#teak work

[louiseweird]

Outdoor Kitchen San Diego A small backyard with a concrete patio and kitchen shown without a cover.

[ms-newvegas]

Opened the notes specifically hoping someone else would notice how ugly the benches are. They probably looked terrible within three weeks

[woodindustries]

IBAIS MEDIA - WOODEN

[rackartyg]

love coming home to my parents and spending every minute humouring my dad's current special interest. meanwhile if i so much as breathe a word of mine ...

[shotmrmiller]

need simon to be retired and living in the middle of nowhere with a car-fixing hobby, and you're pulling into his 'shop' because you were road-tripping across the country and now some funky noises are happening underneath the hood.

you tentatively walk towards the open garage, only to spot him under some run-down vehicle that has more rust than sun-faded paint, deflated tires, and a license plate that's also got rust gnawing at the edges, the numbers on it barely discernable.

you rap your knuckles gently on the weathered car, and the wheels of the creeper he's on squeak in protest under him as he rolls out to look at you, filthy gloves smearing the dust on his brow instead of wiping it away.

"err, hi. uh, i was pointed this way by some lovely folk that work in that diner down the way, and they said that you could take a look at my car."

he rises smoothly, even though his joints pop as he does, dark eyes squinting against the sun. he towers over you with broad shoulders and thick arms. a tough-as-teak country man.

you start when he speaks, deep voice echoing off of dusty walls. "they said tha', did they?" he lifts the hem of his grease-stained wife beater to wipe at the beads of sweat on his forehead, and your gaze involuntarily wanders to the thick trail of coarse, dark hair under his navel.

"what's wrong with it?"

if you knew that, you wouldn't be here, blatantly ogling him in some decrepit workshop located in a sleepy corner of the countryside. "i don't know. it's making some scary popping noises and figured that it needed to be looked at, asap."

your grimace is involuntary when he extends an oil-streaked gloved hand. you really hope he's not expecting you to-

"keys."

right. you wordlessly hand them over and walk a few steps behind him as he heads toward the front of your car. "did ya get it looked at before your trip?"

you want to snap at him, that obviously you did. you may not be some car wizard, however, you can do the bare minimum for it but he's your only hope for getting the hell out of here, so you press your tongue against the back of your teeth for a moment before answering.

"yes. i did prepare for it. got new tires, an oil change, and anything else it may have needed."

he hums at your answer, a low sound in the back of his throat, and curls his fingers under the hood and begins to feel for the release. your mind is in the gutter as your eyes linger on his sun-kissed skin, watching the tendons on his inked forearm ripple with each movement.

your mind is snapped back to reality when he mutters, "i hope ya don't think i'm doin' this for free."

"wouldn't dream of it. you don't seem the charitable type."

the latch yields under his fingertips, and the hood springs open. "i'd say i'm pretty charitable, considerin' i'm even helpin' ya with this."

your eyebrows furrow, corners of your lips pulling downward. "what, were you closed or something?"

he gives you a small smirk while his hand searches for the prop rod inside the engine bay. "do i look like a business, sweetheart?"

embarrassment burns your cheeks, and your mouth gapes unprettily as you turn around to truly take in the place. past the grease-smeared floors, there's rust blooming on the only workbench in the garage, a single red toolbox resting on the ground. there's a car jack tossed in a corner, a vibrant blue cooler by the door, and a few firearms on pegboard shelves. it looks like a simple garage. a personal one.

"oh my god," you stammer, "i'm so sorry, i just- the townsfolk, they led me to believe that you're a mechanic." how bloody mortifying.

he ducks his head under the hood, bending at the waist to lean over the engine, eyes swiftly scanning the machinery. "it's a hobby. i fix my own vehicles... and now yours, i reckon."

eventually, he turns the car on and listens to the engine roar to life before it begins to pop, standing over the open hood with thinned lips and furrowed brows.

he tells you that he can fix it, it'll just take a bit for the part to get here, obviously, so he recommends staying at a rented cabin in town for a few days— maybe even a week— and he'll give you a ride over.

he gets you there in no time, unsurprising because he drove the motorcycle far too fast— illegal, really. he helps you off the bike, your clammy hand in his much bigger, roughened one.

you rip off his helmet, pushing it into his barrel chest. "please never drive me around that fast again." he gives you a couple of pats to the shoulder, chuckling under his breath.

"unless you're plannin' on walkin' to get your car back, i can't promise tha'."

grrrreat.

(the issue was the serpentine belt, it was slightly frayed but the man kept you around for 2.5 weeks under the excuse of something taking too long, or the car being under worse condition. maybe he charges you a kidney for fixing it, and since you can't obviously pay that ridiculous amt of money, he tells you to go on a date with him. gross. or maybe he's a sane man and he just sends you on your way in 2 days time. idk. installs a gps in your car? keepin' tabs on ya cuz he plans on passing by wherever you live by complete coincidence.)

[othercrossee]

I'm too far gone

[redflagshipwriter]

Snatching Snitches the cat Part 2: Damian 1

masterpost

“Maybe we should get him a new cat.”

Damian full-body twitched at the whisper, which was unfortunately not quiet enough to keep such idiocy out of his ears as he entered the room. “I will regain my boy,” he said sternly. “So that will be entirely unnecessary, Richard.”

Dick winced at the downgrade to his proper name. Damian huffed air from his nose, dissatisfied, but willing to consider the matter closed given the urgency of the situation. “Father, this is my budget proposal.” He used his left hand to toss the folder on the teak desk in the sunroom’s office. Father gaped at it gormlessly, not moving to pick it up until Damian lifted an eyebrow in pointed rebuke.

He waited while his father shuffled through the papers, a vaguely pained expression on his face. “Damian, I’m not sure that a million dollars is a normal amount to spend on a lost-pet advertisement campaign,” he said gently.

Dick had his best poker face on, which meant nothing to someone who knew him well enough to know that the lack of his usual expressiveness was a large tell.

Damian did his best not to roll his eyes. “Snitches is an unparalleled feline, and thus the market research for comparable campaigns was matched to something more appropriate.” He kept his tone as neutral as possible to avoid discord. “For pricing, please look at page seventeen.”

Pages flipped. “...This seems to be a list of Wayne family kidnapping incidents.” Father’s face twitched. Dick leaned over, obviously interested. 

“You’ve listed all the ransom amounts that was asked for one of us?” he checked. “Cool graph. Am I still the winner?” Dick scanned the amounts. His face fell when he encountered the humorously undignified information that, in fact, Todd was in the lead. 

“Initial amounts,” Damian said promptly. “I understand that relatively little time and money was invested into Snitches, so I chose the amount that was asked for Timothy in 2019. May, not August,” he clarified. August had been undervaluation even for Timothy.

Dick breathed out slowly through his nose, in a shamefully transparent attempt to control himself. “Tim-”

“It was before he was adopted,” Damian said dismissively. “Obviously, his current market rate is much higher. Given that Snitches was, in fact, legally adopted by myself, I thought it a generosity on my part to keep the budget that low.”

A high-pitched sound came from someone’s nose. Damian eyed his father and his eldest brother, but could not discern which one it was. How undignified.

“I understand your logic,” Father said finally. He looked tremendously old. “...Very well. One million dollars to find your cat. But that’s it!” he said, trying to regain control of the conversation. 

Damian nodded sharply. “It will be sufficient.” Just barely, but he had a plan to make it work. “Please direct your attention to pages 4 through 7,” he ordered, knowing full well that Father’s eyes would glaze over at the itemized expenses. 

“Give it to me verbally,” Father said.

Ideal. Damian launched into a painfully detailed listing of national, regional, and international newspapers which he would have a column written both in print and online, starting at Gotham and expanding regionally every day within which Snitches had not been yet located. He would have it written by Kent, as a professional courtesy. He had a list of gig work sites upon which he could recruit people to walk the streets of Gotham and put up flyers and check alleys and dumpsters. He had devised profiles of the teenagers involved in Snitches’ original kidnapping attempt, and included suggestions as to how each member of the team might use their patrol to stake out the suspects.

“I’m scheduled for 7 hours of watching the east window at a 16 year old girl’s house?” Father confirmed. His eyes were hollow and robbed of hope, exactly according to plan.

Damian gave a sharp nod. “Tonight. Todd shall do the daylight shift.”

“I doubt that,” Father said, very quietly. He cleared his throat. “Look, Damian.” 

He waited in perfect predatory stillness. 

“I think perhaps… you should rely less on patrol time for this,” Father settled on. “There are other issues outstanding, after all, such as that serial killer in the Bowery and the gang tensions.”

Damian gritted his teeth.

“Why don’t you get some other help?” Dick butted in, giving Father a warning look that Damian very much did not miss.

“Other help,” Damian said slowly, as if he had not engineered this whole conversation to lead to this conclusion. “Such as… associates?”

“Like Jon,” Dick suggested brightly. “Or your friends from school!”

“That seems like a good idea,” Father said, composed except that he winced at the word ‘friends’, knowing full well how Damian despised it. “You can get help with non Gotham vigilante associates, since we are unfortunately unable to dedicate enough time to the project.”

Damian waited a moment to sell it, portraying a struggle with indecision. He could not accept too gracefully, or someone might read his detailed budget proposal and discover that he had already allotted most of the money for specialists. “I will attempt this route first,” he said stiffly. He pretended not to notice the relief in the room. “Very well.” He reached out a hand to receive his plan. 

He left with his head held high, knowing that he was the uncontested winner in that discussion. More fools they! The obvious had escaped them in their dotage.

Snitches was, after all, no ordinary cat. He had been summoned in a ritual meant to communicate with a ghost. Perhaps he was a ghost himself, given his intangibility and near-human intelligence. The obvious first step was a consultation with one of the magicians who would accept bribery. Father disdained them, but he had, indeed, given Damian specific permission to accept help from non-Gotham vigilante associates.

Surely Justice League Dark could be counted among Robin’s associates.

[madraynesims]

Dining Chairs from The Sims for The Sims 2, Sims 3 and The Sims 4

Here's a part 3 to celebrate The Sims 25th anniversary! Featuring a few dining chairs this time. I also included some recolors that I thought would help with variety, since Sims 1 objects usually come in just one swatch. Let me know if there's any problems! Info below the cut The Sims collection file for The Sims 2 and The Sims 3 can be found on my collection files page: Found Here!

Downloads:

The Sims 25th Anniversary Gift - Dining Chairs For The Sims 2 - SFS For The Sims 3 - SFS For The Sims 4 - SFS

Alt Download - Patreon credits; Minehot, BrandonSJ, MarshmellowBear, LucasR, @thesims1master Enjoy my work? Consider becoming a Patreon or buying me a coffee!

Deck Chair by Survivall Information: Recreated by Minehot. Extracted and converted by me. Has 4 swatches. The Sims 3: Fully Create-A-Style enabled. 1 channel Price - §150 Category  - ‘Comfort > Dining Chairs’ Polycount - 406 Texture Size - 256x256

Touch of Teak Dinette Chair Information: Recreated by MarshmellowBear. Extracted by TheSims1Master. Mesh edited and converted by me. Has 4 swatches. The Sims 3: Fully Create-A-Style enabled. 2 channels Price - §200 Category  - ‘Comfort > Dining Chairs’ Polycount - 492 Texture Size - 512x512 Formí Dining Chair Information: Recreated by BrandonSJ. Extracted and converted by me. Has 11 swatches. The Sims 3: Fully Create-A-Style enabled. 2 channels Price - §881 Category  - ‘Comfort > Dining Chairs’ Polycount - 1338 Texture Size - 512x512 El Tomayo Dining Chair Information: Mesh edited and converted by me. Has 8 swatches. The Sims 3: Fully Create-A-Style enabled. 3 channels Price - §1,200 Category  - ‘Comfort > Dining Chairs’ Polycount - 4890 Texture Size - 512x512 Parisienne Dining Chair Information: Recreated by LucasR. Extracted and converted by me. Has 11 swatches. The Sims 3: Fully Create-A-Style enabled. 2 channels Price - §1,200 Category  - ‘Comfort > Dining Chairs’ Polycount - 2232 Texture Size - 512x512

[goatskickin]

On the tenth day of GOATmas, my true love sent to me...

...beds! Wood recolors of beds!

I've recolored every bed that EA has created in a pack or expansion that:

1) already had wood recolors

2) didn't have wood recolors, but I felt that wood recolors suited them

For the colors: I am using Dynamite, Depth Charge, Shrapnel, Safety Fuse and Time Bomb by @pooklet, and Nesert and Honey by Io aka @serabiet.

Please check out the Add-On's I've recommended! They are meshes made by community members that will use these textures too. Or, they are bits of CC that go along with these nicely!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Luxurious Nights Sleep - beddoubleluxury

notes: sleek and modern, I've used the original wood texture for the main part, and made a new wood texture (sourced from the wood texture provided) for the 'detail' bit. Shine removed.

Recommended Add-On: #1, #2, #3

Baby's Touch Bed - bedsingleclassic

notes: a darling single bed with no plain white canopy recolors, so I made one. Original textures on the wood, shine removed.

Recommended Add-On: #1, #2

Caress of Teak Bed - bedsinglemoderate

notes: not mapped in my most favorite way ever, but it works alright. I don't think that this is the original texture? Shine removed.

Recommended Add-On: #1, #2

Cheap Eazzzzze Morrissey Doublebed - beddoublebasic

notes: NEW wood texture, NO shine, kept the little metal corners on. Both help this very nice mesh look crisp and clean.

Colonial Ironwood Bed - bedcolonial

notes: oh I really have a love/hate relationship with this one. It has a good Comfort score and looks semi-ordinary. But its original textures and mapping are :/ The fabric headboard comes in (I hope) complimentary, muted colors.

Recommended Add-On: #1* *you only NEED the file named 'FAB_MaxisBedByStAjoqueReproductions_SLAVEDEFAULT'. @curiousb slaved the single version of this bed (Bed by St. AjoqueReproducitons) the the double version

Courtly Sleeper Day Dreamer - beddoubledesigner

notes: I quite like this one! Texture taken from one of its original recolors, shine removed.

Recommended Add-On: #1, #2

Craftmeisters Pine Bed - bedsinglevalue

notes: just like its double-wide sister, this one has been much improved with a NEW texture, and no shine.

Dreaming of Olde Bed - beddoublebohemian

notes: you get 2 options! This lovely rattan situation...

...and a big wicker sun!

Recommended add-on: #1*

*the textures do look a little squishy and weird on the single bed and daybed, but that has more do do with the way it's mapped

Fit For Royalty - bedsingleelite

notes: this one is a little unusual because I would not have considered doing it at ALL until I saw @hugelunatic's default for it. I'm going to have to insist that you get it! It's not like you were going to use the goofy original version anyway.

Recommended add-on: #1

Hellacious Headboard Double Bed - beddoublehotel

notes: how does it feel to be a gorgeous bed mesh? I'll bet it feels...Hellacious.

This uses the one 'generic' hotel texture it came with, and then each has a fabric headboard. No shine.

Legendary Bedscalibur/Slumber Saddle Of Sleepnir - beddoublemission - bedsinglemission

notes: the single bed and double bed share a texture, so just the one gif. Uses the texture it came with because I really like it! No shine.

Majestically Medieval Double Bed - beddoublemedieval

notes: mainly the same texture, but it's been given a little facelift with some Witcher3 textures at the top and around the base. No white recolor with this one, I felt that the mesh wasn't suited to it.

Recommended Add-On: #1

Maturely Medieval Single - bedsinglemedieval

notes: same wood texture, shine removed (this one was real shiny)

Murphy Hide Away Bed - beddoublemurphy

notes: ah, it's my favorite TS2 bed that has a very small chance of killing your sim! Same texture, shine removed.

Recommended Add-On: #1

Rough And Comfy Bed - bedsinglecomfy

notes: This bed has a really nice shape but only one recolor. This is mostly the same texture but I changed it a little on the drawers. No shine.

Recommended Add-On: #1

Simple Single - bedsinglesurfer

notes: this did not come with wood recolors originally, but it does now! I snatched them from the Sleepwave 42 bed, as the exaggerated wood grain kind of worked for this shape? I don't know of a CEP for the metal part of the bed though.

Recommended Add-On: #1

Sleepwave 42 - beddoubleatomicage

notes: I looove the shape of this, and I even like the wood grain, so it's the same. The legs don't have a recolorable subset though, unfortunately.

Soma Sleep Well - beddoubleartnouveau

notes: I don't think this bed gets the love it deserves! I wanted preserve some of the 'specialness' of its headboard, so it has this burled wood texture in it. No shine however (this one was quite shiny).

Recommended Add-On: #1

The Double Bed Of Wonderment - beddoublecanopyhotel

notes: can't go wrong with a nice big canopy bed. It has headboards in colors similar those used on 'beddoublehotel'. Original textures because they are good and I like them.

The Ergonomizer - bedsinglehotel

notes: While it has the same shape as beddoublehotel, they don't share a texture. Same colors for the headboard.

The Four Post Bed - beddoublecountry

notes: great country style! same textures, no shine

The Single Bed Ala Mode - bedsinglecountry

notes: and the single version shares textures, nice

Recommended Add-On: #1, #2

Touch Of Teak - beddoubledesigner

notes: I quite like this mesh! Original textures, no shine.

Recommended Add-On: #1, #2, #3

Zenu Meditation Sleeper - beddoubleoriental

notes: about half the original texture, but all of the decorative bits are NEW! I think they are from Witcher 3.

view of the back!

notable exceptions: Flowin Protozoan Single Bed (did not want to, too niche) as well as its double version and More Romantic than You (naw - I never use it)

Download - Sims 2 Beds - Wood Recolors

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Recommended downloads:

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Pressing

Jack Daniels x F!Reader, dude ranch AU

A Palomino oneshot, but can be read on its own

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Warnings: PWP, Jack's belt leaves an impression on reader's skin, unintentional branding, unprotected sex, long-distance relationship, desperate and feral cowboy, no physical descriptions of Reader, very lightly edited, written as part of the Palomino universe, set after the end of the series, but can be read as a oneshot on its own

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: This little story came from an ask sent in by 🐴 anon in December 2022, which I have long lost, about a song that mentions a guy’s belt buckle leaving marks on his girlfriend's inner thigh while fucking. Naturally, they thought of Jack’s belt. 🐴 anon, if you’re still here, thank you for the inspo and for your patience ❤️

Also thank you to @lola-lola-lola for getting me horn knee about our cowboy again 😘 Writing Palomino smut first thing in the year was not on my 2024 bingo card, and I’m not mad about it!

Cutest dividers by @firefly-graphics.

It’s been two and a half months. Week after wretched week of phone calls on stolen time. Day after day of aching to reach through the phone screen and the distance between you to touch him.

It’s hard being hundreds and hundreds of miles apart. It’s even harder on weeks when he’s in the mountains with no reception. Harder to find time to call when you have to work late and he has to get up at dawn.

But you endure it all - for days like this. 

It’s a rare weekend off in the high season, with Teak pulling back-to-back pack trips to cover for him, joking that he can’t take all his sighing and pining for his Darlin’ anymore.

Jack takes the last flight out on Friday night, arriving first thing on Saturday morning, before the city - or you - wake up. You’re half-buried under the duvet when the jingle of the key in the door jolts you from shallow slumber.

On unsteady feet, you wobble out into the hallway, crashing into the walls as you go, balance off-kilter from sleep.

But it’s ok - he catches you, all white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Incognito, if you will, in casual sneakers, but the cowboy hat is on as always. You knock it off post-haste, burying your face in the side of his neck in a desperate need for contact, his warmth seeping into your skin and wrapping you up in the deepest of comforts.

His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and your fingers twist into his tousled curls when you pull back, taking in the stubble on his sharp jawline, and his tired eyes. But before you can say anything, he leans in and slants his lips over yours.

The taste of airplane coffee is sharp and bitter on his tongue as he kisses you deep and messy. You startle when he suddenly slams the door shut behind him, not realising it was still open, and his beat-up weekend bag is tossed carelessly behind him somewhere in the doorway. 

The legs of the kitchen table scrape jarringly against the floor as he crowds you onto it, big hands cupping your ass and pulling you against his straining erection through his jeans.

‘Fuck, it’s been too long, darlin’.’ His voice is gravelly from an apparently sleepless overnight flight, and hearing his voice finally on the shell of your ear has you whimpering needily.

‘Can’t wait any more,’ he growls, desperation thick in his voice.

With a flick of his wrists, he shucks off your ratty sleep shirt, eyes hooded as he gazes down at your tits, like he can’t believe he’s actually touching you. Cupping them, soft and heavy, with reverent, rope-worn palms, he sucks one nipple after the other between his lips, making you squirm against him and leak wet and sticky between your thighs.

Strong hands hold you in place easily as you buck, the scrape of his moustache almost painful on your over-sensitive skin, nerve endings on fire after being deprived for long weeks. 

Too impatient to wait, you tug your pyjamas shorts down your hips and kick them off clumsily, panties tangled in your damp folds as you writhe under him. 

You feel the breath catch in his broad chest at the peek of your pussy, a rapidly growing damp spot darkening your cotton underwear. Hooking his thumb under the fabric, he tugs it unceremoniously to the side, baring you to him. 

‘Look at all this,’ he marvels, tracing the fleshy pad of his thumb through your folds, making you arch clean off the table. ‘So wet for me and you’ve barely woken up.’

‘Been thinking about you the while night,’ you admit, hips twitching as you chase his touch. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘Did you touch yourself, darlin’?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘No. Wanted your fingers. Your cock.’

His nostrils flare at your answer, unabashedly possessive in the way he looms over you. 

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs into your throat, nosing the side of your neck while thick fingers thrum against your clit. ‘I was so hard for you the whole fuckin’ flight.’ 

As if to prove it to you - not that you need it - he rolls his hips into your inner thigh, the hard bulge undeniable.

You mewl, hooking your ankles around his waist. ‘Fuck me now, Jack - please.’

There’s a wordless fumble for the solid sterling flask bottle of his belt buckle, his usual level-headed composure nowhere to be found as he pushes down his jeans with shaking hands, just enough to pull his cock out of its denim confines - 

And then he thrusts home inside you.

After months of only your fingers, it’s a stretch. But what a delicious stretch it is.

You feel him throb deep inside you, feel the thunder of a pained groan in his chest, pressed up against yours. Your cunt is all slick and give to his determined strokes as he begins to move. 

There’s no finesse, hardly any awareness, when he fucks frantically into you. His solid weight pins you to the table, and it rattles precariously under your back.

Your legs are splayed obscenely wide and bent at the knees while Jack pounds into your wet heat, eyes wild and mouth hanging open, watching your tits bounce as you take him, your nails digging into the cotton of his white t-shirt. He never did take off your panties, and the fabric rubs your clit just so with every one of his thrusts, rapidly sending you to the edge.

In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the coarse scrape of his jeans against your inner thighs, and something digs hard into the tender skin, the repeated motion dulling the sensation to an almost numb pressure. 

When you cum, you’re crying out before your head catches up, your body convulsing with blind bliss as your pussy clenches around him in a hot rush. The blood pounding in your ears is drowned out by your chants of his name, and then his hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses, frantic eyes on yours as he teeters on the edge. 

‘Where, darlin’?’

‘Inside me.’

The words have barely left you and he’s coming, broken pants against your lips as he comes and comes and comes - spilling inside you, filling you to the brim until he’s empty, turned inside out.

Slumped, boneless on top of you, humid pants pressed into your shoulder, his fingers tangle with yours, squeezing as if to let you know that he’s here.

You almost doze off, the gradually slowing rise and fall of the cowboy’s broad chest a comforting anchor, when he rouses you with gentle lips along your jaw. You giggle, feeling him softening and sliding out of you, making a mess of your kitchen table. 

‘Mornin’ darlin’,’ he says somewhat belatedly, warm eyes crinkling as he smiles at you.

‘Morning,’ you grin back, and when he shifts, you wince at the ache in your joints from being pinned to one spot for this very vigorous wake up call. His hands smooth over your legs in apology, and you jump when his fingertips brush over somewhere at the juncture of your upper thigh that is surprisingly sore.

‘What’s that?’ you ask, puzzled.

Jack doesn’t answer, curiously quiet. You look down to where he’s bracketed between your legs, watching him trace his index finger over the unmistakable imprint of his distinct belt buckle on the inside of your thigh, where it’s been digging into your skin the whole time. 

He glances at you. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, you didn’t,’ you give him a knowing grin. ‘And are you really sorry, cowboy?’

He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Gently pinching your swollen folds together, he groans when a milky bead of his cum dribbles out of you, running down the inside of your leg and smearing onto the flask-shaped impression.

‘Ain’t sorry about somethin’ that looks this good on you, darlin’.’

‘Could’ve asked me before you branded me, you know,’ you half-joke, running your own finger along the deep lines carved into your skin, for now.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, I tend to forget my manners when I’m balls deep in a pussy as sweet as yours,’ he retorts, one eyebrow arching when he feels you shiver at his words.

You huff in jest, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of an apology if you asked me.’

‘Whatcha want, darlin’? Me on my hands and knees for you?’

Heat flashes under your skin, from your cheeks down to your toes, and Jack’s eyes darken as his tongue wets his bottom lip. ‘Alright. I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.’

Slowly, he sinks onto his knees in front of you, his joints creaking endearingly as he goes, and you can’t help but tease, ‘Easy there, cowboy.’

The wicked tip of his tongue peeks out, and you bite your lip in a moan when it cleverly traces the outline of the belt buckle on your skin, ending in a playful nip that pulls a gasp from you.

With an unapologetically smug grin, Jack winks. ‘I’m only just gettin’ started, darlin’.’

Note: Thank you for reading ❤️ I’ve missed these two, and if you’re new to Palomino, I hope you’ll give the series a chance!

[chimielie]

pretty damn close

summary: Suna x F!Reader. he picks you up.

wc: 1.3k

cw: none. reader is having a bad night for unspecified reasons and suna makes her feel better by being his weird aquarius self

a/n: i think i may be more attracted to suna’s car than i am to suna because i feature it so often

It’s a bad night. The stars are hidden behind a thick haze of city smog, the honking of cars is obscured by the thick ringing in your ears. Your knees touch through the rips in your jeans as you shiver, trying not to think about the germs on the sidewalk.

The scent of a cigarette floats through the air. You don’t smoke, but you could.

Before you ask the stranger for a light, a car pulls up in front of you, braking loudly through the miasma.

You put a hand on the door handle and pull yourself up, waiting for the click of the lock’s release before you pull it open and slide inside.

“Hey,” Suna says, and you chatter your teeth together in response.

He reaches over and turns up the heat in his car three notches. You sigh and drop your shoulders at the rush of warm air that comes through the vents, tucking your legs up as he speeds away from the potential of a nicotine buzz.

“Can we go to your place tonight?”

You expect a side glance or a questioning tone. You have a defensive answer prepared, brushing off your growing discomfort with your roommates, the way their eyes track you as you lead him through the common area to your bedroom. You don’t want to field their assumptions tonight, the ones you know they make because of the smudged eyeliner around his waterline, the black swoop of his hair, the careless way he walks, his center of gravity pulled back toward wherever it is he wants to be that is never, ever where he is.

“Sure,” he says, like it’s nothing. Maybe it is. Maybe the little world you occupy, your mini-lanterns dangling from the ceiling and tchotchkes lining the windowsill, can expand outside its limits.

The lines of Shizuoka’s road shine bright white under his headlights, toothpaste and baking soda strips against the asphalt. You twist your head so you can see the sky out the window and try to take a deep sniff of his car door’s lining without his noticing. Teak and gasoline, you like this smell so much you imagine it when you’re at work, when you’re walking to the grocery.

“This was our first time calling, you know,” you say to the stars.

“Was it?” There’s a little frown in his voice. “No way, we’ve gotta have called before.”

You shake your head.

“I checked my call log, and I never clear it.”

“Huh.”

“Huh,” you echo. “And I don’t like calling, so that’s probably why. I feel so awkward.”

“You’re always awkward,” he says.

“Not true!” You try to punch his arm, but you’re still pressed up against the window so now you’re lying across his passenger seat, twisted into a bow. You graze his sleeve. “I’m whimsical. On the phone, I feel like I’m in a business meeting.”

“I am not a business-y person,” he says.

“No, you’re really matter-of-fact,” you respond. Your punching hand is limp at your side now and he reaches over, picks it up and shakes it side to side like it’s something dead. He folds his fingers over yours and you stay carefully still. “I can see it in another universe.”

“Then in that universe you must be an heiress,” he says. “I’ll seduce you for your money.”

“I hope you’re not doing that now,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “I don’t make half as much as you, with tips.”

“But you’re so high-class,” he says, in a terrible tone that makes you suspicious that he’s making fun of you. You stick your tongue out and blow a raspberry, ladylike. “And I’m not seducing you.”

It’s true. Suna comes over, toes off his big boots made bigger by their chunky soles, sits on your bed and plays games with you. He eats all your snacks and he puts his hands up under your shirt, but just to trace his fingers over your skin in patterns to feel your stomach flip. He calls you a masochist but he never does anything about it.

“But you told ‘Samu I was your girlfriend,” you say, a whine that’s really a needle, sliding into his pressure points.

He throws the car into reverse and you cling to his hand, startled. Suna parallel parks in one try, showboating bastard, and gets out of the car and opens your door before you’re finished putting everything that spilled out of your purse on his floorboard back into it. You get out and he finds your hand again, but changes his mind and exchanges it to flatten his palm against the small of your back, burning a hole through your thin t-shirt.

You cross your arms and let him guide you into the building. His doorman is a blinking red button on a keypad that needs, counterintuitively, to be pressed if you want it to open. You poke his side, but he’s too well-trained by your boss and his twin brother, too hard to provoke. You don’t try very hard; you don’t like bothering Suna, you just want him to get tired of not telling you his secrets.

Suna’s apartment is enclosed behind a grey door marked 221. There’s no welcome mat, and inside isn’t welcoming either. He has nondescript dark grey furniture facing a big TV you can see your reflection in, sucking in your cheeks and pursing your lips. Behind you, he’s miming clawed hands and a snarling bite into your neck. When you turn to him, he’s very busy adjusting the way his keys hang on their hook.

“I didn’t say that,” Suna says, leading you to the kitchen, which has a butcher block island you’d like to kill him for. He opens his fridge and hands you a chilled bottle of water, a bar of dark chocolate with a bite taken out of it. You don’t like the texture but you take it to be polite. “I told ‘Samu you were my soulmate.”

“I just don’t feel like those two things are distinct,” you say. “I also really like being made aware of it when I’m in a relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship,” he says, putting his hands on your hips and hoisting you up onto the counter, you bending your knees and pushing to help him out a little. “I’m still working on that.”

“When’re you gonna be done?”

He puts his face in your chest, cheek against your heartbeat. You flush, lean your head on top of his, slide a hand into the gap between the collar of his shirt and his neck, your cold fingers raising goosebumps but garnering no other reaction. Annoying, annoying, annoying.

“When you’re not having a bad night,” his voice is muffled by your shirt. “But soon. Just be patient with me.”

“I’m not having a bad night anymore,” your face, twisting into a scowl, says otherwise. “And I’ve waited a bunch of lifetimes. How soon is soon?”

“When I’ve cleaned my bedroom,” he says. You can see into the room if you look left, a sliver of spare, clean space just like the rest of the apartment. “And when I stop being scared that I’m gonna screw it up.”

“I see,” you say thoughtfully, tapping your fingers against his neck in a staccato beat. “The relationship or the asking?”

“Asking,” he says, and then, very quiet, “you make me nervous.”

“That’s silly,” you laugh, “I’m half as scary as you are. You’re like a black hole. I’m just, like, a rock or something that got pulled in.”

When he pulls back to look at you, Suna’s eyes are haloed with a bright ring of yellow-grey lustre, a pinprick of pupil expanding to swallow the universe. There’s something crackling all around you, the buzz of atoms getting closer to combustion. He’s not actually touching you, but you can still feel it.

“Nah,” he says. “If you were anything, you’d be stars.”

[charminglyantiquated]

9/25 update on the Nautilus, for anyone curious. Details below (long), but in summary: the damage is more expensive than we'd hoped. We will have to buy Nautilus back as salvage and repair her mostly out of pocket. We still do intend to repair her, but it seems now it will be over a timeline of several years. The fundraiser for her repairs has been raised to reflect the new estimate, and will remain up as long as we're working on her, for anyone who wishes to contribute. I'm so unbelievably, profoundly grateful to all of you who have helped us so far. Thank you so, so much.

Damage: a joint survey was conducted Tuesday between surveyors from our insurance and that of the other vessel. It will be another 3-4 weeks before we have the official paperwork, but the consensus was that the damage approaches twice Nautilus' value. In addition to the mast and all the attached rigging, sails, hardware, etc., the teak deck would have to come up in order to address the damage to the deck and hull. This means that rather than pay for repairs, our insurance company is almost certainly going to write her off as a total loss.

I am waiting for formal documentation before sharing any exact numbers. Once we have them I will be more precise. But the general process as I understand it right now is below, for anyone curious about how everything shakes out.

What a loss means with insurance: my understanding is that repair damages are only covered by insurance up to the point a vessel is totaled. Since the damages almost certainly surpass her value then she would be totaled instead. In this scenario, our insurance would give us the value the Nautilus was insured for, and then pursue the other vessel's insurance for their own reimbursement. Additionally the other insurance might give us the income we lost over the remainder of the season, but whether that will happen and what amount that would be is up in the air, with the three different attorneys we consulted agreeing that we'd be fortunate to get any amount. Anything beyond that is apparently unlikely, any other legal pursuit would possibly lose us more money that we might hope to gain.

On our end: we took out a loan to buy Nautilus in April, and still owe the majority of it. By the terms of the loan, with a total loss we would have to pay back the full loan immediately. Then, because this is essentially our insurance 'buying' Nautilus from us, we would have to buy her back as salvage. The salvage price would be determined by the salvageable parts of her, and the surveyor. Hopefully it would be less than five figures, but it depends heavily on which insurance company actually ends up with her, and how exhaustively they tally up the pieces of her that they could sell. The surveyors could not tell us at the time of the survey who would end up with her or what they would charge. For the next month or two Nautilus is in a kind of purgatory where we do still technically own her, but only until insurance gets through the paperwork, which makes it difficult to begin any work right now.

Financially: when the dust settles, once the loan is paid and we own Nautilus once more as salvage, I think that based on the current estimates we may have some funds remaining. But even in the best case scenario - low salvage price, and we do receive lost income - it wouldn't be enough to finance all the needed repairs. My partner and I will be keeping the fundraiser up for as long as we are working on her, for anyone who wishes to contribute to her repair fund. Any help from anyone who would like to see her sailing again will always be deeply appreciated, but we're both aware it's an absurd number. If we fail to meet it, we're both keenly aware it's not through any lack of generosity - I cannot possibly express how grateful we are for the help we have received already, and what a massive difference it has made over the last month as we deal with the immediate and long-term fallout, covering her haul-out and towing and bills over the months it will likely take to resolve all this.

Fixing Nautilus: my partner and I are still committed to repairing her, despite the cost and the time involved. The thought of letting her be cut up for salvage is too heartbreaking to bear. But at the pace things are progressing and with the resources we have, it's obvious now that it's not feasible to fix her fully over the winter; it will instead be over the course of several years. However, my partner and I hope that by doing as much of the work ourselves as we are qualified for, we can bring down the overall cost of repairs by a fair amount. Additionally, the broken mast was built only a few years ago by a gentleman who still has the plans for it and is willing to guide us through the process of building a replacement. There is a possibility we can connect with a local boat building school's fledgling restoration program. And a great many people have offered their time, advice, expertise, and contacts. The timeline has changed, but we are not giving up on her.

In the meantime: with the survey done, we now have at least a general idea of what the future will look like. Since working nonstop to get Nautilus sailing again by June is not on the table any longer, my partner and I are currently figuring out a long-term plan for ourselves, our little company, and the Nautilus herself. We have discussed a few ideas, which I'll share more about once we settle on anything concrete. Nautilus herself is finally clear of wreckage, with the pieces of her mast on sawhorses beside her, her deck swept clean, solar panel plugged in, and a tarp over the worst of the damage. She's as safe as we can make her for now; there's nothing else we can do except wait for the wheels to turn.

Lastly: thank you all, more than I can say. I have been trying not to miserypost, but I have been having a very hard time dealing with this, as has my partner. It took us ten years to save the money we put into Nautilus, and the few months we were able to spend sailing her together were the happiest and proudest I have been in my life. We have lost the future we'd imagined, and regardless of how this resolves, we are never getting that time back. We are determined not to lose the Nautilus as well, but it has honestly been difficult some days to push through the grief. The one consistent silver lining has been the kindness and sympathy and outrage from everyone who has taken the time to reach out to us. I have been floored, over and over, by how many people we have rooting for us. I am never, ever going to be able to express my full gratitude to all of you. Without exaggeration, you have kept me going.

I will share more once we know more - exact numbers, exact damage, exact plans for repairs and the next steps. Until then, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

[cognitivejustice]

When we think of sustainable materials, bamboo, cork, recycled stone and reclaimed teak often come to mind. These building and surface materials are used extensively in both residential and commercial projects, enough to solidify them as the eco-friendly future of established architectural practices.

But what if we went even further? Creative and experimental designers worldwide are embracing much more unusual sustainable materials in a wide range of projects, be these sturdy floorboards and insulating panels, or small-scale decorative elements such as lamps, trays, vases and other furnishings. With designs hailing from Singapore and Indonesia, as well as distant studios in Italy and Palestine, here are the materials of tomorrow.

Mogu’s mycelium floor tiles

Mushroom filaments may not seem like the sturdiest base for hardwearing floors, but the Italian designers behind Mogu would argue otherwise. Transformed into resilient tiles appropriate for luxury residences and even commercial spaces, the mycelium structure is topped with a layer of bio-based resin, granting it resistance to scratches and abrasions rivalling traditional flooring materials.

Orange peel and pine needles make up the sustainable lampshades by Caracara Collective

Turning orange peel into useable furnishings and décor pieces is no small feat, yet the people behind the circularity-focused Caracara Collective in Finland have mastered this singular art. Inspired by the abundance of the natural, inherently sustainable materials around them, the designers created a series of lampshades made of orange peel, as well as pine needles from discarded Christmas trees.

As the collective puts it: “It takes around 20 squeezed oranges to create one lampshade. In other words, each lampshade is the by-product of someone drinking two litres of orange juice.”

Markos Design’s Ostra lamp, made of discarded oyster shells

Discarded oyster shells are similarly repurposed on the island of Cyprus, transformed by Markos Design into Ostra, a ceramic-like biomaterial. Ostra is worked into statement lamp designs, naturally hardwearing thanks to the oysters’ high concentration of calcium carbonate, which also lends cement and concrete considerable strength.

[scintillyyy]

does the gotham city baseball park have an official name?

well, whatever i'm sure it changed after NML anyways so let's brainstorm what the park's name *should* be.

wayne field/wayne stadium is the boring but most likely answer given that bruce probably picked up a controlling interesting in the teak after NML if he didn't already have it before. but in the interest of not making gotham more of a wayne entereprises monopoly than it already is-

luthor field is also boring to me but plausible for at least a little bit between the NML period when he bought up a bunch of gotham and lex luthor faking his death after becoming president. also i assume bruce wouldn't let him keep the controlling interest for long. but maybe they had this name for a season.

o'shaughnnessy's stadium (or, sigh, batburger stadium is current continuity) makes sense given it's a local business but also a franchise (who like to own things). i like this one personally. even if they don't get it, an o'shaughnessy's should be present on every level of the stadium imo. on that note. sundollar stadium would probably also work.

cobblepot stadium. hey, if he can own the iceberg loungue he can own the baseball stadium.

kane park/kane stadium. makes sense for the same reason wayne stadium does. and is slightly better imo.

davenport park. local real estate mogul should get to own the stadium for a season. he deserves a sports investment that probably fails on him.

ace chemical processing park--it's a historic business okay

"whatever the man bank in gotham is called" stadium. banks like to own baseball parks too okay.

zestico, inc park. no notes, this one wins.

[selarina]

Bleeding Heart Dove

-> Nanami Kento x Reader

Summary: In the quiet routine of a strained marriage, a simple proposal for a trip offers a glimpse of hope.

Tags: angst, slow burn, marriage au, marital strain, emotional hurt/comfort, implied emotional neglect, second chance au, rainy day, fluff, suggestive, mention of reader having boobs, unresolved tension (they need to fuck nasty), unedited

Word Count: 970 words

Author's Note: it's raining and I finally got a surge to write something <3 anyway, bleeding heart dovessssssss have my heart

Read on AO3 | Part 2

Today had been sad and gloomy, the rain pouring relentlessly as the clouds had been crying since noon.

He tried to make his entrance small, creeping in like a nimble thief in the night. Slowly, he removed his sodden shoes and coat, hanging them up to dry. His umbrella he placed on the ground, even more slowly. See, it was an old one, and tended to spring up and about with sudden movement.

He stepped inside the kitchen now. There was food on the table, just as always. He uncovered the plastic wrapping and placed it in the oven, not even bothering to check what was for dinner. Hunger was gnawing at him and he would eat a human hand if you let him.

"Hello," a voice cut through.

"Oh," he turned, startled. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"I was up anyway," you replied. Your business clothes clung to you like the remnants of a very weary day. You must have returned late as well. "Let me help, Nanami."

He didn't say anything, simply stepping aside to let you tend to his plate and yours. He had assumed he'd have the whole meal for himself, a strange notion given the portion size. But given that he hadn't eaten all day, he didn't question the rationality at first. Now, it made sense — you hadn't eaten either.

He started setting up the glasses, placing two for wine and two for water, movements mechanical and jittery.

"Here," you said, appearing before him with a corkscrew in hand, as if conjured by some quiet magic.

Your hands looked tired. Lagging. Your eyes bleary. An impulse stirred within him, as though a needle had pricked at his heart, he felt the urge to swipe his hands over your eyes, to wipe away the weariness. But he withheld.

"Thank you," he murmured, taking the corkscrew and setting to work on the bottle.

Your gaze lingered for a mere second on his hands, watching the way they flexed with the way he handled the bottle. Precise. Gentle.

"How was work?" you asked, turning to the oven.

He wonders if you actually cared about what he said. “Horrible,” he answered.

"Oh," you replied. Neutral. "Okay." Neutral again. It drove him a bit insane every time. But he was a calm man.

"And your work?" he asked.

"Oh, quite lovely," you replied, a soft, dove-like smile gracing your lips. It was a smile that brought a sting of sadness to his heart, for he knew you would not elaborate. Not for him.

"That's nice," he said, his voice hollow. He poured the wine into the glasses, filling yours to three-quarters and his to a scant half.

And then the two of you sat, on opposite ends of your teak dinner table. Eating and swallowing in silence. The clanking of the forks being the only music that filled the room. He thought about getting up to play set the record, playing some of those old jazz tunes you were quite fond of. But the record was likely dusty. It was much too much work.

So he remained seated, the silence between you so vast and impenetrable, it made you conscious about how loud you were chewing your food.

—

"Well," you returned from the bathroom. now clad in delicate sleep shorts and a camisole, applying your usual moisturizer to your elbows. "The water's cold," you commented.

"Yeah," he responded, glancing up from his spot on the bed. "Sorry, I prefer it cold so I didn't notice. I think it's the rain."

You chuckled, a sound that seemed almost out of place. "I know you prefer it cold, Nanami. We've been married for practically a millennium, for God's sake."

An exaggeration, of course. It had been six years. You did this a lot.

He offered a faint smile in response, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. "Right," he said.

He felt the bed dip slightly under your weight as you sat. "Will you get my back?" You asked, holding out the moisturiser as you turned to present your back.

He took it, as his hands lifted your camisole, all the way up. He poured some of the white lotion onto his hand as his eyes flickered up, only momentarily, to see your reflection in the mirror. The front half of your top had risen as well, cinching up your breasts.

His eyes trained back to your back, and he began to rub the cream in. Up and down. And up and down. And up and down. When he was finished, he smoothed down your top. He rubbed his hands over your shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze to let you know he was finished.

And then the two of you slept, side by side, waiting for sleep to come find you in the dark. And just then, he doesn't know how or why this happened so don't ask him. All he knew was that somewhere in those first twenty minutes, he had gotten up, his hands reaching for the night lamp to turn it on, leaving you sat up, surprised.

"What is it?" You had asked.

"We should go on a trip," he proposed, calmly.

"A trip," you squinted, your eyes adjusting to the sudden assault of light.

"Yes, we could go to Okinawa," he suggested.

You paused for a moment. "It's storming these days. The weather will be horrible."

"You pick," he said. "Wherever you want to go. We can go."

And then, you thought about it. For a few seconds, he was almost afraid you'd call him a foolish old man and fall back onto your pillow. But instead, you smiled—an earnest smile, outside of your usual politeness. And he felt his heart beating fresh blood.

"Okay, old man," you said. "I'll think of a place."

He smiled.

[loafysainz]

Animals chap 3 | LN 4

cast: lando norris x minji nj

warn: PLS DONT READ IF U NOT INTO DARK FIC! SMUT 18+, NSFW, MDNI, toxic relationship, manipulation, obsession, controlling behaviours, mention of rape, suicide, and sa, rough sex, no-consent, kidnapping, full of madness, step-brother lando!, step-sister minji!

song rec: animals - maroon 5

chap 3/8

PLS DONT READ IF U NOT INTO DARK FIC!

Bianca returned her gaze to the city skyline outside the window. The cotton-like clouds had begun to scatter, revealing a clear sky—a perfect morning for their business trip to Thailand. She would be flying with a group of executives and, of course, Lando, who was leading the project.

Their company, Norris Automotive, was in the process of collaborating with Sainz Company, a luxury car manufacturer, to open a state-of-the-art factory in Thailand. This joint venture aimed to expand their market in Southeast Asia and establish a stronghold in the region’s automotive industry. Bianca knew this was a massive project, one that could shape her future.

"Wake me up when we landed, okay?" she said to her seatmate, a young production manager named Olivia, as she settled into her business class seat. Olivia smiled warmly. "Yes Bi. You look like you haven't slept all night. Rest up."

Bianca chuckled lightly. She hadn't had a proper night's sleep in days. The 11-hour flight to Bangkok seemed too far and long, and she barely had enough time to catch up on rest before the plane landed.

Upon arrival, they were whisked away by luxury cars arranged by the local team. The hotel Bianca had carefully selected was both beautiful and strategically located near the planned factory site. She had ensured every detail of their accommodations met the team’s needs, but Lando's unreadable expression left her wondering if her efforts were satisfactory.

“Here’s your room key, Sir,” she said nervously as she approached him.

Lando just taking the key without making eye contact before walking away.

Bianca sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Did I mess up again?" she muttered under her breath.

“Let’s get to our room,” Olivia said cheerfully, looping her arm through Bianca’s and snapping her out of her daze. They had agreed to share a room to make coordination easier.

****

As the hours passed, Bianca worked diligently to prepare for the afternoon meeting. The team gathered in a sleek, modern conference room in central Bangkok, where Lando presented a compelling proposal to Sainz’s stakeholders. His commanding presence and strategic insights impressed everyone in the room.

The meeting was a success. The company agreed to proceed with the partnership, paving the way for the construction of their new factory in Thailand. The deal promised to bring economic growth to the area and position Norris Automotive as a leader in the luxury car market.

“I need this report ready by tomorrow morning,” Lando said brusquely.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, masking her frustration.

****

After a long meeting the teams have all arrived in a quiet village near Chiang Rai, where they plan to visit the potential site for Norris Automotive's new factory. The company is exploring partnerships in this beautiful location surrounded by lush greenery and fields that seem to stretch on indefinitely.

The main road that runs through the village is impeccably maintained, their tour guide, Mr. Somchai, leads them to a resort-style facility built in harmony with its natural surroundings. The architecture reflects a traditional, Thai elements, with wide glass windows and teak wood accents. The air carries the scent of lemongrass and jasmine in bloom as Bianca and other teams explore the facility.

"Good afternoon," greeted a woman dressed in traditional Thai attire. Bianca and her colleague smiled politely in return. "We’ve arranged a complimentary spa for all the company staff,"

"This is amazing," Olivia whispered, nudging Bianca as they entered the spa’s reception area. "A fully paid spa session? I feel so lucky to be here!" Bianca chuckled, following one of the Thai attendants toward the massage rooms.

"This way, ma’am," the attendant said, guiding Bianca into a serene room filled with calming music and the faint aroma of essential oils. Bianca chose a traditional herbal compress massage, eager to experience the famed Thai therapy.

Half an hour later, Bianca decided to take a dip in the natural stone pool located in a secluded corner of the spa. She draped a soft cotton wrap over herself and stepped into the warm sun. But just as she was about to descend the stone steps leading to the pool, her foot is too slippery because of the spa oil.

But a pair of arms that suddenly wrapped around her waist made her body freeze.

"Sssh!" Lando! Bianca's heart fell to the bottom of her stomach. The danger alarm, set up on hear head. Because she is totally naked. Without a single fabric wrapped around her body. Bianca should have been able to escape as quickly as possible, but her reflexes suddenly dead. She could feel Lando's arms right under her breasts hugging her tightly,

"Shut up, if you don't want to be ashamed." Lando whispered right next to Bianca ear. What did that mean? Wasn't it Lando who was now make a shame on her?

"Well, well, Lando just getting a massage must be with a comfort woman." Max's sudden footsteps and voice alerted Bianca. She panicked and scared, what if he knew that the girl Lando was hugging was her own sister? But Lando's arms tightened around her.

"No matter where you are, there's always a girl who's willing to play with you. Including that woman, who spent the night with you in the hotel room."

Lando chuckled. "Of course. This woman deserves to be enjoyed." And the man's low laughter made Bianca tense up.

"So, can you go Max? My little business with this woman isn't done yet."

"Okay, I'll be waiting in my room." Max chuckled. "Make it easy, man."

Then the sound of his footsteps retreated, allowing Lando's voice to return to Bianca's numb hearing. This is wrong. This shouldn't be happening.

They were in the middle of a mistake.

"I have saved you from embarrassment," the man whispered in a low voice, while

whispered in a low voice, as he spread a strange all over Bianca's body.

"I deserve a thank you right? Lil sister?" Bianca steeled herself. "Let me go, Land-"

The man pulled her, and Bianca was about to say never came out because Lando silenced her lips first. Until the girl's eyelids widened as Lando crushed them passionately. With his rough tongue that insisted on playing around in her mouth. Lando kissed her.

After a few minute Lando came to his senses and broke the deep kiss, their gazes met. Bianca gasped, her tears welling up and her lips swollen.

Lando's breathing was just as bad, uncontrollable. But in those blazing eyes, there was not the slightest hint of regret for making her little sister cry.

Instead of clarifying his actions, Lando picked up the fallen fabric and draped it around Bianca's naked body. And his fingers put the flower that fall from the trees in his girl's ear. Before he left, without leaving a word.

next chap