#pool surround ideas

[i-am-mycroft-holmes]

Traditional Landscape - Landscape Inspiration for a mid-sized traditional side yard brick landscaping.

[lesleymariko]

Roof Extensions - Patio Mid-sized modern backyard concrete paver patio design idea with a fire pit and an extension to the roof

[aquared]

okay i am really brain-latched to this au i really do need to give it a proper name

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 18 / 31 * LETTER 」

September 1, 1885

The longer he stares at the blank parchment laid out across his desk, the more inexplicably daunting the task before him becomes.

As soon as the ink hits the paper, this situation becomes set in stone. Final. His signature will seal his fate in a contract binding between him and the universe, the terms of which are known only to them and, in about seventy years, to Marty.

Emmett L. Brown becomes a figure lost to time under promise to guard against accidentally doing something to irreparably alter history and the knowledge of how to build another time machine stays trapped with him in the nineteenth century.

It has been eight months now since he arrived, welcomed by locals who knew nothing of his name nor his reputation and were willing to welcome him into their small growing community. As far as time periods to spend out his retirement years went, the late nineteenth century wasn't so bad.

Now all that was left to do was tie up the final loose ends that have frayed far into the future, well out of his reach.

The DeLorean and schematics are in place, waiting to be unearthed by his future-past-counterpart. The map is clear, as are the clues he'd left inside the mine.

The letter—

There's a twinge of regret in his chest as he lifts the quill from the desk. Eight months is a long time to have waited to write this letter, he knows, yet he also knows that so long as his calculations are precise, right down to the second, then the delay will be negligible in the grand scheme of things. He had to first exhaust all avenues before committing himself to a lifetime here.

Now that he has, there is the comfort that, for Marty, no time will have passed.

From here, the letter has a seventy-year, two month, twelve day journey ahead of it.

There are a hundred different ways he could start this letter, a thousand different things to say, and many of them involve reassuring Marty, first and foremost, that he is alive and unharmed. Even if the letter is only delayed by a few moments, a few minutes even, he knows his best friend's tendency to panic and assume the worst.

Marty would likely believe he was dead, and why wouldn't he? The DeLorean was struck by lightning and in a quite literal flash, he was gone, thrown backwards in time when the bolt overloaded the electrical system, destroyed the time circuits, and sent the car accelerating to eighty-eight miles per hour.

He dips his quill in the ink and begins to write.

Dear Marty: If my calculations are correct, you will receive this letter immediately after you saw the DeLorean struck by lightning. First, let me assure you that I am alive and well. I have been living happily in the year 1885 these past few months.

Emmett's brows furrow as he continues. Now that he's started, the words spill out across the page in swooping lines and splotches of ink when he's too impatient to wait. If he could, he would fill Marty in on the entirety of these last eight months, but there simply isn't enough paper for a full recount, so he condenses everything, relaying only the most relevant information that he thinks will paint a sufficient picture.

He still has his wishes to write, and in a spot of morbid humour, Emmett notes to himself how this almost sounds like a will.

By the time it catches up with him in 1955, he supposes it will be.

Do not come back for me, though I will miss you terribly, Marty. Watch over Einie for me. Destroy the time machine. This is all I need.

Marty's future is exceptionally bright and Emmett can only hope he will make the most of it. He's instilled in him as much positive reinforcement as he possibly could; the rest is up to him now.

Four pages and a set of instructions later, Emmett finally signs his name, neatly folds up the document, and hurries to the Western Union office.

A single man sits at the desk; a middle-aged gentleman with dark hair greying at the sides, a beard, and thick glasses. He introduces himself as Theodore as Emmett walks up to the counter.

❝How can I help you, Mister—?❞

❝Brown. Emmett Brown.❞

Something flashes in Theodore's green eyes. ❝You're the town's new blacksmith, aren't you? Thought you seemed familiar. What can I do for you?❞

❝It is imperative this letter be delivered with these precise instructions!❞ Emmett hands the instruction letter to Theodore, whose face scrunches up sceptically as he reads it.

❝Hold on a minute. You want us to hold onto this letter until❞—Theodore checks the paper again to be certain his eyes aren't playing tricks on him—❝November 12, 1955, seventy years from now, and deliver it to a kid on the side of the road in front of the...construction site of the Lyon Estate housing development approximately two miles south of the city limits at precisely 9:20PM. And your intended recipient is a five-foot-four, brown haired, blue-eyed boy named Marty McFly who is just going to happen to be standing there?❞

Theodore drops the page onto the desk and stares at Emmett like he's waiting for the punchline to some ridiculous joke. Emmett knows that look well; it is the very same look most of the residents of Hill Valley give him as they deem him mad and shuffle aside to give him a wide berth.

Emmett's resolve never wavers. ❝That's correct.❞

Theodore glances behind him to his colleague who throws a simple, entirely unhelpful shrug back. ❝I'll pay whatever the fee is to hold on to the letter that long,❞ Emmett says, and after a moment and at least four different expressions that pass across his face, Theodore lets out a long sigh.

❝This has to be the craziest, most peculiar request we've ever gotten. Alright, Mister Brown.❞ He shuffles a few papers around at his desk and produces a writing utensil along with a receipt and slides both over to Emmett. He taps a nail on the signature line. ❝Sign here.❞

[esoraluco]

blue would watch H2O just add water and fantasize about becoming a dolphin while spamt just looks at him concerningly

[lookingforcactus]

Because I'm feeling whimsical,

What the fuck do you mean that's a quilt??? Round 2

All quilts are contest winners from the quilt show Road to California, 2022. You can see these quilts and the other winners from that year here.

Best of Show Quilt

Title: Harlequinade Maker: Rebecca Prior Quilter: Jackie Brown Design Basis: Maker's Original Design "Harlequinade" is a theatrical quilt filled with visual clues guiding viewers to discover a hidden story. Inspired by Venetian Carnival masks and commedia del'arte characters, the quilt features the antics of Harlequin, the trickster, who has his own ideas about freedom and fun!

Director's Choice

Title: Welcome Home Maker: David Taylor Quilter: David Taylor Design Basis: Original image by Margo Clabo, used with permission I first saw this image from friend Margo Clabo more than a decade ago. It took years to convince her to let me adapt her photo into a quilt. The image it depicts is especially sentimental for her. The challenge for myself was to create a pieced pictorial background and recreate a traditionally pieced quilt by using my hand appliqué technique. The project size was overwhelming, but I'm thrilled with the finished quilt. So is Margo. Time to exhale.

Note: To be clear, that is not a photo with a quilt in it, that WHOLE THING is a quilt.

Best Machine Stationary Quilting

Title: Emerald labyrinth Maker: Kumiko Frydl Quilter: Kumiko Frydl Design Basis: Maker's Original Design As a starting point I used an image from the entrance to the EL Barkookeyeh Mosque in Cairo. Thinking of an elegant and intricate garden I added bursts of natural color and filled the area between the large elements of the design with finer ornament inspired by butterflies and plants. I set the circular image in a rectangular frame with a subdued complimentary design of rippled reflective pools.

1st Place: Animal

Title: Woodland Wilds Maker: Ann Horton Quilter: Ann Horton Design Basis: Maker's Original Design My morning hikes in the woodland hills of our northern California home inspired this quilt. The rabbits are always alert for danger. This machine appliqued, thread painted and embroidered view through a window is surrounded by wild flowers on hand dyed silk and again surrounded by other wild birds and animals. I love my wilds things in the woods!

1st Place: Human Image

Title: The Memories That Remain Maker: Lynn Czaban Quilter: Lynn Czaban Design Basis: Library of Congress Photos - LC-USF33-006183MI and LC-USF33-0061 I am fascinated by the human face and our ability to communicate without uttering a single word. The Portuguese word 'saudade' meaning a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for something or someone that one cares for and loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never be had again.

1st Place: Naturescape

Title: Desert In Spring Maker: Andrea Brokenshire Quilter: Andrea Brokenshire Design Basis: Maker's Original Design My Mom and I embarked on an epic travel trip we named our "Thelma and Louise Adventure" In Palm Springs, CA we visited the Living Desert Botanical Garden. This quilt is inspired by one of the photographs I took that spring day of a Prickly Pear Cactus in full bloom. I loved the leathery texture of the cactus leaves (paddles) and the almost translucent citron yellow blossoms.

2nd Place: Animal

itle: Not Today Maker: Kestrel Michaud Quilter: Kestrel Michaud Design Basis: Maker's Original Design The chase is on! The Roadrunner is after his next meal, chasing a Common Collared Lizard through a steampunk junkyard. The desert is a favored dumping ground for the detritus of progress, even in a fantasy world. A steam-powered industrial revolution creates iron refuse and pieces of broken machinery have been left to decay in dry desert air. That doesn’t bother these critters. To them, this is home. Will that lizard wind up as dinner? Not today!

2nd Place: Human Image

Title: Declaration of Independence - Voices of Freedom Maker: Nancy Prince Quilter: Terri Taylor Design Basis: Reproduction of John Trumbull's Painting The quilt is a reproduction of John Trumbull's painting which depicts the moment in history when the first draft of the Declaration of Independence was presented to the Second Continental Congress on June 28, 1776. The quilt front and back were created in Photoshop and custom printed on fabric. Four thousand hours over 4 years was necessary to create the quilt. The back captures the story of the Declaration and its signers.

Note: I'm not at all patriotic. But credit where credit is due. That's a fucking quilt.

3rd Place: Animal

Title: Midnight Flight Maker: Joanne Baeth Quilter: Joanne Baeth Design Basis: Maker's Original Design Several years ago we had an injured Great Horned Owl roosting in our willow tree during the day. I took several pictures and was inspired to create him in fabric. The background features a painted sky, old buildings, melting snow and a rabbit on the run The foreground is the swooping owl which was constructed by painting and inking each feather and thread painting over fabrics and needle punched wool rovings

3rd Place: Naturescape

Title: Day Into Night Maker: Deb Deaton Quilter: Deb Deaton Design Basis: Maker's Original Design Inspired from photo by Robert Murray with his permission. When the Arizona sun begins to set, the sky comes alive. I saw this photo and knew the splendor of this landscape needed to be captured with fiber! Sky is hand painted. Raw edge applique. Mixed media used: oil pastels, color pencils, inks to enhance the fabrics and create more dimension. Cheesecloth: painted to create spikes of cactus. Tulle used to capture the sunrays. Machine quilted.

[satoruxx]

you're sweating when you wake up, skin sticking painfully to your bedsheets as your bleary eyes dart around, attempting to make focus of your surroundings. the room is still dark, barely touched by the slight bit of moonlight that attempts to peak through the closed windows—defiant. it takes a minute to realize that the sounds that are breaking the silence are actually coming from your own throat—breathy, wheezing gasps of terror.

your stomach drops when your fingers grip cold and empty fabric. he's gone he's gone he's go—

"what are you doing up, pretty?"

your head snaps to the doorway. satoru stands there, sweats hanging low on his hips even as his hand remains curled around a glass of water. his hair is tousled with sleep, but his cerulean eyes are sharp and lively.

as soon as he sees the panic lacing your expression, his eyes widen, long legs practically tripping over themselves as he stumbles towards you.

"what happened?" he asks sharply, frantically placing the cup on the bedside table to take your face into his palms. shades of blue dart back and forth across your features as he perches one knee on the mattress and peers down at you. "are you okay?"

his touch sends electricity through your veins—a splash of ice water pulling you away from that painful reverie.

your heart both clenches and soars, the idea of what you saw being terrifying, and yet finding out it wasn't true being that much more relieving.

"i just—" your voice comes out choked, and satoru's fingers twitch against your skin imperceptibly. "had a bad dream."

you think your brain must be cruel for conjuring up a dream in which satoru could suffer to such abhorrent extents.

"oh sweets." satoru's sigh is sympathetically soft, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek just barely. "it was just a nightmare."

"i know," you swallow, voice shaking. there's an uncharacteristic wetness pooling at your waterline. "i-it just felt so real."

"baby..." satoru immediately pulls you against the steady planes of his chest, thick arms snaking around your waist to eliminate any measly amount of distance between you two. you prop your chin on his shoulder, sighing as you feel his snowy hair tickling at your cheek.

"it wasn't real, sweetheart," he says, pulling back just slightly to push a piece of hair from your face. his thumb then drags under your eyes, wiping away the unshed tears. "see. you're here, i'm here. everything's all good."

"yeah." you're nodding, unable to take your eyes off of him because he's real and alive and so breathtakingly perfect. "yeah, you're right."

he gives you a lopsided smile, eyes bright and glowing. "i don't like to brag, but i usually am."

you snort out a laugh, missing the way his expression turns pleased at the sound. "hilarious. you love to brag."

"you got me there," he shrugs, grinning as you stick your tongue out at him. the lighthearted banter solidifies the fact that satoru is fine and unharmed and completely yours, but you can still feel the apprehension coursing through your veins. chills run up your spine—you try not to show it.

but of course, satoru has always been able to see right through you.

his teasing smile goes soft, and he inhales deeply.

"was it about me?" he asks, climbing into bed next you. you lay back down carefully.

"yeah," you mumble, watching him tug the blankets over your body and tuck you both under a cocoon of warmth.

"hm." something in his tone tells you he's not unfamiliar with the feelings you seem to be experiencing—his body shifts closer to yours. ocean eyes carefully asses you, deep and calculating and so concerned even as he smoothes a warm palm over your shoulder blades. "wanna tell me what happened?"

the truth is you do want to, because satoru has always understood you better than you've ever understood yourself—you have no doubt he'd be able to comfort you just as well as he normally does.

and yet...

"no," you answer, pressing your nose into his neck. a deep breath in, the lively scent that is so inherently your gojo satoru filling your very soul. "it's okay. i think i'll be fine."

when you shut your eyes, images flash behind them—of bloodied bodies and stitches and swapped souls. yet a chaste kiss to your forehead pulls you back to where you're supposed to be, warm and grounding.

"i know you'll be fine," satoru murmurs, lips tickling your brow as he speaks. you think you can hear the gentle smile as he says it, and your grip on him tightens—never letting go. "i'm right here after all."

[s0dium]

YOU'RE A PERVERT!!!

/ˈpərˌvərt/

a person whose sexual behavior is regarded as abnormal and lewd

Synopsis: How perverted are JJK men? What are their perverted tendencies?

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso Warnings: Voyeurism, Gojo uses a vibrator on you in public, cockwarming, fantasizing, public sex, dub-con, male masturbation, mating press, begging, blindfolding and restraining, breeding

Gojo Satoru

7/10 on the pervert scale

This man is full of kinks and thinks about sex quite often.

His kinks aren't necessarily abnormal but he can be obsessive

Has sniffed your panties and used them to jack off

A shameless pervert

Would be into blindfolding

The rich man he would invest in some toys and is a fiend with them

"Shit." You mumble under your breath, biting your lip to prevent any more sounds from bubbling up.

As you sit in the glossy, high-ceilinged conference room surrounded by the austere faces of the Jujutsu Society high-ups, you keep your head down, staring desperately at the floor as the toy inside you buzzes against your clit and your gspot. It's fucking unbearable. Across the table, Gojo sits, the picture of nonchalance with his trademark blindfold, his lips curving into a barely-there smirk that only you can decipher.

The vibrations of the toy are slow, most certainly on the lowest setting which you are almost thankful for. The sensation is like warm sunlight filtering through a window, gentle yet insistent. The dual stimulation of your clit and gspot has you practically gasping for air, it is delicious, slow, and not enough, not what your body is starting to crave. You can feel the thrum of pleasure at the tips of your fingers and toes, then spirals inward, igniting every nerve ending with a whisper of pleasure. The warmth expands, filling you to the brim, making your breath hitch unexpectedly.

Around the table, the meeting drones on, a background hum to the electric thrill dancing under your skin. You shift in your seat, trying to contain the heat that Gojo’s toy stirs within you. Under the table, he is most certainly playing with the remote, circling the buttons that could at any moment lead you to your doom. How did he even get you to do this in the first place? Each brush of your clothes against your skin turns into a caress, intensifying the sensations that you desperately try to mask.

The more you squirm, the wider Gojo's smile grows, though it never reaches his eyes, which are focused intently on you, enjoying the scene he orchestrates from across the room.

Your face flushes a deeper shade of red with each passing second, a silent plea for respite mingling with the fear of being discovered. The heat pools at the pit of your stomach, waves of pleasure cascading through you in relentless pulses. You clench your hands under the table, nails digging into your palm to anchor yourself to reality, to the droning voices discussing projections and quarterly returns.

But Gojo is relentless, you can practically hear the click of the remote that speeds up the toy inside you. You immediately jolt as if you have been electrocuted and you cross your legs to try and tame the ticklish pleasure coursing through you like a tidal wave.

"Everything ok Y/n?" Someone from across the room asks, and you feel everyone's gaze turn to you.

Before you can muster up the strength to say anything, Gojo cuts in.

"Oh she's fine. Just excited to be here isn't that right?"

Geto Suguru

6/10 on the pervert scale

Geto prides himself on keeping his composure intact.

But the man has so sick fantasies roaming around in his head

Behind a kind smile and hazle eyes he is mentally tearing away your clothes and fucking you on the desk you are sitting behind

Totally acts on these thoughts. Eventually he will find a way

Doesn't really care about what others think of him, which makes him very bold

He is less of a pervert and more of a "sex lover" if that makes sense

"Stay still baby, dont want anyone getting ideas do you?" Geto coos into your ear and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop your self from moaning. Thank god you wore a long skirt today because if it was any shorter you were sure everyone would know you weren't just sitting on your boyfriend's lap. No, you where impaled on his dick.

You glance around, your cheeks heating up as you catch a few curious stares from nearby moviegoers. Geto seems unfazed, his focus calmly fixed on the screen ahead. You can feel your body instinctively squeeze around his length, desperately yearning for friction, but two big hands keep you secured on his lap preventing you from moving.

Geto's presence is both arousing and disconcerting as you try to focus on the movie, hyper-aware of every shift and breath. As the room darkens with the film's start, you attempt to blend into the dim anonymity, hoping the engulfing shadows hide your flushed face and the flutter in your chest.

Suddenly, Geto slightly bucks into you, so his fat tip presses against the part of you that you only dream about reaching with your fingers. As the waves of pleasure gently cascade through you, you press your lips tightly together, restraining any sound that threatens to escape. You force yourself to remain utterly still, despite the overwhelming sensations of his large member that tempt you to move. The restraint heightens every tingling sensation, each pulse becoming more pronounced, more insistent. Your fingers curl into the fabric of your skirt beneath you, gripping tightly as you focus on the subtlest of movements—a breath, a slight shift—that could betray the intensity of your experience. The stillness becomes a challenge, a game of control where every fiber of your being is acutely aware, and every small victory in maintaining composure amplifies the pleasure silently swirling within.

"Doing so well baby, you sure you can keep this up?" Geto mummurs into your ear, nibbling on the skin of your lobe.

Choso

7/10 and for very good reason

Listen, the man has never experienced intimacy before.

So when he experiences sex for the first time, oh boy, choso is down for the count

he wants to try it all, do it all with you, to you

He's the type to think about stealing your panties or is tempted to look up your skirt but reprimands himself for it

"Come on baby just keep your legs on my shoulders. Can you do that for me?" Choso's breath is hot against your ear. "F-fuck please" he says through a groan. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind you would think that he was actually begging. And you were right. Choso swears his isn't a whimpering man but here he is, voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt  

You are too dumb to reply, only spurting outcries and whines about how good he was fucking you. Choso snapped his hips so fast that everything seemed like a dream, the bed was shaking immensely with the headboard banging on the wall and you were losing your mind from the friction of his dick against your walls. How long have you been in this mating press? How many times have you cummed? How many times has he cummed in you?

"Wanna fuck you every day,"  he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal brutal. "fuck fuck fuck," Choso swears, as he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses your lips onto his. Your so dazed you practically drool into the kiss, letting him entangle his tongue with yours until spit smeared on either side of your lips. He doesn’t slow the movement for a second as he kisses you, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

Suddenly, it hits you. Like an ignition of fire your brain goes white and you feel yourself ascend to euphoria.

“You gonna cum baby?" he coos into your hear, pressing light kisses on the hollow of your neck. "fuck, cum for me baby, please, cum on me."  Choso's hand flew between your bodies to rapidly rub your clit back and forth, hurtling you towards your orgasm. Your pussy tightens so hard around his cock that he nearly has to stop his thrusts. Your mouth grows lax as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“That’s it,” He fucks you through your orgasm, pouring every ounce of his strength into chasing his own high. His thrusts became sloppy, hips stuttering before he stilled his hips flushed against yours, burying himself in your creamy cunny.

“Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

Sukuna Ryomen

This is difficult, sukuna is not much of a pervert as he is a sadist.

So on the sadist scale, he is a 10/10 and the correlation with pervertedness would also be a 10/10 because of the wild things he does to you

He just loves to see you embarrassed and degraded. If that means fucking you in public so be it. If that means cumming on your panties and making you wear them so bit it

There isnt much he isnt open to (unfortunately)

You feel dizzy.

The soft fabric presses gently against your eyelids, urging them to remain closed. With your sight stolen away, your world narrows, funneling your awareness to the heightened sensations that begin to bloom from your core.

You whine at the feeling, squirming at the sensation of sukuna's fingers massaging your gspot. His pace his maddening, every curl of his fingers is so slow and exact, so much so your muscles tremble from the pleasure.

"Faster, faster please" you mewl, and you don't even need sight to know that there is a devilish grin on Sukuna's tattooed face.

"You feel good dont you? Poor thing." Sukuna chuckles.

The material encircling your wrists is smooth, almost silky, tying your hands behind you leaving them free to roam but only so far. As the pleasure builds, coiling tightly within you, the lack of sight only deepens the mystery and intensity of each contact, each sensation. You're adrift in a sea of touch and sound, each wave crashing over you with more pleasure than the last.

"So pretty, I love it when you're desperate, god," Sukuna groans and he leans in close so you can feel his breath against your ear. "You're making me so hard baby."

Your hips buck up when you feel the pace of his fingers quicken. The fiction is delicious and his digits fill you so much better than your small ones ever could.

"Want me to fuck you?" Sukuna purrs and you desperately nod in response making him chuckle. "Look at you, of course you do."

[neilsnyder]

Orange County Tropical Pool Mid-sized island style backyard concrete and custom-shaped lap hot tub photo

[isabellharrison]

Pool in Orange County Large trendy backyard tile and custom-shaped pool fountain photo

[amaranthinespirit]

roommate!simon riley when your vibrator dies before you can finish, and he offers to relieve that tension

your feverish body splayed across the bed, covers thrown into a heaved pile surrounding you as a thin layer of sweat coats your skin and dampens the sheets under you. pathetic gasps of desperacy slip past your lips despite the thin walls as you pressed the vibrator against your sensitive clit.

you could feel the buildup in the bottom of your tummy, the heat of release that pooled slowly rising and threatening to spill over. your legs bucked, your whole body trembling in desperation as your other hand squeezed your breast. strings of muttered pleases escaping your pouty lips.

it was right there, you were about to wash over—to drown in the sweet snap of that taut knot in your body. you pressed the tiny, bullet vibrator harder against your abused clit, hoping it would give you the release you so desperately chased after.

until it died. it wasn't a gradual slow down to let you know it was on its last moments—it just stopped.

you whined in frustration, feeling the orgasm about to wash over you all too quickly drain—after it had taken you all this time to build it up.

you were panting, body still trembling as another groan escaped your throat. you tossed the vibrator carelessly across the room, hearing it thud against the wall as your hands came up to cover your flushed face.

in the next room over, simon had heard the little whines and gasps you had let slip by, smirking whenever his name would reach his ears. he had heard you for months—the walls were thin—but he had never decided to act on anything.

it wasn't like he wasn't into you—because he was and he was in his room, fucking his heavy cock in his right hand pretending it was yours. it never worked—his hands were far too roughed and calloused compared to your soft, delicate skin.

but he never had the opportunity to approach you about it—until now.

when he heard that noise of frustration fall from your lips, the light thud against the wall, a knowing smirk teased the corners of his lips.

he pushed himself from, adjusting his sweatpants as he did so before he landed in front of your door.

he knocked—he had some decency after all—but he didn't want long for an answer before pushing his way in. he didn't know what he was going to find—well, he had an idea—but boy, you surprised him.

a choked gasp flew from your lips at the knock, not even getting the chance to at least cover up by the time he was standing in your—now open—doorway.

you had sat up so fast, it was dizzying, but you brushed it off as you tried to tug the covers over your bare body, but it didn't help they were half falling off the bed and slightly heavy.

his gaze traveled appreciatively over you, shamelessly staring at your slick covered thighs and glistening pussy, a damp spot on the sheets below you.

you yelped as you noticed his staring, clamping your legs shut as you attempted again to cover yourself—each tug at the blanket was like a fight for an ounce of dignity. you weren't sure you had any now.

your chest still heaved, body flushed and slightly pink with reddened skin over your left breast. you swallowed thickly, stumbling over your words as you avoided his gaze, "what...do you...you need something?" you finally managed out.

his brow quirked up at your question, humming as he examined—analyzed—your movements. movement made of embarrassment and shame to be caught like this.

"dunno, luv," his voice was dangerously low, and gruff. he cleared his throat, slowly stepping towards the side of the bed, "looks like y'might need sumthin', hm?"

he stalked towards you like a predator, his eyes dark and half-lidded in a way that made shivers run down your spine and your pussy wetter.

he chuckled as you shook your head. he could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you as he stood right beside the bed, the side you didn't occupy.

the bed dipped with the weight of his knee, his body heavy against the springs as he bent over, a hand coming to your bare hip. he watched the goosebumps ripple from the touch of his calloused hand.

his other hand landed on your knee, slowly prying them apart as he hummed lowly in appreciation of the sight of your soaking cunt, glistening under the low light of your room.

his hand slid your knee, down your thighs until he rubbed two fingers down the center of your pussy. the slick collected on his fingers as they glided through the folds with ease because of your arousal.

"hm, you sure about that, luv?" he teased as he heard the pathetic moan that you tried to stifle slip past your chapped lips.

he brought his thumb down against your clit, swirling over the oversensitive bud before pinching it between his fingers. he huffed out a chuckle at the mewl you let out.

he teased your slit, barely dipping his fingers against your walls before pulling them away to slide through your folds while he continued to tease and bully your poor clit.

he watched the way you became a mess under his hand, no doubt getting wetter by his hand than with the vibrator he spotted thrown by the side of the wall. he nearly laughed at the sight of the small thing, his finger practically the size of it.

don't worry, you were better off being taken care of in his hands, by his fingers as he brings you to release by just toying with your clit.

and he'll give you more if you let him.

[beeapocalypse]

maries like the bug mijaal accidentally steps on that sparks a moment of self disgust and pity b4 she moves on with her day. and marys the same type of bug but mijaal spots him out on the sidewalk and moves him to the safe grass

[chronologynut]

Lap Little Rock Example of a large classic backyard tile and custom-shaped lap hot tub design

[cartavermelha]

Pool Cedar Rapids Large elegant backyard concrete and rectangular lap pool fountain photo

[katratziphotography]

Contemporary Pool in Los Angeles A large, modern backyard image with a kidney-shaped infinity hot tub

[alarniascribblesontablets]

Lap Pool in Orange County

Inspiration for a mid-sized tropical backyard concrete and custom-shaped lap hot tub remodel