#Suits are super effective!!

[choochooboss]

Butlermas artdump! 2022 May - 2023 April

▲ "At your service!" ▽ "Leave it to me."

Before diving into the sketches I need to talk about this song. This remix slaps me to the moon and back. How can you improve perfection? You can't! So better head over to a new track! In other words, the Subway Bosses theme can't apparently be beaten, but this remix plays no second fiddle to it! Let this sexy jazz piano duet accompany this post featuring the handsome gents in their fanciest attires yet. (Fun observation: The song shifts themes pretty much in sync with the Sync Moves being used in Pokémas!)

By chance I got into submas & installed Pokemas during the first run of The Curious Tea Party event, a week before butler Ingo's banner. I was so hyped to meet the boys in game so soon, and I was super lucky to get Ingo on his release day! Emmet on the other hand eluded me until the very last day ahah (the struggle was real), but I was so glad to FINALLY REUNITE THEM. The agony for their situation was so painfully fresh at the time, that brought a bit of relief to the suffering ahah. At first the costumes felt a little strange to me, but now I adooore them. Dang, do they look dashing and sleek in those fancy tailcoats and mirrored monocles!!

One of the first doodles of the butlers, still learning how to draw the sillies and their funny hats.

Love the suit designs! The tailcoats make the twins look even more graceful and slender, and the tails would float when they dash around! The hats are almost comically large, but after drawing them many times they actually look the best that way! This time no funny clown shoes, but these classy loafers look pretty chunky! And fittingly they are wearing cross ties, which is also another word for railroad ties. Yes there's another train pun in their outfits! Pretty clever design! Emmet's outfit has warm light grey (I believe it's because in a white suit he would look ready for the altar ahah) with sapphire blue accents, while Ingo's is a grayish dark blue with ruby red accents for the contrast they have going in all of their outfits. Furthermore they embrace the ruby and sapphire colors in their EX suits, which make them look even more luxurious!! I imagine them wearing the regular costumes during daylight hours, then switch to EX for late night events and parties. About the details. The metal bits are silver and gold, both reflecting their personalities. Emmet likes to dress bold and go for the gold, while Ingo dons the slightly more modest silver. EX costumes trade them for cool onyx black. That's enough twaddling for this round ahah! Hope you enjoy the rest of my doodles, attempts and experiments! More butler art coming up soon!

They're eager to serve at any given opportunity, ready to dash by your side if you just give them a word, accompany you wherever you want to go, make sure you feel safe and protected, and offer to become your personal butlers... wouldn't that be a dream! Butlermas are the ultimate official submas fanservice!

"If I can be of service in any way, please let me know! I will come to your aid faster than an express train!"

"If you're ever out alone, please feel free to call on me. I'll get you to your destination safe and sound!"

[quirkle2]

Shigeo swallows—breathes in deep. He stares down at their interlocked fingers, wonders if they thought this out properly, wonders what would happen if they didn’t. He swallows again and it makes him feel even more ill. He nods, breathes, nods again, and then tenses his hand. Shigeo lets his energy funnel to the forefront and separates it into globs that he splits and splits and splits again, and he sends just a trickle, just a drop, just a test, from his palm. Teruki screams.

scene from my wip fic recondite <3 he's fine. probably

[ash-of-the-meadow]

Now that I've beaten Baldur's Gate 3, the cosplayer in me wants to do a cosplay from it. And my favorite is Karlach. The red one, with horns, and a six pack.

*insert a good version of that meme of a person passed out on the floor while Caramelldansen plays*

[lee-kangin]

ppl who genuinely want deki out get help

[tswwwit]

Are Dipper's successors destined to live in the Mindscape forever? Or can they live with Bill on the mortal realm, just like during Dipper's first life? if there are pics and videos of bill in his human body all over the internet then I'm guessing he's kind of like a celebrity...

They don't have to live in the Mindscape! They, along with current Dipper, get to spend time in reality or in the dream realm depending on what they prefer. Bill's place just has a lot of great amenities and a really kickass bed, so it's a convenient place to crash.

Also, Bill absolutely gets a reputation. You can't have Bill Cipher be in the mortal realm for decades on end without having a considerable number of noteworthy stories, after all.

[spyridonya]

Look, most times Regill realizes that relationships outside his purview isn't his business. The only relationship he feels he has some rights to be concerned about is the Commander's relationship should it affect her work effort and impacts how the Crusade runs.

Expect in Golden Shell, until he finds out about Lann and Daeran.

His judgment is vocally silent, but so painfully obvious.

[sonicaspeed123]

🌪 haha. ow

[systimming]

Clownbungender  — A gender connected to rabbits and clowns. It may feel energetic and silly.

((Sources of gifs: x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x, x ))

(Banner credit!)

[x-i-l-verify]

「 Dream SMP Daemon AU 」

     ✶ DREAM + REM (GRAY JAY) ✶

The gray or Canada jay is also sometimes called the whiskey jack, because the Algonquin trickster deity Wisakedjak is said to take its shape. It is a confident, tough, resourceful species of corvid that inhabits the frigid arctic forests of North America. They are cautious, secretive planners, having been observed making over a thousand food caches in a single day. If they catch another bird watching them make a cache, they will immediately move the food to another location so no one steals it, and they remember the thousands of individual places they stored food throughout the year so they have food to eat during the winter. They often do not let even their siblings or children know where they cache food. 

Even when all the other songbirds migrate south for the winter, gray jays refuse to abandon their forests, and are the only arctic bird that breeds in February, when snow still regularly falls and the sun barely shines during the day. They are also cunning and strategic, carefully mimicking the calls of dangerous birds to confuse their predators and scare them away from the gray jay’s territory and family. 

Breeding pairs mate for life and not only care for their children until they are ready to establish their own territory, but they will freely take in other unrelated gray jays during the harsh winter months, welcoming them into their homes and giving them food. In return, the solitary newcomer sometimes helps the breeding pair raise their young.

Dream is pragmatic, ruthless, and reserved. Rem embodies his more sentimental, considerate, idealistic side.

~

NAME MEANING “Rem” is derived from the clinical name for the type of sleep that dreaming occurs in, Rapid Eye Movement (REM) sleep.

~

SOURCES https://animalia.bio/gray-jay https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canada_jay https://daemonpage.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=23853

[foultreenightmare]

Super excited for the new blue Beatle movie to come out! I haven't read much on him but I will now and I'm super excited to see how everything plays in the movie. I also really like how everything looks and it looks super funny. Just hoping that I can go to theaters to watch it. The suit also looks great and comic accurate.

[lonepower]

dork

[darklordiiid]

This month's term is now available for download at the usual place: https://darklordiiid.com/terms/july-2023/

Additionally, for those who missed the subscription window and wanted any of these sets unmarked, you can find it all for sale on Gumroad! https://darklordiiid.gumroad.com/l/kfftmr

Thanks so much to all my patrons, your support means the world and I'll see you all hopefully next month!!! :D

[fuckmyskywalker]

𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞! — 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫.

18+ smut, stripper!reader x dilf!anakin, age gap, lap dance, mutual masturbation, fem!reader/afab!reader | word count: 2.8k (not proofread).

Everyone say "thank you Anya".

After a nasty divorce, Anakin Skywalker wanted nothing to do with dates— let alone random hookups. Call him outdated or old-fashioned, but Anakin firmly believed in marriage. Maybe he just had bad luck. He has better things to worry about! His children, his company, his 850 credit card score, and… keeping up with his overly cheerful assistant.

Who somehow, managed to convince him to visit the best nightclub in town— and by nightclub, she meant strip club. 

Standing outside the bright building, Anakin wondered how many neon signs were too much. He flickered his cigarette with his thumb, dialing his assistant’s number and watching the ashes fly with the wind, he just wished his hopes didn’t fly that easily. After a few rings, she picked up. “I’m here,” Anakin informed her, feeling as if he was about to start a super-secret mission and he was calling HQ. Lisseth is right, he stays too much at home watching cheesy, 90s TV shows. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Is it obnoxiously bright?” Lisseth asked from the other side of the line, and Anakin discerned the faint click of a lighter. 

“Yes.”

“Then you’re in the right place.”

“Can you repeat why am I here again?” Anakin asked, rubbing his forehead and throwing the cigarette away. 

“Because you are lonely, divorced, and old?” His assistant replied, presumably smoking as well.

“I should fire you.”

“But you won’t,” He didn’t have to see her to know she was smirking. Lisseth was right, she was one of the few people besides Obi-Wan Kenobi— his business partner— who dared to say things straight, and people like that were a nice change in a world where everyone fights for your favor. “Go inside, give it a chance. You deserve a change of scenery. I know you are the committed type. Give yourself a chance.”

Anakin hesitated again, just like he did when he agreed when the young woman texted him the address, and when he called the cab. He had no idea why she would suggest this place from the many—many strip clubs in the city, but he knew better than to question her. He looked around, it was not like he would care if someone recognized him— he just… didn’t want to be recognized. Big difference, or at least that was what Anakin kept repeating.

“Hello?” Lisseth said which brought Anakin back to his senses. He was overthinking it. How can you overthink walking into a strip club? Men do it all the time! “Are you alive?”

“I am.”

“Good. Now get inside, I think there’s an ATM next to the bathroom. I don’t remember— and dial me if you need anything, I’ll try to stay awake.”

Anakin hung up the call, taking a deep breath and pushing the black door open. Multiple times he had heard his associates talk about this place; how the drinks are great and the girls are better— which perhaps was a reason why Anakin was so reluctant. If a married man found this place appealing, he couldn’t imagine what it would have in storage for a divorced man. 

Inside the club, the neon lights were far worse. His eyesight wasn’t bad but the dazzled effect was overwhelming. Anakin fought the urge to rub his eyes, he didn’t want to look that old— so he just brushed the wrinkles off his suit and approached the bar. The bartender eyed up curiously but simply greeted him. The place was crowded but it was somehow comfortable to navigate, he saw a few girls but he felt somewhat strange to stare at them for long. He wasn’t in his twenties anymore— he wasn’t able to see them as a piece of meat like he used to (last time he did he got his first and only wife knocked up).  So he just thanked the bartender for his whiskey and took a long sip, hoping it would ease the knot in his stomach. He was a fast drinker, and he was halfway done with the glass when he heard a voice behind him and a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Is this seat taken?”

Your hand on his shoulder was gentle, but Anakin was aware of the salacious undertone in your voice. It was all fake, part of your job. Looking over said shoulder, his blue eyes met your face, and probably for the first time in your life working in the strip club— you found yourself speechless. You have never seen eyes in such a shade of blue, so deep and so easily to lose yourself in. Your glossy lips went dry for a second and you weren’t sure if he felt the same. 

“It is not,” He replied, grabbing your hand and guiding you to the empty stool next to him. His hand was strong and warm, too polite for a man who was here to watch women half naked. You took a seat next to him just like you intended but your demeanor switched, which was something that surprised you. The blonde stranger didn’t seem to notice it, he knows nothing about you. For the first time, that has worked in your favor. “The name’s Anakin.”

He let go of your hand and you found your finger twitching against your bare thigh. You gave him your stage name and he simply smiled back, bringing the glass up to his lips. You leaned closer, placing your trembling hand on his thigh and squeezing it softly, noticing how his eyes drifted down to your cleavage only to go back to your face. “What brings you here, handsome?” The usual repertory was filled with cheesy phrases, sweet talk, and 101 manipulations. Emptying a man’s wallet wasn’t a hard thing, or at least after months of practice it no longer seemed like a challenge.

“I assume the same as every man here,” Anakin replied, tilting his head and maintaining eye contact. He was good, he must be an orator or something. Not everyone can stare into your eyes when your tits are literally out. “But being honest, a… friend of mine insisted.”

“Well, then you have a good friend,” You smiled, thanking whoever pushed him into your arms— even if you already knew the culprit. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Your fingers play with the hem of his white button-up, tapping your nails over the ironed fold. 

“I have a few ideas,” He lowers his now empty glass, licking his lips. A simple act shouldn’t excite you but Oh it does. He looks like the type of guy who knows how to please a woman and the type of guy to rock your world…

Too bad that’s against the club’s guidelines.

“Such as?”

Anakin seemed to fall under your sultry voice, smirking and bringing his face closer to yours. You thought for a moment he was going to kiss you, but he just whispered in your ear. “I’m sure you know what I want, and I’m sure you are tired of small talk. Do us a favor and tell me what I can and can’t do.” 

This was the second time in the night you found yourself speechless. Normally you are the one being straightforward, so why is that handsomely old man doing your job? Unbeknownst to you, Anakin’s heart was racing inside his chest at light speed. It has been years since he last flirted with someone, let alone a stripper— so he felt quite rough around the edges. It seemed to be working, or at least you faked it really well. Anakin’s charm never faded, even if he wasn’t fully aware of it. His bright smile and those wrinkles around his eyes… he could easily be your dad, which shouldn’t be as hot as it sounded. You ran your fingers through his blonde hair, silky and smooth. God, there’s nothing hotter than a man that takes care of his appearance. 

“Follow me then,” You manage to say through the loud heartbeat that drowns the loud music around you. You have done this countless times, but this was somewhat different. Why were you acting brand new? Get a damn grip. “You seem like a man who can afford our special treatment.”

Anakin chuckled, he never thought getting robbed would be so sexy. “Do I look special? Or do you say that to every guy?” He followed you anyway, surprisingly lacing your fingers together. His eyes never left yours, not even when other girls and dancers called for him. 

“Believe it or not, you look special.”

As you guided him inside the farthest room in the hallway, you locked the door and kindly settled him on the large sofa against the wall. There was a bed in the center of the bed and a pole next to it, but mostly for decoration. Not everyone had the privilege to fuck, lucky ones got to touch— but Anakin looked like he could win the lottery. This time he eyed you up and down, relaxing over the velvety cushions and spreading his legs. You’ve seen men sit that way countless times yet the way he did it was abysmally distinct. He had an air around him that no one could match and it truly excited you. Time wasn’t really a problem in this room, and he looked like someone who could treat themselves. The treat is a lap dance, of course. 

You picked the music, and that was the only thing that fitted into your routine. The top piece of your heels sank into the fluffy carpet as you made your way back to him, deliberately swaying your hips. Comfortably, you straddled his lap, lazily draping your arms over his shoulders. Anakin’s hands touched your hips and you were about to warn him about the rules… but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at that moment. 

“You’re beautiful,” He whispered, his voice already hoarse. How long has this man been pent up? Only God knows. You giggled and began grinding against him, running your hands up his shoulders and cupping his face. Anakin’s eyes left your breasts to meet yours, lidded eyes heavy with ecstasy that the erotic dance brought him. “So fucking beautiful…”

His presence was starting to be a problem, at least for you. You couldn’t look away or stop your hips from rolling over his growing erection. It was highly unprofessional, even for a stripper but you’ve done worse things— to uglier men. Anakin hissed when you fully sat on top of him, and the grip on your hips tightened. The song changed and neither of you was aware of it. 

Returning your hands to his shoulders you used them as leverage to move, basically humping him without realizing it. You could lie and say this was part of the dance— but in reality, your body was moving on its own.

“Can I touch you?” Anakin requested, huffing and lifting his hips. His cock was aching but not fully hard yet. The right answer was to say no… so your hands reached for his and placed them over your chest. He sighed in clear contentment and cupped your tits, jiggling them softly and running his thumbs over your nipples, teasing you until they peeked underneath the sheer fabric of your lace bra. 

The urge to thank him was very, very present. Words failed you as he lowered the cups of your bra, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his eager mouth. Instantly, you tugged on his curls, just noticing the silver strands. He groaned against your flesh, tugging on your sensitive bud with his teeth and guiding you with his free hand. The dance quickly turned into a session of dry humping— not that you had any complaints. 

Anakin then cupped your center, rubbing his index finger through the thin thong and pushing it to the side. Everything was escalating too quickly and you needed to even it out— mostly to defend your pride— so you quickly unbuckled his belt, and Anakin didn’t even flinch. The tip of his finger ran through your folds and quickly found your clit, faster than any other man you’ve been with. You gasped, yanking his black boxers and biting your lip when you saw his cock. He was fully hard now and it looked like it fucking hurt. Above than average was your first thought, followed by the incessant desire to have him stretch you. From zero to a hundred, probably. Your hand looked tiny around his shaft, which sent a thrill of excitement down your spine. Anakin rolled his eyes and jerked his hips, silently asking for more. He circled your clit with practiced ease and that confirmed your suspicions— he is the type of man who knows what he’s doing and how to do it. 

“Are you always this wet for your clients or am I really special?” Anakin taunted you as if he wasn’t the one paying for the fucking lap dance. To confirm his accusation— because yes, it was an accusation— he sank a finger inside you, curling it softly and rubbing your walls at a slow pace. “I’m starting to think you don’t do this for everyone.”

“I don’t,” You choke, panting and determined to not be left behind. You began jerking him up at the same speed he fingered you. “It takes two to tango, you know?”

Anakin laughed. He dared to laugh. God, this man… “You are feisty, I like that.”

The damned butterflies returned, this time fluttering around your stomach and your pussy. Anakin was good at this. He wasn’t the average pathetic man who couldn’t understand the touch of a woman, nor an ancient dinosaur that was cheating on his wife and shamelessly rocking their wedding band as they threw dollars to your feet. No, he was one in a million. He noticed your silence and took advantage of your blissful state, adding a second finger and scissoring them inside you. If you knew better you would’ve thought he was stretching you. Stepping up your game, you stroke his cock faster, bringing your free hand to your mouth to spit on it, using both hands to touch him. 

That seemed to be a weak spot for him, and you actually heard him moan. It was a raw, guttural groan that made your pussy clench around his fingers. Looking down, you saw the wet, throbbing head, now glistening with your spit and the smeared precum. You could swear he looked thicker— or maybe it was your burning delirium for having him rearranging your guts. 

He wasn’t one to back up from a clear challenge, so he rubbed his fingers against your G-spot repeatedly, pressing tight circles over the spongy spot. Your hips jerked just like he did moments prior and for the first time in a while, you moaned someone else’s name. Anakin seemed to be pleased by your reaction and continued it, exclusively stimulating that spot that built up the recognizable pressure in a matter of seconds. 

“I’m gonna come,” You whimpered, closing your eyes. Anakin’s jaw clenched at the way your pussy sucked his fingers. Would you suck his cock with your velvety walls the same way? “Please, don’t stop.”

“Hold it,” He hissed but it wasn’t a request or anything. “I want to do it with you.”

You held your breath, flicking your wrist up and down, moaning repeatedly at the expertise of his touch. The knot in your lower stomach threatened to snap and holding it was borderline painful. The loud squelch of your cunt made the music surrounding you irrelevant, it was new music that was indeed expensive but— pornographically beautiful. Anakin hung his head back with a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. His scent was intoxicating, the mixture of his— surely fucking expensive— cologne, aftershave, and salty sweat was drowning you in a needy mess. Dragging you down to his spell when it was supposed to be the other way around. 

“Do it,” He urged you, repeating it over and over. His hard cock twitched in your hands repeatedly until he groaned loudly and his release crashed with yours. “Come for me— come on, princess.” 

Your walls gushed around his fingers, coating them in your own arousal seconds before his cum landed on your hands and your thighs— some on his thighs too. You called his name again, this time in a high-pitched moan. Anakin continued until you were on the verge of tears from the overstimulation, absentmindedly jerking his cock again as it started to soften in your hands. Your sweaty bodies were a mess of combined fluids and… broken rules. 

You were in so much trouble.

“See what special guests get?” You painted, finally retrieving his hands from his dick and fixing your bra. “You should be thankful.”

“Oh, believe me. I am,” Anakin purred, grabbing your hips and yanking you closer, finally pressing his lips against yours. “Hope you have a better treat for regular special guests.”

You really, really needed to thank homegirl for bringing him here. 

[sexhaver]

the porn ban on here had a lot of bad effects but one of the worst was the death of truly bizarre fetish blogs. we used to have that one guy who would reblog pics of fat businessmen in suits with super horny captions and that other guy who would edit gifs of bodybuilders to remove their heads entirely. now we have a cadre of 3-4 blogs AI generating pictures of Mad Men looking mfs with Tunnel Rats greaser hairstyles getting their heads shaved. which is great, don't get me wrong! but i just wish the weird fetish blogs had survived long enough to use AI images to get truly weird with it

[satoshy12]

Kryptonian Danny Ghost Phantom

Danny Fenton's life takes an unexpected turn when he's accidentally exposed to a Kryptonian artifact while in the Ghost Zone. The Kryptonite radiation triggers a transformation in Danny's human DNA, turning him into a half-Kryptonian/Ghost hybrid.

It was Frostbite who told him he wasn't human anymore but an Alien. Danny didn't seem to have much of a problem with it he was already a Halfa; and it was pretty cool to now be an Alien!

But he struggled to control his newfound powers and adjust to them like he did with the ghost powers. He discovers his newfound abilities, including flight, super strength, and heat vision.

But that means that while most of his villains didn't try to attack him, Fenton's body is too strong. Few others worked to be stronger than that, like Skulker. Well, mostly Skulker.

So while in a fight with Skulker with new weapons from Vlad, he crash-lands in Metropolis from the attack in the Ghost Zone.

The new weapon was a poison that would have a retrograde amnesia effect on Danny. Vlad wanted to slowly make Danny forget about everything before he took him in as his own son. Skulker could then have Jack's pelt, and as a ghost hunter, it would show he hunted down a hunter.

+

In Metropolis.

Dressed as Superman, Clark made his way to a place where he heard the crash, and saw a black-haired boy standing up from the crater. He tried to talk to the boy, but he seemed to only speak kryptonian! But not in an accent he knows, which means he just met a Kryptonian boy not related to him or a clone. He would say he is 2 or 3 years younger than Kara.

Danny was confused that his "human" body wouldn't speak English. It seemed like he was more hurt than he thought.

So as Clark tried to talk to him, Danny used his heat vision to hit Skulker behind him. Clark was shocked at first, thinking the boy attacked him, until he noticed he attacked the Being behind them.

And as Skulker ranted then about how he plans to "Hang his pelt on at the foot of his bed, As he is an endangered species!" well, those are the wrong words to say. As Superman got pretty angry, he attacked Skulker, who was pretty shocked that he was able to punch him. It must have been the portal's fault.

Clark was angry at the idea of someone hunting down the Kryptoanian to skin them! He was almost as angry as when he met Darkseid.

As Danny saw how the older hero could fight Skulker and was destroying his suit, he escaped until he could transform back to Phantom or find a way home.

Without the suit, Skulker is pretty weak.

Superman captured the tiny thing and turned his way back to find the boy. But he seems to be gone. Well, he would need Kara's or Karen's help; he didn't fully understand the accent.

+

Danny with white hair was walking down the streets. He would find a place to take a break. And help himself with his memories.

Whatever Skulker injects into him, he starts to forget what he was doing…. Wait, what again was his plan?

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞. 

main masterlist

pairing(s) — JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader (est. relationship) wc — 1.5k synopsis — jamie can’t keep his hands to himself, and neither can his girlfriend. (prompted on this ask)

note — title’s from summertime by bon jovi + yes, this is a re-upload from the main blog (@holy-pucks) since nothing of mine posted there shows up in the tags. if you’ve already liked or shared that post, i would really appreciate you doing the same with this new one :) thx a million in advance! xx 

specific content warnings listed below the cut.

cw — alcohol consumption/tipsy!reader x tipsy!jamie, accidental exhibitionism (jamie getting handsy at a bonfire bc he just can't resist lol), suggestive lang + innuendo, + general fluffy filth but nothing super explicit really, pretty tame for me tbh 

jamie drysdale has never been so pleased to have lost a fight in his entire life.

he didn't think it'd get cold enough to warrant lugging around an extra blanket (meaning him, not you—he's a gentleman). you thought otherwise, and pestered him until there was one neatly folded in the backseat.

objectively speaking, jamie was right; it wasn't even chilly. he was actually a little warm, if he was being honest, but that had a lot more to do with his wandering, beer-soaked mind than the weather or a superfluous layer.

—and he had a tent in his pants to prove it.

it's his own fault. he pulled you into his lap when there were more than enough lawn chairs scattered around the blazing fire, knowing full-well you fidget when you're tipsy. jamie knows you can't sit still to save your life, yet he sat you across his thighs anyway. and now he—and his raging hard-on—are paying the price.

he isn't embarrassed he's turned on, that's not the problem. that's never the problem. you've been dating for years, and anyone who's shocked by the effect you have on him has bigger problems than jamie's attraction to his own girlfriend.

it's the fact that he's about ten seconds away from pulling your suit to the side and rutting into you in the middle of a public beach with his friends not even a foot away.

someone across the half-moon crowd says something that makes you laugh—makes you wiggle. jamie's hands tighten on your hips to keep you still, but, by this point in the night, his body is too lax to be of much help. if anything, the impassioned touch eggs you on, and it isn't long before his hips are moving to match your mostly-involuntary movements.

jamie hisses through gritted teeth, jaw clenched so tight it aches. "baby, quit it—please."

fluttering half-lidded eyes meet his, clock his internal struggle, and immediately twinkle with mischief. under the guise of shifting your attention, you rub the outside of your thigh against the bulge threatening to tear his trunks.

"quit what?" you ask with a demure smile, your hands looping themselves around his neck. warm fingertips play with the feathered locks tickling his sunburnt neck, making him shiver.

"you know what," he glares. "i don't know when we'll get back home, and you're driving me insane."

"touch me here."

blinking in disbelief, he balks. "w-what?"

"touch. me. here."

each word is punctuated with a chaste peck to his ever-reddening cheek. the succinct affection bounces you in his lap, and jamie can't help but slide his hands further beneath the sandy blanket. at first, to halt the infuriating friction but, like usual, once his hands wander he just can't stop. consequences—and shyness—be damned.

"s'not a good idea." jamie nips your jaw, dotting a line of warm kisses along your neck, stopping once his nose brushes your ear. "my baby's loud as shit, and i'd rather not have an audience."

you swat his chest in offense, but giggle nonetheless. "am not!"

"are too." he smiles up at you.

"i can be quiet," you huff, determination furrowing your brow.

jamie reaches up to smooth the crease with his thumb. you catch his arm and press a sweet peck to the inside of his wrist. he shudders.

you hum into his skin, "i think you're projecting."

"that right?" your boyfriend feigns ignorance, amused.

"let me prove it," you whisper before leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. with your forehead flush to his, you try again. "please, jamie. i can't wait anymore—and i certainly can't wait until t strikes out with whoever he's obsessed with this week."

jamie snorts.

you make a solid point; it could be another ten minutes or upwards of two hours. his guess was as good as any—trevor himself included. jamie's really starting to hate that him finally fucking his own girlfriend hinges on his best friend's ability—or inability—to seal the deal.

"you make even a peep, and i stop. got it?"

what's the worst that could happen if he indulges you a bit? no one's even paying attention to either of you, anyway.

you nod, bottom lip pinched between your teeth. jamie tugs it free, fingertip dancing over the fresh indentations. your tongue slips out to tease his sun-soaked skin, and it isn't long before the digit is flush to your hot tongue.

jamie's eyes are almost black with lust as they watch your lips welcome and release his finger over and over again. your eyelids fall as he slips into a trance, mesmerized by your mouth.

"words, baby. gimme words," he prods, the words barely audible.

you surrender his hand with a faint pop, blinking down at him like you're already teetering on the precipice. "no sounds or you stop—i got it," you parrot. "now are you going to touch me?"

"needy, needy, baby," jamie teases after stealing a kiss. "i've spoiled you rotten, haven't i? can't even go a couple hours without begging me to touch you... s'alright, i can barely keep my hands of you. 'specially when i've got you sittin' all pretty in my lap like this."

"—jamie, please, just... just touch me already—need t'feel you."

chuckling to himself, jamie mercifully pushes the sodden material out of the way. he nearly moans at what he finds.

how much of it is from the evening dip you took with a couple of the other girlfriends, it's hard to tell, but he'd put good money on it being little to none. no, the damp patch growing in his lap is all you. sweet and warm, and perfectly you.

you gasp when he collects some of the escaped arousal with a few of his fingers. jamie raises a brow in your direction and you cover your mouth apologetically. he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. you're trying so hard to keep quiet, it's adorable.

"—haven't even done anything and you're already breaking your promise," he chides. "how am i supposed to give you what you want when you're already misbehaving?"

"the other one," you breathe. confused, jamie hesitates. "give me your other hand."

you fish his free hand out from between your bodies and bring it up to your mouth. his eyes bulge out of their sockets once your intentions become obvious; you mean to silence yourself by sucking on his middle and marriage as he fucks you with the other hand. your back is mostly to the group, but he's still paranoid as all hell.

yet, jamie can't bring himself to deny you—or himself.

"you're gonna be the death of me," he groans as your head dips.

too turned on to care, jamie relents and slips a gentle finger into you. your eyes pinch shut, teeth catching on his other hand, but no sound leaves you. as a reward for your good behavior, he sinks in even further, until he's knuckle-deep at both ends.

his movements are much slower than normal, but, somehow, it doesn't matter. jamie's thumb seeks out your clit, sensitive and swollen despite its neglect, and he traces lazy circles between deep, measured thrusts. all the while, he mouths at your neck with little concern for what evidence he might leave behind. jamie's sole focus is making you feel as good as he does right now with his half-naked, hot-as-hell girlfriend writhing in his lap, her pretty pussy clenching around his lucky fingers.

"—j-jamie," you warble around his drenched hand, hips bucking into the other with what little leverage you have positioned like this. "—close, s'close."

oh, he knows. he can tell. jamie knows your body better than you do; he's a diligent student.

"are you, baby?" jamie can't resist a bit of taunting. you're too far gone to push back. "poor thing, what do you need from me? tell me what you need to get there."

you're slow to answer, overwhelmed by the sensations attacking your mind from all angles. somewhere along the line, a second finger was added... and then a third. the burning stretch aches so good your vision blurs.

jamie, jamie, jamie—the beginning, middle, and end of your thoughts—jamie, through and though. he's everywhere, but it's still not enough.

"my n-neck," you eventually gasp. "please—kiss my neck again."

your boyfriend is more than happy to oblige. lips latched to the tender spot just below your ear, jamie lets his hand take control of the pace; he's no longer content to drag this out. it's been a long day, and all he wants is to watch his pretty girlfriend fall to pieces in his lap.

your peak is ushered in by a series of pitiful little whines and whimpers, mostly muffled by his spit-stained hand, but jamie doesn't have the heart—or the sanity—to chastise you for it. if he had it his way, his mind would play those beautiful, broken sounds on a loop.

but the reverie is too good to last. it always is.

"get a room, you two!"

a chorus of laughter and vulgar remarks succeed trevor's call-out. and, hot under the collar, jamie's cheeks burn pink as he buries his face in the safety of your neck.

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