#leather jacket makers

[thomsonsharon347]

The Hottest Leather Jacket Trends of 2024 That You Can Not Miss Out on

VISIT:

If you wish to know about the piping-hot leather jacket trends of 2024

[jacketssupplier]

Buy a Winter Jacket Based on These 5 Vital Factors

Need some help in grabbing the best winter jacket? Read the blog! Visit: https://oasisjackets.postach.io/post/buy-a-winter-jacket-based-on-these-5-vital-factors

[seedofjoseph]

The deputy walking around Hope County in one of those torn-up live-action Harley Quinn-type baseball shirts which reads The Father's Li'l Hellion.

[midnightclaw]

Ok, but fashion wise these two could have been spuffy.

[full-metal-femme]

Some more of the jacket ;)

Wanted to put together some longer shots of it so folks can get a good look - I even bought a selfie stick for this video 😂

[in-kyblogs]

I still can’t believe they gave us vampire Daniel already. I was convinced I’d had to wait until actual season 4 for that. Btw this -to me- is the most clear hint they could give that most of the devil’s minion chapter already happened in the seventies

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

“I hate how they regressed Daniel after Armand turned him. Hes just so immature now”

My dudes,

If suddenly I wasn’t living with a sickness that slowly deteriorates my motor functions until I die, and I was able to feel like I did when I was a drugged up 20 year old with no worries of chronic illness hitting me again, you bet your sweet ass I would have zero fucks, I would be telling everyone to suck my dick and wear cool jackets and sunglasses.

Oh no one can touch me because my maker is a 514 year old ancient vampire who has never made any other fledglings?

I can see better than I ever have? Move like the wind? Have no pain? Have no fear of dying? Suddenly my hands don’t shake and my body isn’t in pain?

Oh everyone can suck my dick. Everyone can fuck off. I’m gonna wear my fuck you leather jacket like I did at 20 when I was a counter culture upstart journalist, I’m gonna be a cocky shit head again because guess what? I don’t have pain in my back and body, I don’t shake, I have no issues with my motor skills suddenly failing me.

I’m basically 20 years old again. I’m gonna be such a menace for at least a few years.

Ya’ll act like Louis would have been any better if Lestat wasn’t there to help rein him in.

Or Lestat? Bro broke the vampire laws the second he was turned.

Armand I’m gonna assume was no better then his fledgling is.

Let’s not forget Claudia as a fledgling? Baby girl her first hunt took down like 2 whole police officers.

Let my old man have his wild fledgling years! Let him stalk random men to drain, let him experience being young again. This is like being 18 in college. His first few years of vampire life should be wildly immature and stupid.

Because finally, his body isnt hurting. His brain isn’t deteriorating his motor functions. He can actually do things he used to.

LET MY BABY GIRL BE A MESSY BITCH OF A FLEDGLING. Why?

BECAUSE HE FUCKING DESERVES IT.

Look at this man. Pure cunty ass sass coming off him in waves. As he should be allowed, being in his fledgling prime years.

[evilminji]

You know what seriously doesn't get played with enough?

In the grand, shared, doll set of Danny Phantom?

The cultural alienation.

Is Danny up to date on Human Memes? Did he see that movie? Hear about that celebrity drama? He lives here, amongst us, WITH us. But? Feels... half out of the loop.

And? He can't SHARE his passions with us.

Is he REALLY gonna show his new lecture buddy that hot new Kryptonian Sci-fi series he picked up from the Zone's nearest mega market bookstore? Invite a neighbor over for some sparkling ectoplasm laced soda and a binge of this cool Alien animated film from a long dead planet's artist guild? They're trying new mediums, apparently! Danny thinks it's pretty cool, he hopes they make more.

Oh, but maybe he can talk about games!

Except he switched to the technologically far more advanced Z-Held, years ago. They have literally billions of billions of options, since every game maker in their region of the Zone designs for it. Has for millennia.

....music?

Ghost speak either creeps people out or actually hurts to hear, if they listen too long. And "normal" music... feels so FLAT. Emotionless. Yeah, he'll LISTEN... smile and agree it sound nice. But it's... it's so bland? Less then bland.

He can't even share his food! It's a one way trip to ER! If not the morgue. Half his spices are FROM the Zone now. And Zone plants? Heeeeeella poisonous to humans. Tasty af to HIM, but... yeah. No sharing.

So like... what does that LEAVE him? Dance? Hobbies? Sam n Tucker he can share his REAL interests with, but... they went to different colleges. And protecting people isn't a hobby. It's more of a Gotta, you know? He ALSO can't join any space related clubs because now he knows WAY too much about Space.

Like "above civilian clearance, no one on this planet should know that" a lot.

He gets distracted. Too excited. He KNOWS himself.

He would totally ramble on about Space.

He's a Fenton, man. It's genetic.

So... he's lonely. Adrift. A sad, sad, semi-feral noodle of a man. And you know who would never let that stand? Who also wants to know what THE FUCK he's listen too, because it's both giving him a headache and creeping him out? Kon.

This dude reminds him of Tim. Complete with the feral energy and fluffy hair. *snaps pick* lol, bro, is you. ANYWAY, this guy? Apparently the source of the Kent family splitting migraines. That sound has been KILLING them. They need to get this guy better headphones. Aliens gotta stick together, you know? Time to go make friends.

*floats over in his shades n leather jacket* Sup~!

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

The Colosseum

I started writing this and have no idea how to finish it or where to take it from here. I had an idea but lost it halfway through 😅

Valerie had had it with all of the ghosts in Amity. She could hardly sleep, was missing schools as a result because she was either too exhausted to stay awake long enough in class, or another ghost attack was forcing her to miss the entire period to go deal with that day’s trouble maker. Almost every part of her body hurt in one way or another. Bruises that should have faded by now but haven’t because every day she was out collecting more. She couldn’t blame Phantom either. He seemed just as tired and beat up as she was even with his healing factor.

With the number of ghost attacks having nearly tripled in frequency, they’d both come to the mutual decision that working together would be the best course of action to deal with the constant onslaught. And reluctantly, Val had to admit that Phantom might not be as bad she first assumed. She hadn’t anticipated actually getting along with the ghost as well as she had been. Much less the realisation that they could almost be considered…fiends now. Maybe. She refused to laugh at his god awful puns though, he didn’t need anymore encouragement.

But even with Phantom’s help, she was so tired. So, so, so very tired. And so one could say Valerie was well within her rights to say that this situation, was just more bullshit she didn’t need right now.

She had been trying to cram for the next upcoming test when there was a sudden flash of light, so bright it was blinding and she had to shield her eyes with her arms from the fear that this light might burn through her eyelids. Her body tingled, and she felt something wash over her. When the light subsided, just as quickly as it had appeared, she slowly opened her eyes.

“Where the hell am I?”

She was in a colosseum. The stone of the structure was a deep purple with intricate glimmering gold details carved into the walls and pilasters. There was a magic in the air that felt different to the sensation she would get in the Ghost Zone. The sky above was pitch black with more stars than Val had ever seen visible in Amity, and two moons.

So, not Earth then, she concluded.

“Hey Red, where are we?” Valerie spun around to see Phantom floating over to her, his eyes scanning the area around them. Then Val looked down at herself to see that she was in her Red Huntress suit. She couldn’t remember putting it on. Maybe that was what the full body sensation from earlier was about.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Val checked herself over, making sure she had all of her weapons on her should she need them. When she was satisfied she did, she put her hands on her hips and let her gaze wander over the arena.

“I don’t think we’re on Earth anymore,” Phantom muttered as he took in the sky above them. For a split second Val swore she saw his freckles glow a soft green as he was taking in the stars above them.

“We should start looking for a way out of here, or at least figure where here is,” Valerie had just turned to start walking when the ground rumbled and shook, “What-”

Another blinding flash of light appeared behind them. And once again, it had vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

“What the hell was that?” A new voice asked from behind them.

Val and Phantom turned in unison to stare at the group in front of them. All of them were dressed in some sort of hero ensemble. It seemed the voice had come from a man donning a brown leather jacket over an armoured suit with a red bat symbol across his chest, an assortment of guns and other weaponry strapped to his body, and most notably a red helmet. He and the rest of his group seemed to be taking in their surroundings the same way Val and Phantom.

“Who are you? Were you the ones who summoned us?” Came a new voice, from a young man (or was he a teenager?) dressed in black leggings with a red tunic, utility belt, and a chest harness connecting to the symbol on the centre, a black cowl and a cape. In his hands was a bo staff. He and the others had all dropped into combat ready stances the moment they became aware that they weren’t the only people in the colosseum.

And from here I couldn’t figure out how to continue

[bimbo-baggins17]

Okay so i'm a big sucker for burnt Vader fic.

Sooo there's a malfunction in his suit and he's like hyper sensible as shit and he summon YOU to help him with... his problem teehee 🤭

One way another you find yourself on his big, scarred dick rummaging your guts and that perfect spot being hit EVERY SINGLE TIME !

And a bit of subby Vader if you can plss 🙏

THIS. OH MY GOD. Subby Vader too??????? We’re kissing now.

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

This was a new sensation for Vader. His suit usually left him uncomfortable and especially when it malfunctioned. But this? This was new. His scarred dick was so excruciatingly sensitive he felt like he was going through puberty again. Any little move made him whimper under his helmet.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Swallowing his pride, he reaches for his communicator, summoning you, his trusted assistant for lack of a better word.

You arrive promptly. “Yes Lord Vader?” You’re surprised to see him sitting still.

“I uh..I’m having some issues with my suit.” He says, attempting to keep his voice from trembling.

You nod your head and make your way over to him. “What seems to be the problem?”

He sighs, “it’s just..it’s making me sensitive.”

You’re reaching for your tool kit. “Oh. I can help with that.”

He grips onto your wrist immediately. “No. Not like that,” He breathes out heavily. He sees your confusion. With a sigh, he elaborates. “I-..I need..a different kind of assistance.” Please get what he’s trying to say. To imply.

It takes a second but it dawns on you. “Oh.” You breathe out. He relaxes and releases his grip on your wrist. You understood. “Are you sure..you want me for that?”

He nods his head, thankful the helmet shielded the pathetic look in his eyes that he knew was there. “Yes my dear, please.”

Hearing the almighty Lord Vader being reduced to a whispered, almost pitiful begging was enough to convince you. You slowly close the distance, unclasping your belt, shrugging your uniform jacket off, “I’ll help you out. Don’t worry.”

He watches behind the red lenses, his cock was hurting with how much it was straining, watching you slip out of your uniform completely. You reach behind your back, unclasping your bra, freeing your breasts.

“Maker.” He wheezes behind the mask.

You hook your fingers under the waistband of your panties, pushing them down and stepping out of them. You come to a stop right infront of where he sits. “You sure about this.”

He nods his head. “Please.”

Nodding your head, you help ease his leaky cock from the confines of his suit. He closes his eyes not wanting to see your reaction to his scarred cock. He knows it wasn’t pretty.

You aren’t deterred at all. Was it wrong or weird to say you had a thing for him? “I’ll take good care of you, my Lord. Don’t worry.” You give his shaft a few slow pumps to get him used to it. He whines under the mask, the modulator distorting it.

You position yourself on his lap before slowly easing down onto him. His head tilts back and his hands come to grip tightly onto your hips, surely leaving marks. “O-oh..my stars.”

You struggle to accommodate his size, having not worked yourself up for it. He was hung like a Bantha. “Is..this okay?..”

He nods his head as best as he can, “Yes..more than okay my dear.”

Slowly, with his reassurance you start to just rock your hips back and forth, allowing him to get used to the feeling of being inside someone again.

“Need more.” He rasps out. “Please.”

Who are you to deny the Sith Lord especially when he’s asking so nicely?

You ease into bouncing on his thick cock. A strangled moan is ripped from him. Slow at first, just to feel each and every single bump and ridge on his shaft. You shudder as your hands reach to the shoulders of his suit, bracing yourself to go faster.

He watches your breasts as they bounce right in front his face, completely entranced with you. How you looked. How you felt.

Your slick dribbles down his shaft and onto the leather on his legs. Each time you came down onto his dick, you swore he was reaching your guts. “So good…so good, my dear.” He continues repeating.

Keeping one hand on his shoulder, you bring a hand to your right breast, tweaking the nipple. He grunts louder at the sight, feeling you squeeze tighter around his shaft.

“I’m-..I’m gonna-“ He doesn’t get to fully warn you before he’s sloppily thrusting up into you as he paints your walls with his hot cum.

You moan feeling his seed spill into you. Despite being exhausted and spent, he’s not completely selfish, not when you’ve helped him so much. He uses the Force to apply the right amount of pleasure on your clit, pushing you over the edge seconds after him.

The moans from his modulator are animalistic as your cunt clamps down around his disfigured shaft. It’s the most he’s ever cum and Maker did it feel good.

Taking a second to collect yourselves, he focuses on the heartbeat in your walls. “..thank you..” he croaks out.

You nod your head and ease off of him, both whimpering at as he slips out of you. “Of course, my lord.”

He tucks himself back into his suit, “I may find myself in need of your assistance again in the future.”

Not that you’d mind. You’d happily take care of him anyway he needed you.

[thomsonsharon347]

How a Leather Jacket Should Fit

VISIT:

If you wish to know how a leather jacket should fit, then here are some guidelines. Keep on reading to know more!

[jacketssupplier]

Why Invest in a Leather Jacket?

There are many benefits to wearing a leather jacket. To know about them, keep reading!

Visit: https://www.merchantcircle.com/blogs/oasis-jackets-wholesale-jackets-north-hollywood-ca/2024/3/Why-Invest-in-a-Leather-Jacket-/2682089

[hargr0vefield]

my boyfriend eddie munson headcanons ☼

a terrible cook. but for some odd reason, a very solid pancake and waffle maker

has a phobia of rusted rings, therefore all his jewelry is stainless steel

has a backstory and name for each of his leather coats. there’s not many, he’s very picky about which belong in his collection

uses very established products on his hair. he begged you not to mention it again after you found them in his shower

makes it a habit to light incense

is an avid back to the future fan

michael j fox IS his man crush

cereal lover, particularly picks out the boxes with the designs and games for kids on them

“baby, you can’t have any more cereal,” “y/n, it’s the healthiest thing i eat”

very touchy, in the most heartfelt and loving way

longs to make up for the lack of it he never received throughout his life

strange fascination with race cars

you bought him nascar tickets for christmas

he took a polaroid picture of the ticket and stuck it to his wall

owns multiple picks and combs

has a lighter collection

his favorite lighter he purchased in panama

likes interlocking fingers when holding hands

talks you through it

consent is the most important thing to him

likes his hair being pulled, only by you

plans extra, extra hard on d&d campaigns - any free time goes to you or hellfire

once was involved in a fist fight with gareth because he assumed eddie put no work into the campaign

“have you even worked at this at all? we’re all here busting our asses day and ni-“ *boom*

sits like an inch away from the tv

“eddie, that’ll ruin your eyes” “your face will ruin my eyes”

likes to open doors for people, especially you

meets with a tutor every wednesday, makes sure to let you know when he’s heading there and when he’s heading home

he really, really thinks ‘86 is his year

has an affinity for you in tight clothing

really is a slut, but the gentle kind

has an exceptionally tight grip

loves colder weather- leather jacket season

let’s you borrow anything from his closet

he’ll get really excited if you ask to wear his hellfire shirt

“i’m sorry if it smells like booze, dustin knocked my can all over me”

loves whispering to you

usually it’s sweet nothings

most of the time it’s as you drift asleep in his bed, metal posters staring down at you from above

usually smells like eucalyptus and cigarettes- mixed with essential hair oils

actually has a really, really sharp memory

“i don’t even remember what i said to her to make her this mad at me-“ “you said she was lazy and that it was seeping into her day to day life and through to your guys’ friendship.” “eddie-“

picks you over anyone, sometimes even over hellfire

“get your ass to gareth’s. incase you forgot, we have rehearsal today” “i’m with y/n, you pack of dumbasses can wait”

keeps a box of polaroids of you under his bed

most are appropriate, some aren’t

dustin almost accidentally opened the box once

eddie slapped him hard across the hand, leaving a red mark

he instantly apologized profusely

“god, henderson i’m so sorry bout that- just don’t- just don’t open that box, alright?”

[petermorwood]

I was wondering if you could answer a question about armor, especially the solid/articulated types - how much did it need to be personalized or fitted? I ask because I often see people criticizing fantasy/gaming armor for being too heavy or cumbersome, but rarely for perfectly fitting everyone between five and seven feet tall regardless of whether they're built like Legolas or Gimli.

So I'm curious about whether and what kinds of armor might have been mass produced vs what needed to be customized. Was it easier to produce broadly applicable armor or to recruit your army by height and weight?

Non-custom-fitted mass-produced armour ("munition grade" as some modern repro makers call it) started becoming more common when workshops where everything ran on muscle-power became ones whose hammers, grinders and polishers were powered by a water-wheel.

Making armour to fit a range of average sizes now took less time, effort and wages, so could be sold for less and be afforded by more people.

It would have been made in the period equivalent of S, M, L and maybe XL, with buyers either paying extra for custom adjustments, or DIY-ing for better fit with padded liners to make it snug or extra holes punched into straps for more space.

*****

Top grade plate armour on the other hand was almost like a second skin - a common term is "exoskeleton".

This post from a few years back has a lot more information, including what was done to ensure a good fit when the wearer couldn't be measured in person: for instance sending close-fitting garments or even wax model limbs to the armourer.

It definitely wouldn't have fitted anyone but the original owner anything like as well. In particular, if a non-original wearer was longer or shorter in arm or leg, the armour's knee and elbow joints might pinch at distracting moments or simply not flex through their full range.

"Is increased protection better than reduced mobility?" was a question where the wrong answer could prove fatal.

*****

Perhaps that's why medieval art shows a lot of partial armour being worn:

arm-harness - sometimes just vambraces on the forearms, often all the parts from gauntlets to pauldrons (hands to shoulders);

brigandine - a cloth or leather jacket with small metal plates riveted inside; this wasn't concealed armour, the rivets arranged in rows or patterns were an obvious decorative feature;

haubergeon (or byrnie, though that's more a Saxon / Viking term IMO) - a short-sleeved, short-bodied mail shirt, usually worn under something else;

plackart - front or sometimes front-and-rear lower-abdomen torso plates;

poleyns - knee-guards, worn on otherwise unarmoured legs.

The one thing everyone wore is the first thing Hollywood armour leaves off - a helmet - while the archer below has not just a helmet, haubergeon, brigandine and poleyns, but also something equally important, a brayette or breech...

...which is a pair - or at least the front half where It Matters Most - of well-padded mail and indeed male underpants.

Full plate armours had full plate ones which were even more emphatic. Boob-plates may be (mostly) fantasy, but obvious gendered armour was A Real Thing.

*****

Flexible armour like mail, scale and lamellar wasn't tailored for fit; being flexible it didn't need to be. That said, if the size was really wrong one way or the other, it could be reduced or enlarged by removing or adding sections, similar to a modern tailor taking in or letting out a garment.

I have a vague recollection of a photo showing a late medieval haubergeon with tailoring darts inserted under the arms, but I can't remember where or when, so "vague" has more weight than "recollection". ;-P

Genuine mail is rarer in museums than plate armour, because at the end of its working life mail armour was often chopped into pot-scrubbers for the kitchen. You can buy the same sort of thing today.

Finally, while some looted high-grade armour, or at least parts of it, might fit the looter straight away, it's more likely that after any battle there was probably a brisk trade in swapping what didn't fit for what did.

Hope This Helps! :->

[6lostgirl6]

could u do something for the lost boys with a cute and innocent gf? maybe like cat valentine or sumthin

Ingénue

Pairing: Poly!Lost Boys x Innocent!Reader

TW: small mention of sexual innuendos, hints of possessive behavior.

You are the exact opposite of the group of vampires and they found the striking difference to be extremely attractive.

While they were clad in haunting dark colors and leather, you sported outfits that were decorated in floral patterns and pastel colors.

They were very surprised that you weren't apprehensive of them when you all met the first time.

You simply smiled sweetly with doe-like eyes and engaging in conversation with them without a care.

They knew that they had to keep you for themselves. That selfish need that consumed them prevented them from letting you go until you were offically theirs.

Your relationship with them turn heads when you all visit the boardwalk.

The image of a sweet girl spending time with a bunch of trouble-makers left many people thinking that the world was ending.

You are practically their bright and shining star that has blessed them with your love and sweetness.

Whenever a surfer nazi bothers you, they immediately are on the defensive.

Marko has no trouble starting a fight with them to get them to leave you alone.

You're theirs.

They love the sound of your voice, high-tuned that reminded them of bells.

You don't understand sexual innuendos and jokes and Dwayne slaps Paul when he tries to explain it.

David pretends he doesn't like your style and wants you to dress darker but it's only because he can't handle how delectable you look.

Dwayne has a silent yet expressive fascination with your outfits.

Whenever he would see you wearing ruffles and lace, he would quietly and gently grab the fabric and play with it with his fingers.

Paul loves the sound of your laugh and will constantly make jokes to hear it.

He also loves your expressive gestures because he does the same thing and the boys used to tease him about it.

Whenever Paul sees you dressed in bright colors, he playfully hisses and shields his eyes, yelling, "Too bright!"

Marko appreciates fashion, given that his jacket is handmade, he likes learning about your style.

Marko, the artist, has hundreds of sketches of you in your different outfits.

Every night is a new outfit, he never sees you wear the same one twice and teases if you have those specially delivered or something.

"No I made them! (^w^) ♡" You would say.

You created matching bead bracelets consisting of pastels and you all wear them. Despite, David complaining.

"Ew, what is this?" "A bracelet, I can take it back..." "No, it's mine, fuck off."

When you discover their secret, you were understanding, but had so many questions.

"Does garlic hurt? Does the sun kill you? Can you turn into a bat? Bats are so cute!!"

Your bond with them would be even tighter with them.

At times, your innocence triggers their vampiric instincts which they try desperately to control.

You're their mate, yet their instincts scream at them to pin you down and consume you in a primal urge to claim.

Best to stay away from them when they're starving or going through heat.

Spam Liking = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @ghoulgeousimmaculate @pixielostboy @britany1997 @brattyloserprincess16 @blenna3967

[da-rulah]

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 1]

Summary: Mary knew the entire town hated him; the metalhead with the freaky make up and fake blood dripping down his face. He was the local menace, the town vandal, the cliché trouble maker. He played up to that image, enjoyed the havoc and the chaos, revelled in it. He loved pissing people off.

And so, what better revenge to get on his beloved town, than to fuck around with the Mayor's daughter…

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Porn with very little plot, filthy sex, public sex, quickie, dirty talk, teasing, very little foreplay, praise kink, pet names, degradation, hints at exhibitionism, fingering, p in v sex, squirting, oral sex (m receiving), cum play, cum swallowing

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

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: Huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles & @angellayercake for beta reading this one! This, again, began as a silly little drabble idea from a request in my asks, and became a bloody one shot (with a second part planned out already because I. DON'T. KNOW. WHEN. TO. STOP. Enjoy.

Mary knew the entire town hated him; the metalhead with the freaky make up and fake blood dripping down his face. He was the local menace, the town vandal, the cliché trouble maker. They treated him like garbage from day one anyway, coming from a less than favourable background of struggles as he grew up. He played up to that image, enjoyed the havoc and the chaos, revelled in it. He loved pissing people off. 

The Mayor hated him the most, ruining his precious little suburban town’s image. Mary was public enemy number one; mostly because this quaint little place had absolutely nothing better to do than to impose this chaotic stereotype on him since he was 13 years old – he was just applying himself to the role... method acting, if you will.  

And so, what better revenge to get on his beloved town, than to fuck around with the Mayor's daughter... 

It started as a dare. His bandmates had seen you out with your girlfriends at the local biker bar he frequented. You stuck out like a sore thumb, in a cute little white sundress with daises printed all over. ‘What were you thinking?’ he'd wondered when he saw you. You were like a deer strolling willingly into the lion's den.  

"Go on, Mare. She's his daughter, y'know? Dare ya to get in her panties..." His mates had shoved him forward by his shoulder, his beer in hand sloshing as he rolled his eyes and laughed, shrugging his signature leather jacket back on straight as he skulked over to your table, coughing to interrupt your conversation. Your friends had looked up at him in disgust and annoyance but you... pretty little thing... had smiled sweetly with a sparkle in your eye.  

"'Scuse me, doll, but I can't help but wonder... what's a pretty thing like you doin' in a dive like this?" he'd asked you. Your friends rolled their eyes and turned their backs, but you? You fucking giggled.  

"Just getting to know my father's patch, wanna be a people person, y'know? Helps his campaigns," you'd winked. Mary smirked at that, hearing the hidden meaning laced in your response. 

"Political power play; smart. Best keep away from me then, doll," he'd leaned in then, his arm resting on the back of your chair as he whispered in your ear, "I'm the town delinquent, after all..." 

"Oh, I know all about you, Mary." The way you'd said his name... the playful glint in your eye, the not-so-innocent smirk, the tease... Mary sucked in a deep breath through grit teeth and pulled up a spare chair next to yours, sitting astride it with his arms folded over the back of it that faced you. Your friends had started their conversation back up, ignoring you completely. They were fickle friends anyway, nowhere near the amount of fun you were looking for in your drab and over-controlled life. 

"They dared me, y'know. My friends, I mean. To get into your panties..." Honest and upfront, but he seemed confident enough in your playful little demeanour that perhaps that's exactly what you had wanted to hear from someone tonight.  

"What, these panties?" you had asked, tracing your fingertips up your bare thigh and lifting your skirt just enough to show off the waistband of white lace against your hip. Mary's eyes followed your fingertips intently, his jaw dropping open. He took a swig of his beer, hoping it would chill the rising heat in his face while images of you splayed out with your skirt bunched up around your hips for him flashed in his mind.  

"Yep. Them's the ones."  

"Well, play your cards right and maybe I'll let you," you smirked, snatching his beer from his hand and taking a gulp, holding his eye contact while you wrapped your lips around the bottle neck. You didn't miss the way his eyes bulged from his head at your gesture. This was going to be fun. Mary could be just the kind of excitement you were looking for... 

You ditched your friends pretty quickly that night; they barely bat a false lash in your direction anyway as you sauntered back to Mary's friends on his arm, happy to play up the 'prize' role as he showed you off to them with a twirl. You shared some beers, laughed at Mary's filthy and dark jokes, flirted and teased your way into his arms and within a couple of hours, you decided he'd done enough to charm his way into your lace panties after all.  

"Hey," you poked his ribs, leaning into his side as he looked down at you with a smug smile and took another swig of beer. 

"What is it, doll?" he asked, the nickname working wonders for you.  

"You've been dealt a decent hand of those cards, Goore. With me. Now." You snatched the beer from his hand and slammed it on the bar beside you, sauntering off through the bodies of bikers and cloud of cigarette smoke. Mary watched the way you bounced away from him, your ass so perfectly rounded and covered just barely by the flouncy little skirt of your sundress.  

You stopped by the bathroom door, turning back to him and beckoning towards him to follow you. His eyes trailed up your bare legs, across the curves of your body and the cleavage on display, and settled on the mischievous little smirk you wore. That's when he noticed, the door behind you read "mens" - oh, you filthy little thing... 

He pushed himself up from the stool he sat at, his leather jacket draped over the back of it. He found himself herding you into the bathroom quickly, paying no mind to the only other person in the bathroom stood at the urinals.  

"Hey, what the fuck man," the guy half-yelled, but Mary just shrugged in his direction with you hiding and giggling behind his chest as he pushed you further into a stall, slamming the door behind you and flicking the lock shut. "Animals, man..." the guy scoffed, finishing up and heading out the door.  

But as soon as he'd pushed you into that stall - remarkably cleaner than you'd anticipated - his lips were on your neck behind you, his hands running over your thighs and tickling the soft flesh there.  

"Wanted you all fuckin' night, doll," he growled against your neck, "And you bring me here, eh? Romantic..." 

"Just fuck me, Goore... Please..." you begged, reaching behind you to hold his head against you, pushing your ass back into the groin of his tattered jeans. The hands splayed across your thighs shifted, one snaking inwards, the other gripping your hip to steady you, keeping your ass pressed against his hardening dick.  

"You ask so politely, doll. Your daddy teach you those manners?" he teased, biting at the flesh of your neck.  

"Mhm," you hummed, cut off by his lips colliding with yours in a desperate kiss. No time to waste, his tongue dove against yours, savouring the taste of the beer you'd shared all night.  

His hand pressed itself between your thighs, cupping your mound over the pretty white lace you'd briefly flashed him earlier. You whined against his lips, fingers weaving into his spiked hair and pulling him harshly against you. Mary could feel how wet you already were, the fabric warm and damp against his palm.  

"I thought we agreed you could get inside my panties, Goore?" you taunted, reaching down to where his hand was pressed against you and pulling the lace to one side in one quick motion. His fingers immediately slid between your folds, coated in your arousal with a single swipe. 

"Fucking hell..." he huffed in a mix of pleasure and disbelief; how could you, the pretty little daughter of the damn Mayor be so utterly filthy as to fuck a guy like him in the men's bathroom of a fucking dive bar? It screamed 'daddy issues'. It screamed 'rebelling against your proper little life'. It screamed 'cliché' and yet... All he cared about was making you scream. 

“This needy for me already, doll? Bet I could slip right in, hm?” he teased, nipping at your earlobe and pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. His fingers worked your clit expertly, forcing your eyes to shut and head to lull back against his shoulder. Your grip on his hair tightened, and a gasp of a moan slipped from your lips. 

Mary ground his hips into your ass as he dove his fingers into you, two able to slip through your folds and deep inside you without meeting any resistance. Mary growled, curling his fingers inside you in search of the spot to make your legs buckle. Had he not been ready, holding you up with his hand buried inside you, the other bracing your hip, you might have fallen to your knees there and then.  

“Sh-shit, Mary...” you gasped, your hands flying out to steady yourself one the walls of the cubicle.  

“I got you, baby,” he affirmed, wrapping the hand from your hip around your stomach and pulling you back against him again. His fingers worked you open so easily, spreading your arousal and readying you for him. But he was going to make you beg for it, first... 

He withdrew his fingers from inside you, now focused solely on your throbbing clit. He circled it over and over, earning whines and whimpers from you as jolts of pleasure soared through your body. You leaned back against him again, this time angling your head to be able to look at him, to see the absolutely feral look on his face as he drank you in with his eyes. 

His face paint had faded considerably, the fake blood starting to glisten again now that a sheen of sweat was forming on his skin in the cramped space. You couldn’t help yourself, deciding to smash your lips to his in a clash of teeth and lips; messy, uncoordinated but invigorating.  

“Fuck, who knew you were so filthy, hm?” His words were muffled by your desperate kisses, but you couldn’t help the whimper that surfaced. “How my fingers workin’ for ya, doll?” he chuckled, and as if to illustrate his point he dipped them back inside you, curled them up once to force out a cry of pleasure and retreated again, attention back to your clit.  

“A-ah! Need more, Mare... Please,” you begged, but he just laughed, biting down on your bottom lip and watching as your glazed eyes tried to focus on his.  

“Almost, babygirl. Not quite what I wanna hear though... Tell me what you want. Tell me you fucking need it,” he growled, pressing harder to your clit with each rotation of his fingertips. You knew exactly what he wanted to hear, and you were more than happy to oblige. 

“Need... need you... need your cock, Mary...” you cried, clawing at his arms so hard you almost drew blood. He hissed at the pain, enjoying every ounce of it.  

“Good girl...” he told you, removing his fingers from your cunt completely and manhandling you until you were bent at the waist, palms flat on the toilet tank in front of you to hold you up. He lifted your knee to prop your foot on the edge of the toilet, opening you up and giving him the best angle to grind his clothed cock against your burning hot centre. “Stay right there, doll.” 

He backed up half a step, and you heard the telltale sound of his belt buckle jingling, a button popping open, a zipper, some rustling of denim...  

Mary fisted his cock a few times, allowing himself a moment to take the edge off – had he dove straight in, he’d have finished embarrassingly quickly, too fucking turned on but your good-girl-turned-total-freak act. He bunched your dress up around your hips, pushing the white lace past your hips and letting them fall to the floor before he gathered them, stuffing them inside the back pocket of his jeans that were now around his knees. You could feel as he lined the head of his cock up with your entrance, toying with you and pushing barely the tip inside.  

Just as he did, the door to the bathroom creaked in protest, the background noise of the bar behind it growing louder and several pairs of heavy boots clunking across the linoleum of the floor. Voices that you recognised as Mary’s friends and bandmates laughed and chatted, filtering in one behind the other.  

Mary ran his hand up your back between your shoulder blades, his fingers threading with your hair to pull your head up towards him so he could speak directly into your ear. 

“Better be quiet, doll...” he whispered, “unless you want them to know...” 

Fuck... at that point you didn’t care. They could know if they wanted, hell they could stand on the toilet in the cubicle next to you and fucking watch if they wanted – you were too drunk on the feeling of Mary’s cock barely breaching your pussy to give a shit anymore. You just needed him.  

But Mary’s hand snaked around your jaw, shoving the two fingers that had been inside you past your lips and gagging you with them. Then, and only then, did he begin to push himself deeper inside you. 

You whimpered around his knuckles, gripping the porcelain beneath you tightly as the feeling of being stretched engulfed you.  

“Where’d Mary disappear to?” you heard one of his friends ask on the other side of the door.  

“Do you reckon he’s actually fucking that chick?” another laughed. Mary smirked at the interaction, bottoming out inside you with his pelvis flush to your ass. He rolled his hips up, relishing in the way you bit down on his fingers when he hit your g-spot again. 

“The Mayor’s daughter? Nah, no fuckin’ way. She’s just a tease... too prissy,” a third friend chimed in. “You know the type; get you hooked then leave you hangin’ with blue balls.” 

The guys laughed together, and you couldn’t help but clench around Mary’s length when his fingertips tightened on your hip, his nails digging into the skin as he listened to his shithead friends degrading you on the other side of the stall. No fuckin’ way... that was his job. 

“If only they knew the real you, eh, doll? The one who’s already squeezing my dick so tight she’s creaming all over me...” he whisper-growled, dragging his length out of you painfully slowly. Holding his fingers in place in your mouth to keep you quiet, he slammed back into you, a loud clap ricocheting off the stall walls where his skin met yours. Your cry of pleasure and shock muffled around his fingers but was still very much audible.  

His friends’ heads whipped around to the door of the cubicle where they stood at the urinals, a look of confusion on their faces.  

“Goore?” one of them called out. Silence – Mary stilled inside you again, shushing you quietly in your ear.  

“No fuckin’ way, man...” one of them said. With lingering silence, his friends shrugged and turned their attention back to the urinals, finishing up. It wasn’t until you heard their footsteps starting to retreat that Mary, in one quick motion, thrust his hips back and forth once more, another slap ringing out with another muffled whimper as you drooled on his digits.  

“Nah, that’s gotta be him... Mare, you in here?” one of the guys called out.  

“Shall I answer them, doll? Want them to know?” he whispered in your ear. When your eyes met his over your shoulder, he saw them glinting with mischief as you nodded at him. 

You would be the fucking death of him. 

“I’m here, man,” he called back, a smug smirk on his face. 

A chorus of “ohhh shiiiiit” and “daaaaamn” rang through the bathroom when they realised their ringleader, the famous Mary Goore, was indeed fucking the Mayor’s daughter in the men’s bathroom. 

“Nice,” one of them remarked, the slap of a high five ringing out. Mary rolled his eyes, again gripping onto your hip as if overprotective of you in some way. You stayed still though, waiting, listening... with Mary’s fingers still holding back your tongue. 

“You wanna get the fuck out now so I can make my girl cum in peace?” he yelled back, smirking when he felt your cunt squeeze him. ‘My girl’ - that’s what did it. That possessiveness when he’d known you merely hours, like primal instinct... 

“Jeez, we’re gone...” one of them complained, the door swinging open, that same background noise from the bar filtering in as it swung shut behind his friends. 

“Where were we, doll?” he purred, stroking the hair from your face before gripping your hip once again and pressing his fingers down onto your tongue harder, punctuated with an upwards thrust directly into your cervix. You cried out again, eyes rolling back into your head in bliss.  

He didn’t stop this time, his hips continuously thrusting up into you with vigour, pelvis slapping against your ass over and over. His eyes were trained on his bare cock disappearing into you repeatedly, your ass rippling with the impact.  

“Fuckin’ fill you so good, hm? Like you were made for me, doll...” he growled into your ear. All you could do was whimper on his fingers, closing your mouth around them to suck on them, driving him wild.  

“Ohh, shit... good girl,” he praised, earning a tight clench from you around his length, “make ‘em nice and wet for me, darlin’.” You did as you were told, coating his fingers in your spit whilst he continued to fuck you from behind. When he was satisfied with your work, he removed his fingers from your mouth altogether, and dipped them between your thighs to circle your clit.  

You gasped at the new sensation, coupling with the assault on your cervix you were barrelling towards an orgasm embarrassingly fast, so immensely turned on by everything up to this point that coaxing it from you was an easy goal for Mary.  

“This town thinks you’re such a good little girl, huh? What if they saw you now?” he teased, his grip on your hip tightening whilst his fingers began to swipe back and forth faster and faster over your clit, “What if daddy saw you now?” 

“Fucking hell, Mary...” you cried, hands bracing on the tank of the toilet to steady yourself while your legs shook. “Don’t stop, please...” 

“Wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it, doll...” he smirked, his hips smacking over and over against your ass. True to his word, he didn’t stop, and he pushed your closer, and closer until he felt the trembling onslaught of your orgasm.  

As if on instinct, hand on your hip wrapped around your abdomen, holding you upright as your legs shook and gave out, the other keep a steady pace swiping back and forth over your clit. Mary held you up, yes, but continued to fuck into you, revelling in the way you managed to cum so violently that you squirted around his length and onto the floor of the bathroom stall. He kept you going, emptying you of all of it as you cried out, gripping the porcelain tightly.  

“Oh, doll, look at you, hm? You made a mess...” he snickered behind you, stilling his hips and removing his hand from between your legs. Instead, he helped you to stand upright, pulling himself from where he’d been sheathed inside you and turning your chin up to him so he could press a bruising and sloppy kiss to your lips.  

You turned in his arms, pushing him back against the door of the stall with the little energy you had left as you came down from your high, legs still unsteady. Mary groped at your ass, enjoying the feeling of supple flesh in his palms as he ground his still bare cock against your stomach. And then it dawned on you. 

Mary hadn’t cum yet. 

You refused to make him wait a moment longer, as much as you wanted to stay attached to his lips to taste his very distinctive flavour on your tongue – beer and cigarettes had never tasted so enticing.  

Without a word – mostly because the both of you were so out of breath already – you sank to your knees. Quickly, you noted the wet feeling against the bare skin – your wetness. Mary seemed to notice too, biting his lip when he saw you acknowledge your little puddle of cum and smirk back up at him. He knew what you were about to do, and his cock jumped above you at the thought.  

You wrapped a hand around him, feeling the remnants of your arousal at the base of his cock. Leaning forward, you took the head of his length past your lips, swiping your tongue over his slit that had beaded with precum. Between his salty taste and your own sweetness, you hummed in satisfaction and sent vibrations through his whole body. Mary hissed above you, pushing the hair back from your face so he could get a better look.  

“You’re fucking filthy, doll,” he praised, leaning his head back against the door and watching you through his eyelashes.  

“Mhmm,” you hummed around him, managing a subtle smirk before diving your head down to swallow him whole. Mary grunted above you, his hands slapping to the walls either side of him like you had done earlier; the only thing keeping him composed.  

You bobbed your head on his length, using your tongue to cradle the underside of his cock as you hollowed your cheeks. Your hands gripped his belt where it hung loosely around his thighs, pulling him towards you as if it would help you take him any deeper – but you were already nuzzling the soft hair at the base of his dick each time you took him down your throat.  

But feeling like he was being desperately pulled and tugged and sucked within an inch of his damn life was turning Mary on more and more, having the exact effect you had hoped. How needy you looked for him, on your knees in a puddle of your own orgasm, tasting yourself on his cock as you made sure you sucked everything your mouth could take of him, as if you needed it as much as he did. 

“Shit, you tryna make me cum, doll?” he panted, “You that desperate to taste me?” Mary stroked your hair, watching intently as you fluttered your eyelashes at him and fucking giggled on his cock. You were driving him wild, a familiar tightness coming to a head in his abdomen.  

“C-can I cum in your mouth, doll?” he asked, breathless and using every ounce of restraint he had to stave off his orgasm until had your consent to blow his load down your throat. You didn’t answer him immediately, revelling in the torture just for another few moments while you slide your hands from his belt to the tops of his thighs where his jeans were pushed down, then further up to his hips. You stopped there, digging your nails in and humming as you took his length as deep as possible one last time.  

The sting of your nails on his skin triggered the beginning of his end, and you retracted your head to balance the tip of his cock on your tongue, allowing him to watch as his seed spilled and spurted onto your tongue beneath him, your fist now generously pumping his length to milk him of every drop you could.  

“Dirty little bitch,” he grunted, losing himself to his orgasm and smirking down at you when you winked at him, unable to talk with a mouthful of his spend.  

As he finished, he took a deep breath, dragging the palms of his hands down his face and smearing the make-up and fake blood in the sheen of sweat that glistened on his skin. Not that he cared – he wasn’t precious about his appearance now his night was coming to an end anyway. He stood upright, tucking himself back into his underwear and doing his pants up.  

Redressed, he looked down at you, sat so prettily on your knees with your mouth still hanging open, the pool of his cum still sitting on your tongue. Mary smirked and dipped a finger into it, swirling it around before bending down and sucking his own release from his fingertip. You giggled again, satisfied with his reaction and swallowing what was left for you.  

“You surprised me, doll...” Mary said with a quirk of his head. “You don’t seem the type, y’know?” He helped you up from the floor, your knees protesting a little from being pressed to the linoleum for so long.  

“’Just a tease’, right?” you quoted his friends, an eyebrow raised, “’too prissy’? The type to ‘get you hooked then leave you hangin’ with blue balls’?” 

Mary scratched the back of his neck, feeling a sliver of guilt for the way his ‘friends’ had described you – but more so at the knowledge that’s exactly what he’d thought of you until tonight. “Ignore ‘em, doll. They wouldn’t know how to treat ya if they had ya,” he smiled goofily.  

“What, and you do?” you taunted. Mary chuckled, tapping his foot against the floor and drawing your attention to the little puddle at your feet.  

“I think this proves I do, huh?” He pushed his tongue into his cheek smugly, and you lightly punched his chest playfully. 

“You’re disgusting, Goore...” you laughed. “Now gimme my panties back.” You held your palm flat for him to hand them over, but he just stared at it incredulously. Even when you curled your fingers back in a ‘gimme’ motion, he didn’t budge to hand them over, still tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. 

“Don’t think I will, nah. Gonna hold ‘em ransom,” he said, leaning against the stall wall and folding his arms over his chest.  

“You’re kidnapping my panties?” you raised an eyebrow at him. “But it’s cold without them...” Mary laughed, not moving at all. He was keeping those panties of yours, and you weren’t talking him around. “Fine. Keep ‘em. Plenty more at home...” 

“In every colour, I bet...” Mary smirked, reaching behind him to unlock the door to the stall. “Shall we?” 

You pushed past him, giving twirling on your heels to exit the bathroom with just enough force that you briefly flashed your bare ass to him beneath your skirt one last time. Mary groaned in appreciation and followed you back out into the bar, jogging to catch up and slinging an arm around your shoulders.  

The bar had emptied a little, both his and your friends nowhere in sight. Mary’s jacket still sat on the stool he’d left it on, his cell phone in the pocket.  

“So, doll... reckon I could get your number?” he asked, leaning against the bar. You stared at him for a moment, as if contemplating your answer but you already knew you wanted more of Mary Goore. 

Without a word, you snatched his cell phone from his hand and typed in your number – your real number, not the fake one you gave to most guys who asked. “I’ll see you around, Goore,” you told him, pushing the phone against his chest once more. 

“Can I get you a cab? Walk ya home?” he asked, feeling uneasy about letting a vulnerable girl – with no panties on... - get home alone.  

“No need, have another beer. I got a car waiting outside – perks of daddy’s status, I guess,” you shrugged as you picked up the tiny little bag you’d brought with you from the bar where you’d stupidly left it, a tinge of sadness to your voice that Mary didn’t miss, but didn’t push you on.  

“And you don’t wanna be seen out there by your dad’s staff with... me?” he asked, already knowing why you wanted him to stay put. You gave him a look of apology, chewing on your bottom lip out of guilt. “Nah, I get it doll. Keep him sweet as long as possible. One more beer won’t hurt me, anyway,” he winked, pinching your cheek to ease some of your guilt. 

“Thanks for... tonight,” you told him, a blush creeping onto your cheeks now that reality was setting in a little. Mary chuckled, looking down at his feet. He turned to lean over the bar, calling over the bartender before he looked back at you.  

“Any time, doll,” he winked, turning his attention back to the bartender who was finishing up with another patron. By the time he turned back to look at you, maybe even give you a parting kiss to the cheek, you were gone.  

And so was the leather jacket from the back of his stool. 

You got back home just in time for your curfew that night, careful not to give your father’s security an eyeful as you got out of the car. Just as you’d got back into your bedroom after saying a quick goodnight to your father in his study, you heard the buzz of your phone in your little bag. When you looked, you had a text from an unknown number, the sender only possibly one person... 

U thief... guna want my jacket bck doll... nd if u eva want 2 c ur panties alive again, u bettr follow my instructions v carefully... 😉 

You smiled at your phone, biting your bottom lip as you text back a reply.  

Willing to negotiate a drop off time and location. You can have whatever you want, just don’t hurt my poor panties... 

You threw your phone onto your bed, heading into your en suite to turn the shower on – a much needed luxury after the filthy sex you’d had that night. As you stripped yourself from your dress, you heard your phone buzzing again with another text.  

Gd girl. Will be in touch xo 

You hoped he would. Mary may just have been the excitement you were looking for in your drab little life as the daughter to the Mayor of this suffocating little town. 

Tagging those who asked, interacted with my post about writing Mary and some of my mutuals who may or may not enjoy this!

If you want to be added/removed from my tag list, please let me know!

@anamelessfool @thew0man @portaltothevoid @copias-sewer-rat @fishwithtitz @mustluvecho @foxybouquet

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