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fishwithtitz · 9 months

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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

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emeritus-fuckers · 8 months

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Mary Goore headcanons

The biggest freak in Repugnant. And that says a lot.

Mary's non-binary, uses they/them pronouns.

Mary's got a wide gallery of kinks that most would consider taboo.

Starting with piss kink and ending with cannibalism type of kinky.

They're willing to try pretty much everything once and while they might not fully respect someone's private space at first, they're actually pretty chill once someone gets to know them.

They're still obviously gonna be their fucked-up self, though.

Befriending Mary requires becoming comfortable with their touchy-feely nature.

They're the type of person to make out with their mates.

Repugnant members are all very touchy with each other. Kissing, slapping each other's asses, making out, grabbing each other's crotches... hell, they fuck each other all the time.

And Mary is usually the one getting the most attention because they're the scrawniest.

They also use slurs and insults but in a playful, affectionate way. So to get close to Mary, one must get used to all that.

Back to the kinks, though, Mary's big three kinks are piss, cannibalism and (theoretically, since they're undead and essentially a walking corpse) consentual necrophilia.

Mary is dead. They have taken part in a ritual a few years after Repugnant became a thing, which essnentially turned them into a fully aware undead corpse.

They don't even rot really. They're just cold to the touch and have to breath manually. They do have a heartbeat and a pulse, though. For some reason. They can also still blush, but their blood is incredibly dark, so it looks their cheeks are literally turning black.

They get turned on by the weirdest shit. Threaten to beat them up? Into that. Call them a perv? Into that as well.

If you befriend Mary, you'll most definitely end up hooking up with them or joining in on their shenaningans.

And you'll probably end up getting close to the other bandmates.

Doesn't mind if you hook up with any of them, by the way. They hook up with their bandmates too, after all.

Hell, these folks have orgies together. They'll probably invite you to join them.

Mary's not legally allowed in graveyards. Which doesn't really matter to them because it's their favorite place.

They've been a part of multiple orgies in a mausoleum.

The also have a life-time ban from Hot Topic after masturbating in th changing room simply because they said "eh, why not?"

Pissed their pants on the tour bus once because they got fucking wasted. DD, equally wasted, sucked their dick in consolation. No clean-up. Mary came way quicker than they normally do. DD refuses to let that story go.

Mary is sort of oblivious to boundaries. They are okay with pretty much everything and just... assumes their partner is too. The partner has to be the one to bring it up. After being told the boundaries, Mary absolutely respects them. They maybe fucked up, but not that fucked up.

They're also pretty perceptive, but they also never push. If you wanna talk about your emotions, you gotta tell them.

Mary has an OnlyFans. It's the source of half of Repugnant's budget. The other half is DD's financial scams and pyramids.

Their upper right fang is broken. A result of a fist-fight.

They're insecure about their teeth because many people in their childhood told them their smile was making everyone uncomfortable.

They have pretty poor personal hygiene in general. They literally have to be forced to bathe or shower. Usually by DD who is just completely done with their bullshit.

Their favorite movie is the Human Centipede. Once made a comment about how this is what rimming parties would look like if people weren't cowards.

Unhinged switch.

Pretty aggressive while topping. Bites a lot. Might bite a bit of their partner off if they're allowed to. A sadist.

Complete masochist when bottoming. Their partner could literally torture them and they'd love every second of it.

You could piss in their mouth and they'd be delighted. Much prefers to drink piss instead of pissing into other people's mouths, but they'll do that, too, if asked.

Has a fantasy of people riding them while they pretend to be dead.

Absolutely no shame when you tell them the most degenerate shit ever. Gets all flustred when called cute. It's hilarious.

I love Mary and I could talk about them for hours, so I'll stop here before it becomes too much.

Written by Jez.

Taglist: @thermodynamic-comedian @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @lunarsromantichomicide @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

#repugnant #mary goore #headcanons #repugnant band #repugnant event

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violently-sobbings · 4 months

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Mary goore headcanons

Sfw and a little tiny bit of NSFW. Nothing too bad though. NSFW will be under the cut.

Sfw

He's definitely got a bunch of random scars, I feel like this man's got the worst spacial awareness, so he's always running into things and falling over stuff.

He 100% still has a little stuffed animal from when he was a kid, literally nobody apart from his partner and/or close friends know about it. Its probably like some really fucked up looking bear with a missing eye, faded to shit and half of the stuffing fell out like 10 years ago. He still keeps it around.

He smells of leather and smoke, occasionally coffee if he's had some to drink but that's not a great idea because this man seems to have LIMITLESS amounts of energy. He's like a hyperactive puppy.

He has the loudest, most obnoxiously stupid laugh ever. He's either doubled over wheezing and hacking like a cat throwing up a hairball or cackling like the wicked witch of the west. People will be laughing more so over his laughs than the joke itself.

He's surprisingly good with children. Very soft spoken, always crouches to their level, and never, EVER raises his voice at them.

Nsfw

Definitely had some experience, but not as much as most people would think. Despite what some would think he Definitely wouldn't go around banging anyone and everyone.

That's not to say he won't do one night stands- he's just not really into that anymore. Especially when he reaches late 20s to early 30s.

With a partner he definitely starts off gentle and slow. He seems like the type to tease until you're writhing and begging beneath him and only then will he pick up pace.

And he's certainly no stranger to kinks, anything that has some small amount of fear involved, like choking or knife play. Nothing too dangerous, and everything has to be 110% consensual. He definitely does have a blood kink though.

After he's finished with a show, and still in his makeup. He loves to just press his face against his partner, pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever he can, just to see the stage blood smear over their skin.

MARY 👏 GOORE 👏 WHIMPERS 👏 IN 👏 BED. I'm sorry I don't make the rules.

He likes having his partner in his lap, so he can have his hands on their waist, steadying and helping along while he whispers soft praise against their skin.

This man LOVES to bite and give hickeys. Bonus points if you give HIM hickeys. It will have him in a puddle on the floor.

#mary goore #mary goore x reader #headcanon #repugnant band #repugnant

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onedaughterofman · 1 year

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Untitled vignette #6 (Mary Goore x g/n reader)

Summary: You meet Mary by the old cemetery's gates. On afternoons full of sorrow and misty memories, they show you it's okay to stop running away for a bit.

Tags/Warning: mentions of depression, angst, emotional hurt/comfort maybe. Implied past death. He/they pronouns for Mary. Totally self indulgent.

A/N: wrote this as some sort of therapy for myself, but I liked the vibe so you can also have it. For some reason, Saturdays awake a special type of sadness in me.

You first met Mary by the old cemetery’s gates.

On an afternoon you thought it’d bring nothing but sorrow, he appeared bathed by the dying golden sunrays. Instead of transferring any clarity to his body, the light casted shadows on his gaunt face, deep circles around his eyes.

“Goore,” he said, sitting down and kicking at the dirt with heavy combat boots. “Mary Goore.”

“Isn’t Mary a girl’s name?”

The question didn’t mean to be invasive or rude. It escaped your tongue without any harm behind it. Mary seemed to understand immediately, because only a smile formed on their lips.

“That’s what I told my parents!” They exclaimed, wildly gesticulating with one hand. “But no, they insisted that was my name, so I stopped fighting. It doesn't matter anymore, it grew on me.”

There are only little pieces and details of Mary’s life that you know. He used to live around the area, he explained one afternoon, when the church was still full of life and not corroded by the passage of time. He’s in his twenties, played guitar for a band and hey, it was an undoubtedly good band.

You never heard about Mary’s band. They seemed a bit sad when you told them so, a sheepish smile on your face. You promised to give it a try, to listen to the songs and pay attention, but he refused. “No, listen to Sepultura. I mean it. Bestial Devastation, that’s some good shit.”

Mary never talks too much about themselves. On late afternoons and early nights, he sits down by the cemetery and listens. They listen to you complain about life, work and the price of gas and food. They listen to boring routines or whatever recent show you got fixated on.

On gloomy nights, they also listen to the pain that consumes your guts to the very core. Mary doesn’t interrupt. They don’t say things will get better, or that one day you will remember all this and laugh. Mary never advises you to go outside or work out, they never try to tell you it’s all in your mind.

No, they nod, and their hair follows the movement of their head. The auburn curls are darker under the dull light coming from the old lamp, falling on his forehead almost like a black curtain. He flinches when your fingers rise to try and tuck a few stray strands away from his eyes, but then smiles again and moistens his lips.

“Don’t ruin my style,” he says, but there’s something else he’s keeping quiet about.“I spent way too much time in the mirror for this.”

You don’t try to touch him again. For the next afternoons and nights, you merely sit content next to them, listening to music or any wild anecdote of a past concert. Some days, you think it’s a miracle Mary Goore is still alive and breathing. They merely laugh when you mention it, but there’s a sting of bitterness on his tone.

Perhaps it’s not bitterness. Maybe it’s melancholy, or a different type of sadness that clings to his body like a cloak, something that no matter how hard you try, you can’t ever see past it.

Mary Goore remains mainly a mystery. Yet, they listen and wait for you by the cemetery gates. If this is friendship or merely two lonely creatures huddling together to face the raw bleakness of life, you don’t know it.

“I’m tired,” you whisper to Mary one day. They nod, dark pupils lost somewhere in the distance. “I’m so tired all the time.”

“It’s cause you keep running away,” he murmurs too, absentmindedly chewing on his lips. “You are always running.”

“Where am I running?”

“I don’t know,” Mary shrugs, a somber expression on their face.“I used to feel like that, before. Life didn’t make sense, I wasn’t even having a good time and everything felt dull and useless. I think I started running away from things that made me sad, hoping that maybe everything would be better if I ran fast enough.”

“Did it work?”

When Mary laughs, it sounds like bells on the distance. Not the cheerful type of bells people describe in romance novels. No, it sounds like heavy chimes from a ruined chapel, an agonizingly deep rumble.

When Mary laughs, it’s like a death knell.

“No, it fucking didn’t. I made friends and dated people only because I was running away from loneliness. I woke up and forced myself to do shit ‘cause I was trying to escape the dread.” When they pause, the wind howls and the warm air hits your face, coating it in little dew droplets. It will rain later, but Mary doesn't seem to realize it. "When you run because you want to escape something and not because you are going somewhere, it becomes tiresome and senseless. You are blind and dumb.”

“I feel very blind and dumb all the time.”

“Because you run like a headless chicken.”

After tedious days and nights of empty stomachs and full minds, you begin to think he’s absolutely right. Mary nods when you tell him so, letting out a few chuckles. It’s frigid outside, but he’s wearing the same thing he always wears: a leather jacket, a shirt with a band no one has ever heard of, ripped jeans and combats boots.

“Aren’t you freezing there?”

“I’m always cold,” they say, nonchalantly. “But I don’t care anymore.”

Some days, you also don’t care anymore.

Sitting right next to him, so close you could lean to the side and rest your head on his shoulders, you sigh loudly. Even if it’s tempting to attempt any type of physical contact, you don’t. At this point you realize Mary seems to despise it, to flinch any time you reach too close to them. You don’t ask why, don’t question or try to force the contact.

It’s okay.

Mary’s body is close, and that’s all that matters, even if you can’t feel any heat coming from them. He must be freezing, too stubborn to actually wear suitable clothes.

“I think I died,” you utter under your breath one day while fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. Mary does the same, dusky eyes locked on the ground. He seems to realize you don’t want anyone to look at your face. “Sometimes I feel like I have died a thousand times in different ways, except physically.”

The silence is heavy, but not oppressively so. It’s almost like a weighted blanket on a rainy day, sheltering you from the biting cold. Mary sighs profoundly, hair falling on their face when they nod. “Sometimes I feel I have died in all the ways I could die,” he says, after a beat. As much as you ache to reach out and grab his hand, you don’t.

Mary seems to think the same. Instead of extending his hand, he leans to gather a stick from the ground. The wood is cold and slightly damp when they move it in your direction, offering the other end of it. Eyes wide and mouth agape, you hold onto it for dear life. The smile on their face is gentle, softer than you have seen it before, but it carries that clear sadness that constantly follows them like a shadow.

“Stay that way, okay?” Mary comments, when the sun is gone and the clouds obscure the already inky sky. "Die in a thousand more different ways, but not physically. You can’t run towards something without a body.”

“What should I run towards, anyway? Right now I’m just running away.”

“I don’t know, man. It’s shitty, but that’s the way things are, I guess. You’ll find something along the road, if you stop moving without eyes and actually see.”

“Is that all life is? Running and moving around, either escaping or searching for something?”

“You can come and sit down here. I used to do it all the time. I was tired of running, so I came and sat here for hours and hours. Drank something weird, got sick and fell asleep on the ground. Woke up so cold and dizzy. It wasn’t nice.”

“Weren’t you scared to fall asleep on a cemetery?”

“No, I felt right at home.”

Again, the bells tolling in the distance. For long seconds, you stare at Mary, at the youthful yet gaunt face, at the pale skin and long black lashes. The shadows, the deep circles, the thin hair… You take all of that in and engrave it in your memory.

Under the moonlight, surrounded by death and decay, Mary looks terribly ephemeral. He appears to be made only of memories, of a collection of past experiences and desires that no longer exist outside these rusty fences.

It’s a sorrowful thought, but also a reality. Just like they appeared one afternoon without forewarning, you feel one day they will be gone.

They notice the way you have become lost in mind. The wooden stick moves between your fingers as they shake it from the other end, swaying it back and forth in a motion meant to be comforting, to remind you to stay in the present.

“Thank you for stopping by and spending time with me,” they murmur in a hushed tone. The wind howls, a prolonged languish sound that send shivers down your spine. “I wish I had met you before.”

You want to speak, but there are no words inside your mouth. Swallowing doesn’t break down the knot in your throat, doesn’t kill the burning anguish that has made a home of it.

“And I meant it. If you are too tired to move towards something or whatever, just sit down with me for a while.”

“Maybe we could find another place, don’t you think? It’s so cold and gloomy here.”

“Why? Like I said, I feel at home right here.”

Exactly like that first encounter, you continue meeting Mary by the old cemetery’s gate. No one sets a foot on that abandoned land guarded by gargoyles and crows, except you two. Mary expends hours talking about obscure bands no one remembers anymore, or Sunday masses that used to take place on the ancient chapel that now falls into ruins next to the graveyard.

Sitting down on the damp ground, fingers curled around the end of a small, withered branch that shakes every time Mary gesticulates with one hand, you stop running for a bit.

Ps: DO listen to Sepultura's Bestial Devastation. Mary's tattoo (the one on their arm) seems to be based on the cover of that EP. If you like Repugnant, you'll probably like it too.

I hope this distracted you all from The Dread.

#mary goore #mary goore x reader #repugnant band #my writing #my fic #mary my beloved

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death-to-posers · 8 months

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As promised, here’s that list of people I will/won’t write for, and also my boundaries etc.

Will do:

Smut✅

Angst✅

Fluff✅

Some averagely kinky stuff✅

x reader fics✅

platonic ships & fics✅

sodomy✅

Queer fics (f character x f reader, m character x m reader etc, I will write for non binary readers too. Please specify the gender you want the reader to be when you request or I will default to non binary)✅

Won’t do:

R*pe/Non con❌

Adult x minor ❌ (no weird pedo shit)

Anything that glorifies or sexualises severe domestic abuse❌

Pregnancy fics (I can’t I’m sorry.)❌

Shit kinks💀 (come on now..)❌

Vomit kinks (why.)❌

Foot fetish related stuff❌

Incest❌

furry/zoophile shit❌

vore❌

eating disorder/self harm stuff (I know a lot of people originally used this as a coping mechanism but it eventually evolved into the romanticism of anorexia and self harm and I do not stand for that.)❌

Might do, depends on the request:

Ships between two real people (unless they’re an actual couple I will probably be against this)

People/bands I will write for:

AC/DC (all members)

Alestorm (all members)

Abbath (all members)

Alice In Chains (all members)

Abbath Doom Occulta

Bathory (all members)

Behemoth (all members)

Billy Idol

Björk

Black Sabbath (all members)

Bon Jovi (all members)

Burzum (all members but it’s just Varg so this goes without saying)

Cannibal Corpse (all members)

Carpathian Forest (all members)

Courtney Love

Celtic Frost (all members)

Darkthrone (all members)

Disturbed (all members)

The Doors (all members)

Dream Theater (all members)

Evanescence (all members)

Foo Fighters (all members)

Ghost/Ghost B.C. (all members)

Gloryhammer (all members)

God Seed (all members)

Gojira (all members)

Gorgoroth (all members)

Green Day (all members)

Hanoi Rocks (all members)

Helloween (all members)

Hole (all members)

Immortal (all members)

Iron Maiden (all members)

Joan Jett & The Blackhearts (all members)

Judas Priest (all members)

King Ov Hell

KoRn (all members except David Silveria)

Lamb Of God (all members)

Lana Del Rey

Limp Bizkit (all members)

Marilyn Manson/Marilyn Manson & The Spooky Kids (all members)

Mayhem (all members)

Megadeth (all members)

Metallica (all members)

Misfits (all members)

Morbid (all members)

Motörhead (all members)

Murderdolls (all members)

My Chemical Romance (all members except Bob)

Necrobutcher

Nickelback (all members)

Nirvana (all members)

Old Funeral (all members)

Ov Hell (all members)

Ozzy Osbourne

Pantera (all members)

Powerwolf (all members)

Pearl Jam (all members)

Queen (all members)

Rammstein (all members)

Rob Zombie

Repugnant (specifically Mary Goore)

Ronnie James Dio

Rotting Christ (all members)

Sabaton (all members)

Serj Tankian

Sirenia (all members)

Slaughter To Prevail (all members)

Slayer (all members)

System Of A Down (all members)

Type O Negative (all members)

Twisted Sister (all members)

Tool (all members)

Varg Vikernes

If there are any members I’ve excluded it is most likely because I fucking hate them. If you submit a request for someone and I refuse to do it then it’s either because: it makes me uncomfortable to write for said person especially if it’s smut, I don’t know enough about them to write a fic or I hate them. It’ll probably be one of those three reasons so please understand and respect that. If there’s someone/a band not on this list or the “won’t do” list, it doesn’t necessarily mean I won’t do them. I might have simply forgotten to add them so please ask.

I will also write for certain non-musicians such as historical figures and/or fictional characters. Give me a shout in requests and I may or may not be willing to write for them. As an example, I will write for Manfred and Lothar von Richthofen. Not musicians but I adore them.

People/bands I will NOT write for:

Any kpop bands.

Any actors/actresses

Deftones (there’s no negotiation. I will not write for Deftones. End of discussion.)

Blink-182 (same as Deftones)

Falling In Reverse (Same reason as Deftones)

Yungblud (come on now. Be serious. Be so for real.)

Panic! At The Disco (fuck no.)

The Beatles (no.)

Mötley Crüe (no❤️)

Tokio Hotel (nothing against them but no thanks)

One Direction (come on.)

C*rey Taylor/most of Slipknot. (I will write for Joey and Jay though, my pookies)

Mindless Self Indulgence (foul ass band I despise all of the members)

And when I said I won’t write a romantic fic between two real people I meant it. Platonic is more than okay, we love some platonic bandmate fluff but beyond that is a fat no unless they’re actually married/dating. So it goes without saying that I will NOT write Davisdurst, don’t even start. Do not.

- 𐕣𝕶𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖎𐕣

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erin-writes-ghost-fluff · 5 months

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Mary Goore lee and ler headcanons

A/N: Gueeeeeess who woke up with ye olde brain rot! Going with the commonly accepted headcanon that Mary's a vampire because this bitch loves her some vampires! I've also seen some integrate Mary into Ghost lore, so that gives me fic inspiration for future fuckery. Some of these come from an RP my bestie and I are currently in. MINORS DNI

Terms for those not in the knismo community:

Lee= Ticklee: The one who is being tickled.

Ler=Tickler: The one who is doing the tickling AKA a fucking menace to society.

Lee:

-An absolute brat. Swears at whoever is tickling them, flips them off, aggressive little shit. Not above making nips towards fingers.

-Tries to hold back their laughter. Insecure about it but doesn't hate it. Just finds it annoying. The longest they can go is ten seconds without laughing.

-7/10 in terms of how ticklish they are.

-Their kill spots are their hips and sides. Directly above their hips will make them giggle and make them nervous.

-Other tickle spots include: Belly, calves, neck, underarms, and scalp.

-Hisses and snorts if they laugh hard enough.

-Begs for mercy when their hips are squeezed and scratched. Hates when a ler reaches into their pants pockets and tickles their hips that way. It drives them up a wall.

-Similarly to Terzo, they have this extremely vibrant, bubbly laugh, which betrays their stage persona. They get so flustered when whoever is tickling them, compliments their laugh. This usually leads to threats of violence to cover up their embarrassment lol.

-Highly susceptible to verbal teasing. If they had a recent blood feeding, they'll blush, only flustering them further.

-Can't stand anticipation. Like when a ler hovers a hand over a tickle spot. They'll crumble into snickers everytime.

-Doesn't mind tickling, as long as one adheres to their limits. It reminds them of when they were human.

-Goes into a giggly, pleading-for-mercy panic, when pinned. This usually only makes whoever is about to tickle them, want to destroy them even more.

-Laughter turns squeaky when their belly becomes a target.

Ler:

-Uses their guitar skills to their advantage. The fact that they play an instrument only makes them a better worse tickler.

-Treats a lee like a fuckin' guitar.

"Huh. Guitar seems out of tune. Let's see if I can fix it..."

-For someone that dies at being verbally teased, they're surprisingly good at it. They like to act all casual, even though there's a squealing and laughing person beneath them.

"What the fuck is so funny? What are you laughing at, mind letting me in on the joke?"

-And holy fuck, Christ on a stick, they will put on the evil, hungry vampire act and start nibbling on a lee's neck. Not enough to hurt or make them want to drink blood, but it's gonna fucking tickle.

-They'll use their fangs as a tickle weapon in general, depending on the spot.

-Think you can squirm or wiggle away? Nope, they have supernatural strength. And they will taunt you lol.

"Awww, trying to get away? That's cute. I'm a vampire, babe. You aren't going anywhere."

-Bit of a theatrical asshole. Evil laughter will ensue.

-They love a chase before they lay waste to a lee. They're nice enough to give someone a headstart.... But they'll catch whoever it is, soon enough.

-Smirks. Especially if it flusters a lee.

-Bit of a rougher ler but pays attention to how a lee reacts to different types of touch. Will be light and gentle, if that's what the lee likes and prefers.

-Makes sure aftercare is a must, especially if a lee nearly died of giggles and embarrassment.

#erin's headcanons #tickling headcanons #mary goore #might have flustered myself with a few of these sgjgdhdggdgsf

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copiousloverofcopia · 11 months

Text

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

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

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

Mary Goore x OC Piper!

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

Chapter 1: Fishnets and Regrets

Also available HERE on AO3!

Eventually will be NSFW below the cut 😈

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Piper…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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lady-necropolis · 2 years

Note

Saw you're needing a request! Can I request a vampire!Mary Goore fic where the reader has to convince him to let him feed off you cause he doesn't want to hurt you🥺 and it gets smutty?

I should definitely be sleeping but I wrote this instead! Sorry for how long this took anon it's been a bit of a crazy week for me. Hope you enjoy sinking your teeth into this one! (hehehe)

You met Mary in a dingy bar on the edgier side of town, having been dragged out in the rain by your friend. They’d really wanted to see an obscure punk band playing, and while you didn’t really know it or want to go, you hadn’t really been given much choice. You’d sat alone at the bar in the midst of the smoke hazed room, packed with sweaty bodies and the heavy thudding of drums. Nursing a beer and watching the crowd from afar so it wouldn’t spill all over you. And then he sauntered in, or rather, he came crashing in. Kicking out the bar stool next to you and plopping down into it so heavily, you could nearly hear the jingling of the chains around his belt and jacket over the booming crowd. With a devilish grin that hit you hard in the pit of your stomach, he introduced himself as Mary Goore, and instantly, looking into his vibrant green eyes, sloppy makeup and crooked teeth, you were charmed. He buttered you up all evening, eyes shimmering, sharp and yet so soft and safe, his hands running up your arms, getting bolder as the night progressed and the world around you disintegrated; all either of you could focus on was one another. There were a few things you noticed; First, that you really, really, liked his boyish smile. Second, that hands were absolutely frigid. Your flesh broke into goosebumps everywhere he touched, and while it froze you to your core, it wasn’t so unwelcoming. Mary didn’t drink either, he did well to hide it, pretending to nurse his one beer over the night, but you were always the watchful type, and well, you were at a dive bar, it was noticeable when someone wasn’t blackout.

You decided you liked Mary quite a lot, and that maybe you’d want to keep him around a little while longer, and he seemed only eager to keep you around a little while longer as well, so he came home with you.

And then you lied down on him. Completely spent, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat and your head still buzzing with euphoria, coming to rest on his chest. It wasn’t moving. He hardly looked tired at all. Frigid skin. Cold as clay. You pressed your ear to his sternum, listening for a heartbeat. You began to chew on your lower lip. Something was wrong.

“Hey,” Mary murmured, tensing noticeably at your change in mood. “You okay?” You didn’t answer, grabbing his arm and pressing two fingers to his inner wrist, ignoring the sharp intake of breath and his slight resistance as you tugged his arm to your breast. Still nothing. Cold as clay. You shot up in the bed, kneeling in front of him on your knees.

“Do you have a heart condition?” You watched as Mary’s jaw slackened, and he sighed, upset, or perhaps slowly resigning himself to the situation at hand, preparing for the shit load of explaining he was about to do. Looking back on it now, it was definitely the latter.

So your boyfriend was a vampire. Not that it bothered you much, you figured that if he’d wanted to kill you he would’ve had plenty of opportunity over the past few months. And besides, he was Mary, your Mary, crunchy around the edges and soft and gooey on the inside; and while you never wanted him to feel as though you were with him only for the theater of it all, you were loathe to admit that there was a part of you that was very enthralled by the danger of dating a vampire. You kept that to yourself though, knowing all too well it was a touchy subject for Mary, who even shied from the casual love bite in fear of hurting you.

So it had never crossed your mind to ask Mary to take his fill of you. Until now.

“Absolutely. Not.” Mary grumbled, a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders as he sat miserably on your sofa. He was frowning furiously at you, and you got onto your knees next to him, sidling up even closer, defiantly quirking a brow.

“Why not?”

“You know why,” he hissed, turning away from you.

“So you’re gonna keep feeding off the burnouts and getting sick? You can’t live like that Mary and you know it.” The problem, well, it wasn’t really a problem but a problem no less you supposed considering his nature, was that Mary was no killer. He only fed from those who asked him to. And while that was great and all, he didn’t necessarily hang around the most hygienic-blooded people. And if he wasn’t careful enough, he would get violently ill. Which was happening more and more lately. Like this evening. So Mary scowled at you, pouting away. He was only pouting cause he knew you were right. You were perfectly healthy. No hard drugs. Plus, you ate a vegetable every now and then. “I’m not asking you to suck me dry, Mary,” that earned you an eye roll. “Just drink enough to get you healthy again and we can figure the rest of it out from there, okay?” He grumbled into the blanket, and you frowned. “I didn’t understand you.”

“I said I don’t wanna hurt you,” he murmured, bright green eyes pooling with pain. “I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you.” And your heart swelled in your chest, a warm rush of tears prickling behind your lashes, and you crawled into his lap, Mary opening his blanket cocoon so you could press your warm body to his cold one. Your hands came up to cradle his face, urging him to look up.

“I trust you, Mary,” you whispered. “I love you. And I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t feel one hundred percent safe with you. I know it’s hard for you, but please, just until you’re healthy again.” He heaved a sigh, nodding, cold hands coming to run up your waist.

“Alright, but only until I fight off this flu, okay?”

“Of course.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you murmured, bumping your forehead against his, leaning in to give him a peck to his lips. He smiled softly as he leaned into it, pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss. You were oh so happy that he couldn’t give you the vampire flu. You pulled away, eyes half-lidded, staring into his. “what’s the best way to go about this?” Mary swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, pupils dilating with the promise of fresh blood.

“I usually go for the neck,” he rasped, eyes trailing down the column of your throat. You felt your stomach flutter and you squirmed in his lap, half nervous, half delighted. “But I can take your wrist if you’re worried—”

“No!” you blurted out, flushing as you cast your eyes downwards, stammering out a finished response. “No, I-I’m fine with the neck, if that’s you want.” Even weakened and rundown, Mary’s predatorial instinct kicks in strong, and his fingers dig into your sides, as he presses his lips to your jaw and purrs.

“Do you like this babe?” he tongues at your pulse point, and you let out a shaky breath as he groans at the salt of your flesh alighting across his taste buds. “Hmm? You want me to use you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, swallowing thickly. “But that’s not why—”

“I know.” Mary squeezes your elbow in reassurance. “I know sweetheart.” Fuck, you love it when he calls you that. “Hold onto me okay?” He sweeps your dark curtain of hair to the other side of your neck, cold lips ghosting across your sensitive skin, every nerve alight. You do as he says and tighten your grip on his shoulders. “It’ll hurt like hell for a bit but it’ll pass okay? And you tell me or squeeze my arm twice if you need me to stop.” You nod, eyes fluttering shut, nervousness gnawing at your gut. “I need you to use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you croak out, nails biting into his flesh, as his hand wraps around your jaw, tilting your head back. And for a moment you can’t breathe. Cold as clay. But you’re on fire. Every nerve, from the roots of your hair to the tips of your fingers, is on fire, and you squeak a broken whimper as Mary’s teeth sink into your pulse and he takes his fill. One hand held your jaw in place, the other wrapped tightly around your waist, stopping you from squirming away. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and as you start to go limp. Everything is heavy and your brain is mush, the pain dulling to a thrum, but the embers still smolder in your core, and you’re vaguely aware of you squirming in Mary’s lap as he grips you tighter to him, mouth still locked onto your throat, moaning as he drinks from me.

You’re in a state of near euphoria, mind and body a haze of heat and arousal coursing through your veins, when Mary pulls away from your neck, pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed to their usual rosiness, blood smeared around his lips, dribbling down his chin. Your blood. You moan at the sight of him, swaying ever so slightly in his arms. And Mary carefully scoops you up and lies you down the length of the sofa, your eyes fluttering shut as the back of your head is met with plush cushions, legs still wrapped around Mary’s hips.

“Fuck you taste good sweetheart,” he groans, tongue lapping at your oozing wound. You moan out, feeling the beginnings of his erection pressing into you through his pants, his suckling sending every nerve into overdrive.

“Again,” you pant, somehow managing to thread your fingers through his hair, writhing against the couch. Mary chuckles darkly, eyeing you from underneath his long lashes.

“Don’t wanna suck you dry, baby.” You groan again, hips rutting against his, licking your lips. A part of you really wants him to. Devour you whole, consume you until nothing was left. The flame in your core intensifies and you can’t get close enough to him, you need to be welded to him. You need him. You need. You whine in wanting. And concerned, Mary pauses. “Sweetheart, you alright?”

“Need you, Mary,” you moan, your heels digging into the backs of his thighs. His cock is rock hard, and you cant your hips as best you can under his weight to get friction.

“Are you sure? Sweetheart you lost a lot of blood I don’t know—”

“Please,” you sigh. His eyes are half-lidded, dark with lust. You’ve never wanted him more. “Need you Mary. Need you inside of me.” You whine at the loss of his body weight as Mary stands up to undress. Soon, he’s tugging your pants and underwear off, and lifting you up as though you weighed nothing, he pulls your shirt over your head and latches onto a pert nipple, laying you back down. You shiver as the cold hard planes of his body flatten against your warm supple flesh. He runs his leaking cock through your slit, groaning at the heat of your cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, Sweetheart.” You whimper against his throat, nearly silent whispers of please please please escaping your lips as he lines himself up to your entrance and with one solid thrust, buries himself inside you. You cry out, throwing your head back, nails digging into his forearms.

“Fuck me, Mary,” you whimper, and he hooks his arm under one of your thighs, effectively impaling you further on his cock before he pulls out nearly all the way and drives back in with a deep, predatorial growl. His hips set a bruising pace, the sound of his cock slipping into your slick cunt and your cries of pleasure filling the room. Nerves alight, you feel everything intensely, his head slamming into your sweet-spot has you biting into his shoulder to tamp down your screams.

“you fucking like it when I fuck you like this don’t you?” he hisses into your ear. “You like it when I use you” It sends you careening over the edge, and as you clench around him, tears streaming down your cheeks, you run your tongue up the column of his throat, lapping up the remnants of his feast, the iron taste of your blood coating your tongue. Mary groans out, nails piercing the flesh of your thighs as his hips stutter to a halt, and he empties himself inside you, collapsing to mouth sloppy kisses across your chest and suckle at your punctures.

Fully sated, you sigh, running a hand through his hair as your mind floats in the blissful clouds, the embers in your core smothered out.

“You okay, baby?” Mary asks softly, cupping your face in his hand and gently running his thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away tear stains.

“Uhuh,” he breath, and you can feel yourself nodding. “Can we do it again?” Mary chuckles quietly, eyes softening as you smile up lazily at him. Your neck is starting to throb, but for now your content to lay underneath him, feeling him inside you.

“Maybe, every now and then,” he murmurs as he pulls out of you, scooping you up in his arms and carrying off to bed, mumbling something about patching you up. Good enough you think, as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, dozing off.

#mary goore #mary goore x reader #ghost bc

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