” he moaned through gritted teeth, stroking the base of your tail while his dick hit all the right spots inside of you.

“take it, y/n. take it all like the good cumdump you are.” he smirked, his thrusts becoming more quick and fast as he went to town on you.

you just sat there and took everything he was giving you. your claws gripped the sheets so tightly you swore you were going to rip them off the mattress. ifrit felt so good inside of you, it was way too familiar.

“f-fuck!! ahh! s-slow down, asshole!” you tried to warn, but your voice sounded way too needy, and that turned on ifrit even more.

“you can take it, y/n.” he grunted, pulling you closer as he thrusted harder. “you’ve always been able to.”

those words just sent you over the edge, making you moan loudly and your hole grip onto his cock more tightly as his thrusts got more erratic.

more. more. more. you needed more of him.

ifrit didn’t even know what sparked inside of him for him to just randomly decide to fuck his ex on the spot. maybe there was that sense of longing that desperately itched his brain. the need to have someone, a mate that he could love again. the breakup with you was messy, and yet he found himself so infatuated with you. yet, he hated you so much at the same time.

the conflicting emotions turned him on so much.

he just had to have you. one, last, time.

“c’mon, y/n. feel it all, feel my cock inside of your slutty hole.” he panted out, his movements getting quicker, thrusting into you deeply while he relished the sounds of your desperate moans.

“feel it stretch you good. you fucking slut.”

his hand slowly let go of the base of your tail, and moved down to spank your rear hard, making you squeak and squirm around as you took all of the sensations at once. ifrit spanked you liked you were the worse thing to walk this planet, and he truly felt like you were for the moment. but, he still found you so strikingly hot. his spankings only matched in time with each thrust, and the spanks got harder and harder while you were getting closer and closer.

you were in a state of pleasure and pain. his thrusts were so hard it hurt, but they felt so damn good at the same time.

“oh yes that’s it, y/n.”

smack.

“you’re doing so good, taking me so well.”

smack.

“i bet you wanted this the entire time, right? you just wanted to fuck your ex, huh?”

smack.

“say it, say you wanted to fuck me the entire time.

smack. oh it was so painful against your rear, but it felt so fucking good. ifrit was definitely projecting onto you now, but you were too deep in a lustful trance to care.

“y-yes! yes i-i wanted you the entire time!” you cried out, and you meant every word of it, even if you hated speaking it. “i-i wanted you so bad! y-your cock in my hole! a-ahhh!”

“ahh there we fucking go. music to my fucking ears.” ifrit grunted out, feeling himself getting closer as he thrusted into you.

“fuck y/n. i’m gonna cum.” he warned, and you nodded.

“m-me too! fuck i wanna cum so bad!” you cried out.

it wasn’t long, but after a few more thrusts, ifrit’s thick, hot seed spilled into your hole as your ex emptied himself. you followed soon behind afterwards, cum spurring everywhere, making a mess on your body and the sheets.

you both slumped against the bed, and ifrit laid on top of you.

he just snickered, and pulled your hair up, looking at your pathetic, fucked our face while you whimpered. tears of both pleasure and pain stained your cheeks, and you looked so defeated. ifrit knew it all too well.

ifrit just snarled in your face and licked your earlobe, before speaking.

“look who’s crying now.”

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

#holiday hoes event #ifrit ghoul #ifrit ghost #ifrit smut #ifrit x reader #ghost bc fanfic #ghost bc smut #nameless ghoul smut #nameless ghoul x reader #the band ghost smut #christmas prompts #christmas #smutty drabble #smutty fanfiction

87 notes · View notes

fruityrituals · 7 months

Text

tell me what you want

mountain ghoul x fem reader

summary: mountain and reader are in the beginning stages of a relationship and they finally have sex after a lot of sexual tension.

cw: explicit, breath play, body being marked, unprotected sex

comment: I don’t recommend reading if you cringe at someone being called ‘daddy’. also, this is little plot and primarily smut

dedicated to rachel

(18+) / MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Ghost Masterlist

(divider below from @cafekitsune ) | pics above from pinterest

You and Mountain are in the early stages of a relationship. You are still trying to figure out what you both want exactly bur for now you guys have just been very cozy with each other with the ocasional make out sessions. To say that there’s sexual tension is an understatement. You haven’t really understood why he was holding back at first till Rain told you last week that Mountain has never been in a relationship let alone with a human and he was worried he would hurt her. You became not understanding once you learned that information, but in moments like right now, sitting in the ghouls dressing room 2 hours before they would go on, you both sit on the couch kissing each other passionately. Your hand in his hair, your legs over his lap, his tail and one arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand rests on the back of your head. The other ghouls decided to go explore before the show, so you both had some privacy that you wanted to take advantage of without the others teasing you both about when you would finally fuck.

As you sit here with your legs in his lap and your arms wrapped around his neck, you let out a satisfied sigh against his lips. You decide to be a little more adventurous and shift yourself over and get on his lap straddling his waist. Mountain let a little gasp slip his lips as he kept his hands to himself for a moment and looks up at you. You look down at him as you put your hands in his hair again gripping it gently and whisper “it’s okay”. It takes him a few moments of focusing on his breathing before he drops his hands down to your hips. Once he seemed a little more comfortable, you lean down and you both start kissing again. From this new position, you can feel is cock growing hard beneath you through the fabric of his pants. He was already in his stage uniform instead of his vest and helmet. You have wanted him so bad even before you both started this relationship and the tension was so thick right now. You wish that he would talk to you about what he’s worried about so you could ease his panic but he just never wanted to speak out about it. You slowly start to move your hips against him and he parts his lips gripping your hips tight but he didn’t stop you. You let a small whine slip your lips as you continue that motion and slowly pressed yourself against his hard length and stared rocking on his lap. He grew harder and his grip on you’re hips tightened and then he pulled away from the kiss just slightly, letting his lips linger, and says your name softly. You sigh gently as you stop rocking your hips and look down at him “listen, I know you’re scared about hurting me, and I know you won’t talk about it but I think you have more self control then you think and you wouldn’t let yourself go that far. Please just trust yourself with me and trust me to tell you if anything hurt” you look into his eyes as you speak and grip his hair gently. Mountain rests his hands on your hips again and looks into your eyes then closes them and nods gently “I’ll try but as soon as I feel like I’m losing control I’m stopping”. You feel you heart racing and nod at his words as you lean in and start kissing him again and slowly rock your hips against him. The kiss becomes heavier and more eager like you both needed this kiss in order to live. His lips traveled from yours to your neck and he started making marks along your throat and the side of your neck. You can feel your core growing wet with desperation for him and a knot formed in your stomach as soon as you felt mountain reach down between your bodies to unbutton your pants. You quickly pull away from him and get off his lap to take off your pants and underwear and as soon as he sees your lower half bare, hunger flashes in his eyes and he no longer cared to go slow with it, he quickly kicks off his boots and stands up from the couch stripping off all his clothes until his dick was free and standing with need. He was long and thick and the sight of him makes you squirm. You take off the last of your clothes and once he sits down on the couch again, he looks up at you observing your body as you watch his chest rise and fall fast. He leans forward grabbing your wrists and pulls you back to the couch on top of his lap.

You stumble back on the couch sitting on his lap closer toward his knees and you slowly grab his cock and start to pump it. He let his head fall back into the couch for a moment and let out the most toe curling moan you have ever heard as you feel a rush of heat in your body traveling straight to your core. You lean in and start kissing his neck gently as you pumped his length. He dug his fingers into the couch for a few moments before taking one of his hands and rubbed your thigh gently. He slowly trailed his hand to your core and slipped his fingers between your folds gathering all the wetness before using his thumb to rub your clit gently. You let out a moan bowing your head down against his shoulder and can’t help but rock your hips against his hand for more friction. You needed him inside you so bad it hurt. You could cry if something were to break this moment apart right now. He rubs your clit a few more time then gathered your slickness before plunging two fingers inside of you and you moan out his name and quickly pressed your lips to his neck. You were worried you weren’t doing enough to satisfy him because your brain felt cloudy from his touch right now. You continue to stroke his cock as he finger fucks you and you feel the build up in your stomach feeling so close to coming undone quickly as you toss your head back and you moan out “fuck daddy, that feels so good”. Everything happened so fast after that. It was like you said an activation word for him because he pulled his fingers out quickly and thrusted his cock into you so hard and quick without warning that you practically yell. Your hands fly to his shoulders gripping them as a lot of pressure built up inside of you. He starts thrusting up into you moving your hips with his not giving you time to adjust. It hurt but the pleasure was over powering and the fact that this ghoul is always so soft spoken and sweet but he was being really rough right now was making the pleasure so much better. Your mouths crash into each other as you both breathe heavily and sloppily while you bounce on his lap not being able to help all the noises escaped from deep in your throat. “I can see you really liked me calling you daddy hm?” You pull away from the kiss and look In his eyes and he has such a lustful look in his eyes as he nodded and wrapped his hand around your throat and you let out another moan putting your hands around his arm that was gripping your throat and Mountain says “you like me being rough right you huh? I’ve been so worried about hurting you but you like it”. You nod quickly and desperately “I do please”.

A smirk wiped across his face as he slipped out of you and you whine at the empty feeling you felt, but he quickly stood up and put you on your knees pushing your chest against the back of the couch as he got on his knees on the couch behind you and thrusted back inside. You let out a satisfied moan as you fold your arms on the top part of the back of the couch and rested your head on your arms as he started to thrust into you hard. He grips your hips hard as his hips starts to move at a hard rough pace. All that could be heard was the soundcheck that started on the stage and the noise of their skin slapping together filling the room. As he got more rough with his thrusts, your moans become louder and you decide to test his lust and moan out “oh fuck daddy you’re so big and you’re being so rough it feels so good”. He practically growls as he hardens his thrusts and slaps your ass hard they would definitely leave marks “you’re being such a good girl” he said breathlessly. His tail comes around rubbing where he slapped your ass then snakes around to your clit and gave it a little flick causing you to gasp and your hips shudder. He kept his tail working on your clit as he wraps one arm around your torso pulling your back against his chest and traces one hand up your stomach to one of your breasts and grips your breast and the other hand goes to your neck wrapping his fingers around your throat. He thrusts hard and deep into you as this angle hits that spot inside of you at each thrust. He gripped your throat starting to cut off your airway and pressed his lips to your ear saying “you’re taking me so fucking good”. His grip tightens as your vision starts to get cloudy from the lack of air and you feel like you’re about to have the hardest orgasm of your life. He doesn’t let up on his grip as his thrusts became harder and your walls clench around his cock which makes him grunt. You try to scream out but you’re breathless as your orgasm ripped through you and you both cum at the same time and he finally lets go of your throat as you take in a deep breath filling your lungs and letting a loud moan finally come out. You both are sweating and breathing heavily as he turns your head keeping your back against his chest still and kissed your lips sloppily with a soft moan against both your lips and you mumble “I told you I could handle it”.

Before he could even pull out and both of you get yourselves cleaned up and presentable, Swiss comes into the shared dressing room “we started soundcheck let’s go mount-“ and he drops his his track and smirks as you gasp and quickly cover your body with your shirt. Mountain pulls out of you and pulls on his pants and says “you should have knocked”. Swiss crossed his arms over his chest “well I thought it would be safe to walk in here without warning, I didn’t think you would ever fuck this poor girl”. You get dressed as your checks burned and you don’t look at Swiss, a little embarrassed you were walked in on but Mountain doesn’t seem bothered so that felt a little more comforting. Mountain glared at Swiss’ comment “well you can knock from now on. I’ll be out to soundcheck in a second, tell papa I’m sorry for my tardiness”. Swiss heads back to the door “I’m sure he won’t be upset once he knows why you were late” he smirks and leaves.

When you go to get up from the couch you feel like your legs are noddles and instantly sit back down as you look up at Mountain who was putting his stage uniform back on and he walks over cupping your cheeks and leans down kissing your lips deeply then says “you promise I didn’t hurt you”. You nods gently “the pain I felt didn’t hurt me, it was so good. So fucking good” you whisper to him “so good that I don’t think I can watch you today from side stage like usual”. Mountain grins and grabs an iPad and hands it to her, you can watch my drum camera on this and rest back here. During the show. I’ll be back after the soundcheck though to take care of you” he kissed you again. You smile “oh when you come back I want you to do the opposite of taking care of me” you smirk over at him as he walks to the door. “You are so going to regret that, but tell me what you want and I’ll give you everything in the world” then he leaves for soundcheck.

#ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #mountain ghoul #mountain ghoul x reader #mountain ghoul x fem reader #x reader #ghost bc #ghost bc fanfic #ghoul fanfic #ghost ghouls #smut #smut fanfiction

88 notes · View notes

ghostchems · 6 months

Text

WIP WHENEVER

thank u @angellayercake and I’m p sure also @sweatandwoe forever ago for tagging me! i have like four on-going updates i should be working on but instead i am working on this

copia surprises you with a spooky weekend getaway, culminating in some winged bedroom time

“Amore? Is that you?” Copia asks in a hushed whisper, stress hanging in his voice. For a moment you’re too anxious to answer but you manage to squeak out a response.

“It is.”

“Oh, bene bene.” He sighs, his relief evident in his voice. “I am, ugh, having some trouble with the surprise.”

“How can I help?” You are quick to make your way to the bathroom door, trying to listen in to what’s happening on the other side.

“Merda. It’ll ruin la sorpresa.” He grumbles to himself. “I-I’m sorry you couldn’t see me, eh, completely done.” Before you’re able to tell him not to be sorry at all he emerges from the bathroom and your mind goes completely blank. Even in the lowlight you can see the blush creeping up his freckled shoulders and cheeks. Copia is wearing nothing but a small pair of black briefs, his black gloves with skeleton detail and half of his batwing harness, having secured it through one of his arms but not the other. “I, heh, usually have some help getting these on.”

tagging @writingjourney, @leezlelatch, @copias-fluffy-asscheeks

#papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #ghost fanfic #ghost bc fanfic #ghost band fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfics #Cardinal Copia x reader #Copia x reader #papa iv x reader #papa iv

89 notes · View notes

tittyfishrecs · 6 months

Text

Ministry Jobs Masterlist

I thought I'd make a list of jobs that we might see at The Ministry for those looking for ideas (thanks to the Ghesties on the My Ghesties in Satan Discord server). I'll update the list as needed, so feel free to comment with other ideas! List below the cut.

Church

Upper Clergy (Archbishops, Cardinals, Papas)

Minor Clergy (Deacons, Priests, Bishops)

Supernatural

Summoners

Witches

Alchemists

Herbologists

Glamour expert

Hospitality

Janitorial

Housekeeping

Laundry

Groundskeeping

Botanists

Arborists

Gardeners

Landscaping/maintenance

Kitchen

Chef

Sous chef

Pastry chef

Pantry chef

Prep cook

Line cook

Kitchen management

Dishwashers

Education/Artifacts

Librarian

Library assistant

Research assistant

Teacher

Teacher's assistant

Tutor

Art conservation

Art archivist/restoration

Curator

Daycare/Childcare

Healthcare

Nurses

Doctors

CNA

Medical assistants

Pharmacists

Pharmacy techs

Legal/PR/HR

Legal team (laywers/attorneys, legal assistants)

Lobbyists

Public relations manager

Human/ghoul resources

Ghoul wrangler

Charity work

Band/Tour

Tour management

Band management

Set up/tear down crew

Set design

Costume design

Prop design

Ritchie(s)

Events

Event planner

Event organizer

Event set up

Florists

Office/Clerical/Finances

Accountants

Secretaries

Personal assistants to upper clergy or papas

Inventory management

Security

Body guards

Surveillance team

Kevin(s)

Production/Advertisement/Sales

Propaganda team/advertising

Production team

Misc.

Drivers

Shoppers

Secret spies with the Vatican

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction #ghost fanfic #ghost bc fanfic #ghost fandom #fanfic writing

63 notes · View notes

her-satanic-wiles · 3 months

Text

Masterlist

You got a promotion, and a new promotion means a new uniform and your very own Ghoul-in-training! That Ghoul just so happens to be your closest friend, Phantom. However, your new uniform and position does something to Phantom that gets harder and harder to deny.

Part I ⛧ Part II ⛧Part III

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Commissions are open! ⛧ Memberships get early access!

No bound copies, translations, or other derivative works of this fic may be created or distributed without express permission from the author, for monetary gain or public use.

35 notes · View notes

gasolineghuleh · 1 month

Text

Heated Pleasure

Commission from the lovely @monstercumhrt! Thank you dearest!

You, Swiss and Rain have been in a poly relationship for ages now-- you're well established partners in the Clergy... and so are their heat cycles, which often fall one after the other. When it's Rain's turn, you find yourself receiving a text invitation.

Pairing: Swiss/afab reader/Rain Polycule Word Count: 6.5k Tags: biting, choking, knotting, heat, threesome, cum eating, female oral, claws, animalistic Ghouls cw worthy tags are bolded for ease

Rain is in heat. You know this, because he's been leaving you very detailed messages about it-- texts flood your phone with the various descriptive desires of one of your Ghouls, and you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't secretly expecting a note to show up at your door, calling you to the dens that they share. Still, though, these texts feel more explicit than usual. Your heart pumps with adrenaline as you read through the salacious messages again. How he can't stop thinking about how your mouth feels around his cock. How he wants to bury himself in you until you're overflowing with his cum-- most of it could be misconstrued as normal horny-posting from any Ghoul with a cell phone, until one specific message.

The message that got you, made you gasp and clench your thighs together, was the one where he mentioned he has a right mind to breed you. You've always thought that Ghouls were sterile, but you guess not, and now you're more than a bit curious. So you've been keeping your schedule open. Just in case he calls, of course. You itch and ache for them both, and it likely won't get any better until you have a searing hot cock inside of at least one of your holes.

You feel a slight vibration in your pocket and pull out your phone. Perfect timing-- it's Swiss. He's sent you a text that says, "Come over." He isn't usually this short and to the point, and something about the text grabs at your gut in a way that tells you you're about to get what you want. You look at the time. It's almost midnight, and you aren't likely to get any sleep tonight unless you sate the yearning between your thighs. You sigh and shrug. Better now than later or tomorrow, you think. You grab your keys and wallet and lock the door behind you, shutting it quietly enough to keep the other Sibling's slumber uninterrupted. You head out into the night, traipsing quickly down the steep stone stairs leading from the dormitories to the lobby of the Abbey.

The large statue of the Baphomet sits hunkered down in the center of the lobby, large ruby eyes glistening wetly in the light from the braziers on the wall. You take a moment to uncross yourself, kissing your rosary in front of the statue and offering silent reverence for the absolute plowing you know you're about to receive-- who are you kidding, any pleasure *this* sinful has to have come from the Dark Lord himself. They don't call it a 'devil's threeway' for nothing, after all.

You shake the spider webbing thoughts from the corners of your mind and hunker down by the side of the statue dais, locating the large black iron ring that serves as a door handle. The trapdoor swings up towards you with ease, silent on well-greased hinges. The path leading down is a bit darker than you would like and you feel your hackles rise slightly. Your breathing quickens and you fumble for the handrail, fingers finally wrapping around cool wrought-iron after blind flailing for a few moments. You know they probably can hear your heart pounding in your chest, but it's just Swiss and Rain waiting for your arrival down there, right? No need to be scared.

For you, at least.

The tunnels wind past the prison and stop cell blocks for the Siblings who've been cast aside by the Church, whether through discipline or willingness, and don't know that they're essentially living sacrifices. You feel sorry for them, but then again, they had to be the worst Siblings. Even for Papas, torture, or even death, tends to be undesirable. You shudder slightly as you remember the former Papa Emeritus the Third, whose reign in the church ended violently. They say if you can survive the dungeons under the Abbey, no infernal entity will ever frighten you again. Rumor has it that Earth has had new Siblings in the past, although you haven't seen any, except for the acolytes.

A chill rushes past you and you feel ice in your fingertips. Is it your own nerves getting the better of you, or are the stones breathing with your arrival? You manage to shake off the grip of fear that threatens to turn your innards to liquid, and slink your way down the stairs. Sconces alight on the walls as you descend, past the door that marks the cells and into the dens of the Ghouls.

It's cozier here than you expected; even the ceilings are decorated with chandeliers, and the walls are framed with archways that give you the feeling of being inside a grand space while still reminding you that you're underground. There are plush cushions and other various fabrics strewn about the floor, surrounding a low lying platform in the middle of the room. The other Ghouls lounge and play about on various instruments as you make your way down the stairs, finishing the last step. Their eyes are alight as their gaze locks onto yours, illuminated almost eerily in the dance of the flames that lick up the sconces on the walls. Some are draped half over the edge of the platform, some entangled with one another, while others look inviting to sit upon.

One of the Ghouls catches your eye, slanted smile painted on their smarmy face. You can't tell if it's a Ghoul or a Ghoulette, but their eyes scream of sex and the flick of their tail suggests that they find you attractive enough to consider it. You smile and catch yourself, quickly averting your eyes towards the corridor and jerking your chin slightly.

"Are Rain and Swiss down there?" you ask. The Ghoul looks disappointed briefly before wiping it from their face and taking on a flirty and airy look instead. They wave their fingers in the direction of the hallway before tucking their hand back under their chin.

"Down there, sweet skin. Unless you'd rather spend the night with me instead." The Ghoul's forked tongue comes out to flick towards you quickly. "Bet I could make you smile, hm?" You huff out a surprised laugh and feel heat creeping up your face, no doubt visible to the Ghoul with their vision.

"I have a- uh- arrangement," you stammer out, jerking your thumb lamely in the direction they indicated. Their eyebrow cocks up and you feel your blush deepen. "Prior! We, uh- made it."

They shrug and run their long, forked tongue over the side of their teeth. "Tis your loss, pretty one. Come find me sometime, and bring the Ghouls. I'm always amenable to a plaything or two." Their tail flicks in amusement and you shiver; your thighs are wet now, as if the Ghoul has convinced your own nether bits that you want it to happen without conscious thought.

You stutter out an "Okay" before turning and walking in the direction of the Ghouls' rooms. Your mind plays the scenario in quick, flashy snippets: Fingers-turned-tongues explore the interior and exterior of your already-soaked sex in the dim but flickering light from the candles mounted on the wall. Another shake of your head to dispel the thoughts and you're moving swiftly, striding through the curved hallway until you find a bedroom with an open door. Peeking through it you see Swiss on a bed that's been pushed up against the wall, his back pressed to the stone and a guitar in his hands. He's strumming lazily, his eyes closed and face tilted towards the low ceiling. His mouth isn't moving but you can hear him humming something, and you stand by the door and watch him silently until he opens his eyes. He doesn't miss a beat, gesturing lazily to his side and not stopping what he's doing.

You kick off your shoes into the corner of the room and join him on the bed, hopping up with ease. Swiss watches you as you do, his hands still moving lithely over the strings of the guitar. You run a hand over his thigh, admiring his skin against yours. He moves a hand to adjust his mask and you feel your chest get tight, like it does every time you look at him. You reach out and feel your hand caress the leather portions of the mask over his cheek and he looks down and chuckles quietly, his ears turning red.

"Missed me, huh?" he teases, setting his instrument aside on the edge of the bed.

"When have I ever not?" you reply breathlessly. He runs a hand through your short hair as he pulls you closer, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. You grab the tops of his biceps and restrain yourself from letting your kiss go deeper; after all, the longer you wait, the more it will excite the both of you... and there's still neither hide nor hair of Rain. Swiss' hands glide from your neck to your waist, drawing you closer with a possessive tug and a growl. The rumble causes heat to flare in your core and you gasp lightly, breaking the kiss and licking your lips. His hand comes up to grip the back of his mask, tugging at the strings that hold it together and allowing it to fall to the floor.

He's beautiful like this-- face slightly flushed with the beginnings of arousal and eyes glinting amber with a twinge of mischief behind them. His fanged teeth poke out just slightly from the corners of his mouth, which are tilted up into a perfect smile. Swiss leans back, giving you a better look at him, one eyebrow cocking Heavenward in a display of cockiness. He knows he's gorgeous, and better yet, he knows that you know. When he tosses his hair behind his shoulder you smile; his beauty still takes your breath away, even a whole relationship and years later.

"Like what you see, don't you?" he says, cockiness on full display. Swiss pumps his hips a little, rolling his pelvis in a way that makes you hungry for him.

"As if I haven't been very vocal about that in the past," you laugh, making a move to push his shoulder in jest. Instead, Swiss grabs your wrist in a smooth motion, fingers curling around you enough to feel his claws against your skin. You gasp before laughing, reaching for him with the arm, which he quickly grabs as well, trapping it against his chest. "You gonna let me go or not, big man?"

"Never. You belong to us."

Swiss tugs you back against him with a growl of ownership and your faces mash together, teeth and lips and tongues the perfect recipe for hunger building between your legs. He's all hard angles and planes and heat under your fingers, the long, rippling muscles under his smooth skin easily accessible for you to explore. You drag your fingertips over his skin and hear his breath hitch, his hips rolling up against you. He breathes hot against your mouth and the skin of your face feels electric with desire. Rain is likely to feel it before he even enters the room; you pull back and touch your cheeks with your fingers and smirk, lips brushing lightly over the shell of his ear.

"I'm turning beet red already," you say quietly, allowing your heated breath to warm his neck. You hear his sharp intake of breath at the sound of your voice and feel yourself involuntarily clench your thighs at the look of pure lust in his eyes as he looks back at you. He smells earthy, almost sweet, with a hint of musk; it reminds you of autumn nights spent lying awake, anticipating the flurry of activity that came with Samhain, the harvest feasts and the endless rounds of fucking in celebration of the season.

Swiss licks his lips before capturing them between his teeth, sucking them and looking contemplative as you feel the brush of something across your thighs. You look down and realize his tail has snuck up to wrap around one of them, and it squeezes lightly before smoothing over the skin. The spade head of his tail sneaks slowly up your leg, teasing at the edge of your habit before sweeping back down, caressing you gently. When you tilt your eyebrow at him, his sly smile cracks into a cocksure grin, pupils blown black in lust already.

"Maybe we could get started while we wait for Rain?" he suggests, his tail slipping further this time and sliding underneath your dress. You lean back enough to scan his body-- smooth and sculpted under his unbuttoned blouse. The planes of his chest are all hard muscle and coarse hair, rising and falling with his breaths. The side panels of his shirt rest on either side of him and you can't help the tingle that settles between your thighs when your eyes slide over the trail of hair that leads down from his navel. There's a twitch at the junction of his hip, a long stripe of flesh flitting in and out of sight; he definitely just jumped, or at least, part of him did.

"At the very least," you reply breathlessly, hiking your dress up over your hips, "this may keep your attention until he gets here." Before the words leave your lips Swiss is on you again, flipping you swiftly until you're beneath him. He brackets your waist with his thighs, holding you down so you can't move and settling his crotch firmly against yours. There's a small wet spot under his bulge in his pants and you feel yourself clench from the thought of being the source of his precum.

Swiss presses against you, sandwiching you between the mattress and himself. His cock throbs against your cunt and your attention narrows to that single point of contact. You stifle a moan when he thrusts his hips slowly against your core, smearing the wet spot from your underwear to his pants and causing another rush of warmth to suffuse your cheeks, leaving them blazing red with arousal and embarrassment.

Your first, deep inhale yields the scent of incense that permeates the lower level, combined with something fresh, clean, and purely him, deep from within-- could it be pheromones? Was Swiss in heat too? Warmth pours off him onto you and makes your head fuzzy, your hands automatically reach to wrap around his biceps and hold him in place, back arched, hips unable to move. You struggle in vain to get some kind of leverage but he has you locked down in this position.

He puts his teeth on your neck and bites lightly, not enough to break the skin, but enough to let you know that he's the one in power here-- just in case you had any lingering thoughts of denial or escape. His fangs just barely pop through the skin and you gasp loudly enough for him to pull back, eyes narrowed quizzically.

"You want the Ghoul or not, baby?" he asks, deliberately pushing his hips against your cunt again. It's been ages since you've allowed either of the boys to bite you, bringing blood, but you're not directly opposed to it. You flush again and reach up behind Swiss' head, dragging him back down against you and pulling his head against your neck. His lips curl into a smile against the soft skin of your throat before he bites you again, forked tongue lapping gently against the small wounds.

The sensation travels to your core as if electric, sending jolts of liquid fire through you to the exact spot where the rounded head of his cock rubs firmly against your slit, soaking your underwear and likely his pants in the process. He growls lightly against the now-marked flesh of your neck and you moan breathily. Blood rolls gently from the slight punctures at a speed quick enough to start pooling under your skin and he laps at the wounds again before finally getting to his feet. You follow him upright, vision slightly fuzzy and head filled with fuzzy cotton batting as you sway on your knees.

Swiss' hands snap out, holding your shoulders steady with his palms flat. You wobble on the bed and his grip changes, sliding his hands up the sides of your neck until he can rest his palms against either side of your windpipe-- one delicate squeeze and it would all be over.

But he doesn't.

Rain appears in the doorway, wordlessly kicking the door shut behind him and sweeping his jacket off of his shoulders in the same motion. His eyes find yours and you watch as he flicks back and forth between Swiss and you, trapped underneath him. Rain's mouth gapes for a second before he regains his composure and grins, stepping further into the room and unbuttoning his shirt, letting the side panels fall free to expose his chest and stomach. His lean and lithe body has always been a point of attraction for you, and he more than likely knows the effect that the simple motion has on you.

"I see you've gotten started without me, aye? Is that fair, when I'm the one who called for it and the one who needs a good rutting?" he asks, his voice good natured. Rain works at his belt and removes it, looping it easily with a soft noise and dropping it back at his feet. He does the same with his pants and slides them down his legs, standing before you now in nothing but his underclothes, slightly more modest than yours, which are almost completely transparent with your arousal. Rain's eyes scan over your legs before he reaches down to take his cock in his hand, rubbing the palm of his other hand firmly over the tip and palming the exposed head. He makes eye contact with you, hooded and dripping with lust, and for a second you wonder if he's got that water magic thing going on that the Nephilim have or if he's just unbelievably turned on.

Swiss growls slightly, rolling the two of you with ease until you're straddling his hips, cunt pressed against the bulge in his pants. The thought of grinding yourself down against him is tempting, but passes almost as soon as you feel Rain behind you, his hands moving down your back to cup your ass appreciatively. He grinds himself between your cheeks and groans loudly, reaching down between you to yank off his underclothes. You drop your head and put your palms down on Swiss' chest, your blunt fingernails making small indents into his skin. Rain claws at the elastic band of your underwear, tugging them down roughly until you hear the seams start to fray.

"Say please," you practically whisper with a wink that only Swiss can see, reaching behind you to wrap a hand loosely around his throbbing length. One of Rain's hands spreads the cheeks of your ass while the other moves between them, slicking your own juices, now mixed with his, over your tight hole before sliding two fingers inside of you. You clench hard around the feeling and tighten your grip around him, twisting your hand lightly to stroke him. He groans in pleasure, already strung tighter than a drum and quivering at the need, the urgent and ever present need, to cum. Rain's fingers scissor you open slowly and he leans forward enough to rake his tongue across your shoulders and neck, the long, forked end leaving a cooling trail of spit on your arousal heated flesh. His claws prickle against your skin before sinking in slightly and you raise your ass further, giving him a better angle to finger you.

Swiss leans forward, nuzzling his nose against the soft skin of your neck and inhaling. His cock twitches where it presses against your belly, and you can practically feel it pulsing in time with his heartbeats. His mouth drops open slightly as he smells again, fixated on the spot where your shoulder meets your neck. The animalistic action sends a surge of panic to your brain that your body interprets as arousal, a thought that will likely only occur to you once the danger has passed and you're alone in your bed. You rock your hips against Swiss and Rain, the slight amount of movement enough to make both men groan audibly.

The pressure of Rain's cock withdraws and you feel it head first against your aching cunt. He grabs your hips and tugs you against his chest, pulling you into him at a sudden and unsuspecting pace. Rain pushes in easily and settles his hips flush with your ass with a long groan, claws finding purchase against your hips again and holding you in place. You flex your walls slightly and let yourself adjust to his heat, full and heavy and settled inside of you. Already, there's the swelling of a knot where his cock meets his slender hips and the thought goes directly to your clit. He's only knotted you once or twice before, but the feeling was enough to make you crave it every time he mentions his heat cycle.

One of your hands wanders south, reaching for Swiss' cock and spreading a bit of precum from the head over the remaining length before teasing him again-- it's swollen and purple, and you ache to feel it inside of your mouth, but the pleasure of Rain's cock is far too much to want to move. Rain snarls from behind you almost as if he's read your mind and slams his hips against yours, his knot pushing at the tight ring of muscle and threatening to split you in two. You give Swiss one last look before bucking your hips, grinding up and against him the best you can from your position. Rain moans as you take his knot halfway before relaxing and wiggling your hips from side to side until he's slid inside you, and he growls something you think is swearing as you fully seat him. Rain's dick is longer than Swiss' and always leaves you gasping at the feeling of being crammed, full enough to hurt and spread open at every point.

"Sathanas, Rain," you gasp, each shuddering breath inward only serving to remind you just how much of him is inside of you. "You couldn't wait?" His sharp exhalation, part laugh and part relief, are all you hear from behind you. Rain's nose trails along your shoulder, warming the fabric of your habit. His other hand has found the junction between your thigh and your side, squeezing possessively as his cock throbs inside of you. He must be aching, straining not to push any further against your walls and the tension keeping his knot out of your body for the moment.

"Been too long," Rain replies simply, his grip tightening as if to make his point. He pushes himself closer to you, teeth resting against the soft skin of your neck as the claws of his free hand sink into your hip again. The bite of pain is welcome, the dull throb in tandem with his pulse as his cock continues to threaten and push outward at the places you're bound to ache after tonight. You reach a hand out and grasp at Swiss' as Rain exhales another shaky, shuddering, trembling moan and begins to rock his hips back and forth. Swiss' fingers entangle themselves with yours as your lips meet, his teeth biting gently on your lower lip.

There's the loud, rhythmic noise of flesh against flesh, Rain and your thighs each hitting you from either side, causing your entire frame to jump. Balls land heavily against the curve of your ass, thick with seed and desperate to empty inside of you. This is the life, and you are the mate, and tonight you are the receptacle of everything he can give, all his pent up energy and desire in this single rutting season. You imagine his eyes fluttering, eyes rolling back inside his head as he closes them to shut out the rest of the world and the task at hand.

Swiss' cock twitches in your hand and you stroke him again, the momentary lapse in concentration making his lips curl into a smile against yours. When he leans forward to kiss you harder, Rain grips your hair in a free hand, tugging you back against him instead and breaking the kiss between you and Swiss. "Give me time," he growls down at Swiss, who puts his hands up simply and leans back on the bed, content to let you grind on him and watch the show. Rain, in heat, clearly feels the need to dominate the situation for the time being.

Swiss rests up on his elbows, giving you a better view of his body and using the freedom to tilt his head slightly. His eyes, normally light and jovial, now seem as if they're burning holes into your body where they gaze, and you are hyper aware of him tracing out a circle around where your body connects with Rain's. His claw trails lightly over the delicate nub of your clit and you gasp, your cunt tightening around Rain's knot, sending shivers up your spine. Your thighs tremble with the effort of holding yourself in position and Rain, noticing your discomfort, eases you down onto Swiss' waiting chest, allowing you to relax and let it push deeper inside of you.

Sucking in a breath through your teeth you look up at Swiss again, whose mouth stretches wide and curved at the corners with the hint of a smile. "Should I-" you start, cut off suddenly by the sharp and near violent sensation of Rain thrusting deeply into you, stretching you to your very limits as he grunts in pleasure. He bends at the waist over you, one hand slipping around you, low at your hips to drag you sharply against him and drive you in further and deeper than before. One of his long fingers dances around your clit as he drives into you, his cock filling you and pressing against the exact spot that you need him.

"God, Rain, you- need- to- be- careful- or I'll-" you cut yourself off, your words punctuated by his thrusts as he grows more and more desperate. With a barely contained shriek you cum, your cunt tightening on Rain's cock as pleasure wracks your body. Swiss moves his hips underneath you, urging you on with profanity laced dirty talk. The bulge of his cock presses against your thigh and he pulses it in time with his hip movements.

Your words lose their way, scattered in between sharp breaths and twitches of your hips. Everything is heightened: The warmth of Rain's cum filling you while your breasts brush lightly against Swiss' hard chest, the sound of skin against skin and quiet pants, his subtle but unyielding musk overpowering your senses. Overwhelming, almost, and your body reacts to the tension in the pit of your abdomen and in Rain's. Your shoulder burns where Rain has already sunk his teeth into you once this evening, a rush of blood welling and leaking in crimson beads that travel further and further as Rain tightens his grip, thrusting unevenly into you. His breath catches in his throat and his knot expands just enough for a sharp and almost painful thrust, prompting a sharp hiss as you cry out. You feel the sensation of fullness in your belly and cunt as he finishes, emptying himself inside you with a shuddering and grating exhale that borders on a sob. His body trembles around you, almost in tandem with yours, shaking from the tension and exertion.

When his hips stop moving his teeth relax in your flesh, pulling free with a popping sensation and know he's definitely broken skin this time. His tongue laps gently at the bite, a soft noise coming from him that could have been mistaken as a whimper were it not coming from someone of Rain's nature. The pressure of him is immense inside of you, a deep and profound sensation that sends aftershocks through your entire body. Swiss' hands rub gently along your sides, encouraging you with soothing and soft words as you come down. Behind you Rain breathes heavily, his breaths of exertion hot against your sweat cooled skin. Now that you're coming down you feel the ache beginning in your core, and you shift slightly on Swiss' lap.

"Uncomfortable, dove?" Rain asks softly, lips starting to pepper the nape of your neck with kisses and nips. His claws still rest on your hips, gently rubbing the soft skin and raising goosebumps in their wake. Your breathing hitches again when the motion of his fingers drags the sensitive nerves and sends more shivers down your spine. His knot slowly recedes and a throbbing ache begins to take its place. Rain chuckles, low in his chest, and you can feel it in your body as if he's taken hold of your ribcage. He hums contentedly, and the rumble sends tingles of pleasure up your spine and a pulsing throb from your clit. "Swiss will take care of that. I've got to grab a smoke."

The weight of Rain on your back disappears, the shift causing you to wince at the slight adjustment as you roll off Swiss onto your side. Your cunt aches with the loss of Rain's knot and you can feel your muscles beginning to tighten with the activity. Swiss stands and stretches, popping his shoulders before he leans down over you, kissing your stomach. "Let me take care of you, now," he mumbles against your skin, facial hair prickling you softly.

"Mm," you manage to get out, scooting across the bed slightly when he motions at you. You sling one arm over your eyes, relaxing back into the pillows and Swiss adjusts and positions himself between your legs. He kisses your inner thighs slowly and luxuriously, lips caressing the soft skin before he uses his fingers to part the flesh around your entrance. Warm, wet tongue drags lightly over your pussy and your entire body shivers at the contact as you tremble underneath him. You're only slightly overstimulated, and the soft and lathing tongue does more to relax and soothe you than anything else. Swiss takes his time with your cunt, lapping gently at your clit, tongue teasing along your sensitive and swollen lips. He pays particular attention to the flesh between your inner and outer lips, knowing it's more sensitive and licking softly before flicking over the delicate flesh, careful not to let his fangs scrape your skin. When his tongue sweeps across your entrance you jolt, gasping slightly before relaxing back into his touch.

His arms rest loosely around your hips, pulling you slightly forward in an effort to bury his tongue as deeply inside your hole as he can reach. In the same second his claws dip into your skin, leaving indentations that will last until the next morning. Another moan escapes you, your free hand reaching down to grasp for Swiss' hair-- an anchor to lash yourself to. Swiss' tongue flicks across your clit again before diving back into you, and your entire body shivers in response. When he looks up at you and catches your eye, his own are aflame and a slight smirk curls his lips before he drops his head again.

"Gonna fuck you soon, baby girl, soon," he purrs, breath ghosting lightly across the sensitive skin of your hips. You shudder and jerk again, and when his tongue darts across your clit and down the flesh leading to your cunt, the motion is deliberate and meant to draw a reaction. It works, and your body shivers, gooseflesh erupting down your spine. His teeth tease your entrance, gently nipping at the delicate flesh as the spade head of his tongue sweeps against you once more.

"God, Swiss, your tongue," you say softly, twisting your fingers tighter into his hair. He chuckles softly against you before pulling back and shaking your hand gently free of his head. Swiss slides smoothly on top of you with one motion, his cock already freed and leaking as it drags along your belly. You reach up and wrap your arms around his shoulders instead, dragging him down against you to kiss you deeply. When his lips meet yours they're warm and full, the taste of yourself and Rain still present as he pushes his tongue past your teeth, tangling with yours.

The scent of incense fills your nose again and you sigh softly against his lips before they pull away. Swiss smiles softly as he settles his weight on his forearms, hands cupping either side of your head as he runs the length of his cock between your folds, rubbing and pressing at your clit with the rounded tip of his cock. You suck in a sharp breath and let out a shuddering gasp, heat building inside your abdomen already, although you'd just orgasmed less than ten minutes before.

"Swiss," you manage to get out as you roll your hips down and press yourself against his shaft. The friction makes you whine, a breathy moan leaving your lips and ending on the softest of exhalations, your body relaxing back into the sheets of his bed. Swiss looks up and grins, his hands now on your hips, thumbs stroking over the soft, delicate skin as he teases you with the head of his cock, pressing in slowly and then drawing it away.

"What do you want, sweet thing?" He punctuates with another flick of his hips, pulling his cock against your clit once more, his breath catching slightly as the friction rubs your sensitive skin. You tremble with want, a desperate ache settling into your belly again, but your tongue is heavy in your mouth and you can't form the words that he so clearly wants from you. "You know, if I knew you'd be so shy about saying it I would've asked Rain to stick around," he chuckles, tilting his hips so that the length of his cock settles over your stomach, warm and pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He tilts his chin down at you as you look up and smiles. "What do you want me to do? You know I want you to tell me," he prompts.

You inhale again and sigh out, relaxing under his touch and feeling a flush creep over your neck and chest as you swallow hard. "I need your cock in me, Swiss, please," you murmur, looking up at him through hooded eyes, eyelids fluttering when his fingers flex and squeeze the sensitive flesh at the juncture of your hips and thighs. Swiss groans, shifting on top of you before sliding his hand between the two of you to grasp his cock. You can feel it slide wetly over the skin of your stomach as he jerks his hand over it, your hips rolling and meeting his movement. His eyes lock with yours and his pupils blow wide with arousal before his cock slides into position, pushing into the tightness of your body and stretching your cunt around it.

He's a more comfortable fit than Rain's knot, to be sure, but the sudden feeling of being filled is all the same. Swiss thrusts slowly at first, each motion stretching and teasing your inner walls as your cunt stretches to accommodate his girth. Each thrust is deliberate and careful, a test of restraint for him as well as a test of patience for you. You try to pull him against you by the hips, and when that doesn't work, by his shoulders, but he shakes free of each grip with a breathy laugh and an exhalation that makes his mouth twitch into a smirk. "Don't you know patience is a virtue, baby?" he growls playfully.

"You saw what Rain just did to me-- I didn't have much patience then, either." Your quip comes quick and effective, making Swiss snort out a laugh.

"Yeah, that's-" He rolls his hips, making you gasp, eyes flying wide open. "That's about right," he says, settling into a rhythm finally, the sound of skin on skin getting louder as he does. He drives the tip of his cock into you, teasing against you.

"Don't play that way with me," you manage, looking up at Swiss, whose smile turns into a devilish grin. He reaches down, pinning one of your legs underneath him with one of his own. When his hand wraps around your throat your eyes fly wide and you inhale, a short and startled sound that's cut short by Swiss' firm grasp.

"Is this better?" he asks, tilting his hips so that he slams into the spot that makes you see stars and you know it won't be long until you witness the cosmos flashing in front of you as you cum for the second time. The motion makes you spasm involuntarily, and he squeezes your neck tighter, watching as your face goes from light red to dark crimson before his hand eases the grip slightly.

You shudder against his fingers as his hips snap against your clit again, and the pressure on your neck, although light, still has you feeling slightly dizzy and disoriented, like your entire being has narrowed down to the spot where the two of you join. His hands tighten on you again as his eyes fix on yours, searching your face for a sign of discomfort. With another powerful thrust he cums, his hand squeezing harshly for a moment before releasing entirely. Swiss drops over top of you, his hands pressed into the bed on either side of your head and he breathes heavily, his hips twitching and cock pumping inside of you.

His thrusting is slow and shallow, drawing his cum out against your walls and leaving a sticky warmth between your thighs when he withdraws, slumping off of you to lay on his back at your side. His arm goes across your shoulders as he catches his breath, his lips moving against the side of your head. You feel your eyelids get heavy as you come down and snuggle closer, listening to his heartbeat slow to a normal pace. You hear Rain in the hallway and the sound of the pipes creaking as he turns the taps.

You blink and Rain is there, gently tending to you with a warm and dampened wash rag, whispering words of love and praise for your mushy brain to soak up. Swiss nods along with him, reinforcing the words of endearment and adding his own, whispered softly into the crook of your neck with earnest.

And then it is morning.

----

Liked it? Reblog it! It helps me more than you know! 💜 I have a tip jar as well, located here!

Thanks for sticking around! 💜

#the band ghost fics #the band ghost ficlet #ghost bc fanfic #lorraine writes #era 4 ghouls #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #swiss x rain #swiss x reader #rain x reader #rain ghoul

82 notes · View notes

lady-necropolis · 11 months

Text

Ghost bc Whump Month Day Two: Collapse

Little late with these but better than never I guess!

TW for a character forgetting / neglecting to eat

You never minded working hard, and it wasn’t that you were trying to grind yourself to the bone. It was just, easy to forget about everything else on tour. There was always something. Last minute costume fixes, scheduling issues, keeping the bus clean. And the ghouls. The ghouls. Swiss and Dew making a mess after one of their shenanigans, Swiss and Dew at one another’s throats, trying to get Mountain up for rehearsals— The point was that there was always something to do!

And today was one of those days. Everything that could go wrong, was kind of going wrong. First, you were up early to get coffees and breakfast for everyone because a particularly plucky fire ghoul fried the outlets last night and no one had had time to repair them yet. Thankfully, Aether was up early too and offered to come with and help you bring it all back so you got some mercy there. Then you broke up a squabble about who took the last cinnamon roll and went about making calls to reschedule interviews, make sure the venues were prepared, let the hotel know you would be late to check in because of course, the bus was having problems.

You’d been busy. And breakfast was far gone. But you still had work to. So, you ignored the neglected rumblings of your stomach and your shaky hands and pushed through the best you could. It was your turn to clean the bus anyway, and you were nearly done, only the kitchenette left. You’d eat as soon as you were done. You’d bent down to pick up a fork you’d dropped while doing the dishes when footsteps resounded behind you, coming to a casual stop.

“Hey sister, do you know if we have any crackers left?” Dewdrop asked, yawning. Probably just got up from a nap.

“Um.” You frown, standing up. Blood rushes from your head and you steady yourself with a hand on the counter, little black spots slowly creeping their way into your vision. “Check the cabinets,” you sigh. “Can’t remember.” Every second that goes by the black spots creep further and further in. You shake your head, gripping the counter. Just push through. Almost done. You take a glass from the sink, fumbling for the dish rag.

“Hey, you good?”

“Hmm?” You turn around, leaning back on the counter. Dew’s voice is coming from somewhere, but right now you can’t possibly pinpoint exactly where that somewhere might be.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His voice is hollow, and why is everything spinning? The glass slides from your hand, shattering on the floor with a loud crash. “Shit!”

“Oopsie Daisy,” you mumble. You hear a distant “Fuck!” as the world goes black.

“She just went down.” A cold sweat sweeps over you, and as you crack your eyes open, you’re vaguely aware of two shadowy heads looming over you.

“Did she hit her head?” There’s cotton in your ears, fuzzy, muddled.

“Nah, caught her before she fell.”

“What happened?” You groan, trying to sit up.

“Hey, hey, hey, easy.” Aether’s guides you up to sit slowly with firm, gentle hands on your shoulders, and you blink in confusion.

“You passed out on me,” Dew says softly. Then there’s a glass of water thrust into your hand. You take a small sip, and then another. The cold water soothing your befuddled mind, lifting that heavy fog.

“We should get you to your bunk. You need to rest right now,” Aether murmurs. All you can do is nod weakly, letting the Aether ghoul help you up from the floor and walk you to your bunk. He settles you in with a cold facecloth on your forehead, saying he’ll come check on you in a bit.

You’re alone for a few minutes, finishing off your glass of water when there’s a knock on the outside of your bunk. You pull back the curtains to find Dew holding a plate with some crackers, cheese, and a few candies on it

“Feelin’ good enough to eat something?” You offer him a small smile and scoot over on the smell bed, patting the empty space next to you in offering. The fire ghoul huffs, but takes your offer, handing you the plate before settling in, tucking a hand behind his head.

“Thanks,” you murmur, gingerly taking a bite out of a cracker. When it doesn’t upset your stomach, you wolf it down, putting a slice of cheese on the next one.

“Figured you hadn’t eaten,” he chuckles, and you nod.

“Got busy.”

“I know. You’ve been going non-stop all day.” He frowns at you, a very unfamiliar crease forming between his brows. He’s worried.

“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly around another cracker, and Dew shakes his head.

“No, no you don’t have to apologize. It’s just—you scared me is all.” He grumbles it out, a hand scratching at his brow. And your heart melts a little bit at that. You snuggle closer to the fire ghoul, and though you’re fully expecting him to pull away, he doesn’t. “C’mere,” he mutters under his breath, sliding an arm under your head, pulling you into his side. You rest your head on his chest, feeling Dew tuck you under his chin, his warmth calming you.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” You shrug.

“Worrying about me.” A puff of soft laughter tickles your hair.

“Someone’s got to.” You merely hum, finishing off your snack and popping a candy into your mouth. Dew places the plate on the floor, and for awhile, the two of you lie together in total silence; him, petting your hair and gently purring, you with a small smile on your face.

“Can’t believe you said oopsie daisy before passing out,” Dew snickers, and you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Shut up!” you groan, but you’re laughing along with him.

“It was cute.”

“Yeah?” You crane your neck up, and he looks down at you, grinning in amusement.

“Yeah.”

The exhaustion of the day is getting to you, and Dew’s warmth and the sway of the bus are certainly not helping. You fight to keep your eyes open.

“Hey,” Dew murmurs, noticing as you try to rub the sleep from your eyes. “Just sleep, you got nowhere you need to be.” And as though he’s pulling the thoughts straight out of your mind, Dew adds: “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You smile into the fire ghoul’s chest, and with the feeling of his cheek resting atop your head, you drift off into much needed slumber.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost bc fanfic #whump month #dewdrop ghoul #sodomizer ghoul #dewdrop x reader #nameless ghouls

108 notes · View notes

black-moon-bunny · 1 year

Text

The un-fitting sister. (Multi-pairing)

After being handpicked by Sister Imperator, one of the newest sisters in the church gets a room right next to the library and a job to do. She turns that room into her personal sanctuary and tries to live there in peace, drowning the feeling of being an outcast. But the stress of the job comes soon to her after catching the attention and curiosity of some of the Ghouls in the abbey.

Chapter one, Chapter two , Chapter Three

Couples: Fem!Reader x Ghouls (In this chapter is just Swiss)

Warnings: Y/N used. Swiss is a bit of an asshole and a tease, dub con if you squint really hard. A bit of feels. Masturbation (Male) Some dynamics from the omega-verse (heat season and scents and blah) NSFW. +18. Minors DNI. All of the pictures were taken from the internet so credits to the people who made them.

Word Count: 5725.

A.N: I want to give special thanks to Skar and Banshee two of my IRL friends, classmates from the university and best friends who help me with the edition and comments (Specially Skar she beta-read this and did some editing.) And also I want to give special thanks to @i-foundued @copias-girl @violet-lazer @theblogghoulette @writingjourney @sweetandwoe and @whatawonderfulexistence--blog who without maybe knowing it made my end of semester less painful and gave me a lot of comfort with their writing, and also inspired me to write again. (Please people go check their work is AMAZING ) And finally I took inspiration for the physique of the ghouls from a wonderful fanart from @feuvyper

When the retired teacher first entered the abbey, she felt at home. She felt like this was going to be the place where she could finally be fully accepted, but sooner than later she started to get this feeling of loneliness again. She didn’t feel as a total outcast between her sisters and brothers of sin, most of them were really nice, caring, and comprehensive of her quirkiness, but she still felt like she didn’t fit in the mold not even in a place like this where most things were accepted.

When did this feeling of not belonging start? If she can recall, it was during her teenage years when she started to feel weird between her peers. Although she was smart, she didn’t quite fit between the “smart kids”: She was too loud, too talkative, and too rebellious to fit with them and while she was amiable with everyone, she did not tolerate the obnoxious “popular kids” who bullied almost everyone who did not fit in their status quo. She was never bullied but did not have enough privilege to be completely left alone either, they picked on her because she was too interested in the weird, unsettling things; in the mythos, in the darkness, in the weird books of the library and usually mingled with the “emo kids” without being one of them. One of their favorite ways to annoy her was telling everyone how she was so weird that not even the “emo weirdos” wanted her as a friend.

Kids are so mean sometimes, but her teenage era ended, and she decided to study at the University as she wanted to become a teacher. While entering her twenties she could be seen jumping between your average mainstream things and super weird hobbies and likings. As her mom used to say, one day she could be listening to the cheesiest k-pop song and the other she was listening to the dirtiest heavy metal. She sometimes felt like the whole rainbow, and, in others, she looked like a scale of grey. This helped her a lot while teaching, she could get along well with her students but not with her colleagues who talked behind her back as how undefined and weird could she be and how it was unprofessional from the way she talked to the way she dressed, and this ended up making her quit the job after only a few years after starting. So, at the end she didn’t fit in completely again, and decided to leave everything behind on her 26th birthday, bought a plane ticket and traveled around visiting places that interested her. That’s how she found the abbey.

Now, an entire year after joining she was fine, but still feeling like she did not belong here completely. She puts her whole heart during masses, she gets along fine with her siblings in sin, she has a job in the enormous library in the domains of the church and she really enjoys her life… But she felt empty and alone most of the time especially now that Sister Imperator changed her room arrangements after a couple of “night intrusions” into the library.

—I know that you are quite fond of books, and you have been taking diligent care of the library, and lately there has been a sort of late-night intrusions to the place. So, I need to ask you to move your room into the one next to the library. It is smaller but you won’t be sharing a room with anyone so you will fit there nicely.

—Sister I’m honored to be in your thoughts regarding this problem but, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do such thing… We have really expensive and antique material in there, and if some of it went missing it would be a huge problem to our clergy. It is a huge responsibility and…. —As the sister tried to give her excuses, Imperator was losing her patience. So, she cut her middle sentence.

—Sister y/n, are you underestimating my ability to judge? I believe that you have the perfect fit for this job, you could still work in the library and at night you should only keep an eye if there is some strange movement and inform about any encounters to me personally.

Imperator was determined to give her this position. She knew that any other sister would be incapable of doing it. Being the head behind the shadows of the clergy she was completely aware of who were the ones intruding the library. The ghouls and one of the Papas, they used the place as another one of their bedrooms to indulge in sin with the sisters and brothers. Going behind her back or at least trying to, she was annoyed by the situation and needed a solution. That’s when Sister y/n crossed her mind. She was different and quite charming, but was no fool, too self-aware to indulge in the charms of the sinful flesh of the ghouls and Terzo. It was perfect, unfitting enough between her peers to accommodate to this job without any problems.

—Do you understand? The accommodations are going to be ready today before the sun sets.

—Yes sister….—She lowered her head— I’m sorry for upsetting you

—Don't worry child, you are going to be just fine. And I’m going to let you pass this one, but if I chose you, it was because I know that you are capable. Never doubt me again, Sister—She said with the same frightening tone— Go now, you are excused from the rest of your day. Here is the key to your new room for you to get a first look at it.

—Thank you, Sister Imperator, if you excuse me…—She made a small bow and turned, but before going Imperator said something back

—Oh, and dear child, the room has some interesting secrets. I hope you get used to it and use the accommodations in your favor.

She had been living there for a whole month, and nothing remotely interesting had happened. She did not find anything weird in the room. It was, as Sister said; perfect for her, but until that moment she did not find any “secret”. She still worked at the library during the day and at night she spent her time reading on her bed and listening to some music. She felt free, lonely but free. The library and her room were on the opposite side of the rooms and after the midnight curfew not a single soul went to the wing of the library, so she was free to listen and watch her cheesy songs and shows without being judged by her roommates. She can sing and dance alone in her room without anyone there to see or listen to her and, during the day, she could still be “normal” to the clergy and its standards. Nevertheless, she still felt lonely from time to time, and in the back of her mind she still felt like she did not belong completely there. She was still too colorful sometimes, too talkative, too energetic…

Unaware of it, the sister was not the only one enjoying the peaceful corner of the abbey. There was a curious ghoul who had been wandering outside her room since a couple of weeks ago. Sodo was trying really hard to enter the library at night. He was the one to find how marvelous was the place at night to enjoy himself and some sister or brother of his liking, and then the rumor spread to Swiss, Papa, Aether, Cirrus. Even Rain and Mountain decided to try their luck on the silent library passed the curfew. It was wonderful until Sister Imperator cut him off by moving one of the sisters to the room next to the library, and he was fucked. But she needed sleep at some point, right? So, he decided to wander around the library hoping to catch the moment in which the annoying sister in the room finally fell asleep so he could enter the forbidden room again. But when he listened through the door, he did not hear a snore or some signal of a sleeping sister. He listened to a sweet voice singing at the beat of a song he did not knew. And he liked it, the curious nature of the fire ghoul wanted to know who she was, and what she was listening to, and most importantly why Imperator choose her to be here, all alone keeping an eye on the next room. So, he kept the secret and wandered some more nights outside her door, wanting to discover who was behind the voice who kept him apart from his delicious library spot. Each night, he returned to their den without answers.

—Could you finally break into the library? —Swiss was not pleased with loosing that spot either, so every night after Sodo returned to their den he pressured the ghoul to finally do something

—I already told you, she kept most of her night awake and there is no other entrance to the library than the one right next to her door! Imperator is going to punish us again if she finds out that we break the curfew and entered the library…

—Well… There is indeed another entrance, two if I can recall correctly —The voice of Emeritus the Third entered the room companied by Cirrus and Rain who were coming from a party outside the clergy’s domain— Si, one of them is behind a painting of the old man upstairs on the second floor and leads to the upper part of the library and the other I have no knowledge of it. Maybe is in the gardens of Primo, he usually goes to the library when he is not taking care of his garden…

—Excuse me Papa but if you knew about this… Why didn’t you tell us? —Swiss scoffed — It was our favorite place to sin!

—Because I was almost sure that our “dear” Sister Imperator had blocked the entrance upstairs. I don’t have the time to go and check but if it’s still available you could use it… And tell me if it works.

—So, you don’t get in trouble with Seestor? —Sodo mocked in nihil tone while talking about Imperator.

—Yes, she can be quite scary and the old man is completely under her control, I don’t want to mess around and find out what her punishments can be. Even Primo fears her. —He laughed a bit at his own confession and left the room, the ghouls looked at each other with smirks of anticipation on their faces. Who was going to be the first one to test their luck and enjoy the pleasures of the desert library?

Swiss decided that it was going to be him, so the next day he waited patiently for the library to open so he could "pick a book” from the second floor. As he walked into the library, he saw a couple of sleepy eyes in the reception corner. He assumed that she was the sister who lived next door and was messing up with his plans… If he could manage to seduce her, Sister Imperator would kick her of the job?

—Good morning, Sister…—Swiss smiled at her, showing a bit of his fangs while at it.

—Good morning…. — She looked at the ghoul and froze a bit. It was not the first time that she had seen the ghouls. Usually, she saw them at dinner seated next to Papa and the upper clergy, in the mass or the rituals. And they were amazing on stage, full of energy, moving the masses and being devoted to giving the best of them each time. But she had never seen one right there in front of her, and she was stunned. His greyish skin peeking through his hands and neck, the smell of musky cologne; probably not even cologne, just his own scent. It was intoxicating. Now she could understand a bit how easy it was for them to seduce both sisters and brothers in sin. His sole presence was intimidating yet at the same time magnetic.

—Oh, we have never met before, right? It’s a pleasure Sister…. —The smell grew stronger as the ghoul took a step closer to find the name in the desk — Sister….y/n?

—Eh…Y-Yeah…—She took a step back. She felt lightheaded with the smell, but at the same time she could not avoid the desire to keep indulging in the scent of the ghoul.— Nice to meet you…—She tried to make eye contact, but when her eyes locked with the ghoul, even through the mask, she felt like a scorching sensation growing from her stomach and traveling to her head. She lowered her gaze to the desk trying to find the registry book.

—Swiss, you can call me Swiss. —His grin extended a bit seeing how easy it was to flood her mind with his scent. It was a dirty trick but he was having a lot of fun with her. Maybe his plan of going to the second floor could wait a bit. Maybe he could tease her enough to make her fall. — I was wondering… Would you be bothered if I stay here and read some books? I would love to read something but in the ghouls den is a bit… difficult, you know? They are most of the day screaming and creating mayhem…—He tried to capture her gaze again and his voice made a soft change to a lower tone — And don’t get me wrong, I love mischief myself —He licked his lips before continuing, passing his tongue over the tip of one of his fangs. The poor sister was like a bunny in headlights, mesmerized with the sight in front of her. — But sometimes you need a place more… private and quiet to relax, right? —Taking a step closer to the desk, the ghoul pressed both of his hands onto the wood, looking at the hands of the sister who fidgeted with the pages of an old book. — Do… you… mind?

—O-Oh! Ehm…N-No! Not at all, I mean this is the library anyways and you have the same right as everyone here to use it. I’m just here to make paperwork and also organize a bit. It is really calm here so you could be here all day reading if you wanted to….—She took the book and opened in a new page, she wrote the date and then she looked at Swiss— Here, you need to sign here and then you have to bring the books that you are going to be using so I can take the register and before leaving, you need to sign again. That’s all.

Swiss watched how the sister wrote with wobbly hands his name next to the date and moved his hand slowly to take the pen from her and sign. When he brushed her fingers, he noticed how her heart rate increased, and how her cheeks blushed slightly. She was such a cutie; how could he tempt her even more? He was barely touching her, and she was already blushing. He was sure now that this was going to be completely amusing.

—Thank you, Sister… Would you recommend something? I know my fair share of books, but I don’t have any particular likings. —He was trying his best to keep eye contact, but she kept avoiding his gaze. But her body spoke volumes to him, her scent was sweet but as he kept talking, her body scent shifted a bit, a sweet and acidic smell, like a pomegranate. She was reacting as he expected and that delighted him.

—Eh… Well… Maybe something of Science Fiction if you want to. We have a bit of everything… Even gardening books. Papa Primo usually reads them while attending the garden...—She was talking a lot again, but she couldn’t stop it. Even if she wanted to, his sole presence made her keep talking — Or maybe some horror literature? I have a few favorites… Some Gothic literature could interest you also…

—Whatever you prefer Sister…—Swiss took some distance from the main desk while the sister moved towards one of the bookshelves searching for a specific book, The Picture of Dorian Grey, one of her favorites, but she couldn’t reach it. Before she could even ask for help, she felt Swiss body behind her, pushing her slightly against the bookshelf, trapping her between the books and his chest. The scent of the ghoul grew stronger flooding her lungs and leaving her lightheaded again. Swiss’ arm moved upwards and took the book, but kept his position and lowered his head to speak right behind the distraught sister ear.

—Is this what you want?...—He asked in a low deep voice, his breath colliding with her ear and sending shivers down her spine. She felt her thighs pressing against each other ever so slightly, as a way to control the pressure growing in her core. Swiss felt the change again in her smell, even more sweet but strong and acidic. He couldn’t help getting aroused, her scent was different of what he usually smelled in the sister’s. Her scent was stronger, and more addictive. At this point he could totally forget going to the second floor and find the door from the inside of the library. — The book?

—Yes…—Her voice was almost a soft whimper, her breathing was deep, almost like she wanted to drown in the smell of Swiss. She felt the heat of his body pressed against her back, and if she pressed a bit against the ghoul, she could swear that he was well built underneath his pants. Now she knew why it was so easy for them to seduce. Was it something natural to them?

—Well, thank you…—With more will that he thought he would need, Swiss backed up from the sister. Finally, she could breathe air again, but at the same time she felt a bit empty. — Do you mind if I sit there? —Swiss pointed a small armchair facing the desk, he wanted to test her will even further. He was having a blast and also, he wanted to have a small taste of that sweet, scented bunny who looked at him with her big eyes and blushed cheeks.

She went back to her desk, and he took a seat opening the book. The air felt heavy, and the tension was thick enough to be cut with razor, but she kept doing her work, trying her best to cool down a bit and keep her mind away from the ghoul in front of her. But her mind was betraying her; She thought on how would it feel being underneath him while he grabs her hair and pushes against her. Would he be like a beast? Maybe sweeter? How big it was? He was a ghoul! Maybe their proportions were different? Each one of those thoughts flooded her brain while trying to do her paperwork.

Her body was also betraying her; Her legs felt like gelatin, and she knew that her underwear was getting wetter by the minute. She couldn’t help it, it was like all of that scent drugged her, her whole body was feeling sensitive, but she needed to keep a straight face. She could not let go of herself. She needed to do her job and if she failed, Sister Imperator would probably kick her out of the abbey. She tried to focus on her papers until she looked up for a brief moment to where Swiss was seated, and then she got lost in the picture. Swiss with a couple of loose buttons in his shirt, seated with his legs wide open with the book on one hand and the other in his left thigh, going slowly from his knee close to his crotch and down again.

It was a slut move. He knew it, he wanted to keep going. Fuck the second entrance to the library, he was enjoying this so much. Her scent grew and he could almost taste her, her arousal. He felt the tightness in his pants. He was getting horny too, even his glare began to fail. He was going to take it even further. He took off his mask and left it on the table close to him, brushed a bit of his hair before returning to his "reading".

She almost choked when he took his mask out. If she already believed that he was handsome beneath the mask, reality hit her like a truck. He was gorgeous. He had a beard not too long but enough to cover his chin and jawline. His human glare was fading, and she could see the lines between his hair where his horns were and his skin, a warmer tone of grey, began to fade black towards his temples and hands. It was breathtaking. He couldn’t handle it as well as she thought, her arousal was making a pool between her legs. Damned ghoul, if she indulges, she was going to get in so much trouble with Sister Imperator.

Swiss was fully aware of the reactions of the sister. Her scent now was intoxicating him, he could feel her arousal, his glare giving up slowly and his pants were becoming tighter by the minute. But he still could play it cool. He moved a bit from the seat to accommodate himself and, without any shame, he grabbed his crotch and fixed his erection to release some pressure, moving it a bit inside his pants. And when he did this, he looked right into her eyes with a growing smirk.

—Is everything all right Sister y/n? You seem quite… uneasy —Uneasy was an understatement. She was dying from the inside; her legs would stop working at any minute; her lungs were burning, and her pussy was squelching as she pressed her legs tightly to relieve some of the pressure.

—Y-Yeah, it is fine, I’m just… It is really hot in here, maybe I should open a window…—She tried to walk but her body was making it difficult. When she left the desk, she could feel the gaze of the ghoul going up her legs.

—You know… Something about ghouls is that depending on the element we possess…We can change our body temperature. If you are so hot… Maybe I can cool you down —He pated one of his thighs with a sassy smirk.

—I don’t think that… it’s going to cool me down…—She walked closer to the armchair, almost hypnotized by the ghoul. She really wanted to let herself go, worship the ghoul in front of her, an almost primal desire. She was not a “prude” or anything, she has a couple of encounters under her sleeve, but she never felt something quite arousing as this weird play with Swiss, and she was about to fall into it.

—Just trust me, Sister… I’m a lot of things but not a liar…—When she was close enough, he grabbed her arm an made her sit in his lap. She let out a small moan and Swiss’ hands squeezed her thighs growling —I’m cold? … You are trembling…—He had this mischievous grin on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, but he hoped that she didn’t know what she was doing to him. His cock was pressing so hard against the seam of his pants, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on the fabric. His tail was fast to travel beneath her back and positioning itself between her breast, cupping one of them. He needed her, his body was reacting like crazy. He was pretty sure that his “heat” season was far away, but he was feeling like he was in heat. Even thinking of keeping her a secret and just for him.

—Swiss, don’t, I can’t….

—Oh, why not? Seestor is not going to know… And I’m going crazy here… You smell delicious…—His face was hidden in her neck, taking deep breaths of her scent while caressing her legs. — Don’t lie to me Sister… You want this as much as I want this… I can smell it…—He moved one of his hands closer to the seam of her underwear, trying to pull it aside to touch, feeling in the fabric how wet she was; his fingers impregnating with her fluids.

—Swiss… N-No…I can’t. Y-You…. Sister Imperator is… is going to kill me…—She tried to move his hands away but couldn’t. Why was it so hard to say no? She wanted it so badly; her whole body was on fire. And his hands were cold, touching her so right. It has been so long since she let herself be caressed like that.

—I can smell how your scent drops from here… Right here —He was about to move her underwear aside finally touching her, he wanted nothing more at that point.

And then then someone moved the door, knocking a couple of times

—Sister y/n, I brought back the books of vegetables of the season.

Papa Emeritus the First, Primo.

She jumped from his lap as quickly as possible and went behind the desk again. Swiss walked into one of the corridors full of books, hiding from Primo’s sight. He was completely out of his human glare, with a hard on, sweating and gasping in complete heat. He was so close, she smelled so sweet. His frustration grew quickly. He remembered why he was there in the first place and got even more annoyed with the whole situation

Her legs were about to collapse, her underwear beneath her skirt was almost falling from her ass down to her knees. She felt how wet she was. She was completely flustered, gasping for a bit of air.

Primo was old, but not blind. And he was no fool. He knew exactly what was going on, but there was no one there besides her… and the suspicious ghoul mask. One of Copia’s ghouls.

—Sister… Are you okay? You seem quite… unwell…. —Or too well, but Primo was a gentleman, and he knew that she could get in trouble with Imperator.

—Yeah! I’m just… Is really hot here, and I been working…

—Alone? —He pointed out the mask with a sly smirk.

—O-Oh, eh…S-Swiss was helping me to … eh, reorganize some books of the upper shelf and well, he was more comfortable without the mask… B-But he …

—Here, Sister…. —Swiss’ voice was low. He was angry. — I finished. I’m leaving… Thanks for letting me… help. If you excuse me, Papa…. —He grabbed the mask and left as quickly as he could. He was pissed, he was horny also. He needed to take that anger out, and he needed to fuck. He had an amazing idea. He went up to the second floor of the abbey looking for the painting of the old man. When he finally found it, he tried to move it, trigger something to open that allegedly “secret corridor” but nothing happened. Until he realized that one of the eyes of the painting was sinking out slightly from the painting. He poked it looking at his surroundings, but it was early and most of the hallways were empty; the majority of siblings were preparing for the mass before lunch. And Sister Imperator was probably with the old man. The painting moved a bit, letting Swiss enter a small corridor. He followed and found that, indeed, it was connected with the library. He entered the library from the second floor, careful not to be discovered. And he overhead a conversation between the Sister and Primo.

—I-Its okay, Papa… I swear, Swiss was just helping me.

—I know, but if he oversteps, you should put him in his place, ghoul or not. You have my protection…—He was serious about that; he had a soft spot for her. When she was not working at the library, she would spend some time with Primo taking care of the garden. She looked at him as a fatherly figure between the clergy, even reminded her of her own grandpa who passed when she was younger.

—I will Papa, don’t worry… Besides, it’s just a ghoul. He is just… charming to the other sisters. —She was trying to put dirt on the fact that the ghoul almost fucked her. She needed to pretend that she didn’t care or even feel attracted to Swiss, even when down her legs she still was wet from her previous encounter. She knew that getting involved with a ghoul in that kind of way could mess her relationship with Sister Imperator; and the job, and keeping the room for herself, her own little sanctuary. Now that Swiss was gone, that his scent was gone, she was thinking with more clarity— He is just a ghoul like many others of the abbey… N-Nothing special…. —The aftershock of her body was killing her. Even though she felt wasted after the interaction, even when her whole body hurt and her legs felt stiff, she was doing her best to keep a smile and good position to avoid Primo of suspecting more of her situation, but in her insides one part of her was cursing the ghoul who put her in that position.

Swiss heard everything from the second floor. Even the lame advice from Primo.

Just a ghoul? Like others? Nothing special? Swiss sissed under his breath. He was going to show her that he was THE ghoul, he took that personally. Specially after almost fucking her. He flooded her mind just moments ago and now she said that he is “just a ghoul”, huh? Well, that ghoul was determined on fucking her, or hating her. Who did she believe she was? She is the main reason why they lost their soft spot at the library! If she wouldn’t move next door and accepted the job of “night guard”. And she was such a mess so easily, so eager for touch, for his touch… Her scent was still lingering on him. He went back to the den, complaining loudly about how annoying she was.

—Who does she think she is? She is just the new puppet of Imperator! A simple ghoul? Like she was not about to moan my name… That old bag of Primo screw me over, I swear… I’m going to go back to that fucking library and show her who is a “simple ghoul”.

Aether and Sodo were watching a movie, trying to prove a theory about Godzilla, really invested in a heated discussion when they heard the door slam and Swiss going off about something. They only picked a few pieces before the ghoul locked himself in the bathroom. They looked at each other and laughed a bit. Swiss already had troubles with the library sister? Sodo kept thinking to himself why she was so special, and how special, she didn’t let Swiss flirting pass? She mocked him. She managed to annoy him! And that already gave her good points. Aether was thinking in what type of trouble Swiss gave to the poor sister.

Swiss undressed and went into the bathtub, feeling the scorching water soothe his skin. He still smelled like her… His hands specially. He could only picture her with her big doe eyes that looked all flustered. How sweet would she taste? How many times could he make her cum? He was sure that he could make her pass out of pleasure. He closed his eyes and let his imagination wander around. Her smell was so delicious, so sweet and also acid; her voice was so sweet and that little moan she let out, he was sure that she would sound even greater moaning his name while he thrusts inside of her. And he didn’t even see her naked. He was sure that she was a piece of art underneath the dress. He took one of his hands to his face to wash it and then the smell on his fingers hit his nostrils, the sweet scent… He was hard again. He blamed himself for being so aroused, maybe his heat season started early. That sister could not have such power over him. Maybe she didn’t even smell that good and it’s his heat that made him react like that to her.

He lowered his free hand to his cock, stroking it under the water. With his eyes closed he tried to think in any of the sisters or brothers that he fucked with, trying to erase her from his mind but, after a couple of minutes the scent from his fingers returned. He kept that hand close to his nose and mouth, sniffing like a wild animal. Hating himself for being so heated just by her smell, he strokes his cock faster, thrusting his hips into his hand while gasping for more. In his mind, she was with him in that armchair; he was fucking her reverse cowgirl style, squeezing her breast that bounced at the rhythm of his thrusts. The water in the bathtub was spilling from the sides every time he moved his hips; his moans and growls were loud, his tail was going over his chest, moving and pressing the tip of his dick every time he pushed up.

—Mngh… y/n… I’m going to…

He kept his thrusts, and he could swear that he heard her moans, her slutty mouth moaning his name while bouncing on his cock, looking cock drunk and asking him for more… How she needed him to fuck the devil out of her, him knotting her down leaving her as a fucking mess on that fucking desk. With a few more thrust and a deep growl he came, almost all of the water was spilled so he ended up seated in a hot puddle of water with cum all over his chest, gasping a bit for air. After the bliss went out, he took a cold shower and cleaned his mess (before Sunshine scolded him for leaving the floor all wet).

He got prepared for the night mass, and while preparing himself, his mind was thinking about how he was going to get his revenge on the doe-eyed sister. He needed to prove to himself that it was a heat thing, she was nothing special. Just another sister. And in that moment, he thought about the perfect revenge. He couldn’t wait to see her at the mass.

A.N : Hey! I finally got some time for myself; university took the best part of my time and mental health that's for sure. But one of the things that kept me going was the marvelous amount of fanfiction that I had been reading from the ghouls and the Papas. So now that I have some time, I finally decided to give it a go. English is not my first language so, again it is a bit of a challenge. Some information about the fic and the chapters that are coming; I do not plan to give this fic a "monogamous" treatment, reader is probably going to have encounters with most of the ghouls and Terzo/Copia (I have a special plan for Secondo and Primo) but I do want to give it a sort of "pick your own ending". This fic has plot, but also there are going to be chapters of full smut no plot or some full plot no smut chapters. I'm really exited about working on this. Thanks again to everyone who I mentioned earlier and thanks to everyone who read likes and support this fic.

#ghost fanfiction #ghost the band #swiss ghoul #swiss ghoul x reader #swiss x reader #ghost bc fanfic #y/n x swiss #the band ghost fanfiction #multi ghoul #swiss ghost #sodo x reader #copia x reader #papa emeritus fanfiction

369 notes · View notes

fishwithtitz · 9 months

Text

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

Summary: Mary had a certain…reputation around town. Equal blends of obnoxious and quiet, depending on who he was around, and not afraid of stirring up a little trouble if the occasion was right. The elderly were afraid of him, children gawked at him, and the “straight-and-narrow” folks were annoyed by his antics and “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. I’d heard stories of him being kicked out of bars for all sorts of interesting behaviors and fighting mouthy assholes in alleyways. I didn’t know him well enough to know if it was purely a stage act that filtered into his interactions or if it was really who he was. Prior to tonight, I hadn’t cared enough to really think about it.

“You coming?” His voice broke me from my mental back-and-forth and I looked up at him, noticing he had walked a few steps ahead of me, his body now turned to face me with his arm motioning toward the side yard.

Fuck it, I thought, nodding my head as I jogged to catch up to him. I guess I’m spending the evening with Mary Goore.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Mary Goore x OFC / 7.2k words

Warnings: language, graphic description of oral sex, mentions of animal harm (no animal harm actually occurs), recreational drug use

ao3 link

Chapter One: Hook-up #1: The Rooftop

It wasn’t that I was against going to a house party. During the handful of years that I’d experienced adulthood (and some of my teenage years as well), I’d been to plenty, and I’d seen some shit that still brought smiles (and shudders) to my face.

No, it wasn’t a feeling of disdain or a lack of desire to be at the loud, crowded ranch-style home on the rougher side of town full of ornery drunk young adults; it was that I didn’t have the social battery to play the “party game” tonight.

Desiree had dragged me out all but against my will. (“It will be fun!” She’d said. “Come on…a couple bands are going to play!”) Although I knew she was hoping her words would act as a catalyst for my desire to attend, it only made me roll my eyes. I’d been engulfed in the local music scene for ages and it was always a toss up which type of bands you’d see playing at house parties.

Eventually, I’d resigned to my fate after she’d both used her big brown puppy eyes (which I’d lovingly nicknamed her “Puss in Boots” tactic), and a confession that she was trying to sleep with the guy that lived there and needed a little support. “Friends don’t let friends get cockblocked,” she’d argued. So, after an hour of preening on her end and me smelling which clothes seemed the least likely to need a wash, we’d hopped in a rideshare and headed to the party on the other side of town.

I’d lost track of Des after about ten minutes when she’d homed in on Thomas, the illustrious party-thrower and member of her current favorite local band. I’d received a pleading look and an air kiss as she’d locked arms with him and disappeared into the crowd. I assumed this meant she was abandoning me and would make it up to me later somehow.

Currently, I stood with my back hugging the wood-paneled wall of a sunken den with a mostly gone PBR in hand, people watching. I sighed and took the last sip from my can, cringing a bit at the warmth and watery taste that a last sip always provides, and chucked the can in a nearby overflowing trash bin.

The den wasn’t as full as the rest of the larger rooms of the house, which is one of the reasons I chose it. A thrash metal band was playing in the partially finished basement downstairs and their sound was loud and gritty enough to pierce through the subfloor and into the main level. Despite this, a few groups of people congregated around the den in various stages of conversation and drunkenness.

I pushed myself off the wall and hopped up the half steps to round into the kitchen with a hope that it had been long enough for Des to reappear somewhere. I was almost instantly met with a crowd of people circling around the kitchen table in an energetic game of beer pong. My eyes peered through the space between two guys cheering on the team closest to us, and I could quickly see why the game was so lively: each successful shot resulted in both a drink and the removal of an article of clothing of the opposing team.

I glanced across the kitchen to the clock on the stove. 11:17 PM. I’d been here for almost an hour and a half already. My social battery was nearly dead at this point, so I decided to hop out to the back patio for a little reprieve. It was surprisingly empty (which I credited to the band playing and the strip pong) and I slid into a plastic deck chair before pulling my vape out of my pocket and folding my legs up to criss-cross in the seat of the chair.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed as I leaned back and gazed at the stars from between the branches of the old trees craning over the house and yard, but it couldn’t have been that long before I heard the screen door slide open and the light clunking of boot-trodden footsteps approaching. I didn’t glance up, instead flipping the vape back and forth through my fingers as if lost in thought.

The sound of a seemingly male voice, who I attributed to the boot-man, interrupted my calm.

“That shit is terrible for your lungs.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I don’t do it that often,” I replied coolly. I’d hoped to escape conversation for a while by coming outside and I wasn’t all that interested in small talk.

I glanced over to see the person who’d spoken to me and was met with a smirk and shrug from a mystery man. Golden brown hair hung down past his shoulders and onto his back, framing his angular face. His cheeks looked ashen - almost as if dark makeup had been wiped off - and he held a beer bottle in hand as he leaned against the railing of the old wood porch. His eyes didn’t falter and I searched to see if I recognized them. Were they green? Hazel? I couldn’t quite tell in the darkness of the patio and I surely didn’t know who he was.

Breaking our stare, and in a slight act of defiance, I took a long pull from my vape pen. The bitter, smooth taste of THC danced down my throat and filled my lungs. I exhaled the skunky-smelling vapor, trying to politely aim towards the other side of the patio, and immediately started to cough. Hard.

“Oh shit, I didn't know that’s what you were doing,” the guy said with a look of surprise and a small laugh. I wanted to retort with something snarky (“What else would I be doing out here?”), but when I tried to form the words, I was overcome by continuous strings of deep coughs and wheezes as I tried to intake air.

“Here.” He took a step closer and held out his beer to me. I furrowed my brow, my arm still covering my mouth as I shook through my coughing fit, but ultimately accepted it with a slight nod. The beer was cool on my throat and helped to soothe the self-inflicted soreness. I only needed a couple of small swigs before my breathing seemed back to normal and I could hand him back the bottle.

“Thanks, um—...” I paused, looking him over in search of his name.

“Mary,” he finished for me, accepting the beer back, “Mary Goore.”

“Dahlia,” I offered back, earning a tip of his bottle in reply.

Now that I’d fumbled my way through breaking the ice, I couldn’t help but sneak a better look at him. He was surely taller than me. His frame appeared lean and muscular from what I could see underneath his leather battle jacket and tight black jeans. My suspicions about the shoes were also confirmed. He was wearing a pair of black combat boots that matched the sound of his clunking footsteps.

“I don't think I've seen you around before,” he said after a beat, breaking me from my obvious study of his appearance. I looked away and took a much smaller drag from my vape pen.

“I'm here with a friend. Or, well, I was.” I licked my lips, eyes cast through the screen door as I gazed at the busy kitchen, “I kind of lost track of her.”

“She ditched you? That's kind of shitty,” he replied.

I turned to look at him again and was met with those piercing eyes. Green I decided. Definitely dark green. Mossy. “I'm pretty sure she's off with Thomas. Somewhere.” I motioned my hand haphazardly in the air. “I don't know. It’s been over an hour since I’ve seen her.”

He chuckled at this and took another pull from his bottle. “Yeah, if she’s with Tommy, I wouldn’t expect to see her for a while.” He paused and looked towards the direction of the screen door before looking back at me again. “You not into beer pong?”

I shrugged and looked in at the kitchen again. “Bad aim.” He nodded and at this point I noticed that the girls on the losing team were nearly nude, only wearing their bras and panties, while the guys on the opposing team had only lost their shirts. “I also don’t feel like taking my clothes off.”

A smile graced his lips at my words. “So, you won't be following in your friend's footsteps then?”

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks at his innuendo and I looked away to hide my embarrassment. It wasn’t that I was against casual sex. I wasn’t prude, per say, but the idea of talking about it openly and alone with a stranger made me a little uncomfortable.

“Sometimes, I just need a break from the crowd. The noise and the...feeling of so many people around me—… It's nice to be somewhere a little more open and calm,” I said softly.

I exactly don’t know why I said it — I didn’t owe Mary an explanation and I certainly didn’t need to get personal with him. I suppose I was trying to steer the conversation away from my best friend’s hookup and the raunchy game happening inside.

Mary let out a chuckle at this admission and my brows furrowed defensively. “What?” I asked.

He shook his head a little and the light pouring through the screen door to the kitchen illuminated his face, showing that the corners of his mouth were tugged in an amused smirk. “You crave calm, yet you come to a house party?” I felt myself bristle a little at this. “You’re interesting, Dahlia.”

He cast me a smile that was equal parts cocky and warm, and god, there were those eyes again staring right at me. I shook the thought from my head.

“Why are you out here, then?” I asked in a defensive retort.

Mary shrugged again, nonchalant as ever, and took another sip of his nearly empty beer. “Lost a bet,” he answered.

I felt my heart drop as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Was he out here talking to me because of some stupid punishment for losing to his friends? ‘Go talk to the weird chick sitting by herself outside’? He must have noticed my reaction, because he quickly interjected. “—Not like that! I'm avoiding the guy I owe $20.”

“Oh, so you're nosy and you're a sore loser,” I shot back in jest, turning my body in my chair to face him a little better.

Mary rolled his eyes. “No, he's just an asshole and I don't want to give him the satisfaction of winning.”

I laughed a little at his response. “Arrogant, too.” I quipped. This earned me another cheeky smile. I felt the corner of my lips tug down in my own slight smirk and started to flip the vape pen between my fingers again.

“You gonna share that?” Mary motioned to the vape, his eyebrow slightly raised in question.

“I thought this shit was bad for your lungs?” I snapped back his own words quickly, a grin plastered to my cheeks.

This earned me a laugh from Mary, warm and genuine, and he raised his hands up to his chest in defeat. “To be fair, I didn’t know you had weed. That changes things.”

I leaned forward in my chair, almost falling out as I passed the vape pen over to him. He raised the pen to his lips and I watched as they pursed around the mouthpiece. Before I could realize it, I found myself thinking about the fullness of his lips and the slant of his jaw as he took an expert pull. I sucked my own lips into my mouth slightly in response, trying to will-down the fluttering in my gut. He exhaled slowly and passed the pen back to me.

His eyes zeroed in on my form. I realized that I had probably been caught watching, and in a last ditch effort to hide the obvious expression on my face, I rolled my eyes. “Show off,” I said.

Mary simply grinned proudly in response. Although I didn’t really know him, I can’t say I was surprised at his cockiness. We sat in silence for a few moments (which was weirdly not uncomfortable), and I leaned back once more in my chair to study the pin-pricked stars in the inky sky. It was only getting later, and the likelihood of me meeting back up with Des was slim. After a handful of minutes, I slipped my vape pen back in my pocket and began to zip up my jacket, standing up to stretch out my tired limbs.

“You off?” Mary asked, breaking the calm quiet. He had since moved to sit in the other vacant chair just next to his spot on the railing, and one of his legs was folded up to rest along his other as he reclined in the plastic seat. I allowed my eyes to travel the expanse of his body, noting the well-worn band tee logo hidden underneath the patch-strewn jacket, as well as the holes and rips dotting the length of his pants.

I mentally shook myself from my glance and put my hands in my pockets. I was staring again. “Yeah, I don't see Des returning anytime soon and I really don't feel like trying to buy my way into a crowd right now,” I began to rock back and forth on my heels as I studied my shoes.

The sound of glass hitting something hard broke my focus and I jumped. Mary had thrown his bottle into the trash can across the patio and was standing up from his seat. When I looked up at him, he had a coy smile on his face. He must have seen me react to the noise. “Let’s get out of here, then,” he reasoned, walking over towards me.

“Let's?...as in you and me?” I asked, eyebrow slightly cocked.

He shrugged his shoulders and his hands found his own jean pockets. “Yeah, why not?”

I paused.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t ever heard about Mary Goore before. On the contrary, I had heard many stories about him through the grapevine. We were both active in our local music scene - him, as a musician, and me, as a spectator - and hung out in some of the same circles. I’m sure I’d seen his band play at least once or twice at some point and I’d noticed him at various gigs and bars around town. I’d never met him before, though — his vibe was a bit too forward and intimidating for me to approach him in the past.

Mary had a certain…reputation around town. Equal blends of obnoxious and quiet, depending on who he was around, and not afraid of stirring up a little trouble if the occasion was right. The elderly were afraid of him, children gawked at him, and the “straight-and-narrow” folks were annoyed by his antics and “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. I’d heard stories of him being kicked out of bars for all sorts of interesting behaviors and fighting mouthy assholes in alleyways. I didn’t know him well enough to know if it was purely a stage act that filtered into his interactions or if it was really who he was. Prior to tonight, I hadn’t cared enough to really think about it.

Why did he want to spend time with me, of all people? There was an entire house full of partiers he likely knew and got along with. Plus, the now nude girls at the beer pong table were definitely a more enticing choice than a quiet girl getting high on the patio while she waited for her friend, the social lubricator.

Fuck it, I thought, nodding my head as I jogged to catch up to him. I guess I’m spending the evening with Mary Goore.

🜏🜏🜏

Mary had led me through to the front yard of the house with ease before sidling up to the sidewalk towards the more urban part of town. I followed next to him and matched his pace, hands in my pockets as I looked around at the dark street. We were mostly quiet as we walked, which I didn’t mind. Maybe he reasoned that I didn’t want to engage in small talk since I’d purposefully separated myself from the party crowd, or maybe he was content to just walk. I wasn’t sure but was grateful nonetheless.

We ended up at a 24-hour convenience store a few blocks from Thomas’ house. Mary motioned towards the door as if asking nonverbally if I wanted to come in, but I shook my head, holding up my vape pen to tell him that I was fine outside while he did whatever he’d planned on doing.

It wasn’t a long wait, probably five or ten minutes, and I’d had enough time to take a few more hits of my vape pen to calm my nerves. My anxiety had started to bloom in my chest. I didn’t know Mary and I was alone with him, in the dark, walking around an area of town I wasn’t familiar with. I had made sure to ping Des with my location, sending a simple text of “left for a walk, be home later” (though I doubted she was in any position to check her phone).

Mary emerged from the gas station with an armful of snacks and a brown bag stuffed with…something. I shook my head in disbelief and pocketed the vape pen again as I followed him down another unknown street.

“Here, put these in your pockets since you have so many of them—” Mary grabbed a couple of small bags of chips from the arm holding them and held them out to me before stopping and turning to face me, “—why the fuck are you wearing cargo pants?”

My eyes widened in defensive disbelief. “I like them!”

He laughed and cocked a brow at me. “Is that like a...scouts thing? You one of those doomsday preppers or secret militiamen?” I could feel the snark dripping from his tone. He was enjoying this.

“They're literally just pants! They're comfy and they're cute and I—” I sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose, “I do not have to explain this to you.”

Mary pushed the bags of chips into my chest playfully and I quickly struggled to grab onto them. Dropping them would be the icing on the shit cake of embarrassment.

“...you didn't steal these, did you?” I asked as I eyed him cautiously.

Mary, who had begun walking again, turned his head to look at me with a glance of disbelief, surprise, and possibly a tinge of irritation. I felt my heart sink a little with guilt and I let out another defeated noise.

“Fine. I'm only doing this because I feel like I owe you,” I grumbled, stuffing the small chip bags into my cargo pockets.

“Scouts honor?”

“Fuck off, Goore.”

We walked down a winding sidewalk, the street completely empty and illuminated eerily with various old street lamps, some flickering in exhaustion. It had grown quiet again (except for the shaking, crunching noise of the chips in my pockets) and this time I felt like I had to break the dead air.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t turn to address me. “Somewhere quiet and calm. Just like you wanted.”

I felt that familiar heat rising to my cheeks and my momentary anxiety cooled. “Thanks,” I eventually replied.

“Don't mention it,” he said with a slight smile, before his expression changed to one of seriousness, “Really, don't mention it. I have a reputation to uphold.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I've heard. Did you really microwave a cat?”

Mary suddenly stopped in front of me and turned around, causing me to nearly run smack-dab into his chest. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed with furrowed brows. “I might be an asshole, but I don't fuck with animals. That shit is psycho.” He shook his head and pointed to one of my pockets, the one holding the vape, and I took this as his way of asking for it without really asking. I handed it to him and we started walking again. After a long drag, he looked over at me, our paces now matched, and exhaled with a lewd smile. “The only pussy I eat is in between the woman’s legs that are squeezing my head.”

I cleared my throat to hide my noise of surprise at his boldness. It didn’t work and he laughed at the stunned expression on my face.

“So, um, what’s in the brown bag?” I asked, changing the subject.

“A forty. And shaved ice.” Mary handed me back the pen and motioned to the left before turning down another quiet street. I looked at him curiously. “Come on, we're almost there.”

Mary started to jog off the path through some bushes that lined the sidewalk and I scurried to keep up with him. It was almost comical watching his lean body try to move quickly without dropping his bounty and I had to hold back a snort. He led us through a bank of trees and through some overgrown grass (during which I made sure to threaten that if I got a tick I would beat his ass) before stopping in front of a small building.

It was an old, abandoned warehouse that sat just off the main road. The structure was all cement and brick with worn shingles and overgrown vines, but in the starlight, it looked oddly beautiful.

Mary walked up to the side of the structure and pushed some tree starts to the side, revealing an old ladder that had been purposefully tucked away. “I was hoping this would still be here,” he breathed out as he pulled it to the side and repositioned it against the cracked facade of the building, wiggling it a little to test its sturdiness. “Come on.”

Mary took the paper bag he’d been carrying and gripped it between his teeth as he climbed up the rickety ladder. I hesitantly followed, bouncing a little on the bottom step to make sure it wouldn’t break under my weight, and eventually hoisted myself onto the dirty, rough shingles of the building’s roof. Mary held his hand out to help me find my footing, and we walked over to what looked like the most stable area of the top of the graffitied building.

We sat down beside one another and Mary started arranging his goodies. I, on the other hand, leaned back, my hands stabilizing behind me with knees bent so that I could glance up at the night sky. The moon was visible and constellations dotted the great expanse above us. Everything was much more visible from our elevated position. Sounds of crickets and a faraway frog teetered through the air. He was right — this was much more peaceful than the party. I could feel a smile creep onto my face again at his thoughtfulness.

“So, tell me how come I haven’t seen you around before?” Mary started as he spread his legs out in a v-shape against the tiles of the roof.

“You probably have and just haven’t noticed. I’ve seen you a couple of times at bars and stuff.” I played with the zipper on one of my pants pockets and tried to sound as neutral as possible. I didn’t want to give the impression that I cared that he didn’t know who I was…even if that wasn’t necessarily true.

“Shit, sorry,” Mary awkwardly laughed and shot me an apologetic smile.

I returned it warmly. “It’s fine. I don’t have much of a memorable face…or presence for that matter. I’ve come to accept that.”

“I’m guessing you’re into the music scene? Or is that just your friend?” Mary opened up the brown paper bag and took out the forty and a lidded double cup of shaved ice. I watched as he unsheathed the second cup and distributed the now sloshing ice between both cups, before cracking open the beer to pour into both of them.

“I dabble,” I passed him a small grin and accepted the cup with a silent nod, “I’m not as active as I used to be. Life and…stupid shit got in the way.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and looked down at the icy mess in the cup.

“Boyfriend?” Mary questioned.

I nodded. “Ex.”

“Ahh. Someone I know?” he asked as he took a swig of his drink.

“Brody Gillings.”

Mary immediately sputtered out the beer concoction and laughed loudly, wiping the corner of his mouth with his leather jacket sleeve. “You dated that tool? Oh fuck, that’s funny. I’m so sorry.”

I watched him as he shook his head, still laughing, and rolled my eyes in response. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, get it out,” I paused and took a sip of my own drink.The taste of hoppy beer had been muddled down with water and gritty ice and I couldn’t help the disgusted look that painted my face. “Jesus, Mary, this is awful,” I choked out.

Mary returned the chuckle and to my surprise, he looked down at his own cup sheepishly. “Yeah, beer slushies sounded like a good idea in my mind, but come to think of it, I’ve never put ice in my beer. Shit’s watery as fuck.”

I shot him an apologetic glance before allowing a beat of silence to overtake the rooftop. I found myself speaking before I even realized it was my voice that cut through the air. “It…wasn’t always bad. He was charming for a while. Introduced me to a few black metal bands that I like.” I let out another small breath and licked my lips as I picked at a stray thread on the fabric of my pants. “Everyone makes mistakes,” I looked up at him, a resigned tug at my lips, “Mine just lasted a couple years too long.”

Despite how awful they tasted, Mary gulped down a chunk of his homemade icee with a nod. “Didn’t he move to Milwaukee to join some up-and-coming band or some shit?”

This time, it was me that choked out a surprised laugh. “Is that what he told people?!” I shook my head and scoffed. “Makes sense. He’s all about appearances.”

It was true - my ex had been the kind of person who reveled in his reputation in town. The big, bad bassist that could break necks and down more shots than the whole bartop combined. I turned my head to look over at Mary. “He moved to Florida to take care of his grandma. She’s close to death and he’s itching to be written into the will.”

He raised his eyebrows in retort. “Wow, he just keeps getting shittier.”

“Seems to be the running theme with Brody.”

As time wore on, we filled the night air with pleasant and comfortable conversation, Mary sharing about the bands he’d played in and his current band, Repugnant, which were trying to set up a small coastal tour. I shared a little about my job and my friendship with Desiree, and we sipped our beer slushies until they were mostly gone and had became more water than beer.

Talking with Mary seemed natural. It came easily. Despite not truly knowing who he was as a person, I spoke with him like he was an old friend. I didn’t feel an air of judgment with what I chose to share with him, and he seemed appreciative that I wanted to know more about the things he enjoyed. Specifically, his music.

After a while, my head was feeling a little fuzzy from the weed and the beer and I allowed my eyes to close as I relaxed against the scratchy shingles. As the sound of a nearby bird cooed in the distance, Mary reached over and surprised me by looping a licorice rope around my neck. Where he had kept it during our walk over, I had no idea.

“A licorice rope? I haven't had one of these since I was like...eleven.” I reached up and pulled the rope down to remove the wrapper before biting off a small piece.

I looked over at the gutter punk beside me to see him tying his own rope in knots, having already removed and discarded the entirety of the wrapper onto the ground below us.

“Their R&D is genius,” he started, hands working the candy into an intricate knot, “They're like a gateway to BDSM. Perfect for preteens who like pre-bondage.”

I felt myself choke on my bite of licorice and I let out an incredulous laugh. “Mary! I'm pretty sure that's not what these were designed for.”

He paused his tying and looked over at me with another one of his trademark smirks. “Are you saying you're not into bondage? No surprises for me in those cargo pants?”

I felt my cheeks flush and I took another bite to hide my embarrassment. “I am not answering that question.”

This seemed to amuse him, but he let it go when he saw my bashful response, quickly changing the subject. “Hey - chips,” he snapped playfully, hands reaching out in a grabby motion. I unzipped the pockets of my pants and threw the chip bags at him. Annoyingly, he caught the bags without hesitation and ripped open a bag of Lays, quickly shoving a chip into his mouth.

I tossed him a look.

“I know it's not microwaved cat, but—”

“— it's no pussy either,” he interrupted, mouth full of chips as he chewed.

“You're really obsessed with that, aren't you?” I leaned toward him, a hand on my hip as if to teasingly scold him.

He beamed beside me. “Who wouldn't be? There is no better feeling than having your face between some chick's thighs....”

This time, the silence between us was notable. I looked down and bit my lip, not exactly knowing what to say in response. Mary was so nonchalant, so chill yet matter-of-fact in talking about his experiences. It was something I envied.

He must have caught on to my nervous aura because he set the bag of chips down and rotated his whole body to face me. His eyebrows raised in shock. “...wait, seriously?! You've never—”

“—I've never been with someone that liked it!” I spat out, heat flushing my face as I looked away in mortification.

“Damn, Brody really was a dickhead. I guess that shouldn't shock me.”

I released a deep breath of resignation and reached up to rub my palms against my eyes, pushing away the burgundy locks that had fallen into my face. “He wasn't the kind of guy who cared about how I felt….in a lot of ways, actually,” I admitted. I could feel Mary’s eyes on me — studying me — and I avoided them like the plague.

“...And other guys? Before? They didn't go down on you?” He sounded confused.

I paused. I’m pretty sure I audibly gulped, but my heart was racing so fast that I didn’t really know what was happening. I fiddled with the thread between my fingers, twisting it as I tried to figure out how to respond. "I never reall— what are you doing?!"

My words were interrupted because Mary had shifted from beside me and was crawling over my outstretched leg, settling in between my knees to face me straight on. He was only a few feet from the edge of the roof. “Mary, what the hell? You’re going to fall!”

He ignored my protests. “I'm showing you what you're missing out on,” He said as he saddled himself in between my legs. His eyes flickered up to mine and god damn it, the green hue was almost glowing in the moonlight. He licked his lips and continued. “I'm not gonna let you go through life without experiencing this at least once.”

He can’t be serious. I chuckled nervously and shook my head. “No, Mary, it's okay, really, you don't have to,” I said, but my words were clearly said in vain. His hands were already resting on the green fabric covering my knees. His grip was soft yet firm, and I felt a lump form in my stomach.

“I know, I want to,” he grinned, then quickly added, “Platonic head. Just two people enjoying themselves.” Mary raised one hand to his temple and gave me a two finger salute, a mock look of seriousness on his face. “Scouts honor.”

“Fuck you,” I laughed out at his jab. Despite the situation, I felt myself relax a little under his touch. He looked at me lecherously.

“Maybe if you play your cards right.” He winked at me and sat back on his knees, his hands beginning to brush up my thighs as if to ask silent permission to continue. I swallowed roughly and looked down at his fingertips as they moved across the inseam of my pants and up to the button at my waist.

I lifted my hips up towards him as his hand ghosted over the button at my waist. He effortlessly popped the button through its closure and slipped both hands under the waistband before pulling the pants down my legs. I silently thanked myself for deciding to shave my legs in the shower this morning as the fabric slid down my calves before being kicked off to the side. I was left in my jacket, tank top, and luckily, a cute pair of lacy black cheeky panties that I had thrown on quickly before we left for the party.

Mary moved a little closer, leaning in as he ran his palms up and down my inner thighs. My skin was pale - maybe even more so in the moonlight - and his hands felt electric with every stroke. I leaned back on my elbows and looked at him through anxious eyes. His long hair hung in strands that perfectly framed his face and at that moment, I noticed just how attractive Mary was. His features were nearly chiseled and masculine, yet his movements were fluid, confident, and soft, almost like he was afraid to break me.

“Damn, your skin is so soft,” he muttered out, more to himself than anyone else, and he leaned down to press his lips against my inner thigh. I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath as I felt him kissing along the sensitive skin there. He was dangerously close to my core and I suddenly was feeling self-conscious at having a person I had just barely met touch me so intimately.

Mary must have sensed my apprehension, because he looked up at me with kind eyes, lips still pressing against my leg. “Relax,” he breathed out, his thumbs rubbing circles against my skin, “You deserve to feel good.” I nodded and let out another relaxing breath, eyes closing as I tilted my head back slightly towards the sky.

Had someone told me yesterday that Mary Goore would be eating me out on an abandoned warehouse rooftop, acting completely romantic and sweet and selfless, I would have told them they were fucking high. Yet, after talking with Mary all evening, I realized just how gentle he was. How he’d taken the time to get to know me, to ask about my past, to insinuate that I deserved better than aggressive assholes that used metal music as an excuse to antagonize women. I also realized that I was just as bad as the people that looked down at him for the clothing he wore or the music he played. I’d decided to let my assumptions cloud my interpretation of someone I didn’t even know.

His mouth moved closer and broke me from my rabbithole, his teeth grazing against the curve where my leg met my groin, and he brushed his cheek against the fabric of my panties. I felt myself biting down softly on my lip, fingertips pressed into the textured rooftop, and my hips moved just barely at the contact. He chuckled and brought his hands to rest against my hip bones, fingers sliding under the band of my underwear as he pressed a kiss to my mound. Without another word, he slid my panties off and down my thighs before pocketing them. I’m sure he’d hoped I wouldn’t notice and I made a mental note to confront him later about it.

I lay bare in front of him, half naked against the quiet slate, our only neighbors being the surrounding wildlife and the glowing stars above. Mary pressed another kiss to the bare skin of my pussy before wrapping his arms around my thighs and gently pulling me closer to his mouth. I could feel his breath fanning over me and it felt chilly against the wetness that was now gathering at my center.

He was still for a moment, our breath the only sound punctuating the night, before I felt him lick a stripe up my slit, barely touching my clit before pulling away. I let out an embarrassingly loud moan and reached up to cover my mouth in surprise. I felt him laugh against my thigh.

“Be as loud as you want, dollface. There’s no one around for blocks.”

I nearly felt myself puddle at the nickname and before I could respond, he was licking against my folds again, fingertips gripping tightly against my thighs. I opened my eyes and looked down, raking in a breath at the sight of the emerald-eyed man between my legs. His gaze was trained on my expression and his tongue was now moving up and down teasingly, trying to get a reaction from me as we locked onto each other.

Mary moved his tongue up to my clit and massaged it lightly before wrapping his lips around it and sucking down harshly. I arched my back helplessly and let out a loud moan in response, my thighs beginning to squeeze against the sides of his head. My actions earned me a lustful groan in reciprocation.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmured against my skin, kissing my labia before diving in to sloppily lick around my clit, pointing his tongue as he flicked it rhythmically. The motions sent shockwaves to my center and I all but crumbled.

“Oh god, Mary,” I said breathlessly, laying down completely as if to surrender to his ministrations. Had I not been so distracted by his movements, I’d likely have felt his cheeky smile against my core. He knew he was good at what he did and he got off on these reactions. Now that I had a taste of what it felt like to have him between my legs, I was more than happy to give him exactly what he wanted.

The weed was really starting to take effect and my limbs started to feel tingly and heavy. I let myself relax into the roof and against Mary, no longer caring about the tiny noises he was working from me with each movement of his mouth. One of his hands left its place on my quad and snaked between us before barely brushing against my entrance. He gathered the slick there and without warning, he pushed inside of me gently, his tongue lapping from his finger up to my sensitive nub.

Mary started to pump inside of me before adding another, the angle shifting before he hit the spot that had me seeing explosions of light dancing in my vision. I buckled my hips up into his face and he moaned lewdly, rubbing his fingertips against my g-spot as he licked and sucked at my core. With each ministration, each caress of his tongue, I felt the tingling deep in my abdomen building and my knees shaking.

“R-right— fuck, right there,” I whimpered out, my pelvis rocking against his movements. I felt my legs tighten against his head again and without thinking, I reached down to card my fingers through his long, caramel locks, gripping onto them as I guided his head against me. “Don’t stop,” I choked out in an almost sob. I was close and he could tell, because he sped up, increasing the pressure of his tongue as he pumped his fingers in and out of me.

Mary let out another intoxicatingly attractive groan at my words. “You gonna cum on my tongue, kitten?” he all but growled against my folds. I was so close that I could feel myself dripping onto him and I nodded fervently. “Mmph, good girl. Come for me,” he purred, his tongue circling around my clit before clamping down and sucking hard.

I completely lost it at that moment. My thighs trembled as I felt the tightness in my abdomen snap, flooding waves of intense pleasure and electric heat throughout my core and into each cell of my body. My grip on his hair tightened and I let out a near-scream of ecstasy as I came undone around his eager tongue.

Mary continued to work me through my release, his forest-colored eyes watching my every expression as he kissed and sucked at my wet heat. He only stopped when I felt overstimulation take root and pushed lightly at his cheek to signal that it was too much.

Mary ran his tongue along my slit once more, gathering up my cum with a lascivious gleam in his eyes before releasing his grip on my legs and sitting back. My head had since dropped back against the cool shingles and I was nearly panting, my whole body shaking from the intensity of my orgasm.

“Holy shit,” I breathed out after a beat, a broad smile tugging at my face as I brushed some of my long, dark red strands from my face. I took a moment to look down at the pleased punk in front of me and watched as he dipped the fingers that had been inside of me into his own mouth, cleaning them off with an obscene slurp. Heat panged at my stomach again and I nearly came from watching him. Fuck, he was hot.

“You taste incredible,” he said before wiping my slick from his mouth and chin, a seductively satisfied grin on his face. I felt myself flush at his words and I let out a bashful giggle, licking my lips as I watched him relax back on his knees.

“So,” he asked after a minute, reaching out to stroke the pads of his fingers up and down the delicate flesh of my thighs, “Was I right? Nothing better, huh?” He stared at me with lust-blown pupils.

I sat up slightly to face him and sucked my lips into my mouth briefly to attempt to hide my resigned smirk. Reaching up, I threaded my hands through his messy hair, the pad of my thumb rubbing sweetly against the angle of his jawbone. I guess it wouldn’t kill me to give him a tiny victory.

“Shut up, Goore.”

#mary goore #mary goore x ofc #mary goore x oc #repugnant band #repugnant #ghost band fanfic #ghost bc fanfic #ghost fanfic #the band ghost #ghost bc #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #my writing

107 notes · View notes