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hapan-in-exile · 2 months

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It's alright to just admit that I'm the fantasy

A Mandalorian One Shot

Yeah, I know your little secret...

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Reader: You are a courtesan at the Dark Garden, Coruscant’s most prestigious pleasure house. Owned by the crimelord Boss Set’ki and operated by his lieutenant Mistress Anassa, when business meets pleasure, you’re expected to entertain soldiers on the payroll. But there’s one—a Mandalorian you’ve come to know and respect—who’s never taken advantage of your services. Until one day, he asked, What if next time I said yes?

Word Count: ~9K

Pairing: dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Warnings: Roleplay, bondage, blindfold, fingering, oral sex (m+f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, hair pulling, choking, biting, protected anal, unprotected piv, rough sex, edging (him), explicit consent, aftercare.

If the above looks super intense, please know I wrote a soft(er) dom Mando—no extreme degradation. Lots of checking in! Lots of praise!

A/N: This is a one-shot set in the same universe as my ongoing Mandalorian fanfic series. It has no bearing on the series plot, but that’s why the ofc Thuli is named (only once). However, there's no description of skin, hair, or eye color; no description of age or body shape.

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Tales from the Dark Garden

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says disinterestedly, sliding the pile of neatly stacked credits into his waiting palm. “Please extend my gratitude to Boss Set’ki for his generous and timely payment.”

You watch him tuck the metallic ingots into one of the leather pouches sewn to his belt—right between the buckle and a string of explosive charges. There’s a dull thunk when the butt of his rifle knocks against the table’s edge as he turns to leave.

It's quite the arsenal. The bounty hunter certainly cast an imposing figure.

It’s a miracle those shoulders made it through the hatch.

You’d heard rumors from the other girls at Dark Garden about the fearsome Mandalorian who visited Mistress Anassa. This just happened to be one of those delightful twists gifted by the universe, where the real thing exceeds expectations. He was terrifying. And sexy as hell.

That first moment when you’d opened the door to see him standing there in full plate Beskar was a shock to the senses that would have reduced a younger Thuli into a stream of inane babbling.

Good thing you had a lot of practice controlling your expression—the demands of professional decorum, after all. It would ruin your Mistress’s reputation if you started drooling over the customers.

The armor suited him. It accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his forearms, and his powerfully muscular thighs. The belt slung low around his tapered waist, and the quilted canvas hinted at the taut abdominals concealed beneath.

All the adrenaline that surged through your body at the sight of his weaponry had immediately transformed into excitement, raw and primal.

This man made you feel…

Sweet gods, divine and merciful.

“Of course,” you smile, leaning forward to place your elbows over the polished tabletop so that your breasts rise enticingly. Lacing your fingers together, you gently rest your chin atop your knuckles. “I will happily deliver your compliments to my master.”

The Beskar gleamed in the candlelight despite an ashy layer of soot. From the state of him, he might have come straight from the lower levels where he’d tracked his quarry. Your eyes linger over the blood splattered across his helmet, sending a shiver of panic down your spine. What sort of violence had this man committed mere hours ago?

Arousal surges within you, fear and wanting intertwined.

The gore and grime are a stark contrast to the lush surroundings. Draped in silk tapestries, with thick woolen rugs and brocade pillows, your shuttle interior was designed to be a sanctuary from the vulgar world outside.

But you suspect the Mandalorian wrapped brutality around him as tightly as the cloak hanging from his neck. It would take a woman of considerable charm to remove either.

Which is why Anassa chose you.

“It is my honor to serve, Master Set’ki,” you reply, rising artfully from your chair and gesturing toward the lounge where you’ve laid out a modest tea service. “And my duty to please.”

The Mandalorian pauses midstep on his way to the door.

“Excuse me?” he asks, curiosity peaked.

Shrugging out of your robe, the silken fabric pools at your feet. You kneel onto the plush carpet before pulling back, sitting on your heels, and reaching for the enameled pot. “My master thought you would enjoy the companionship. A chance to indulge in softer luxuries before you return to the Outer Rim.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet gives away nothing, but you can feel his eyes tracing over you.

Looking up at him through dark lashes, you explain, “The use of this ship—and myself—are yours for the night.”

Despite the layers of cloth and metal, when he folds his arms across his chest, you see the muscles in his back ripple. He looked powerfully, almost aggressively masculine. Like someone who took what he wanted.

And right now, he’s imagining taking you.

The fear is still there, but by now, it had sharpened to anticipation so intense that it ached.

“That won’t be necessary,” he says firmly. Yet, his words did not match his actions. Instead of continuing on his path toward the door, he turns to face you, uncrossing his arms to hold them at his sides.

Is he simply nervous? Sometimes, warriors hardened on the battlefield liked to yield dominance in the bedroom. Maybe you should try throwing him against a wall and climbing him like a tree.

No. If submission were his preference, Anassa would have chosen someone else—Katlin with her barbed whips or Bat’ya with her cruel tongue.

You need to coax him without pushing. The subtle art of persuasion.

Let’s start with coy seduction.

Turning to look at him from over your shoulder, you toss your hair just so, sending shimmering waves down your back. You twist gracefully at the waist until your bodice gapes, revealing the contours of your body.

“Think of it as a reward,” your voice is supple as the velvet cushions surrounding you on the floor. “Someone to take care of you. My only desire is your comfort and pleasure.”

With that, you pour the tea and walk over to him, proferring a cup.

“That is indeed generous,” the Mandalorian cocks his head. “But I usually find more comfort in solitude.”

Yet, again, he makes no attempt to leave, accepting the cup from your hand graciously. Worn leather caresses your skin as your fingers brush against each other, reaching around the warm porcelain. The jaw of his helmet lifts, and you catch a glimpse of bronze skin and coarse black hair while he raises the cup to his lips.

Surprisingly full lips.

What did he mean by offering resistance? Was this a challenge? Some test of your professional acumen?

A skilled courtesan is, above all else, a student of human nature and hidden desires. She must know what her clients want before they speak the words. Before they know it themselves. This Mandalorian wanted to be…tempted.

Timidity would yield nothing.

You arch an eyebrow, “I have never known a man who preferred solitude to my company.” Then, you stare directly into the jet-black surface of his helmet’s visor. Meeting his gaze, you place a delicate hand over his chest plate and fill your voice with honey, “Let tonight be a rare exception to the usual.”

The Beskar feels cool against your palm and the pads of your fingertips. You hadn’t realized how flushed you’d become with your heart beating this fast. The insistent yearning between your thighs matches each pulse coursing through your veins.

“I am here to satisfy your needs. Whatever the Mandalorian desires is his for the taking.”

While the bounty hunter remains stubbornly silent, you can hear his breathing grow shallow through the modulator.

Having made your supplication, you draw back. “If it is tranquility the Mandalorian desires, perhaps I could play the valachord or sing for him?”

“Sing?” he huffs, sounding amused. It’s funny, hearing the smirk on his lips.

Well, at least he’s not completely immune to your charm.

“Pleasure takes many forms,” you say, flashing him a demure smile. “As such, we courtesans are skilled in many arts. I’ve been told my voice is exceedingly lovely. And I know all the Twelve Ballads of Kiergaard.”

You shift onto the edge of a thick cushion to pour yourself some tea. When you raise the cup to your lips, the look of elegant femininity slips—just for a moment, so he can see the earnest hunger filling your gaze. You fix him with your most smoldering stare, “Though I can certainly think of other ways to please you with my mouth.”

The tea tastes bitter on your tongue, but you hardly notice, waiting for his reaction.

The Mandalorian says nothing as he pulls the rifle over his head, settling it against the door frame. He walks over in a slow saunter that makes his hips dip and sway. Slowly, he extends his hand to take your face in his leather fingers, lifting up your chin.

“You want me to fuck your mouth?”

Your breath catches in your throat. A wave of arousal courses through your body, emanating from your clenching belly until it ripples over every surface of your skin, pinching your nipples.

“If the Mandalorian—” but he cuts off whatever beguiling line you intended.

“I thought this was about what I wanted?” he demands.

Suddenly, you’re too flustered to speak, confused by the sudden shift in dynamic. All his polite reticence had been an act. He was done testing you. He wanted to assert dominance.

In answer, you lower your gaze.

“That’s right,” he says cooly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re remembering what you’re for.” The Mandalorian takes the cup from your hands and tosses it aside. “There’s no more need to talk. Don’t open your mouth unless I tell you.”

Then he reaches down to his belt and unbuckles it.

And to think you worried he’d be too self-conscious for roleplay. This is going to be so good.

“You’re here to give me whatever I want?” he asks, his tone gruff and intimidating.

You don’t look up, just nod.

He laughs, “I’m glad we understand each other.”

With your gaze locked on the floor, you watch the tread of his boots make their way to a lacquer armchair in the corner of the room. His knees splay wide as he leans back in his seat. “Answer my question.”

“Whatever the Mandalorian desires, I will give him.”

“Because tonight, your body is for me.”

It’s not a question, but you find yourself nodding in confirmation.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

You answer truthfully. “That you’re a dangerous man, and I should do my best to please you.”

“Smart girl,” he says in a rough whisper. “But don’t worry, I have no intention of harming you. I’m going to make you come. Then you’ll sing for me, senaar'ika.”

Senaar'ika. Little bird.

Your whole body flushes with heat.

“What do you know about Mandalorian customs?”

When you hesitate, he adds, “You can answer me.”

“I know that it’s a sacrilege to look upon your face. That to touch your helmet, even by accident, is to forfeit my life.”

“Then you’ll understand why I need to tie you down.”

At that, your head snaps up to look at him.

“Or tie you up. I haven’t decided yet.”

Part of you is terrified by the thought of being captive to this man for hours, splayed wide and helpless. The other part of you wishes he’d do it this second.

“You can undress while I make up my mind.”

Obeying his command, you stand and reach behind you for the lacings of your bodice.

This, at least, is an art in which you can make your mistress proud. The trick is to envision it’s a private ritual, something deeply intimate. That you always loosen the silken knots this slowly. That each row of the lacings must be pulled free, one—by—one.

You lift your elbows so that he glimpses the soft curves of your breasts as you move. Slip your right arm from its fitted sleeve, then the left, until you’re certain the dress will fall, cascading over your body like waves caressing the shore.

Only then do you turn, rolling your hips and then your shoulders, displaying your nakedness, before you finally look over to where he’s sitting, as though you’d forgotten anyone was watching.

At some point during your performance, the Mandalorian had leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped together in wrapt attention.

“That was beautifully done,” he murmurs. “You may be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart swells, hearing his admiration—perhaps because it sounds so genuine. Suddenly, all you can think about is how best to please him, the things you’ll do with your lips and fingers.

“I understand the Hapan courtesans from Dark Garden are the most expensive, the most prized companions in all of Coruscant.” The hunter’s voice sinks into a low, husky rasp as he says, “But tonight, I’m not interested in your talents, though I’m sure you have many. This is about what I want to do to you. Tonight, you belong to me.”

It’s just as well he demanded your silence because you can’t speak.

You know he can see you breathing, shallow and fast, from the rise and fall of your breasts. See your pulse thundering against your throat. He’s feeding off your fear, you realize. That’s why he keeps trying to catch you off guard like this. The Mandalorian wanted to shatter your artful calm and see something raw and real in your eyes.

You know you should be afraid—and you are—but you’ve never been more turned on.

So when he gets up from his seat to approach you, you don’t bother hiding the way your whole body trembles in trepidation.

The Mandalorian crouches to pick up the belt from your discarded robe.

“Give me your hands.”

He uses the fabric to tie your wrists together, wrapping the belt around and between them in a complicated knot. Then, his strong hands pull you under one of the lanterns suspended from the ceiling.

Cupping it in his palm, he lifts the glowing orb from its hook to set it down beside the abandoned tea service. The cabin grows dim, like he’s wrapped you in shadows.

That’s when you realize what’s about to happen. Unspooling the cable from his whipcord, he loops it through the empty hook. He’s going to suspend you from the ceiling by your wrists.

The breath coming from your nostrils is so fast now that it’s the only thing you can hear in the close, quiet cabin of your shuttle. But you say nothing. You can’t protest; you can only submit.

After securing your bound wrists to the cord, he inspects the knots.

“Not too tight?”

You release a deep breath and shake your head no.

“You remember the signal?” Mando asks with concern, breaking from the fantasy entirely.

“Yes,” you smile up at him with more confidence than you really feel—trying to ignore the insistent throbbing between your legs.

“You can stop me at any time.”

“I know.”

“Alright,” he says before his voice drops into a rough whisper. “You’re giving me total control. Anything I want is mine.”

Fuck, just hearing him say that makes you ache with need. That same trembling emanates from inside you, fear and arousal, two halves of the same coin. You don’t know precisely what the bounty hunter plans to do to you—and the suspense just makes the fantasy feel more real.

Within seconds, you’ll be tied up, defenseless against him and his desires. The only way to stop him is to say the safe word, and you already know you won’t. You want it too much.

You’ve spent months building up to this—years, really. It’s my choice, you’d told him. It’s different when it’s my choice.

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly.

Then he pulls down on the whipcord, and your arms lift above your head.

For one panicked moment, you think he’s going to haul you entirely off the ground, but your feet remain on the floor, bearing your weight. You remind yourself that this is his domain. He knows how to bind, what the body can withstand.

And for now, the tension feels manageable. Slack enough so you don’t feel the strain in your joints; taut enough so you can grip the cord to steady yourself.

Yet you remain utterly helpless, unable to turn your head or move without losing your balance.

He takes a few steps back, leather boots creaking, and you watch as the Mandalorian strips his gloves off before removing the Beskar from his arms and chest. The fabric underneath outlines every contour of his powerfully muscular body.

Though not as graceful as your tradecraft, he certainly knows how to build anticipation. Each time his hands grip, pull, and tug, your stomach clenches.

Soon, you feel volatile, ready to explode, waiting for him to touch you. When he finally does—when you feel the tip of his calloused finger tracing over the length of your spine, it burns through you, down to your core, so hot your cheeks flush scarlet.

“It’s a good thing we have all night,” he murmurs. “There’s a lot I want to do with you.”

As he circles, the view plate sweeps up and down your body as though inspecting some prize captured in a snare. All you can do is stand there on display, completely exposed, until he makes a satisfied sound, a hummm that vibrates through the modulator. The hunter, pleased to discover what he’s caught.

“I feel deeply honored to receive you as my reward,” the Mandalorian sounds eager, standing behind you, voice full of hunger. “Now spread your legs.”

The breath catches in your throat, hearing that tight ache—the same raw yearning to match your own. You want to obey.

But there’s no give to the whipcord. The bindings on your wrist pull tighter the farther your feet draw apart. Though you can still balance, your shoulders start to burn from the stretch. Slowly, you rise onto tiptoes. But not fast enough—

Wrapping an arm around your waist, the Mandalorian lifts you from the floor.

“Wider,” he commands, gripping you roughly by the knee to pry open your thighs with his other hand. You have to bite back a scream. By now, you’re so wound up that just the sensation—the air cool against your wet center, his powerful chest pressed against your back, his fingers digging into your skin makes you drunk with lust.

“You’re so wet already, senaar'ika. It’s slicking down your thighs,” the Mandalorian groans, breath warm against the back of your neck. His hand gripping your knee slides upward between your legs, tracing toward the heat of your skin. “No wonder you were begging me to fuck you.”

His fingers part and probe—massaging in slow, firm circles that spiral until you’re panting. Every stroke sends pleasure pulsing through you, and you can’t stop yourself from whimpering.

“You like it when I use my hand?” he asks, voice maddeningly calm. Only the persistent throbbing against your hip, matching each beat of his heart, betrays his arousal. When you release a sigh in desperate delight, he says, “Maybe this is how I should start.”

And fuck, if Mando doesn’t knows exactly where to touch you—how much to bear down and how fast to go.

“Mmmph,” a moan of deep satisfaction escapes his lips as he thrusts two fingers inside you, sending a gush of wetness welling against his palm. He pushes them in and out, obviously relishing the obscene squelching sound.

Wait! When did he take off his helmet?

No. No, this is forbidden. This is dangerous.

You couldn’t move your head to look at him even if you wanted to, but your eyes shut tightly just the same. The fear of seeing his face, the dire consequences, amplify every panicked thought running through your mind, heightening every sensation—his fingers curling, his thumb pressing down over your clit.

Your breaths come sharp and shallow now. All the blood in your body rushing between your legs. The stimulation is almost too much to bear, the excitement and panic roiling within you—the Mandalorian dipping his fingers inside, slipping them out to circle and stroke. Drawing a wet line between your cunt over and over.

Desire ripples through you in waves. Your body tightens, muscles clenching. Your bound hands keep straining in their futile urge to grab his wrist, your knees fighting against him to shut tight around his thrusting fingers.

You’re close now. So close, you’re on the brink.

He kisses the back of your neck, “Don’t worry. I’m going to take good care of you.”

“Aaangh!” That’s when he presses harder, circles faster, and you come, “Haaa-aah!”

Your orgasm crashes through you in a tidal wave that upends gravity. You cry out desperately with all the air left in your lungs—the relentless pounding of your heartbeat against your eardrums making you dizzy.

“Haa-aah! Aaah!”

Losing equilibrium, you sway, and the bindings pull painfully around your wrists. You’re at the limits of your flexibility, fighting to keep your balance before the Mandalorian’s muscular arm tightens around your waist, until he’s bearing enough of your weight to keep you upright.

“I’ve got you,” he says gently, pressing a tender kiss over your head. “Stand up. Come on. Legs spread. You know what I want.”

You shift on your heels, testing your unsteady knees. “I can’t—” but your words break off into a gasp when he clasps his hand around your throat, warm and sticky with your come.

“Shhhh,” he whispers against your temple. “I told you not to open your mouth unless I said so.”

His tone is soft, and he kisses you tenderly again through a tangle of damp hair, your forehead glistening with sweat. But his fingers grip tighter in warning.

“Don’t speak unless you’re begging me for more.”

You nod once in understanding.

“Smart girl,” he says, and without the helmet on, you can hear the wry grin on his lips. “I’m glad we understand each other. It’s going to make everything so much easier. But just to be sure—”

His wide palm fans out from your waist, gliding down your body to slip over the curve of your buttocks.

Then he brings it down in a sharp smack that echoes through the quiet cabin. Hearing that slap, feeling the sting on your skin, the burning heat that radiates from his handprint—shakes you from the hazy lust.

It’s not enough to want to obey.

“I’m going to take good care of you, senaar'ika. But you have to do as you’re told.”

While he’s playing a role, the pain is very real. Yet this fantasy is about your powerlessness. Whatever the Mandalorian wants to do to you, you have to take it. Yes, the pain is undeniable—but the adrenaline?—it sharpens the hunger.

When you finally regain your balance and tilt your pelvis forward at just the right angle, your ass brushes against his straining erection, and he groans, a low vibration you feel through his chest. Arousal arcs through you, and you gasp responsively. Even now, as your body tingles numbly in the aftermath of climax, your cunt still aches, longing to be full of him.

With his entire body sealed against you, you feel the firm pressure swelling against your ass. It throbs, heat radiating through the canvas flight suit. The coarse fabric is rough, rubbing over your slapped skin.

“You feel that?” he whispers, grinding the entire length of his cock against you. “That’s what you’re going to take for me.”

Holy fuck, he’s huge. Thick, too. Your mind reels at the impossibility; can you really fit him inside you?

“You’re going to take it all,” the bounty hunter huffs, as if he’d heard your thoughts. “You’re going to come with my cock buried in your ass.”

Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!

It’s something you’ve talked about, something you said you wanted and prepared for, but….you’ve never had anyone this big up your ass before. He’s going to tear you apart.

“Are you scared? Because trust me, I’m going to make you ready. You’re going to beg me for it. Then you’ll come so hard with my cock in your ass, nothing else will ever feel as good.”

The hormones that suddenly surge through your body make arousal indistinguishable from panic. You should be so afraid, and yet, you want this. Under the fear, you’re still full of need, urgent, and emphatic.

“After that, if you’re lucky, then I’ll fuck your mouth.”

Shit! Shit, that’s…you try to banish away the shame washing over you. He’s going to claim your body in every way imaginable, use you filthy—and it feels like you shouldn’t want this. But you do.

“Don’t worry,” he sighs, voice sounding softer now, gentle. “I’m not going to rush this. First, I want to explore your beautiful body.”

You feel the cold Beskar plates against the backs of your thighs and shiver.

His hands slide outward along your shoulder blades, curving down and around just enough for his fingers to lightly brush the sides of your breasts. Then, the Mandalorian’s arms circle you, reaching up to grasp them in both hands. Arousal rekindles as he kneads and squeezes, pressing them together tightly. Igniting as he tugs and pinches.

And when your nipples are so tender you whine, “Mmmph!” he soothes them in his wide palms.

“You—are—so—beautiful,” he moans, kissing the curve of your jaw.

Behind you, his lips trail soft, open-mouth kisses down the back of your neck, between your shoulders, along your spine, and lower, until he drops to one knee. His hands trace over your ribcage, your sides, the indentation of your waist, and the flare of your hips.

The pads of his fingertips are coarse but tender.

“Look at you. Legs spread. Open and wet for me. When I dream of you, this is what I’ll see.”

Then he crouches between your knees to press lighter, softer kisses up the inside of your thighs, teasing you until you grow desperate with anticipation. “Haa!” you gasp, already panting.

Spirals of arousal coil through you, so dizzying you have to grip the whipcord for balance.

Soon, you’re lost to anything but the desire for him to taste you. That he’s risked so much by removing his helmet is the only thing keeping you from breaking position, regardless of the punishment. That’s how much you long to tilt your hips and rub yourself against his mouth.

Don’t speak unless you’re begging me for more. Would he like it if you begged?

“Please,” you whimper, voice full of desperation.

He groans in satisfaction before making one long sweep of his tongue, right through the very center of your urgent longing. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes!”

“I like hearing you beg.” Then his lips press firmly between your thighs, enfolding you in his warm, wet mouth.

Okay, wow, he’s good at this. He’s really, really good at this.

The Mandalorian’s tongue searches for your clit, stroking and circling in a rhythm that drags you back to the brink almost instantly. But slowly, agonizingly slowly, to hold you at the edge of pleasure—like he could do this, keep you suspended there—forever.

“Show me how much you want it,” he says, hot breath tickling against your delicate skin.

If you could bury your fingers in his hair, you would. Instead, you shift all of your weight onto one leg, using what remains of your equilibrium to drape the other over his shoulder, feeling the rough stubble of his beard and the shell of his ear press against the inside of your thigh.

Helping you balance, one strong hand grips you by the hipbone while the other slips over your knee before guiding his mouth between the sopping wet folds of your cunt.

You tense every muscle, digging your heel into his sinewy back to try to keep him there. Right there!

He rewards you by lapping faster—and then, when you cry out, speeding up even more. “Sing for me, senaar'ika.”

Every throb of pleasure ripples through your body from your nipples to your scalp, all the way down to your toes, until you can’t help yourself from rocking your hips, increasing the pressure just a little more. You feel each bob and turn of his head as he keeps at it, caressing you in spirals as a long, luscious wave of ecstasy swells inside you.

Mando’s fingers tighten around your thigh to hold you in place. He keeps going, maintaining his rhythm so that you can ride each cresting surge. It builds low, climbing and arcing higher, and when it finally overwhelms you, when you let go, and it rushes through you—you do sing. You cry out in one long wail that lasts the length and breadth of your climax.

Your body goes limp once the orgasm fades, and just like last time, the Mandalorian is the only source of strength to keep you upright. Hands clutching your hips, he pulls back to place a wet, sticky kiss low on your belly, then says, “We’re not done yet, little dove. Not nearly done yet.”

Gods in heaven, how much more of this can you take? You’d love nothing better than to sink to the floor in post-orgasmic bliss…but his cock is still in his pants.

Too afraid to look down, you feel his body shifting between your knees and wonder, what next? Should you offer to reciprocate? Fuck, you want to. Right now, you want him in your mouth so badly that it’s all you can do not to beg for it.

Your lips part, the words ready on your tongue—

When suddenly, he lifts you by the back of your thighs, settling you on top of his shoulders. You barely have time to gasp, to grip the braided cable between your hands—to think—before he buries his face between your thighs again.

“Oh, gods!” you gasp. “Oh, haah…!”

The tension in the whipcord keeps you from falling backward, but you feel precariously weightless sitting on his shoulders. Reeling, overstimulated from your last orgasm, you instinctively try to writhe away from the press of his wet tongue, his hot mouth, the coarse hair of his beard, and nearly lose your balance.

Mando steadies you, wrapping his arms around your lower back, ass braced against his thick biceps as he works, tongue parting the soft creases of your cunt to find your sore, throbbing clit.

This time, he holds nothing back, laving and shaking his head until your vision starts to blur; the pleasure is so intense it’s blinding.

Oh shit! Merciful gods, this might break you. It’s too much. Too much. But you can’t move. Caged in his arms, you have to take what he gives. It feels so good.

You don’t think it can get any better until he starts to suck. After that, you can’t think about anything anymore. Your mind is just blank. Static. White noise.

Fuck! You’re at the brink again—so fucking close—your heartbeat is thundering against your ribs. The muscles of your inner thighs lock, clenching around his jaw. Your body is poised right there. Right there! That exhilarating moment before—

And at that's when the Mandalorian slips a finger, slick with your come, inside your ass.

The sensation kindles alarm, and your entire body tenses in response. All your instincts awaken in primal fear to remind you just how vulnerable you are.

Okay! It's okay! Just relax.

In answer, his other hand begins sweeping up and down your thigh, caressing and soothing the tension away.

That’s right. You have to relax. He’s doing this for you, to make you ready. Right now, your pleasure is the only thing that matters. Focus on his tongue circling your clit, his finger gently caressing millions of tiny nerve endings.

But he slides up so seamlessly, so deep inside you, the pressure pools in your abdomen, and you gasp, “Oh, gods!” again.

Don’t resist the sensation—yield to it. Work with it. Take what you need.

Pulling on the whipcord for leverage, you thrust your hips against his mouth. He groans in encouragement, responding by sucking harder, licking faster—and then, spearing his tongue inside you.

Okay, yes. Yes! Gods, yes! You have never come so soon after your last orgasm, but he’s going to get you there.

That’s when he adds a second finger.

You feel it stretch you, but your body doesn’t resist this time. And when he starts working them back and forth in rhythm with the thrusting of his tongue, it starts to feel so good. So good.

Each rut of his tongue and stroke of his fingers sends heat coursing through you, so flushed now that your skin seems to be on fire. Your hair clings to your sweaty cheeks. But nothing is as hot as his breath between your thighs.

So you move faster, rubbing yourself against the raw stubble of his chin, the tip of his nose, drowning him in your cunt. All the while, he increases the pressure of his fingers just a little more, massaging inside you.

You start to shake, the muscles in your legs trembling, as the Mandalorian twists his hand, rolls his wrist, and you feel the brush of his knuckles against the tender skin of your asshole.

Then, he sucks your clit between his teeth, and you come in a burst of ecstasy so sharp it makes you scream. There’s a second when your vision goes entirely white—like staring into a bright sun—and your heart thumps so hard you hear the blood rushing in your ears.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your stomach.

His fingers gently slip out of you so he can grasp you by the ribcage with both hands, bracing you as you shudder through the ricocheting aftermath of your orgasm.

“You taste like heaven.”

He would know. His face, his hands, his neck, and shoulders are all covered in your come.

“I told you I’d take care of you,” Mando’s broad hands stroke the length of your back, and the sound of his voice melts away any lingering doubts. He knows when to be gentle and when to be rough. You can trust him with this.

When the bounty hunter ducks his head out from between your thighs, you think you’ll have to stand up again, get back into position. And you know you’ll be punished—but you can’t. You’re shaking too much for that.

It doesn’t matter. Your feet never touch the floor. Bending you at the waist, he slings you over one broad, muscular shoulder, so that you dangle limp and dizzy, upside down as he steps into a lunge to lift you both off the ground. Tearing your wrists free from the whipcord at last, your arms fall numbly behind him, blood rushing back into your digits.

Draped over his shoulder like a hunter’s prize, he strides across the cabin toward the bed.

Perhaps you’re delirious—you must be after three orgasms. Or maybe it’s because your fingers are so desperate to find new life. But when you look up (or is it down?) to see his perfectly sculpted ass outlined in dark gray canvas about a foot from your face…weak as you are, you can’t stop yourself from reaching for it. Your hand stretches lower until you feel its firm contours press satisfyingly against your palm. And gods help you, but you squeeze. Hard.

The Mandalorian chuckles, a deep booming laugh that has your knees jostling against his chest. You’re breaking from the submissive fantasy, but maybe he won’t—

“I knew you wanted it,” he laughs, voice full of triumph as—fingers splayed wide, he slaps his hand down over your ass cheek—the exact same spot as last time—so hard the sting brings tears to your eyes.

Fuck! Your jaw drops. The pain sharpens all of your senses, bringing everything into focus. Your thighs squeeze together, cunt clenching against the sensation. Fuck that stings. Right. He’s back in the role. Time to be rough.

“You’ve wanted my cock inside you since the moment I stepped through that door. Haven’t you?”

When he tosses you onto the bed, you fall onto the mattress, flat on your belly. But before you can get to your hands beneath you, he presses a knee down between your shoulder blades to keep you from moving.

“You want to beg me some more, senaar'ika?”

The silk belt of your robe slips over your eyes, and he lashes it tightly behind your head.

“Tell me!” he demands, like he’s making you confess to something.

“Yes,” you whisper into the sheets, words muffled by the bedding.

“Yes, what?”

“I want your cock.”

“Where?” he asks, and the sound of him tugging down his zipper fills your ears.

“Inside me,” you gulp. “I want your cock inside me.”

You hear him tearing open the condom wrapper, “That’s right. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please—”

Then he’s on top of you, hands pressing into the mattress on either side of your face, his knee lifting from your back to part your thighs, his massive weight pinning you underneath him.

Reaching between your naked bodies, he wraps a hand around the base of his shaft to rub the swollen head of his cock along the cleft of your ass, back and forth, slicking the entrance before he pushes inside you.

You cry out in shock.

So does he.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, that’s so tight! Haa, haa!”

Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss atop your head, pausing with just the first few inches of him inside, letting your body stretch to fit him.

“You okay?” he whispers quietly against your cheek, his face damp with sweat.

When you nod, he begins tracing his tongue over your earlobe, kissing your jaw and the corner of your mouth. His beard is still drenched with your come.

“This feels amazing,” his breath is hot in your ear. “Just this. You're gripping me so tight.”

You’re tempted to stop here, to say the safe word. And you trust Mando to stop; you know he would. That’s why he’s reminding you. And this does feel amazing, his body enfolding you, the rub of his bare skin over yours, the feeling of every firm muscle pressing into your soft curves—the pressure inside you.

But you want this. You want all of him.

“More,” you moan.

The aching burn is so intense as his enormous cock plunges deeper inside you—slowly, but without ceasing. “Oh fuck!” he gasps. “Fuuuuck, that feels so good. Almost, ha-aah…almost. It’s almost in.”

The burn as he opens you—the way the entire universe narrows to this bodily sensation, until you perceive nothing but its fantastic pressure—only anal sex does this for you. But its so hard to trust someone to be careful, to make you feel safe in spite of being so vulnerable and powerless. Mando does that.

“I’m going to start, haah…I’m going to start moving, okay?” he says, panting from arousal and restraint.

Adjusting his weight onto his elbows, he rolls his hips gently, strokes building. There’s so much lubricant on the condom; each shallow thrust is frictionless, but you’re still trembling like one of the strings of your valachord.

“Haah, you feel so good. So—nnngh—so fucking good!” Threading his fingers through your hair, his forehead drops against your neck, and the heat from each ragged breath spills over your shoulders. “Anngh!”

Then he starts fucking you in earnest. He pushes deeper now, pulling out further to feel the grip of your asshole squeeze up and down the length of his shaft. Already, you feel arousal peaking within you with each long, slow stroke.

Mando’s width and length stretches you, makes you burn. And you moan, fingers twining in the sheets as the pleasure becomes indistinguishable from the pain.

“You like this?” his voice is teasing again, getting back into the role.

“Mm-hmm,” you moan, unable to form words.

It’s like you can’t feel anything but him moving inside you, pleasure surging in ebbs and flows, like a tidal current. It’s hard to describe. The barrier between your anus and cunt is so thin you feel him everywhere. It burns, this inner blazing heat.

It’s a sweet agony, like the handprint on your ass, making everything tingle with sensitivity, amplifying every sensation. Even the pressure of the mattress against your clit is enough to send a thrill through you.

“Is this the biggest cock you’ve ever taken?”

You cry out in torment and desire as he shoves into you harder this time, and your whole body bends and turns in a desperate effort to accept every inch.

“Yes,” you want to sob into the mattress. It aches. It’s so fucking good you could scream.

“You’re taking it so good,” he whispers as he sinks in even deeper. “That’s it.”

And he’s finally all the way inside you now, so deep that when he starts thrusting, you feel the slap of his sac against the dip of your cunt. Each stroke presses you harder against the mattress—hitting you where it feels best inside and out.

And strong, so strong he pushes your body upward on the bed.

“I want to fuck you like this all night.” His voice is tight with strain—just barely holding on, waiting for you.

But he’s not moving fast enough for you to come.

“More,” you whimper into the damp folds of silk.

Mando pushes in again, burying himself balls-deep inside you before whispering against your shoulder, “What's that?”

You need more. “I need more…I need—”

“You worried I won’t fuck you hard enough?” he laughs, plunges in deep, and bites the soft flesh of your shoulder. It’s not enough to break the skin—but you cry out from the painfully sweet ache of it.

“Beg me, senaar'ika,” he says, sitting back on his heels, filling his lungs with each heaving breath. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

But this time, you don’t want to obey. You don’t want to say please. You want to find out exactly how hard the Mandalorian can give it to you. If you want to come with him, you need more, and you know how to get it.

You turn your head so he can see the jut of your chin, fill your voice with challenge and say, “For the love of god, fuck me harder.”

The bounty hunter scoffs in shocked bemusement.

His arm hooks around your elbows, pinning them behind you, “You’ll regret that, little dove.”

Then he yanks back on your arms, pulling you off the bed, and against his chest. Your ass presses into the bowl of his hips, thighs sealed against his. His other hand slides up your stomach and between your breasts to clasp around your throat. A touch that means possession.

The Mandalorian owns you now, and he knows it.

Mando slams into you, and you want to cry out—but you stifle it somehow. You don’t want him to stop. You’re so wound up that tears well against your eyelids, dampening the blindfold. It scares you how much you want this. Gods help you, but you do. You fucking love it.

His thrusts remain slow at first. Deliberate. Punishing. Yes, punish me! His pelvis clashes against your buttocks like the snap of a paddle. But the tempo increases as he starts to get into it. Soon, he pumps into you so hard that it makes your breasts bounce, and your entire body starts to sweat. Your hair swings around your face, tendrils sticking to your neck, your flushed cheeks and forehead.

He never loosens his grip. Your shoulders start to ache from being pulled back so far—your throat throbs against his palm—and yet you want nothing more than the slap of his body, the feel of his cock filling you. It’s like he’s reaching to the core of your very being with every thrust.

Yes, you think, fuck me. Make me take it.

The bounty hunter’s hand tightens around your throat—unconsciously, you think—because of how close he is. Each ragged breath vibrates against your back. You can still breathe, but his grip keeps you dizzy and light-headed.

A sharp thrust, and your arousal climbs. Another, and it goes higher. Mando bucks and bucks, and the world behind your eyelids becomes bright and sparkly around the edges. Sensation shivers upward through you, strengthening by the moment.

The climax builds from somewhere deep inside you, and you sink into it with every thrust, slipping deeper into pure instinctive sensation, until it claims your whole body in white-hot ecstasy. When you come, the desperation in your wordless cries transforms into a feral scream as you fall forward, tumbling back onto the sheets when he releases you.

The silk feels so cool and smooth against your feverish cheeks.

“Haah, aah! I knew you’d love it,” he groans triumphantly. “Nnngh!”

But he’s almost at the brink himself—his body contracting, abdominals clenching. That’s when he pulls out, denying himself release.

The mattress dips and creeks as he climbs off you, and off the bed.

“I’m not done with you yet, senaar'ika. We’re not even close.”

You hear the snap of latex when he removes the condom.

What next? You’re limp and dizzy, lying sprawled across the covers. Will he make me come so hard I pass out? Fuck me until I can't walk straight? You shouldn’t want that as much as you do, but complete surrender can feel so sweet.

“I can do this all night,” Mando pants.

Then, he lunges across the bed and grabs your ankles so tightly you feel the press of his thumbs dig into your bones as he drags you down the mattress, until your legs dangle off the side. The tips of your toes brush against the floor.

“You thought you could push me?” His voice has lowered almost to a growl. “But that’s not how this works. You belong to me.”

He pushes your thighs apart roughly, then clutches your hair and tugs back hard enough to bring renewed tears to your eyes. Bent over the edge of the mattress like that in front of him, you feel his other hand seize you by the hip, and with that, he shoves the whole thick length of his cock inside your cunt.

“Aaah!” you cry out as he starts thrusting faster. His fist in your hair tightens as he pumps into you, and already you know you’re going to come again. How is that even possible?

“That’s right,” he pants. “You know you have to take it, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Yes, make me take it. Gods help you, but you fucking love it. There’s nothing you love more than the slap of his body, the feel of his cock. “Yes!”

"Because you're mine. Mine to fuck."

"Yours."

Mando fucks you so hard and so fast. Your ass would not have been able to take this. Shallow rapid thrusts until, growling, he rams his full length into you. Then he’s pumping inside you again and again. By now, the shame you think you should feel at being taken like this has been eclipsed by the pleasure surging within you.

Every single goddamned stroke of the Mandalorian’s cock sets you on fire. A wildfire so hot it consumes you, burns you down to nothing. You press your face into the mattress and feel the tears welling in your eyes spill down your cheeks, pooling against the sheets.

The only sounds in the cabin are his guttural grunts of pleasure and the slap of your bodies against each other. Just hearing it turns you on even more.

He’s moving faster now, and you’re nothing but heat. Pleasure tightens, blazing inside you.

Mando fucks you, and fucks you, and then you’re coming again, clenching around his cock. You come so hard that consciousness is nothing but white light, white noise. Your cry is muffled by the sheets and blankets, but you wail it out anyway, unable to hold back.

“Yes,” he whispers as he pistons even faster than before, his hand on your hip gripping tighter. “Fuck, yes—”

The Mandalorian groans as he throbs inside you. He goes tense, makes an animal sound that seems to come from low in his belly, and slams into you one more time.

Then he’s pulling you off the bed and onto your knees. You feel his wet cock press against your face. His voice is hardly more than a whisper, trembling with need. “Open your mouth.”

His fist in your hair doesn’t leave you much choice. You open, and Mando pushes inside. "You're going to swallow all of it."

It’s all you can do to take him in. You taste your come slick around his cock as it slides between your lips. He’s so huge that you can barely use your tongue, but you bob your head, doing your best as he thrusts, shallow and then deep.

The Mandalorian's grip takes control, sometimes pushing no more than the head of his cock into your mouth, and you suck, hallowing your cheeks—then shoving into your throat, making you choke and gag around him.

It doesn’t take long.

He shouts out, and then he comes, filling your mouth. You swallow it down, every drop, the sensation of him throbbing between your lips, almost lost in the spasms of pleasure still echoing through you.

The Mandalorian pulls out then. The fingers buried in your hair release their grip. Pausing one long moment to regain his breath, he brushes the sweat-soaked hair from your cheeks.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

Really? Blindfolded. Flushed and sweaty, legs tangled beneath you, slumped against the bed frame?

But the honest tenderness in his voice has you pressing a hand to your chest.

His cock is still half-hard, nuzzled against your cheek, and there’s a second when you’re tempted to pull him down to slide back onto it. But…you’ve reached your limits.

And the Mandalorian is in no better shape. You hear him collapse onto his knees beside you on the floor, crawling over on his hands and knees to reach for something. His helmet, maybe?

But it’s not his Beskar.

Gently, he drapes the soft folds of your robe over your shoulders and gathers you in his arms. He leans back, sitting propped against the bed, settling you onto his lap. You let your head fall against his chest and delight when he rests his chin atop your head.

“Are you alright?” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you manage to form words. “Just give me a second. I’m…melting.”

That makes him chuckle, and for a while, you both stay like that, laughing, breathing hard, barely able to move.

“I wasn’t too rough?”

“No! No, you were perfect. I loved it. It’s like—like you read my mind from that night we met. It was everything I wanted. You took such good care of me.”

His voice remains concerned. “But you’re shaking all over?” and his arms wrap tighter around you.

“It was just so intense.”

“Here,” he says pressing a cup of tea into your hands, then lifting it to your lips when your fingers tremble too much to grip it tight enough. Fatherhood has softened him.

“Are you?” you ask timidly.

“Am I what?”

“Are you okay?” You feel strangely shy in front of a man who just fucked you senseless. “I mean, was it okay that I asked you to do this? Are you okay with being—with what we did?”

“It was amazing,” he sighs, kissing your temple.

But that doesn’t really answer your question.

Honestly, this is the part you were most afraid of…that it would change everything. That no matter how good the sex had or hadn’t been, you thought, afterward, he’d lose respect for you, and it wouldn’t be worth it.

You don’t want his judgment or pity for needing this.

But there's no contempt in his voice. He doesn’t sound righteous. Or cold, or callous. And he doesn’t seem intent on sneaking out to leave you alone in regret.

“Before, I was worried that I might hurt you…and that was hard to balance against my desire to protect you," the Mandalorian says thoughtfully. "But you made more than enough noise to let me know how much you enjoyed it.”

“Oh gods,” you laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth, absolutely mortified.

“That was the best part,” Mando lifts your hand from your face, tilting your chin up to kiss your nose, then your lips, not shying away like some men do, after they've come in your mouth. So you part your lips and feel the brush of his tongue against yours. His fingers wrap around your neck, deepening the kiss, and pulling you closer.

It’s not the unbridled passion from before–it’s tenderness and longing. Two lonely hearts finding shelter in a precious moment of fragile intimacy.

“I was just surprised, given…”

“Some of my clients never touch me. Some have hurt me—said horrific things. Most are rich businessmen,” you shrug. “Nervous about cheating on their wives. Regardless—given what they pay, they all expect a performance...

So it’s nice to let someone else put in the work,” your lips tug into a sly grin. “Seriously, five times? And your dom talk is shockingly good! The growling is very hot!” Guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones. "Now I get why Anassa keeps offering you a job."

"She told you that?" He scoffs.

"Hmm, she likes to tease me about having a crush on the Mandalorian."

Nestled into the crook of his arm, you feel the rumble of renewed laughter building in his chest.

"She told me I could keep the armor on."

You reach a hand behind you to stroke his jaw and bury your fingers in his hair. "I'm glad you didn't."

Mando's head turns in your grasp to place a soft kiss against your palm.

“And you don’t think differently of me for…wanting this?”

"I know the difference between fantasy and reality," then he leans forward to stroke your earlobe with the tip of his nose. "And I bet I could make you scream just as loud, taking you soft and sweet."

Now why does that make you blush redder than your slapped ass?

“Maybe next time, we can switch roles. Then I’ll understand better why you like it.”

Next time? You love that! He’s already thinking about the future.

Your brow arches, “Maybe I'll tie you up—borrow one of Katlin's whips to smack that tight ass of yours.”

“Oh, yeah?”

There are no words for the wicked anticipation in Mando’s voice.

Next time...

****************

Thanks so much for reading!!

#mando smut #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #star wars smut #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian smut

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myspacebrat · 2 years

Text

Stripped

punk!steve x rockstar!eddie x stripper fem!reader

summary: the two men you crushed on in high school, find their way into your club. They’re shocked to see the pastors daughter, the cute shy little church mouse is now stripping, but that’s not who you are anymore. Both men who also crushed on you in high school are eager to see, just how much you’ve changed.

⚠️warning: SMUT 18+MDNI, in this au steve was also apart of the freaks of hawkins high, sorry no king steve here, mmf threesome, fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, p in a sex (female receiving), oral (m and f receiving), spit roast, double penetration, dirty talk, hair pulling, spanking, use of sir and master, Eddie and Steve kiss, squirting, cream pies.

A/N: god, this au really has me hot and bothered! (Please remember to tip your writers with a comment and reblog)

photo edits of Steve and Eddie: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

It’s the busiest night of the week at foxy’s cabaret. The clubs pink and red lights accentuated your two piece red faux leather bikini, the bottoms were extra cheeky which only meant one thing; it was gonna be a good money night.

You didn’t go on for another hour, so you made your rounds scoping out possible customers that would like a private dance, you had already done three, all 60 minutes each. So you were ready to go on stage, make your money and go home.

These nights were mostly accompanied by older married men, looking to blow off steam from their wives. Most of them used you as a marriage counselor, spouting off terrible things about their spouses. It made you feel gross to have to listen to grown men, whine about how their wives are “always bitching” because they want their husbands to be home more, while they’re here getting a lap dance by you. But it was all part of the job and you’ve long learned how to de-compartmentalize it all. This was about money and nothing else.

Finally you’re called out on stage, you saunter on in your red pleasers that matched your two piece perfectly. You felt so hot tonight, and all eyes were on you, as you swung your hair and shook your ass on the pole.

Eddie had just gotten home from a big U.S. tour with corroded coffin. Him and his best friend Steve hadn’t seen each other in a year, so what better way for two friends to catch up then with some beers, hot chicks and tits. That being the exact thing Steve said to convince him to come out tonight. Eddie was kind of over the “hot chicks and tits” having seen too many to count at his shows and on the tour bus. That being said, he couldn’t turn down the chance to hang out and drink some beers with his best friend.

Eddie and Steve instantly felt out of place among all the older, rich, suit and tie assholes. They both wore band tees and vests, that show cased patches of their favorite bands. Not to mention the numerous amounts of tattoos they had; both had sleeves on each arm along with neck and face tattoos. They were definitely being thrown dirty looks by the older men, while the strippers were giving them both “fuck me eyes”. They were stopped by a few girls, to ask if they wanted private dances as they fan girled over Eddie Munson being in their club. The boys declined and Eddie kept the small talk to a minimum.

As they moved closer to the stage, your red bikini and shiny hair caught their attention. They both grabbed seats in the front row, eyes glued on your body. Steve couldn’t place it, but he had seen you somewhere. Eddie couldn’t even think as his eyes took in the sight of you, now with your legs wide open as your thighs shook and your pussy lips almost spilled out of the tiny g string.

Once you began crawling to the front of the stage, swinging you hair away from your face, Steve took you in, not your body, you. His eyes widened at the realization.

“Holy shit, dude,” he says, as he nudges Eddie’s arm with his elbow.

It took a second for the trance Eddie was under, while watching you to break.

“What, man?” Eddie says, eyes not leaving you as he leans in closer to Steve.

“That’s y/n, you remember y/n? From high school?” He says in disbelief

“No fucking way!” Eddie almost shouts

That catches your attention, you look over at them. Your eyes scanning over their tattoos, clothes and then finally taking in their faces. Your heart rate began to pick up.

Holy shit, that’s Eddie and Steve.

You hadn’t seen them since high school, you had been enamored with both of them. They were considered freaks for the way they dressed and their music taste but you didn’t give a shit. They were always nice to you and um, hello? They were hot as hell.

You bought weed from Eddie once when you were feeling particularly rebellious, you ended up smoking it in the back of his van with them, they were really sweet, and maybe a little flirty, but at that time you were so shy, you had absolutely no confidence to even bring yourself to flirt back. You were not the person you are now, that’s for sure.

Once your set is over, you walk off stage and decide “fuck it, you’re not that little shy church mouse you use to be in high school.” Yes, your father was a pastor, which made what you do for work all the more shocking.

“Eddie? Steve?” You say as you walk up behind them. They’re deep in conversation, leaning in to each other while they whisper, back and forth.

They immediately turn towards you, their cheeks look flushed and they almost look nervous.

“Y/n? Wow, how’ve you been?” Steve breaks the ice first. They stand up and each lean in for an awkward hug, almost like they didn’t want to accidentally touch your exposed skin.

“I’ve been good, how’ve you guys been?” You take in their faces better, now that they’re up close. You haven’t kept up with Eddie and his band much, mostly since you’re always busy working, but your club will occasionally play “Indiana’s very own corroded coffin” as your boss likes to calls them. The last time you officially seen them was at Charlottes grad party, and that was years ago. They’ve gotten even hotter since high school with all those tattoos, piercings and the facial hair. your eyes were shamelessly roaming their bodies.

“Actually would you guys like a private show? It would give us a chance to catch up?” You look from Eddie to Steve, silently hoping they’d take you up on the offer.

“Yeah, yes. Let’s do it.” Steve says

Eddie’s mouth still hangs open, he’s clearly in shock. You figure it’s because of your prude, church girl image you had in high school, being such a big jump from the girl now standing in front of him.

“Cool, follow me.” You lead them to the private rooms, that sit behind heavy red velvet curtains. Their eyes are glued to your ass in that little g string, they’re being hypnotized by the way it jiggles every time you take a step.

“Here we are.” You open the curtain and motion them inside.

The room is small, a black leather couch sits in the middle, along with a couple chairs, underneath lays a shag rug, while just above the couch holds a red neon sign that reads: “girls, girls, girls”

“You guys can take a seat, do you want anything? Bottled water or another beer?” You ask with a polite smile.

Both boys shake their heads no, but thank you for the offer. You decide to take up the seat in between them, it wasn’t very much space, leaving their legs to rub up against yours, but you had no complaints. Their rough jeans against your soft skin, shot a thrilling tingle straight to your core.

“So?” Eddie finally speaks, “how long have you been doing this?” His eyes begin to scan your face, admiring your soft, delicate features. Features he use to spend hours day dreaming, about. His eyes began to move down to your tits, he wanted to be a gentleman, but he didn’t exactly come here for that. So he decided to indulge.

“Oh, um. It’ll be a year next week, actually.”

They both nod their head, taking in your answer. It feels a little awkward, like theirs something they want to say or maybe ask, but then Eddie begins, again—

“Your dad still the pastor?” you could tell he wasn’t trying to make fun, just a curious question. One you get a lot, but more so in a mocking tone.

“Uh, yeah yeah, he is. But we don’t talk, for obvious reasons,” you say as you gesture to the room around you.

“Yeah, I could imagine. So, how does a good girl like you get mixed in with this?” Steve asks, partaking in the curiosity.

“Well, I had to get out of my parents house, ya know? I wanted to live my own life, so I ended up moving in with my roommate brandy, she had been doing this since she was eighteen, she offered to help me get the job. It’s fun, brought me out of my shell a lot, I’m not that little shy girl you remember.” You didn’t mean for the last line to come out so suggestive, but both Eddie and Steve’s eyebrows shot up, in intrigue.

Making Eddie lean into your ear and whisper, “put on a show for us then, baby.” The tone made you shiver with equal amounts, nervousness and excitement. You’ve grown accustomed to your job, rarely ever feeling nervous before a dance, but right now in this moment in front of Eddie and Steve, you felt that timid girl you once knew creep back into your consciousness.

You stand up, doing your best to push it all down. Slowly swaying your hips as gimme all your lovin’ by ZZ Top, plays in the background. You keep eye contact with each of the boys as you do your little routine. Their eyes roaming the expanse of your body, as they begin shifting in their seats, something most customers do when you know you’re doing a good job. The thought of making their cocks hard underneath their pants, gave you the burst of confidence you needed.

You straddle Eddie’s hips first, leaving him to tense in surprise, so you grab his hands that are folded across his chest and place them on your hips, bringing your glossy lips up to his ear, “you can touch me.” You whisper.

As soon as his hands find your skin, he begins rubbing over your hips and thighs, slowly moving down to your ass, taking two handfuls and squeezing before they’re moving back up to your hips. You look over at Steve who’s intently staring at you both, so you take it upon yourself to bring him closer. “Cmon, you can touch me too.” You say with a doe eyed smile. You grab his hand and place it just under Eddie’s.

“Oh yeah? You want both of us to touch you, princess?” Eddie continues to whisper to you. Smug smirk adorning his face as he looks over at his best friend, you couldn’t make out what they were trying to silently tell each other, but it made your stomach flutter. You were excited for this to go where it seemed to be going.

Steve swiftly lifts you by both thighs, placing you on his lap with ease. His hands roaming your body, as he leans in to whisper to you—

“Please tell us, you want this as bad as we do, baby?” Fuck, their voices alone were making you soak through your little panties.

“I-I do, I want you both. I have since that time I smoked weed with you and Eddie in the back of his van.” You giggle, making your hips jerk over Steve’s hard on. The friction made a whine slip out of your mouth.

The boys laughed at the memory, until they heard you, the whine caught their attention. Steve’s face switches to something more cocky

“Mmm, did that feel good, sweet girl?” He grabs your ass and rubs your core over his cock again, this time making you both moan out in tandem.

You bite your lip as you nod, while eddie scoots in closer to you both, he begins playing with your bikini. His calloused fingers rubbing over the swells of your breasts, hardening your nipples that lie under the red fabric. His fingers find the strings in the back, that are holding the bikini together.

“Can I take this off?” He asks softly

“Yes, please.” desperation has now taken over your voice

“Mm, and she still has her manners. Such a good girl.” The praise doing nothing to help the wetness pooling between your thighs.

Once he gets all the strings untied, he slowly lets it fall onto Steve’s lap. Your tits now on full display for them.

“Holy shit.” They say in unison. Eddie’s jaw clenches, while Steve groans. They each take one of your tits in their hand, squeezing and pinching at your nipples. Every little touch shooting straight to your core.

You’ve never done this before, you knew a lot of your co workers would give blow jobs or have quickie’s with their customer for extra cash, but that was never something you were comfortable with doing.

Yet, here you are, engaging in a threesome with two men you were obsessed with in high school, one who is now a big rockstar. The thought makes your head spin.

Steve grabs you by the back of your hair, pulling you out of your thoughts, as he interlocks his lips with yours, you allow his tongue entry while Eddie is moving his neck kisses down to your chest. He takes your nipple into his mouth and lightly sucks, gently teasing you. You whine into Steve’s mouth, breaking the kiss to look down at Eddie, his big brown eyes already looking up at you through his thick lashes. Your furrowed brows and pouty lips were almost enough to do him in, right then and there.

“So eager and impatient.” He growls as he slaps your ass, hard.

It makes you jerk in Steve’s lap, simultaneously moaning at the friction.

“Naughty girl, likes being spanked.” Steve says as he looks to Eddie, mischievous smirks taking over their once flushed faces.

“Now who would’ve guessed that?” Eddie says, making them both laugh. You feel like they’re laughing at you, but you’re too far gone to care.

Steve grabs your chin, turning your head back towards his and Eddie’s, smiles no longer on display, the air became thicker as you swallowed down the excessive saliva now coating your tongue. “You think you can take both of us at the same time, princess?” Your eyes widen at the thought of both of their cocks inside of you, it makes your stomach flip and you eagerly nod as if you’re a child being asked if you’d like some candy.

You’re by no means a virgin, you’ve had your share of one night stands and an occasional boyfriend here and there, but anal is still uncharted territory for you. You can’t lie that the prospect does excite you though, you would do just about anything they asked of you right now.

“Words, sweet girl. You need to use your words with sir and master.” Fuck

“Yes sir, yes master.” You said wantonly

“Good girl.” Eddie now had his hand wrapped around your neck, lightly squeezing

“This is what’s gonna happen.” Eddie starts “you’re going to lay down on this couch, while me and Steve get you ready for our cocks, how’s that sound, pretty baby?” His words are filthy, but his tone and smile are so soft, you could swear you were transported back to high school, they were making you fall in love all over again.

Love? No, no way. Don’t be crazy

“Yes, sir.” You nod, getting up from Steve’s lap

“Fuck, she’s so obedient.” Steve says to Eddie, like he’s enamored by you. Can’t believe you’re real.

They stand up, allowing you to lie down on the squeaky, old, black leather couch. As you lay, body flush against the cushions, you open your legs wide for the boys as they take in every curve, burning it into memory. Steve starts by taking off your stilettos, placing gentle kisses at the top of your foot, moving up to your calf and over your knee, stopping in the middle of your thigh, while Eddie palms himself through his jeans, admiring the scene in front of him.

Surprisingly, this is something Steve and Eddie talked about quit a few times in high school, they both wanted you. The time they smoked with you in the van, they were going to make a move but decided they didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, you were so shy and timid but Eddie couldn’t deny that little shy demeanor you had really got him going. They both thought you were beautiful, sweet and cute as fucking button.

They were disappointed after you all graduated and they still didn’t make their move, even at Charlottes grad party, but you had been on the arm of Chip Reynolds. Coincidentally, you also lost your virginity to him that night, after one too many shots.

“Can I take these off, baby?” Steve hooks his index fingers inside the red material of your g string, but looks up for your answer before he proceeds. You nod your head, while you bite down on your lip, granting him access by lifting your hips. The room around you feels hot, as you hear; looks that kill by Motley Crue booming through the club speakers.

Before Steve widens your legs, Eddie walks around you and Steve and takes a seat on the couch, by your feet. Not wanting to miss the view, they’ve been dreaming about for years.

“Open those pretty legs for us, baby.” Eddie says as his fingers walk up your leg, you gasp when you feel the spine tingling sensation shoot through you. You want to squeeze your legs together for some kind of relief of friction, but you know better. So instead you hike your legs up, like you’ve done so many nights before, for men who don’t truly see you, you’re a sex worker to them, someone there to appease their needs. You begin to wonder if that’s how Eddie and Steve see you now, but you can’t dwell on that thought.

You’re now bare and on full display for them, your juices creating a glistening coat on the outside of your well trimmed pussy. Steve and Eddie audibly groan at the sight, insecurity began creeping up as they gawked, but you didn’t know they were equally losing their restraint.

Steve’s the first to trail his hands towards your sex, slow and agonizing. The tips of his fingers barely grazing your skin, just enough to leave goosebumps in their wake. When he finally gets to where you’re dying to be touched, he starts by rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your slit, he finds your clit and begins slowly drawing small circles. They take in every expression and whine you give them, eating it up like the only sustenance left on earth.

“That feels so good, Steve.” Your mouth falls open as the pressure of his fingers on your clit, pick up. Finally giving you the right amount of friction you’ve been begging for.

Eddie starts taking his cock out of the confines of his black jeans, the tightness being too much for him to handle. As you hear the zipper you lift your head up, not wanting to miss anything. Once you’re met with Eddie’s cock, your eyes widen and your jaw drops, it’s fucking beautiful —

“Well thank you, pretty girl.” Eddie snorts

Fuck, you’re so far gone, you thought you said that to yourself.

But it is, so beautiful. About seven and a half inches, thick and veiny, the spongy heads an angry throbbing red, precum beading at the tip.

“See, told you, you had a nice cock, Munson.” Steve says, before sending you a wink. That mischievous smile making its comeback. The insinuation making your pussy pulse, as more wetness continues to glaze your outer lips.

Eddies cheeks, blooming a pretty rosy pink at Steve’s words. You could tell he was uncomfortable diving in deeper to the depths of what was said, and you didn’t want to push it, no matter how curious they left you.

“Can I taste your pussy, baby?” Eddie now asks, leaning in closer to your thighs, while he continues stroking his heavy cock.

“Yes, master.” You say, trying not to sound as eager as you felt.

Steve stands up and begins fiddling with the button of his red and black plaid pants, riddled with different patches, some you’re able to make out: circle jerks, misfits, buzzcocks and minor threat to name a few. They look interesting, maybe you’ll remember to check their tapes out whenever you go to your local record store.

Your thoughts quickly being broken by Eddie’s tongue swiping over your clit, making you moan out a “oh my god!” In surprise

Steve’s cock springs out, and bobs in the air. A little bigger than Eddie’s but not by much, the tip matching his best friends; angry and red. They’re both fucking beautiful, and you want them inside you so bad.

Steve starts fisting his cock as he walks up towards your face, “Aw, no complement for my cock, baby?” Steve mockingly coos

“You’re both beautiful, you and your cocks. Want them so bad.” You moan, as your hips buck up towards Eddie’s tongue, which is now fucking your hole, before moving back up to circle your clit.

“Mmm, that’s better, sweet girl. Now open wide for me, kay?” Steve says as he begins tapping his cock against your lips. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, Steve audibly growls at your obedience before he’s plunging it into your mouth, he grabs a fistful if your hair working you up and down on him, just the way he likes it. Meanwhile Eddie, takes it upon himself to insert two fingers into your wet weeping hole, making you moan around Steve, the vibrations making his cock twitch, deep in your throat.

Eddie’s tongue continues lapping up your juices as Steve is fucking your throat, the whole scene making euphoria pass over you, as if you were high off the best drug. Their cocks were your drug, and they were giving you the perfect high. Eddie’s fingers hit that spot inside of you, that always has you gushing. You scream out, as he’s relentlessly hitting it. Both boys, slowly becoming more and more aggressive. But you did not mind, in the slightest.

Your muscles start tensing and your legs start shaking, as your pussy spasms around two of Eddie’s heavily ringed fingers.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing my fingers so tight baby, I can’t wait to fuck you. Mmm, Cum for us, pretty girl.”

Eddie’s ministrations speed up, making your toes curl.

You release Steve’s cock with a pop, as you begin moaning and screaming.

“I’m cu-cumming, fuck don’t stop, master please!” Eddie’s fingers speed up, as wet squelching fills the room. You cum with a splash of wetness to Eddie’s chin and neck, making him growl.

“Fuck, you’re a squirter? Goddammit, you’re fucking perfect.” He’s so ready to be inside you, that he’s willing to spill all his dirty secrets and the feelings he’s harbored for you throughout the years.

Steve is on the other side losing his shit over the way you’re sucking his dick and the fact that you just squirted all over his best friends face. They needed to fuck you, want was out the window.

Eddie gets up from his laying position between your thighs, he brings the back of his hand to wipe the juices that he wasn’t able to lick away, while Steve pulls you off of his cock and back up onto your feet.

Steve sits down on the couch first, before his fingers are pressing into your hips and he’s guiding you to straddle his naked lap, having completely removed his clothes before sitting down. Once fully seated he takes his cock in his hand giving it a few strokes before he looks at you with eyes that could make you puddle right there on the floor.

“You ready, sweet thing?” He asks while he beams up at you, awaiting your answer but also admiring your beauty while trying not to blow his load at the fact that the girl he spent so much time admiring from a far when he was a teenager, is now seated on his lap, naked.

“Yes, sir. I’m ready.” Your words coming out so sugary sweet, making his head drop to the back of the couch, as he does his best to pull it together. He’s never had this problem before, you were completely ruining him, making him feel ways he hasn’t for any other girl.

He lifts his head back up, looking you in the eyes as he takes your chin between his fingers, his other hand still stroking himself. “You’re such a good fucking girl, you know that?” He says with a smirk

Eddie’s off to the side, watching the whole display closely. “She is such a good girl? Isn’t she Harrington? I think it’s time we reward her with both of our cocks. How does that sound, princess?” You moan, while your hips grind down on to Steve’s precum coated cock.

“Yes, please. I need sir and masters cock inside me.” If anyone from your congregation could see you now, they’d think you’d been possessed by some sort of sex demon, the way you were moaning, groaning and writhing about on top of Steve’s lap, you even felt like it in that moment.

Steve finally breeches your soaked hole, making him shudder beneath you. As you begin sinking down on to his cock, inch by delicious inch, Eddie comes and sits on the back of the couch where Steve’s head is resting, he’s stroking himself with the most devious smirk, pupils blown black from lust. If you were being possessed it would be Eddie’s doing.

“Get me nice and wet, baby. Need to be able to slip into your asshole with ease, okay? The sloppier the better.” He winks, while you quickly obey. Opening your mouth and allowing yourself to sink down on Eddie and Steve, simultaneously.

Steve grabs the globes of your ass and starts his own pace while helping you bounce on his aching cock. You’re gagging on Eddie, tears rolling down your cheeks as spit falls from your mouth and down onto the leather of the couch cushions. Both boys eyes are rolling back into their heads, they’re in fucking heaven. In that moment they both have the same thought— they never want to let you go.

Eddie pulls you off as he wipes up the remaining spit hanging from your chin, bringing it down to stroke his already glistening cock, and rubbing the wetness over his balls before he’s behind you, opening up your ass cheeks and using his spit to rub his middle finger over your puckered hole. “I’m gonna put my fingers in first and loosen you up, a’right?” You look back at him, eyes all doe like, lips swollen and wet from his cock. Fuck, you were a captivating portrait of beauty, if he’s ever seen one.

“Yes, master. Please,” broke him out of his thoughts as he breeched your virgin hole with the tip of his finger, making you groan in pain and pleasure. Finally, his finger is fully seated in you to the second knuckle, while Steve begins rubbing your clit as he still fucks into you, “you’re doing so good pretty baby, so good for us.” Steve whispers into your ear, as Eddie’s finger starts moving faster in and out, you can’t contain the screams that are falling from your mouth. Steve continues— “I know baby, I know. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but I promise you, it’ll start to feel so fucking good, okay? You’re gonna love it by the time he’s done.” His words making you bounce back on his cock and Eddie’s finger. “That’s it, princess. Fuck my finger.” Eddie growls.

“I’m gonna put a second one in, okay?” Eddie says as he slips the second one in with the first, this time it goes in smoother, sinking to his tattooed knuckles. “Oh, fuck-” Steve cuts of your moans by bringing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss, of tongues and spit, moaning into each others mouths as you get both your holes filled.

Once Eddie thinks your ready, he gets up from his kneeling position, holding out his hand under your chin as he demands you to spit, then doing the same to Steve. He rubs the mixed spit glob onto his cock for extra lube, he doesn’t want this to hurt you, he wants to make it as pleasurable as possible. Once it’s to his liking he lines his red tip up with your pink throbbing hole, he pushes in and fuck, it’s an indescribable feeling, but it’s so good.

“Oh, fuuuck!” Eddie groans, pushing even deeper inside you. “You’re so tight baby, fuck I’m not gonna last long, I’m just letting you both know that now.” He chuckles making you and Steve laugh, too. “I’m so close, been edging myself this whole time.” Steve says

Finally, Eddie is bottomed out inside of you, grabbing your hips but not moving until you give him the okay. “Just let me know when you’re ready, sweet girl.” — “I’m ready, please eddie, I’m ready.” He grabs a handful of your hair and yanks it back until you’re looking at him upside down. “It’s master, remember? I’ll let that one slide since you have two cocks inside you and you’re too fucked dumb, to think. But, next time I will punish you, do you understand?” He says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, master. I’m sorry.” You want to cry, not for being reprimanded but from the sheer pleasure of it all. “That’s my good girl,” he says leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

They both start pounding into you, it’s almost too much but you wouldn’t dare ask them to stop, not when the knot in your stomach is tightening and you can feel yourself reaching that ultimate high.

“Fuck, Steve I can feel your cock hitting mine.” Eddie growls, making Steve clench is jaw and throw his head back. “Mm, you like being able to feel my cock inside her, big boy?” Steve nods his head, while moaning out expletive after expletive.

Them talking dirty to each other while inside you, was about to throw you over the edge, along with their hands that wouldn’t stop rubbing and grabbing at your skin, taking handfuls of whatever they could.

You lean forward and put your head against Steve’s shoulder, while they continue to fuck you, the slight shift giving them better access to your holes, but also bringing Eddie and Steve’s faces closer together. Eddie smiles and winks at Steve as their cocks moved in and out in unison, meanwhile Steve grabs Eddie’s hair and smashes their lips together in a heated kiss. The smacking of their lips brings your attention back to them. It was so insanely hot, making you clench tightly around both boys, Steve pulls away first, “fuck, I think she likes that. You like watching me and Eddie kiss, angel?” Steve says in a mocking tone, all you can do is nod your head, as your high hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Oh my fuck, im cumming, holy shit.” You wail as you squirt all over Steve’s cock and lower stomach. Steve couldn’t hold it any longer, your moans and the splash he felt against his lower half, made him lose it. “I’m cumming, fuck where do I-” he says before you cut him off. “Inside, both of you, I want it inside please!” You whimper

Eddie takes your chin in his hand, turning your face towards his and kissing you deep and passionately as he follows right behind Steve, both boys empty themselves inside your tight, clenching holes. You continue milking them dry until Eddie pulls out slowly, followed shortly by Steve.

Eddie lifts you up and softly put you down so that you’re seated on the couch as he falls down on the cushion beside you.

“Wow.” You three said in unison, making you all laugh out hysterically.

Once the laughing stops, you’re all met with comfortable silence as the background noise from the club penetrates your ears, and you’re brought back to your surroundings.

Then the silence is broken as Steve asks, “So, what are you doing this weekend?”

Thank you for reading!

•taglist•

@somespicystuff @lil-quinnie @dorkmunson @muzic-1d-luva @mungr0vebby @lolilkkk @jellycolors @bibieddiesgf @kjaxm @eddie-steve1986 @its-sam-allgood @joeymahler @and-claudia @luv-flor7777 @50shadesofuncomfortable @shurixririshipper @kiwi-bitchez @animesnowstorm @whitemancumslut @munsonology @n0x-m0rtis @cleartragedyenthusiast @iiffee @ladyapplejackdnd @angelina16torres-blog @kylie-is-here @bebe0701 @heyshads @melodymunson @einniar @novasparksstar @ajkamins @actuallyspencerreid @lynnmcgrathh @smamxn1 @imaslutforcuddles @hellv1ra @justsheerfilth1 @anonymousstoryteller2000

@ilove-yourmoms-f33t @roxanamaier64 @daniellabrandt @thoughtsoftheantagonist @agalsmaraudersobsession @harrycanyonmoonn @steveharringtonswifey09 @ashdoctor @luna-munson83 @randodummy

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rottenpumpkin13 · 2 months

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How do you think ASGZ and the Turks+ Rufus would dress if they were ordinary people living in the real world? (My personal guilty pleasure head cannon is Sephiroth loving leather jackets and V-necks… imagine him in all black, leather jacket, dog tag, some bracelets, black jeans and combat boots… ahem sorry it’s late at night and my thoughts are going weird places)

Sephiroth's go-to outfit: All-black and minimalist is his go-to style, so he does like leather jackets, long coats, and black pants. He wears v-necks sometimes, but prefers button-ups so he can alter how constrictive his shirt is (not the case when he's at home because this man lives for comfortable clothes).

Angeal: I told you this event required you to wear a shirt.

Sephiroth, wearing a button-up that's only fastened at the bottom last button, leaving his whole chest exposed: What's wrong with my shirt?

Angeal: WHAT SHIRT?

Genesis' go-to outfit: Red leather jacket (he has so many of them), a button up/turtle kneck, and knee-high boots. All designer. He accessorizes with jewelry (all gold) such as necklaces, bangles and tons of rings.

Angeal's go-to outfit: sleeveless tee, jeans, boots, and a flannel he either commits to wearing or ties around his waist. All thrifted. Bonus points if the top is DIY'd or tie dye. He's a compulsive tie dyer.

*Zack leaves one of his white shirts out and walks away*

Angeal: Hm.

*Zack comes back and his shirt is tie dye*

Zack, alarmed: MAGIC

Zack's go-to outfit: A fitted tee, baggy pants, fingerless gloves and combat boots. He wears his dog tag as an accessory and hates jackets unless he can roll the sleeves really high.

Zack: I'm ready to go!

Angeal: You cannot wear that shirt out. Go change.

Zack, wearing a shirt that reads "DYSLEXIC WITH TICE NITS": Man, why you gotta be so judgemental?

Sephiroth, still wearing his chest out: Genesis claims he is allergic to good taste.

Angeal: I'm leaving you two at home.

Rufus' go-to outfit: It's a designer suit or nothing; preferably white and pristine, preferably custom-made. He's also likes to wear a kimono and hakama sometimes.

Reno's go-to outfit: A leather jacket, gloves, a button up that's either red or white, gold chain, and jeans, and combat boots.

Rude's go-to outfit: A leather jacket (him and Reno are matching), gloves, wearing all black, usually a button up since he's not a fan of t-shirts, and dress shoes. He likes to accessorize with chains.

Tseng's go-to outfit: No one has ever seen Tseng wear anything other than a suit. Work? suit. Party? suit. Beach? suit. Reno nearly died on the spot the day he and Rude ran into Tseng at the local coffee shop and he was wearing a t-shirt beneath his blazer, no tie, and a silver chain.

Reno: WHO ARE YOU? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH TSENG? Tseng: Why are you and rude wearing matching couple's t-shirts?

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #crisis core #rufus shinra #rude ff7 #tseng ff7 #reno ff7

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leathercollectionus · 10 months

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Custom Made Race Suits

Motorsport has a remarkable history that began in the late 19th century after the invention of cars and motorcycles. Much advances have been made in the technology, design, format, and rules of the sport since its inception, but nothing is more exciting than a motorcycle race. It involves science, speed, commitment, vision, passion and a lot of risks too. Despite all the risks, motorcycle racing is considered the most important motorsport, not only the most important motorsport but also one of the fastest-growing sports in the world, which is gaining popularity among everyone regardless of gender and age. In order to enjoy the games, you need to practice practicing techniques, technologies, and especially safety on the circuit, not only to minimize the risks but also to regain confidence in the sports discipline.

You cannot eliminate the risk factor because the unfortunate event will happen no matter when. However, you can minimize the impact by having protective equipment that meets the athletic and athletic requirements. For motorcycle races on the track and on the road, for beginners, passionate or professional, we recommend a full kangaroo or a cow leather that you choose. The leather racing suit with all its protective armor is resistant to abrasion, cuts and impacts. With a high-tech leather racing suit you can test the limits of your own and that of your machine. Getting a leather racing suit isn’t a huge problem these days. You can visit nearby stores or order online and have delivery to your address. Almost all of the major brands of motorcycle leather clothing have online services to save their customers time and money, which is very impressive. But even after buying a racing suit, something is still missing. This can be leather quality, durability issues, ergonomic inconveniences, size and fit issues, standard safety armor, poor stitching, and especially disappointing customer service. Leather Collection, an emerging global brand, has filled these gaps with years of experience and a dedicated team.

Custom Made Race Suits

#custom #CUSTOM LEATHER JACKETS #custom leather motorcycle suit #custom leather suit #custom leathers #custom made leather suits #custom motorcycle racing suit #custom motorcycle suits #custom race suit #custom racing suit #custom suit #made to measure suits #motorcycle race suits #racing suits

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mac-lilly · 8 months

Text

MegaCon JATP Info dump:

How they imagined the ending:

Reggie takes over the Hollywood Ghost Club

Luke stays with Julie

Willie & Alex cross over

What Hogwarts House would their characters be in:

Reggie -> Hufflepuff

Alex -> Slytherin

Julie -> Gryffindor

Madi to the guys: Uhm?

Owen & Jeremy, in sync: Gryffindor!

If they could make any advice to their characters, what would it be:

Jeremy to Reggie: Make that country album!

Owen to Alex: Take one day at a time and lean on your friends.

Madi to Julie: Girl, he's a ghost.

Favorite Song to film/record:

Owen -> Stand Tall

Jeremy -> Now or Never

Madi -> Finally Free

Favorite Outfit:

Owen: Zip pants & Hoodie

Jeremy: Leather jacket (it got customized to be more stretchy so he could move and jump around)

Madi: 'I got the music' outfit

(Owen and Jeremy both talked about how much freedom they got with the outfits. Kenny wanted them to feel comfortable in their clothes.)

Random stuff:

Jeremy jumped off the stage for the Now or Never scene so often his knee started hurting

During the rehearsal for 'This Band his back' Jeremy stumbled over Charlie's guitar while jumping on the chairs. He fell and cut his hand, so in the filmed version, Reggie has a band-aid on one of his fingers

The suits for Stand Tall cost over $3000

'Nothing to lose' got almost cut bc they didn't have enough budget to film it. But Kenny somehow made it happen.

Originally, Reggie was supposed to lose a shoe instead of his shirt. But nobody would have seen that, so they changed it to losing the shirt.

Most awkward moment: For the dinner scene, the guys had to hide in a tiny closet, and Jeremy and Owen were staring into each other's eyes.

They really tried to make a tour happen

Owen was terrified of filming 'All Eyes on Me'

Off-Topic: But during Jeremy's voice acting panel, Owen was hanging out in the audience to watch it.

Cameron Boyce memorial BOOMSHAKALAKA 😭😭

#that's all I remember for now #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp cast

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suzukiblu · 1 month

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Thank-you sentences for 🦕; the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Mmm, well, if it’d keep you distracted from your dastardly supervillain jailbreak plans . . .” Kon teases with another smirk, walking his fingers up Bernard’s chest as he squeezes his ass with his TTK. “You know, that’s really just part of the job description. Just being bait in a bad-guy trap and doing traditional superheroic self-sacrifice and all. I don’t really dress all that scantily, though, am I gonna need a costume upgrade for this one?”

“Don’t worry, man, I’ll pack you something,” Bernard says with another grin, stroking his hand down the side of his neck. Kon’s breath doesn’t quite catch, but he definitely has to actively stop it from happening. “Nice gold lamé loincloth, maybe? Matching collar I can put my future supervillain emblem on? Or maybe just an ‘R’, considering, since you’re gonna be bird-bait and all. Bet I could do it in pink K for him. Match the setting in that nice pretty plug I promised you.”

Kon swallows under that hand, and Bernard grins again.

“Unless you wanna stick with your usual straps and black leather look, anyway. Keep the brand strong and all,” he adds easily. “Because I understand the importance of branding, professionally-speaking. I’m sure I could figure out something along those lines. Leather is also very traditionally queer.”

Bernard traces his fingers down Kon’s collarbone and chest like he’s tracing straps that aren’t there, and Kon leans down heavier into the contact without really thinking about it. He’s not sure if Bernard’s just, like, talking about the belts and straps he usually wears and his jacket, just without his suit under it all, or if he means, like . . . something a little more customized, or something. Like . . . something he means he’d dress him up in, or . . .

Like, it’s just a jokey made-up fantasy scenario, obviously, and not even anything they’re gonna actually, like, scene, so it doesn’t really matter, but . . . just, he’s kinda wondering what Bernard’s picturing when he says it. What he’d be thinking if he ever used it as a real fantasy and jerked off to it, just . . . whenever.

Just–after this, Kon means. Once he’s handed over the pink K to Clark to lock up somewhere in the Fortress, and he’s not . . . not allowed to do . . .

A camera flash goes off, and Kon reflexively startles, just for a second.

#timberkon #kon el #conner kent #bernard dowd #tim drake #superboy #dc robin #wip: think pink #🦕

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exhausted-eternally · 1 year

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Book Commissions

In addition to making whatever suits my fancy and selling it in my Etsy shop, I also offer custom-made books! I charge for cost of materials plus $10 an hour for labor. See below for materials costs and what I offer for options! Please feel free to send me an email if you have any questions.

* Want a book but can’t quite decide what you want the cover to look like? Feel free to browse my portfolio for ideas! * The dimensions and number of pages given in the descriptions below are merely the default. I can also make custom-sized books. * Please note that I do NOT take fanfic binding commission requests. I will, however, bind works in the public domain. I may also accept rebinding/repair commissions for existing books, which I will take on a case-by-case basis.

PLEASE NOTE THAT I DO REQUIRE COST OF MATERIALS UP FRONT

For 8.5x5.5 journals/9x6 sketchbooks:

Each book contains 50 sheets (200 pages). I use 20lbs printer paper for journals, with a choice of lined or unlined pages, and white or cream for paper color. I use 50lbs/74g medium-tooth sketch paper for sketch books. Each book comes with hand-sewn endbands and a ribbon marker.

Paper & bookcloth - $25 Full bookcloth - $35 Bookcloth & leather - $45 Full leather - $60+

Tea- or coffee-dyed papers +$10

Leatherbound books-

- cord or tape binding +$1 - metal leaf +$2 - raised shapes +$2 - punched with underlying paper/fabric +$5 - resin +$5 - painted designs +$10

For 8.5x11 journals/12x9 sketchbooks:

Each book contains 100 sheets (400 pages). I use 20lbs printer paper for journals, with a choice of lined or unlined pages, and white or cream for color. I use 50lbs/74g medium-tooth sketch paper for these sketch books. Each book comes with hand-sewn endbands and a ribbon marker.

Paper & bookcloth half-bound - $50 Full bookcloth - $70 Bookcloth & leather half-bound - $90 Full leather - $120+

Tea- or coffee-dyed papers +$20

Leatherbound books-

- cord or tape binding +$2 - metal leaf +$5 - raised shapes +$5 - punched with underlying paper/fabric +$15 - resin +$10 - painted designs +$10

If you're interested in a commission, please feel free to send me an email!

#bookbinding #rebinding #commissions #commissions open #handmade books #handmade crafts #leatherbound books #artisan books #bookblr #booktok #bookstagram #cosplay #cosplay props #journal #sketchbook #notebook #diary

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devonpink · 17 days

Text

Suited

Husbands, Dave and John, swiftly needed suits for a close friend's sudden impromptu wedding. Luckily, the brand-new suit store that had just opened near them was available all night. They rushed over, intending to be in and out as fast as possible, but unbeknownst to the nieve couple, they were about to have a life-changing shopping experience that would quickly eradicate all strive for haste.

When Dave and John first stepped inside, they were immediately assaulted by the thick smell of intense cologne emanating from every corner. The scent was overwhelming but highly masculine, giving their cocks a pleasant twitch. To their surprise, there wasn't a single other customer or shop assistant in sight, but not overthinking it, pursued on.

The overabundance of suits intimidated them, having only worn basic t-shirts and jeans, but they eventually found ones they liked and, most importantly, could afford. They couldn't wait to leave; the intense smell of cologne was beginning to make them feel lightheaded. But, while trying to find a shop assistant, they encountered the endless racks of dress shoes, halting them in their tracks. They had some old, borrowed dress shoes in the car, but the new, freshly polished ones were hypnotically dazzling, begging to be admired and purchased.

As they contemplated which pairs to buy, their minds became more deliriously lightheaded from the cologne, turning them on. The added scent of fresh dress shoe leather intensified that arousal further, excitedly making the hairs on their arms stand up, and their cocks stiffen. With no soul around to stop them, they gave each other a knowing look, and without hesitation, they brought the dress shoes up to their noses and inhaled deeply. After which, they both moaned in dopey satisfaction, the intense masculine scent making their stiff cocks leak pre.

Dave and John were in perverted heaven, enthusiastically sniffing the dress shoes and playing with their stiff bulges. The thrill of potentially being caught pushing their horniness even further. They felt like they were going to explode with lust. They needed release. They needed each other. With looks of total horny desperation, they tossed aside the shoes they were sniffing, along with their picked-out suits, and began ferociously making out. They grasped each other's asses and rubbed their tight bulges together, French kissing and moaning like complete perverts. They wanted to fuck so badly, utterly intoxicated with how horny they felt.

Dave and John, too consumed in their lust, didn't notice the tossed-aside dress shoes and suits had vanished from the floor and materialized onto their bodies, replacing their clothes. They stuffed their hands into each other's pants and stroked one another's throbbing cocks, oblivious to the fact that their clothes had magically changed. Their brains felt like mush, blissfully unaware that their messy hair had magically slicked back to quaffed perfection.

They staggered into a nearby fitting room, unable to stop French kissing and jerking one another off. They needed to fuck, desperate for it. However, catching a glimpse of their reflections in the big, lit-up mirror quickly broke their lustful concentration. Finally, they realized their clothes and hair styling had changed entirely. They gave their reflection and then each other a bewildering look up and down, utterly slack-jawed.

Instantly, as if by divine force, they felt their bodies ignite with an overpowering need to cream their dress pants. Without giving it a second thought, they dry-humped each other, and French kissed even more ferociously than before. It didn't matter that nothing made sense; they were too dumb and horny to care. Besides, it wouldn't matter if they cared or wanted to stop, for the store wouldn't allow it. The store had its hooks in them too deeply, and there was nothing to do but give in entirely.

With ferocious, manly roars, they blasted their hot, sticky loads into their dress pants. However, they didn't just empty their balls but their minds, ejaculating their free will and way of life. For they now belonged to the store, freshly purchased.

Dave and John, or Davey and Jonathan as they both like to go by now, never did end up attending the wedding. Neither did they ever see their family and friends ever again. As the proud owners of the brand-new suit store, they need to give all their time and attention to their beloved business. Gone are the days of lounging about watching mindless sports and playing senseless video games, but instead, putting all their blood, sweat, and tears into their store and no longer wearing plain T-shirts and jeans but rather flashy dress suits. Their hair is now always slicked back to quaffed perfection, never messy like before. Goodbye, worn-out old sneakers and flip-flops. Hello, perfectly polished dress shoes and leather boots. For now, they were perfect, never to want anything the store didn't see fit.

They're looking to hire, by the way. Any takers ;)

#stepford #stepfordization #transformation #gay

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oneforthemunny · 1 year

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pieces of you and me |dad!rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: your six daughters with eddie are named after the places they're conceived. fluffy little piece I had about nepo baby!reader and rockstar!eddie and their lives as parents, more specifically how they named each of their girls.

contains: mature, sexual themes not graphic but still 18+, minors dni. mom!nepo baby!reader x dad!rockstar!eddie throughout the years.

June 1993 - Corfu Beach, Greece

Your wedding ring dazzled in the Greek sunshine, bright and clear, almost as reflective as the waters in front of you. Corfu Beach was the first stop on your honeymoon trips, after three wedding ceremonies.

The tabloids had gone rabid when you'd announced that your weddings- plural- would be spread out from May to June. Three ceremonies, extravagant but intimate. The first in Palm Springs, an estate near the San Jacinto mountains with just your family. You and Eddie were both only children, the ceremony was sweet and short, an officiant, your parents and grandparents, Wayne and his girlfriend, and the two of you. A silk, slip white dress, custom made by Donatella herself just for you. Eddie wore a tux, the sweetheart, choking back sobs when he read you his vows, promises for your life together. You'd danced under the strung lights, Forever by the Beach Boys, his hand on your back, holding you sweetly. Your private photographer, a family friend, made sure to capture all the intimate sweet moments for you, and it was secluded with no worries of paparazzi.

Then you'd jetted off to Las Vegas, sin city as a couple. Eddie had taken the liberty of renting out Elvis' Little Chapel just for the two of you, hiring the best Elvis and photographer. You'd wore a tiny, leather white dress, garter showing on your thigh. Eddie in an Elvis suit, white just for you. Your friends dressed their part, his band mates, friends from Hawkins, and yours from Beverly Hills and others joined. You didn't remember most of the night, giggling when the Elvis impersonator read you your vows in the mimicking voice. It was a blur, champagne, liquor, and drugs in a penthouse suite at the Palms. You'd woken up a little sick, veil still in your hair and aching between your thighs, ass covered in welts from the night before. Eddie had managed to find a heart shaped paddle on the strip, using it on you when you got back from the 'reception' that was in the other room, where your friends were scattered still.

Lastly, you finished in Paris. Eddie wanted it just to be the two of you, an officiant, and the city of love. He'd gone all out, his vows seemed to triple in size from the first ceremony. Tucked away in a Parisian Chateau that had a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower in the backdrop, Eddie poured his heart out to you, vulnerable and raw. You both sobbed through your vows, heavy with emotion that pored out with each word, kissing each other before the officiant ever gave you the signal.

Now you were here, Greece. The beaches were beautiful, the wine delicious, and the waters stunning. Eddie had rented a small boat for the two of you, drifting off the coast of the secluded resort you were staying at. You were thankful for the intimacy, relaxing in the warm sun, topless, the true European experience.

"I think we should do this more often," Eddie grinned, blocking the sun from your view, standing tall over you.

You shielded your eyes, looking up at him. The sun haloed around his curls, his inked skin a little pinkish from the rays. He looked angelic.

"I think you just like to see me topless." You smirked.

"I think you'd be right." Eddie scoffed, kneeling down between your legs on the towel. "Can you blame me? Look at them." He squeezed your boobs lightly. "My girls. All mine, forever."

You let out a soft laugh, his lips ghosting over yours, fingers rubbing your pebbled nipples between the two of you. He kissed you slow, sweet, taking his time to truly taste you, feel you.

He was between your legs before you knew it, his cock splitting you open, harsh thrusts that left the small boat rocking and shifting with the waves. You'd gotten on top, hips swiveling and rocking with every rise and fall, his hands gripping your hips harsh.

You two spent the day like that, him filling you up raw, pumping his release deep inside of you, leaving you dripping him for the rest of the day on shaky legs.

The thrill of the ceremonies, of the honeymoons, of being hopelessly, completely in love with Eddie had your head spinning. You were still on the high of the first two ceremonies when you'd left for Paris, forgetting your birth control on the counter of the Hills home.

It wasn't until nearly a month later, when you finally returned, still in bliss and the rush of that newly wed feeling, that you realized. Staring at the silver packet that mocked you. You hoped that maybe you'd be lucky, maybe your body was just adjusting from jet lag and the different time zones. You were dehydrated from your time in Europe, maybe that was it.

A month later, you sat in the gynecologist office, the wand pressed over your belly, showing the small blip on the screen, Eddie's ringed hand tight in yours. "Looks like you're about seven weeks along, Mrs. Munson." The doctor said, looking over at you.

Eddie's eyes shined at you, teary and wide. You were both scared, overwhelmed. "Greece." He muttered. "It must've been our honeymoon, shit- well, that makes sense."

Persephone June Munson was born February 17th, 1994.

November 1994 - London, England

"Christ, fuck, it's cold." Eddie grumbled, hands buried deep in his leather jacket, air fogging around him.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "That's why I told you to bring a jacket." You hummed, Burberry plaid scarf whipping in the harsh winds. You held Persephone closer to your chest, she was bundled up in her hat and scarf under your own heavy jacket, but you still worried she'd still be cold.

At ten months old, she was the spitting image of her daddy. Eddie's twin through and through, shining brown eyes that were so expressive and little chocolate curls that were starting to spiral on the ends of the tufts of downy, baby hair. She was your kryptonite, your little angel, for both of you.

Parenthood fit you both very well, to the surprise of nearly all the media. You and Eddie navigated being parents like you did anything else, head first and a little stubborn. After many sleepless nights, parenting books, and the help of your own parents, you'd finally felt accomplished. Eddie didn't want to miss a second of being a dad, and you couldn't blame him, not when the most precious creation on the Earth was looking back at you.

The tour and Corroded Coffin's album had been pushed, finally releasing in September. Eddie knew he'd have to tour soon, the two of you were still working out if you'd stay or go, but when he'd been asked to play at a concert in Wembley Stadiums, headlining with Metallica and Ozzy and all the legends he'd looked up to, he couldn't turn it down.

Now, the three of you were walking down South Kensington in London, heading towards the Natural History Museum with your baby- oh, how times had changed. Eddie smirked, stepping closer to you, looking down your jacket.

"Can she breathe in there? Is she alright?" Eddie asked, eyes scanning the two of you. All he could see of little Persephone was the little pink poof that sat on top of her hat, bobbing and hitting your chin with every step.

"She's fine, aren't you Sephy?" You cooed down at her, pulling your jacket back. Eddie looked down, melting at the brown eyes that stared back at him, chubby cheeks a little red from the warmth of your jacket. "Say, quit worrying daddy, mama's got me." You mimicked a high pitched baby voice that had her giggling.

Eddie grinned, pulling you close to him, his lips pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to your cheek. The security in front of you and behind you followed closely, one holding the door while you climbed into the room. The guide waited cheerily at the front, excited to take the infamous rockstar on a private tour.

You held Persephone, still in her little hat but your own jacket shedded. Eddie watched you, how you'd coo sweetly at her, pressing kisses into her little cheeks, swaying with her when the guide would explain the areas.

Eddie felt his heart swell, boasting and filling with love and pride, and something else. Something primal and deep and lustful. It was different from before. Usually the type of thrill that came with drugs, performing for thousands, then having groupies throw themselves at his feet. Now, he felt it deep in his chest, the protectiveness he had over you, over Sephy, his little family.

"You think she'd stay down for a nap if we take her back to the hotel?" Eddie growled low in your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe playfully.

You swatted him away, rolling your eyes. "I doubt it." You gave him a pointed look. "She has like a sixth sense for when were about to fuck." You snorted playfully, looking down at your little baby.

Eddie gave a soft smile, taking Persephone from your arms, snuggling her tight in his arms. She giggled, reaching to grab onto his curls. You grinned when she did, yanking them down hard, pulling at the scalp. Eddie hissed, moving his head with her to alleviate some of the pull. "Easy, easy, sweetheart," He muttered, opening her little fists.

You told him a million times to put his hair up around her. She was going through a grabbing stage. Anything and everything. The two of you had to re-baby proof the house when she'd started crawling, her tiny hands grabbing onto anything and everything she could.

"She's got a fucking iron grip." Eddie grunted, pulling his scalp back, tossing his hair over his shoulders. He knitted his brows, looking down at Persephone playfully. "Don't you? You're just a strong lil thing aren't ya?" He cooed, excitedly, bouncing her in his arms.

You smiled at her little giggles, the faintest crease in her chubby cheeks, hinting that she'd inherit dimples like her daddy. You shouldn't be surprised at this point, she was Eddie's twin, but it still made you a little jealous every time a new feature came in and it was a carbon copy of him.

"The next one will look just like ya, babe." Eddie would wink when you'd huff to him about it. "If not, we can just keep trying and trying and trying 'til one looks like ya." He always said it like he was joking, but the way his eyes darkened, you wondered if he truly was.

Persephone had gone down easily for her nap, and you were thankful. You figured she was still exhausted from the flight. You'd flown private with the band, your parents insisted on it, which benefited the two of you more than anyone else. Her little ears hurt from the pressure, whimpering and sobbing in the little bedroom on the back of the plane while you and Eddie tried to soothe her.

Eddie had gone for a soundcheck with the band, leaving you at the hotel with Sephy, unwinding in the cool linens of the hotel. You ran your hand down the bed, gnawing at your bottom lip. The last time you'd been at this hotel in London, it was with Eddie, but very differently. The two of you had just begun... whatever you wanted to call the relationship. You'd flown out on a red eye to London when he started his European tour, letting him fuck you hard and mean, tying you up to the headboard and having his way with you.

Now, you had a baby, you were married, and life was so different.

The door clicked shut, locking gently. Eddie could hear the sound machine, white noise that washed out the busy streets below next to the crib. You held your finger to your lips, nodding towards Persephone, who napped in her little portable crib.

Eddie smiled lovingly, looking over the edge of her crib. He climbed into the bed with you, gently laying down beside you. "She been asleep long?" He whispered.

You shook your head, your nose touching his. "Just a few minutes. I fed her and she was exhausted." You smiled, hands running over his shirt, down his arms. He perked up at the movement. "I think we have some time if you want to..." You bit your lip suggestively.

Eddie's eyes flicked from you back to the crib. "Here?" He whispered, ringed finger pressing into the bed.

You rolled your eyes. "We can go in the bathroom." You nodded to the spacious bathroom on the other side of the room. "Just be quiet."

Eddie grinned wide, letting you pull him by his hand towards the bathroom. "You be quiet," He whispered, pressing the door closed softly. "You're always the one screaming."

You rolled your eyes, wiggling your pants off. "Just hurry up." You huffed, tossing your discarded clothes to the ground, bending over the counter.

Eddie grinned, dropping to his knees. He pulled the lacy little thong off, smirking at your choice of panties. "Let me taste you first," Eddie rasped, ringed hands pulling your cheeks apart, revealing your slick puffy lips. He nearly drooled. "'S been too long, baby, let me have a taste."

You bit down on the back of your hand hard, smacking the faucet on, hoping the steady water stream would muffle your whimpers that escaped while Eddie devoured you over the counter. Miraculously, Sephy stayed asleep while Eddie pounded you hard, hips snapping against yours, holding you up to look at you through the mirror, hand around your neck.

He had more adrenaline after that, seeing his cum drip and spill out of your sopping hole. He pushed it back in with his pointer finger, smirking when you whimpered, collapsed over the vanity, cheek pressed to the marble countertop of the bathroom.

Four weeks later, you were sure you'd caught a virus. Stomach lurching and exhausted beyond belief.

Eight months later, that 'virus' was crowning, pushing out of you while you swore and threatened Eddie.

Kensington Klein Munson was born on August 3rd, 1995.

February 1998 - Milan, Italy

You'd been reluctant to go. You knew getting invited to Fashion Week in Milan was a big deal, especially since your long time friend was showcasing his line there, fresh new styles curated for the runway.

"Button, just go," Your mother sighed. "Daddy and I have it covered. We've raised a baby before, and look at you, you turned out just divine."

Still, you were hesitant to leave. You never left your babies often, hating the feeling- it was one you knew all too well. It was only a few days after Persephone's birthday, it felt too soon. And Kensington was going through a particularly nasty clinging stage with you, wailing and sobbing herself to near hyperventilation when you weren't in her sight.

Eddie had coaxed you sweetly, reminding you it's only be for a few days. He knew you didn't want to travel alone, and he too had been invited, so he offered to come with you, leaving your babies with your mom and dad.

You could hardly sit through the plane ride, guilt and nerves making you tight and irritable the entire time.

Eddie pressed sweet kisses into your skin, muttering that it would be ok. You were tense with every passing second. Tense during the pre-show dinner the night before, tight lipped smile and clutching your cell phone tightly. You'd given your hotel number to your parents, and instructed the concierge to forward it to the restaurant immediately if they called.

Even the wine, your favorite from Tuscany, didn't help soothe your nerves. Pouty the whole night, ignoring Eddie's sweet touches. You'd scurried to the phone when they said there was a call for you, nearly knocking over a waitress in the process.

It was your parents calling with the girls, ready to say goodnight. "Oh, Kensie, I know, sweet girl," You cooed sweetly, and Eddie could see your own heart breaking through the phone. "Mama and Daddy will be back so soon, baby angel, I promise."

Eddie rubbed your back soothingly. He could hear Kensie's wails and blubbering over the phone, through the noise of the restaurant. "You're with sissy, and Glammy," You sucked in a breath, fighting an eye roll at your mother's outrageous name she'd chosen for her grand babies to call her. You pulled the phone away, another heart wrenching wail, making your face crumble.

Eddie wrenched the phone out of your grasp lightly, pressing it to his ear. "Is that my sweet Kensie crying?" He cooed lowly into the phone. You pressed closer to hear. Her cries stuttered, shushing temporarily at her father's voice. "That can't be my sweet Kensie crying, is it?"

"It is, dad." Persephone's grumbled voice came from the background. "She hasn't stopped crying." Even at four, she was all attitude. She might have gotten Eddie's look, but he swore she got all your sass.

Eddie bit back a grin. "Sephy, can you hear me too?" He asked. She confirmed. "I need you to be extra sweet to your sister, ok? Mommy and Daddy will be back soon."

"And we'll bring you gifts back if you're good!" You added, yelling into the phone.

Eddie glared at you lightly, rolling his eyes. Persephone seemed excited at the promise. "Kens, Seph, can you both be good for Glammy and Pop-Pop?" His younger self would be raging at the nicknames.

"We'll be good, Daddy, prowmise." Persephone said sweetly through the phone. Eddie's heart swelled.

"Good." He grinned back. "You have good dreams, ok? Call us in the morning." You reached for the phone, pulling it away from his ear.

"Have sweet dreams, my angel babies." You cooed. "Daddy and Mommy love you so much. We miss you so much."

Your mother took the phone, chatting with you for a moment before you hung up, hesitantly, shoulder's deflating in defeat. You looked tired, dull, so unlike yourself. Eddie frowned, his hand circling your waist, pulling you close.

"C'mon," He nodded, pulling you towards the door. "Let's go back to the hotel."

"But-"

"-Tell them I got sick." Eddie shrugged. "I wanna spend some time with you. It's the first night alone we've had in a while."

You smiled gently, wrapping your arms around his torso. He shielded you from the paparazzi, ringed hand shoving cameras when they crowded outside your hotel, shouting at them all the way to the elevator.

When he got you back into the hotel, his hands on your back, smoothing over the fabric of your dress. "You know what we haven't done in a while?" Eddie grinned lightly. You hummed. "You haven't let me tie you up and have my way with you in a while."

Your thighs twitched, pressing together under the dress. "Ed," You let out a breathy sigh, squealing when he pinched the fat of your ass. "Kinda hard to do that when the kids are around."

"Well, the kids aren't around now." Eddie smirked, squeezing and kneading your cheeks. "No one to bother us all week. C'mon..." He was already moving towards you, lips slotting over yours to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, tongue sliding easily into your mouth.

You melted into the kiss, relaxing for the first time since you stepped off the plane. Eddie pulled you closer, fingers splayed out on the small of your back, pressing you farther into him. His lips pulled apart from yours, soft lips pressing into your cheek gently. "C'mon, baby," He rasped into your ear. "Be my good girl."

You perked, eyes meeting his, dark, hungry eyes shining back down at you. You rolled your lips like you were really thinking it over, but your hand was already reaching for your zipper.

"Fine, but only your hand if you spank me." You warned, pointing at him sternly. "We have to sit like all day tomorrow, and I better be able to sit." You glared at him, letting the slinky dress fall to your ankles.

Eddie's grin widened, eyes lighting up with excitement. You smirked, rolling your eyes, climbing on the bed. He fumbled through his bag, pulling out the leather cuffs. You lifted a brow. "So you were planning this?"

Eddie shrugged. "Maybe. Knew we'd be alone. Figured I might as well take advantage of my opportunity." He grinned.

You snorted, rolling on your stomach and letting him cuff you behind your back. Eddie hauled you into his lap, spanking you until your ass blossomed with red splotches and you were crying out. He fucked you hard into the mattress, skin burning and nails raked down his back and shoulder.

You were limping to the show next week, only sitting through your friend's show before disappearing back to the hotel, judgmental looks be damned. Eddie had his way with you the rest of the trip, the two of you refusing to leave the hotel room, fucking hard and nasty like you used to before; before the kids and before the marriage, before you two even liked each other.

You squirmed the entire plane ride home, finding refuge in Eddie's lap while he let you curl up into his chest. You ached between your legs, ass burning, chest littered in hickies you hoped the girls wouldn't see.

Nine months later, you were back in a familiar position, screaming in pain while you pushed out not one, but two babies; twin girls. Eddie nearly fainted at the ultrasound.

Sicily Giselle and Sienna Noelle Munson were born December 1st, 1998.

June 1999 - Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt

It was an anniversary gift, celebrating your wedding date from Farrah. You loved to travel, you and Eddie both, and since you saw the feature on Egypt, you'd wanted to go.

Farrah offered to watch the kids while you and Eddie had a get away, a romantic trip to the beautiful El Fanar Beach. "Just bring me back something nice, ok?" She winked playfully.

Eddie was in paradise, literally. You, him, and a private resort a haven for just the two of you. He'd taken you shopping to the local vendors, and you knew you had to pick up a bottle of perfume. Everyone raved about the fragrance, how decadent and strong it was- one of a kind. You'd fallen in love with one, dousing yourself in it during the trip.

Eddie seemed to like it too, burying his face in your neck, wrists, chest wherever you sprayed it, nuzzling need and sweet into you, inhaling you deeply like he might lose the scent if he didn't. You giggled when he nipped at your neck, loose, flowing linen dress flying around you in the breeze of the balcony.

The water was a gorgeous turquoise, but you hadn't managed to get in it yet. Every time you changed into your swimsuit, Eddie had you crowded around whatever was nearest, bending you over or pushing you against the surface, fucking you deep and slow.

"Ed, please," You whined, his crotch digging mercilessly into you, lips sucking and nipping at the skin of your neck, still raw from earlier. "Please, I-I wanna go to the beach."

"We'll go," Eddie hummed, lips ghosting down your collarbones. "We'll go after, I promise."

"You said that yesterday." You whined, huffing when he toyed with your clit through your swimsuit. "Ed, please-"

"-You just look too good, baby, fuck." Eddie groaned. "Smell too good. They put crack in that perfume. Made you irresistible." He growled, nipping at your ear.

You giggled, relenting when he dropped to his knees, licking you slowly until you were a puddle, sliding down the wall and further onto his tongue, hands gripping his curls.

Eddie went out and bought every bottle they had of that perfume, packing it back over on the plane, his nose still buried deep in your neck.

You blamed the perfume on why you were ringing in the millennium heavily pregnant, sipping soda water instead of champagne with your friends. That damn perfume, but it had a beautiful name, one you passed on to your daughter a month later, saving the original bottle in your safe just for her one day.

Zahra Wayne Munson was born on January 19th, 2000.

March 2007- Las Vegas, Nevada

You felt a little tipsy, stumbling in your stilettos across the marbled floors backstage. It was easier these days to get drunk. Younger you would never believe that you lose your tolerance when you get older, yet here you were thirty-seven, stumbling through The Colosseum at Caesar's Palace.

Corroded Coffin had been retired for years now, since the twins, really. Eddie had agreed to do a few shows, but hung up his guitar, trading it over to be a family man instead. He still dabbled in projects, produced, and some other things to occupy his time, but he wanted to be present with the girls, with you. It shocked the world that the both of you were as dedicated parents as you were.

Now, your oldest was thirteen, your youngest seven. Your little family complete and perfect. You were still reluctant leaving them, even if they were older, but it was a special event. Corroded Coffin live in concert at Caesar's, Eddie couldn't turn it down. And the two of you would never turn down Vegas, no matter how mature you were.

"Hey there, sexy mama." Eddie slurred, drunk and flirty. You giggled, gripping onto this leather clad arm. The show had ended hours ago, the after party raging on into the early morning.

"What're you doin'?" You giggled, watching him grab at your ass, hand ducking under your dress to squeeze your cheeks harsh.

"You just look so fuckin' good baby, goddam," Eddie grinned, swaying with you in his arms. "You're so pretty. So pretty."

You snorted. "You're horny." You grinned, feeling his half hard dick against you.

Eddie rolled his tongue over his cheek. "You're right. Can you blame me? With how good you look?"

You blushed, arms circling around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "I think-I think you look really pretty too." You smiled, nuzzling your nose against the scruff of his cheeks.

He pulled you in closer at the waist, hands still firm on your ass. You knew you were too old to be acting like this, you were parents and adults, you should behave. But you couldn't get enough of him. A little over fifteen years together, five babies, and you still couldn't get enough; that might be why you had the five babies.

"I think," Eddie whispered into your ear. "I think we should go to the bathroom." His eyes lit up suggestively.

"The bathroom?" You asked, giggling.

He was already waltzing you through the crowd, towards the private restrooms in the back. He'd had you already in the dressing room, you dropped to your knees when he came in, sucking him off until he fucked you hard over the table. Just like when you were younger, when everything was new and exciting.

He was insatiable then and still now, that never changed.

The bathroom door clicked with a lock, spacious and extravagant like the rest of the room was. Eddie hoisted you up on the bathroom counter, hands roaming every square inch of your body, needy and slipping under the fabric of your dress. You giggled, throwing your head back on the mirror, letting his fingers work you open.

He pulled your thong down, black lace with 'CC' crocheted on the front; a true artifact, made in 1992 when you went to your first Corroded Coffin concert. He fucked you back stage, and you surprised him with it. Somehow, your panties made their way into the lyric pages of their next CD.

Eddie laughed, holding them up by the band, eyes widening back at you. You blushed, shrugging gently. "Surprise, baby." You giggled. "I thought you'd see them earlier."

Eddie groaned loudly, tying his hair up with the thong before plunging head first between your legs. You squealed and gasped and writhed on the counter, his hands gripping your waist hard holding you into place.

He fucked you in the bathroom, trapping you against the wall, hips snapping into yours while you grabbed at his ass. There was no need for birth control, condoms, or having him pull out. He'd gotten a vasectomy after Zahra, you were done having babies, giving up on having your boy and accepting having all beautiful girls.

Or so you thought.

You returned to Los Angeles with more than just a hangover. The Las Vegas night was truly one you'd never forget, even if you didn't exactly remember everything, because- to both of your surprises, your urine test came back positive.

Vega Jo Munson was born October 29th, 2007.

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allophonicmess · 9 months

Text

Sweetest Taste

Masterlist

15th Doctor x Reader (One Shot)

Part of the Doctor and Sun universe but can be read as a stand-alone

SMUT ( fem oral reciving & P in V)

4.3K

Tags: Fluff, Smut, body worship, consent, unprotected sex, established relationship

June offered the perfect time to visit London's Kensington Park for a stroll. Living in the bustling, vibrant city, you came to love it over the years. The park gates acted like a separator between the cold, busy and unpersonal streets and the lush green gardens that offered a sense of connectedness for the visitors, allowing them to escape from the pressure of the city and simply decompress and be.

You pulled at your clothes, making sure that you looked your best. It wasn't your first meeting; it was far from it. Yet, this day marked your first proper meeting with him in this new body, and it made you both excited and nervous, just like the previous times you two saw each other again with new eyes. Literally.

You felt a grin spread over your lips as you passed the black gates that separated the greenery from the greyish street. Passing the café, you stood momentarily, eyes wandering over the small, chapel-like building, the calm scene, and artistically set up plans in the middle of the grass. To your left, the view opened into the display of dark-orange cranesbills, lavender and other flowers. The ensemble reminded you of the sunset, rich in colour and contrast. Behind it, a line of angular ponds, lined with waterplants and accompanied by beautifully crafted benches, created the scene of the Italian Gardens.

This was the place you had decided to meet. You stayed on the reddish pavement, following one of the main routes through the park. The white oldtimer turned ice cream vendor stood in its usual place, attracting a small crowd of eager customers. They had formed a line, waiting patiently for their turn to receive their sweet treat.

"Should have clarified the time we meet", you mainly mumbled to yourself. You had told him when and where to meet you but in a more broad sense. Yet daytime also played a key role. You looked around for a moment. Perhaps a walk would be good to pass the time. You could follow the Long Water, take a look at one of the many statues and then come back a little later to see if he arrived at your set location. Or you could start searching for the big, blue police telephone box. It shouldn't be hard to find unless he fixed the chameleon circuit. Perhaps this new Doctor got tired of the Tardis' look, but you doubt it.

"Figured you'd be here around noon. Love to spend your-"He continued, but you interrupted him, finishing the sentence alongside him.

"Well, good on me to have thought of that" he spoke, the playful tone of his new voice made your grin before you consciously processed it. It was as if your body was drawn to him, able to recognise it anywhere, regardless of sound, tone or pitch. Always recognising, always drawn to it.

You turned around with a soft gasp, and there he stood. A big, inviting smile stretched over his face, adorned by a thin, trimmed moustache. His eyes held a twinkle that you couldn't quite explain. Youthful joy and pure ecstasy were the best words you could find. There were two ice cones, one in each hand. 99 Flake, you noticed. Vanilla soft ice with a chocolate flake, Simple yet classy.

"-lunch break in the park." You chuckled, approaching him and taking the cool dessert with a soft "Thank you".

"Bring some ice cream, you said. And here we are!" he cheered with a joyous laugh. You nodded, letting your eyes wander over his new look. He had changed; he put on some actual clothes. You didn't mind his 50/50 Bi-generation look, but it was… impractical for travelling.

He noticed your wandering eyes and decided to play into it. The Doctor stepped back, giving you a little swirl that made his orange leather coat swish. He had dressed up nicely. The outfit was new, certainly different from what he used to wear, yet it suited him so very well.

It reflected him, the healed and refreshed mindset expressed in daybreak's bright and daring colours. He wore light, striped sneakers, contrasting with the dark blue trousers. 'He really put some thought into this,' you thought, noticing the repetition of colours on his top. The zipper of his striped jumper was opened halfway, revealing the view of the necklace set he wore. An orange gem on one chain and an odd-looking golden shape on the other. They rested over a soft patch of dark chest hair that you took immediate interest in.

"You like it?" He asked with a flirty wink, stepping closer again and taking your free hand.

"Yeah, very stylish. It's new. Different, but I think it looks great. Especially the jewellery." You admired, feeling the cool metal of his ringers against your hand as you squeezed it to emphasise your comment.

"Thanks, darling." He chuckled softly, eyes moving from your face to the hand which held your now semi-melted ice cream that threatened to spill over your fingers.

"You want to lick that away before you get your hands dirty." He nodded towards it.

You quickly breathe a soft 'oh', turning the cone in your hand to clean it up. The sweet and creamy liquid made you hum in delight. You noticed that the Doctor was about to be in the same predicament as you. The molten cream snailing over the wafer.

"Same with yours. Don't want to make a mess." You joked, looking him in the eye. But he stayed serious, keeping eye contact for longer than you would find appropriate for the situation.

Then, there was a shift in the air around you. The soft reunion of lovers turning into something else…

His eyes focused on you as he licked away a streak of melted ice cream that dared to run down the cone. Those dark eyes watching you intently, clearly aware of the sexual allusion the action carried.

He grinned cheekily at your loss of words, clearly aware of what he was doing to you. But he wanted to take his sweet time with you. He enjoyed teasing you before, always did, but now it had a different tone to it. He felt a rush, watching you struggle; your attraction to him was undeniable.

Oh goodness, that stare was stirring something in you.

You released a breath, eyes following his pink tongue slide along the brown wafer with perfect pressure. He took his sweet time, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

"Uh…" You started, gasped really, at a loss of words. Regeneration was a gamble, and you won.

"My plan?" You asked, shifting in your seat to get a better look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to sit down?" He asked softly, sweetly, with an innocent look. He waited for your approving nod, then placed his arm around your waist to lead you to one of the benches that lined the fountains.

You tried to calm down and get your pulse back to normal. You had seen him just yesterday. The other version of him, still him though. But this new factette of him thrilled you, willing to play along in his little game. It only would make winning the price sweeter and much more satisfying.

The two of you sat down on a bench. The wood under you had been warmed in the sun, making for a cosy spot. The Doctor moved in closely, placing one arm over the backrest. His hand rested on your shoulder and arm, stroking over it in a slow, calming motion.

"You chose a lovely spot", He commented, watching the place and people around him. He slid a little closer, making your thighs touch. He looked into the distance, where the Long Water widened into a river.

"So what's your plan?" He turned back to you, taking a lazy lick of his treat. He was almost finished.

"I was wondering how you want to proceed now. Do you want to keep your routine? Work, here on Earth? Travel?" He squeezed your shoulder, waiting patiently for your response. His head was turned back, the light shifting in his short, dark hair. The colour bordering between black and a lush midnight blue.

"I liked the routine. Me staying here, taking care of Earth while you are off. You taking me on dates when you find the time." You shrugged.

"Oh yeah? I'm glad to hear it." He pulled you in for another kiss. It was less passionate but undoubtedly made you feel his love. The Doctor petted your face quietly, watching you with warm admiration.

He sighed, something shifting behind his eyes. "I should have made more time for you." He whispered with some sense of grief behind it. "You deserve so much more than what I offered you." He moved even closer, and the arm around you pulled you into him. His hand moved towards your face.

He held your face gently, fingers curled and ringed knuckles resisting against your pulse as his thumb glided over your cheek.

"That will change now. You will be my priority." His eyes moved between your eyes and your lips, silently asking for permission to kiss you. You granted it, leaning forward to meet him in a soft, shy kiss. It was new, different to the feeling and rhythm you were used to. But you adapted, just like so many times prior. You found a new rhythm with him, lips moving in a sweet dance.

The two of you only let go to catch a breath of air, grinning shyly at each other like smitten teenagers. "You liked that?" He whispered with a breathy chuckle. Your actions, visible acceptance of this new version of him, took away the feeling of nervousness.

"Yeah, very much." You replied with a smile, just as relieved as him. Change was a constant in your lives. Things and people; everything was constantly changing. Yet you remained.

"I'll admit: I'm a fan of this." You vaguely motioned towards him, his face and body. "It suits you." Your own smile widened as he seemed to light up. The complement boosted his already strong confidence and charm. He radiated a warmth that you just wanted to bask in.

You didn't mind the silence. It felt easy and natural. But you were giddy, high on his smile and the joy you felt. So your brain went into overdrive, leading to making a silly confession.

"You know what I couldn't stop thinking about?" You asked, unable to hold back a childish giggle, already overly excited to reveal it.

"What?" He asked, watching you intently.

"Those thighs." You giggled, placing a hand on his left leg for emphasis. The woolly material of his trousers was rather rough against your fingers. But you felt his warmth seeping through the pant leg.

"Is that so?" He grinned. First, it was innocent, playing to your joke. But then it turned hungry before shifting into a stern expression.

And there it was again, that tension around you.

"You know what I kept thinking about?" He asked, his thumb tracing your lip.

You only managed to let out a breath of air. Yet he took it as a response to reveal it to you.

"I kept thinking about how sweet you will taste on this new tongue."

Oh, you were done for.

Your eyes met his. A spark was ignited the moment you saw the lust and longing reflected in his intense stare.

"Take me. Now."

What ensued was a mad rush for the Tardis. He grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off to the location of the well-known police call box. He had parked it just outside the other park gates. There, resting in the shade of tall plane trees, right next to old and out-of-use red telephone boxes. You would have laughed at it and appreciated the joke if it hadn't been for the delicious ache between your legs and the heat that flushed your body.

The Doctor practically ripped open the Tardis door, letting you in before him. He stepped in quickly and slammed the door shut the moment you were both inside. And not even a second later, you found yourself pressed against said door. Pillowy lips caressed yours as soft hums escaped between them, and strong hands grasped at your sides. All you could see and feel was him.

You threw your arms around his neck, gently scratching his neck and toying with the collar of his leather coat. That evoked a hiss from him; his tone made pain and pleasure mix.

"Need more of you." He hissed, placing his hands under your ass and pulling you up. You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles behind him to create stability. Thank the universe for Timelords' strength. He didn't carry you very far, though, slowly setting you down on the edge of the Tardis console. The surface was slightly sloped, but the new design allowed for free space between the control elements. You believe it might even have been made like this on purpose. Naughty machine.

This new position allowed you to be on eye level with the Doctor, if not, being a little taller than him. He noticed it, too, breaking away from you and grinning at you with marvel. You placed your hands on his jaw, feeling the skin there, the shaved hair over his sharp cheekbones. You pulled him in for another kiss, this time leading him in it. You held him there momentarily before your hands smoothed over his neck, along his ears and back down to the coat collar. A tuck signified him to shrug it off, and he obliged. The garment fell to the floor with a soft swoosh, leaving him in his jumper and pants.

You broke the kiss slowly, pressing your forehead to his as your hands wandered over his shoulders and back, feeling the strong yet lean muscle underneath the woolly material. He did the same, tugging at your jacket and shirt in the hope of finally being able to touch your skin. You let the coat slip from your arms, lifting them immediately to let him pull off your shirt. It left you in only your bra, sitting on the white metal console.

"You look like a goddess", He sighed, going for your neck and the soft spot behind your ear. The kisses there turned into playful nibbles as he carefully held the skin between his teeth to suck at it. It made you gasp, a shower running down your spine. You pulled the Doctor into an even closer embrace, hands holding him firmly.

He hummed against your skin, hands massaging the skin of your waste. His lips moved lower, over your clevis, down to the spot on your breast bone just above where your breasts connected to the skin. He licked down a stripe, only halting when he was stopped by your bra. It made him look up.

"Will you allow me to find out?" He looked you deep in the eye, waiting for your consent. His fingers were tracing along the hem of your jeans, eager to have you be rid of them. You nodded, holding onto his shoulders.

"I need you to use your words, darling." He kissed your jaw for emphasis; his right hand had moved up to the small of your back, tracing the spot where your spine connected.

"Yes, please." You managed to answer, already pushing yourself up on his shoulders to make it easier to free yourself of your pants. He grinned, making quick work of the zipper and button. He freed the jeans and underwear from under you with a swift pull. His hands explored the now-exposed skin of your thighs before pulling off your shoes to take off your pants for good.

He sighed at the view in front of him. Lips skimming over your thighs as he slowly and gracefully got to his knees. His hands traced over your back and down to your hips, squeezing them. The Doctor looked like he was about to pray, eyes focused up at you in admiration, soft breaths excepting through his slightly opened lips. He pulled you forward by your hips, making you lean forward and stabilise yourself with one hand on his shoulder and one on the console.

"My good girl." He whispered into the soft skin of your thigh, the moustache deliciously ticking you. His hands were on your knees, keeping your legs spread for him.

"Let me have some of that sweet taste." He mumbled before he oh so slowly licked over your core. You gasped, feeling his hot breath on you and heavenly pleasure against your clit. He kept his eyes focused on you, licking in slow motions before taking your pleasure bud in his mouth and gently sucking on it. The sensation was otherworldly, making you throw your head back. Years of experience had made him so good at making you gasp and scream, and the regeneration into a woman had evidently benefited his understanding of female pleasure.

He kept at it, lapping at you like his life depended on it. At some point, one of his hands had moved from your knees to your thigh, massaging it gently in the rhythm of his licks. You weren't going to last long if he kept going like this.

You moaned softly, trying to gather the energy and will to make him move. While this was great, you needed to feel him inside you.

A hand was placed on his head, making him stop to look at you.

"Too much?" He asked; the wet shine of your juices on his moustache made you even hotter.

"No, it's great, but I need you to feel you." You explained weakly, "I need to feel you inside me." You slid slightly lower on the console to get down on shaky legs, hoping they could hold you up.

But he was faster, swiftly getting back on his feet to carry you like he did before. The dark wool was rubbing against your core deliciously with each step as he carried you over the ramp towards the bedroom.

The Doctor placed you on the edge of the bed with just as much care and admiration as he had picked you up with. He was crouched before you, smiling softly in anticipation. You grinned, smoothing your hands over his neck and over the cool metal of his jewellery. The zipper of his jumper was only halfway open, so you took the little metal handle to open it fully, allowing you access to the gentle splatter of chest hair. Your hands moved over his torso, but you had to stop as the material offered no more room before the seams would give away.

"You are overdressed", You stated, making him chuckle. He readily lifted your arms to help get rid of his clothes. Fingers snuck under the waistband of his pants, grabbing onto not only the jumper and the light undershirt as well.

"Much better", you mumbled, placing your hands on his chest to explore it. He was fitter than you expected. Muscles stretched and flexed under your hands, and he brought his arms back down to hold your shoulders, pushing the straps of your bra down. He moved awkwardly from one foot to the other to shrug off his trainers.

That left him in his socks and pants. Still, too much, you decided and started fumbling with the button of his trousers.

"You got what you wanted. Let me see those legs again." You joked, making him laugh as he freed himself of the last of his clothing. He leaned over you, kissing you softly as he worked on the hooks of your bra. It hadn't been long since the two of you had had sex. But not with this body; it excited you to feel him again.

You slid back on the bed, allowing him to kneel and hover over you. The bra had been taken care of and thrown on the pile of clothing on the floor at the foot of the bed. You were getting ready to lay on the bed, having moved the duvet and additional pillows aside, but the Doctor stopped you.

"Can we try something?" He asked, still leaning over you, hands caressing your neck and the back of your shoulders as you turned towards him.

"Yeah, sure." You answered, interested in what he had in mind.

He kissed you again, gently holding your lower lip between his teeth before letting it go to focus on you.

"I want you on top." He stated simply. Kissing along your neck, fingers tracing your sides. "I want to watch you take what you need." He spoke against your chest in between soft kisses. "Is that alright?"

He asked, and you never knew that asking you for your consent to try something new would be so hot.

"Yes," You hissed. He had taken one of your nipples in his mouth, gently sucking on it and holding the other breast in his hand. His thumb was moving over the other in soft circles.

"Lovely." He commented, giving your chest one last kiss before leaning away from you to arrange the pillows to make himself comfortable. A few were placed against the headboard, allowing him to lie in a half-sitting position. The Doctor nodded to you, signalling that he was ready.

"C'mon then. Let me feel you." He beckoned you, hissing in pleasure when you moved over to him, lowering yourself over his lap. His cock was half erect, so you pumped it a few times, letting the tip grace over your folds.

"You are so good", He whispered, eyes closed in pleasure. He reached for your body, hands exploring your back. "So good to me." He mumbled, already drunk on you.

You positioned him, slowly lowering yourself into his lap and moaning in pleasure just as he did. You took a few breaths, stabilising yourself on his shoulders. He felt different but filled you oh so deliciously.

"I'm gonna move now." You announced, making him nod. His hands had found their place on your hips, pulling your torso a little forward. He looked up as you filled his vision. You looked ethereal; the dimmed light of the Tardis was behind you, creating a halo around you.

"My goddess, my sweet sweet girl." He groaned, pushing his hips into yours to reach deeper.

He held you, slowly pulling your chest into him. You were both catching your breaths, lying in a loving embrace.

You were both getting close.

He held you as you rode him, feeling blissful to see the expression of pleasure on your face. You felt your core tighten. His gentle fingers and thrusts move you closer to the edge.

"Go on," He said, moving onto his elbows to kiss along your neck. "Take what you need. I want to see you come."

His encouragement drove you closer; you fasten your paste while he uses his hands on your hips to push himself more deeply with each thrust. You were becoming hazy, so close to that sweet release. He noticed it, too, finding the soft spot behind your ear and sucking on it gently.

That threw you over the edge, coming with a gasp. You could feel your cervix pulsating, squeezing him inside you.

"That's it." He chuckled softly, but it quickly turned into a moan as he, too, came. The sight of your orgasm, the fact that his words and actions had helped you reach that sweet spot. It gave him the last push to tip over the edge and cum.

"I love you so much", He mumbled against your ear, fingers skimming over your back and holding you close.

You hummed, "I Love you, too. Till the end of time," You turned your head away from its position against his neck to kiss him softly.

You stayed that way for a moment longer, petting each other gently and sharing kisses. With a soft groan, you let his cook slip out. You managed to shift onto the side, leaning next to him. You were spent, happy to feel the soft comfort of the bed underneath you.

The Doctor sat up to reach for the duvet at the foot of the bed, placing it over the two of you. He had lifted his arm to let you move on his chest, just like you always did.

No words were spoken as you moved to place your head on his chest, your free hand gently laying next to it. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, arm wrapped around you and fingers smoothing over your arm in a slow back and forth.

He sighed, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of you next to him. He wouldn't mind staying like this for the rest of his life and the ones following it.

You shifted a little to look at him, your eyes meeting, smiling softly at each other.

"What do you want to do now?" You asked softly, drawing patterns into his skin.

He hummed, thinking for a moment.

"The club? You go partying?" You asked, chucking at the absurd idea. He had never been to a club, not that you knew about. But with each regeneration came new quirks.

"I wouldn't mind a nap." He joked, smile widening as he saw you laugh. He squeezed your shoulder softly before leaning back.

"How about a nap. And then we go to the club?" He offered.

"Yeah, I feel like we should go to a club. Maybe something exciting will happen." He winked, leaning forward to kiss you again before settling into the pillows and closing his eyes.

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