#prompt: steer

[tallbluelady]

Steer

After giving Urianger a kiss goodnight and watching him teleport back to Mor Dhona, Rowan hesitated at the gate of her newly reclaimed home. Mama was staying the night and there was only one conversation they could possibly have.

"He really is quite handsome, isn't he?" Mama started.

"I tend to think so," Rowan said, gathering dishes and placing them in the sink.

"And his voice! Thank you for steering the conversation back from the realm of aetherial but I almost wouldn't have minded just listening to him ramble!"

"Urianger's fairly coherent if you pay attention. He enjoyed teaching Ryne during his time on the First." 

"Who?" Mama tilted her head as she came to the sink to help clean up.

"A young woman, about the Leveilleur twins' age." Has she met Alphinaud and Alisaie? "They're all, uh, sixteen or seventeen summers, I believe."

Mama nodded and handed Rowan a tea cup to dry off. They had cleaned their cups from their tea before she asked, "Does he treat you well?"

"Aye." There was more to that question but Rowan wasn't going to reveal anything without further prompting.

"Urianger seems so tender with you. He seems more timid than when I met him to go to Rhalgr's Reach. He wasn't very outgoing then but it's like he... hurt you in some way and is trying to make up for it."

"It was for a good - he doesn't - he doesn't want to hurt me anymore." Rowan grimaced. That was not the right thing to say.

"What did he do to you, darling?" Mama's voice got icy. "I'll either have it from you or rend it from him."

Rowan sighed and pulled her mother towards the couch. "Urianger has it in his head that he has to do things alone. Instead of asking for help or... criticism on his plans he hides them. It would have been fine if he told me what would have happened. I would have agreed with the actions, but he kept the details from me to - to shield me of all things."

"He kept secrets to keep you safe? Did it even work?"

She shook her head. "Nay. Not in the end. We all made it out alive but even if he was forthright with only Y'shtola it may have been better. But the Exarch asked Urianger to keep it all a secret from us so... he did."

"If he was asked to keep that secret, then Urianger was only the accomplice. Which does not absolve him of the guilt he should feel for hurting you."

"I daresay it may haunt him to the grave. But despite all that, I want to be with him. I've never felt more safe than when I'm in his arms, or actually understood for once."

"I only fear that he'll lie to you again, darling."

"Everyone lies, Mama. And everyone has expectations that I save them. Urianger has at least declared that he regrets doing so, and that he wants to change. He always sought to help me with my burdens. He knows he can't take them from me. But he tries his damndest to make sure I get through the trials I have before me."

Mama's face softened and she sighed. "I suspect that no man would ever be worthy of you, my darling. But a man who strives to be worthy is close."

[kailani-ffxiv]

Prompt #1: A step forward

Clear waves sloshed against the wooden hull. A cool breeze swirl in raven hair twisting up to into the canvas. Feet dangled in the open air rotating with the movement of the sea.

Fresh start. At least a new beginning, a direction. She had been lost in thought and indecision for many moons she wondered if she'd ever find a way out. Perhaps cautiously optimistic that she wouldn't need to watch her back as closely... He had her back, even if she hadn't asked she knew he would know if anything changed.

New contract, new face, new trust... regardless of where this led her it was rolling her forward. Back where she felt at peace, doing what she was good at. It's exactly where she was suppose to be, except... No it was good but... it's the present not forever. Ride the surf until she's called to the shore once more.

[starrysnowdrop]

FFXIVWrite 2024 #1: Steer

Idiom: steer clear of; to stay away from purposely; avoid.

During the events of patch 4.3, quest “Under the Moonlight”; Hali tries to convince Yume to take a step back from participating in the investigation of Zenos’ death and potential resurrection.

“Yume, can I talk to you about something?”

The auri samurai glanced down at her pink-haired lalafellin companion and nodded. “Alright, what’s the matter?”

“Well, you see…” Hali scrunched up her face, trying to figure out how to say what she wanted to say. She folded her arms and continued.

“Look, Alisaie and I, well we are worried about you, and we thought that perhaps you might need to take a step back and let us deal with the… umm… problem at hand.”

Yume shrugged her shoulders, not following Hali’s train of thought. “What? Why would I need a break? I’m fine.”

“Yume… you have had to deal with a lot lately—”

“So have we all! Honestly I was thinking that Alisaie might need to take some time for herself with Alphinaud embarking on a diplomatic mission to Garlemald and all. She is the one that needs to relax for a while. But I’m alright.”

The lalafellin astrologian shook her head and looked up at Yume with a concerned expression. “While I agree about Alisaie, I still think you need to rest too, you know?”

Yume was growing tired of Hali dancing around the issue, or was it the person in question. She raised her voice as she replied, “Just say it already! It’s because of Zenos, isn’t it?” She sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “You don’t understand. He is alive, and I need to know if it’s really him, or if an ascian has claimed his body!”

“Yume, listen to me! I think you need to steer clear of all this right now, especially when we tell Lyse the truth. She’s not going to be happy with hearing that Zenos lives, in any capacity whatsoever. Do you really want to be there to witness her reaction?”

Hali briefly closed her eyes as she began to recall the events of the past few days spent in Doma.

“You just had to deal with Asahi threatening you over his obsession with Zenos, and you are still clearly shaken up by the echo vision we saw earlier, so perhaps you should go back to the Rising Stones to relax, meditate, and clear your head. I will keep you updated on everything, I promise.”

Yume shook her head, with slight irritation in her voice as she wanted to put this whole needless conversation to rest. “…No, Hali. I need to see this through for myself, and that’s final. Lyse will just have to be a good little leader and learn how to tolerate me being in her presence.”

This time it was Hali’s turn to sigh. Yume and Lyse were not on good terms with each other anymore, not after they have had several fights over Yume’s fixation on Garlemald’s crown prince. Though Yume never wavered in her duty and fought Zenos alongside her and their friends, Lyse couldn’t stand how much Yume seemed to talk about Zenos, and how the samurai picked up and read every tome she could that held information on him. To not only Lyse’s eyes, but everyone else’s, Yume seemed to be growing obsessed with him, and she always seems to talk about him as if he were a long-lost lover…

Hali wondered for a moment if that was how she looked like when she recalled her days in Ishgard with Aymeric, but she quickly pushed those thoughts from her mind and shrugged. There might be another dramatic argument in the near future between Yume and Lyse, but it couldn’t be avoided if Yume insists on going to Rhalgr’s Reach with her.

“Alrighty, suit yourself.”

Yume’s Blog: @firelightmuse

[ebitenpura]

it's a shame that swtor doesn't have flying mounts because the agent deserves to ride a stolen thranta. as a treat.

[avampyone]

Prompt #1: A New Path

Characters: Seraphine Desmarais (Hemlocke), Seiro Malkavi

Synopsis: While recovering from hemlock poisoning under the care of the Vath, Seraphine meets a new companion that presents him with a life changing opportunity.

Setting: Dravanian Forelands near Loth ast Vath.

Warning to mentions of death and domestic violence.

-----------------------

The night reined on with not a cloud in the sky that gave away to a clear view to the moon and stars on high, emitting down a dim soothing light in the clearing of the Dravanian Forelands. A river cut right through the smoldering wastes, offering a gentle hum from the safe spot they settled in nearby. Although greenery was sparse in this part of the land, it had taken no time at all to gather fallen branches amidst the remains of ruins nearby to build up a fire. 

Seraphine had been in awe at the ease of which his companion had set fire to such. Now, he sat rapt upon every word with his legs folded under him. There was a plain gray woolen blanket tucked comfortably around him, his features reflecting an unhealthy paleness and dark shadows under his dull red eyes.

The cool wind lightly ruffled his short black hair with a tired but appreciative smile lining his full lips, “...The Azim Steppe sounds most beautiful to behold. Describing it the way you do, I feel as though I have had the pleasure of traveling there myself.” He paused, taking a fresh steady breathe inward as if all the fresh information took him far away from his present troubles, “The thought of seeing the rising sun there on a foggy morning...I wonder if I might have the chance to see it myself one day.” His regal tone lowered in uncertainty. His slender fingers covered in ash remained tightly gripped around an ornate silver dagger in this lap.

The man in question named Seiro, a Dotharl hunter, sat perched atop a long since abandoned wooden log, watching the skewered trout cooking atop of with a few helpful pointers from Seraphine who had witnessed his earlier struggle. His roughened hand covered in a layer of black bandages reached out to turn the skewer to the other side of the roasting fish with a proud grin set to his features, “Yes, beautiful as you say and worth the journey there. And you? You do not seem keen to speak of yourself.” Seiro’s peculiar gaze with one dark violet eye and the other outlined in a limbal ring of bright red lay unwaveringly as if searching.

Tearing his gaze away so suddenly, Seraphine fidgeted uncomfortably under the blanket like something agitated him far worse than the affliction he was still recovering from, “I must be honest and say that it would all be quite unpleasant to hear. Even now, I... I still cannot believe it. All this time...He had killed her...I forgot...How much did I forget?” His words turned into a soft babble mixed in with anxious breathing.

With a soft worried chuff, Seiro shifted upward on high alert to watch the smaller man to come to his aid if needed. His brows knitted together and a gleam of understanding in his depths tinged with an unspoken sorrow, “Life unravels differently for all. A weaving of sorrows and joys – It makes us all who we are at our core. You need not trouble yourself.” There was a natural deep rumbling to his voice that sought to calm his new companion.

Seraphine’s form had grown tense under the heavy blanket, the fingers of his free hand shaky when they went to grip one of the ruffled sleeves of his linen shirt appearing burnt along the edges. His bloody depths lowered with shame like something in him crumbled in the light of Seiro who peered without judgment, “Well...there is nothing to return to. Tis simple as that. I-I killed him...the man who I thought was my father. And something strange happened. It hurt too much, and I became angry; something came out of me...and I burned it all down. Everything. The whole manor is gone...” It all came out in a quick breath of rushed words and lowered voice like he was at confession, still unable to lift his eyes away from the bonfire between them.

“It might be true. I received a missive on my eighteenth Namesday about my true father that I ignored until now, you know...A monster or a devil. I may be like him.”

With a long steady gaze over Seraphine who spoke this in a pained whisper, Seiro took another leisurely swig from the bottle of ale he had dangling in one hand with the label far since faded from a constant barrage of different elements encountered during travel. He hummed thoughtfully, his curved shiny black horns gleaming with the gold of the trinkets that bedazzled them, “Say this is true? I argue the origins of birth do not deserve death. With those bruises, you only sought to survive, no? I would do no less in your place.” His low tone chimed out without hesitation, gesturing his hands out like he knew not what else he could have done.

The dark haired Ishgardian came up to absentmindedly touch at the pale length of his neck that bore outline of black and blue hand imprint with brows furrowed in confusion, “Do you really think so...? All this time, I wondered if something may be wrong with me. But I have spent so long trying to be someone else...to become a perfect partner in marriage. I cannot even be sure of who I really am. But all I know is that I never wish to return home.” The hand at his neck gestured out uselessly, uncertain where he was going with this.

Finally, he managed to lift his gaze back towards the general direction of the Loth ast Vath with a softness that hadn’t been there before, “The Vath were exceedingly kind to care for me in my time of need. I find comfort in hearing stories of their lives and culture. But I still fear I could prove a danger to those around me. Something awakened in me then... I cannot ignore it either.”

A warm grin spread across Seiro’s features when leaning forward that he came to grip his shoulder in a manner that was surprisingly gentle for one of his apparent strengths. Such was one that Seraphine didn’t attempt to flinch away from the brief touch before Seiro settled himself back with his long shining black tail swaying gently behind him, “Think of it this way – You are free to steer your life as you desire now. You do not have to remain as you are. You can become who you wish to be, mm? To journey where you please. There are none that you owe that now apart from yourself.” He reached to take ahold of the skewer now, offering a bite to Seraphine that he declined before he began to blow lightly to help cool the still steaming fish.

“I travel to the lands of Thanalan for a place called Ul’dah for my own purposes. You can come with me if you like. I have heard there is a guild known for their unusual techniques with funerary rites. The many tomes they hold there could help you find answers. This could give you time to think about what you really seek and forge a new path for yourself.” Seiro added in a deep lull of an ever-carefree tone, finally taking a bite into the piece of plain fish with a delighted hum of satisfaction while he chewed.

“Become who I wish…” All these words skillfully shocked Seraphine to the point of silence until then, his soot covered hand finally easing off the hilt of the dagger ever so to relax in his lap in front of him with slender fingers clasping together in thought. There was a long reluctance in him when he peered downward, “I suppose all I really want is to be...important to someone. And not as a possession to have. Not for a title, riches or looks.”

A soft sheepish laugh escapes him, finally looking up to the hunter with a sense of his strong composure coming back to him, “But, I have digressed long enough. Please accept my apologies for conveying all this to you so freely...It felt...troubling to hold back all this time. You have certainly given me much to think about. I shall give you an answer soon I assure you.”

[ryssbelle]

Day 12 of inktober and linktober spicy and princess

she wanted to try some of the spicy curry lol

Like what I do? Consider supporting me on Kofi! Or Consider getting a commission!

[chocoblep]

#1: Molding an Opinion

Prompt: Steer

It would have been easier to just tell the Duskwight no, to deny him the loan he was asking for simply due to the fact that he would likely be entering a hostile market were he to sell in any of the three main city-states. He didn't say no, though–not yet, anyway. He wanted to see if the man had come up with this conclusion on his own. As he eyed the admittedly pristine earthenware specimens that the man had set on his desk, he made a deal with himself: He would say yes if the potter could find the best marketing opportunity with just a couple pointed questions from Rath. If he couldn't, then he would not be able to save himself when prejudice or oversaturation hurt his business.

“Tell me, Master Sauveterre,” he began, folding his hands on the desk’s light oak surface and tapping his foot a couple times against the Green Room’s moss-like carpet. “How is it that you intend upon marketing yourself? Who is your target consumer?”

“Ah, an excellent question,” the man began, lifting a hand to stroke at his dark beard. He turned his single fuchsia eye to meet Rath's own particolored pair as he spoke confidently. “My target consumer is anyone who needs tableware or any other earthenware goods that could feasibly be made by my hand. While I would prefer to sell to more upscale clientele, given my specialties and proclivity for more unique artistic pieces, I am also not averse to providing for the basic needs of families, individuals, and establishments alike. As for marketing myself…” He paused there, furrowing his brow. “I am well aware of the prejudice toward my kind that is rampant in the Shroud. I imagine Thanalan has its fair share of potters, given the materials readily available to its denizens. La Noscea has the drawback of dealing with more imported goods than the other nations, which might make it difficult for me to stand out. Therefore, I want to target Ishgard. Noble houses are always looking for a new thing to showcase their wealth, and my art could be just that. With the ongoing restoration project there, the need for basic items is currently at a high, and there are not so many in my line of work that I have seen there.”

Interesting. Rath had not expected the insightfulness that had been presented here. He had guiding questions ready for any other answer, but it seemed the man had already gotten himself where Rath would have suggested he go. He made a show of picking up and examining one of the pieces–an earthenware vase carved with climbing ivy, each cutout displaying different layers, all of differing shades of green. It was both sturdy and elegant.

“They drink quite a lot of tea, and I would assume they prefer much more delicate items than these,” he commented., sweeping his hand out in a gesture toward a trio of mugs on the desk.

“Which is why I am here,” the man replied, an earnest smile on his face. “I need a better kiln and a more suitable workspace to break into porcelains… ah, no pun intended.”

“I see. And if I grant you this loan, it would be for securing your new workspace and equipment?”

“Ah, yes… and also relocation costs. I have a bit saved up for that, but moving my current equipment that far is expensive.”

M’rath unfolded his hands and reached to the side to grab a blank piece of parchment and begin drafting a contract. “I will take a chance on you, Raoul, but before we discuss the exact terms of the agreement, tell me how much you would charge for this vase. It belongs in this room.”

He glanced to the Duskwight, lips twitching as he caught the surface thoughts dancing around in the man's head. Now it was time to see if he was properly valuing his work.

[winddragonart]

FFXIV Write 2024 #1: Steer

Mother Crystal dimmed Fate of the Star in our hands Let's do right by her

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

Pit orphanes kaimaki's kid (kind of)

Hina: I had an AU where Kaito got really sick and knew he was gonna die so he recorded all these videos for his daughter before he passed and instructed Saiou to give them to her at different points of her life It was based on the elephant from inside out dying lmao He plans videos for moments that might not even happen He has several shovel talk videos And they differ based on his kids sexuality He made all these coming out videos of him being supportive

Beez: help the way i was about to say imagine he has a video prepped for when his daughter gets a bf but she turns out gay [sob emoji]

Sini: He went through his gay acceptance/understanding arc

Hina: Comforting after a breakup. “I know your partner broke your heart, and that sucks. I promise, I’ll haunt them for the rest of eternity, and I’m sure your uncle Kokichi will make their life a living hell.” Okay just Imagine He’s recording all these taps And there’s so many But you can see him slowly getting more run down as he does But he’s still smiling in all of them He wants his daughter to know just how much her dad loved her. He knows that Shuichi and Kokichi will take care of her But

Sini: IT'S NOT THE SAME He wanted to see his daughter grow up

Hina: Exactly That’s all he wanted, more than anything But he won’t be able to I headcanon he gets sick when she’s really young too So he doesn’t even know if she’ll remember him, and that’s another reason he wants to make these

Ves: there's a video of him apologizing in case she inherits his sickness

Hina: I think he has a video just labeled. “Give this to her when she’s ready” and it’s him explaining how he died This is gonna sound really stupid but he leaves his daughter these galaxy crocs and now she wears them all the time They’re a million times too big (Also his daughter having to do a project for school about her hero and she picks him)

Checkers: does he leave her The Jacket

Hina: Absolutely Also I imagine he tells Saiou not to watch the videos before she does. He wants her to be the first to see them And the first time they show her one and she’s just so excited, not really understanding As they realize exactly what they are

Sini: "Dada!" : D She reaches out

Ves: there's simple videos of him singing lullabies, reading stories, etc that she watches over and over as a little kid she knows his voice as well as anyone else's :')

Hina: Also just when she argues with Saiou, screaming about how they’re not her real dad.

Checkers: How old is she when she sees the first video? Hina: Probably 4-6 I don’t have an exact date for when Kaito dies but She’s around those ages

[me? coming in late and changing the flow of the conversation? more likely than you think]

Wh. What happened to her mom?

Hina: Great question. No idea skskskskks

Sini: I assumed Maki was the mom-

Hina: I wasn’t sure if it was Maki who just went MIA or what but Mom isn’t around

Ves: if mom isn't in the picture. wouldn't he have had to give up going to space? for her?

Hina: And he was 1000% ready to do it

Sini: She's his brightest star

Hina: Also when I said it was inspired by the elephant from inside out [sends gif of the elephant saying "Take her to the moon for me. Okay?"] That’s the quote I based this on

I don't want Maki to die in child birth so divorce it is, my default hc for her realizing she's a lesbian only after a longterm relationship with him not working out the way she thought it would Activated

Hina: Does she try to reach out to Maki later

I think Maki would just, loose the rights in court at first bc Kaito is better off and later be unavailable for some reason

She's broke bc the divorce goes thru as her fault and not an agreement so Kaito takes everything and then she moves to another country for work

Clown_Chaoticz: OHHH. If the reason over her leaving is along the lines of her having the realization it isn't the life she wants. It would be so cathartic for them to have a conversation later on that's just Maki explaining why she couldn't be her mom. It's not that she had done anything wrong, some people are just not cut out for that lifestyle. She wasn't. And she won't be. It's not the beginning of a new relationship between them. But its closure. I like that sorta thing

I didn't know how to put it but, yeah, I don't think she fought to get the weekends

Clown_Chaoticz: Does she keep in contact with saiou at least?? How is Maki even feeling at the moment?? Did they separate on civil terms? Did they fight over it? Does she even get to grieve the friendship she lost?? MAN

I think it's really bitter and messy bc the kid is 2 or under and Kaito just refused to do an agreement of any kind because of that

Hina: DAMN KAITO MADE A HOT MESS OF THE DIVORCE?

If she's leaving them, then she's leaving with nothing, if she's breaking apart their family then she doesn't deserve any time with their daughter, should have stayed if she wanted to see her regularly He'd believe in staying together for the kids, it's his traditional upbringing striking again

Clown_Chaoticz: OHHH I didn't even think about the traditional nuclear family dynamic he'd favor Yeah I could see that being a source of conflict Man everyone here is NOT having a good time

Checkers: does Maki even know Kaito’s dead

Clown_Chaoticz: MAN IF SHE AT LEAST HAD THE PIECE OF MIND THAT SHE WAS LEAVING THE KID WITH KAITO NOTHING CAN STOP HIM. SHE DOESN'T HAVE A DOUBT THAT HE'D COMPENSATE FOR HER ABSENCE TEN FOLD ONLY TO REALIZE HES DEAD

Ves: HER DAUGHTER IS BEING RAISED BY KOKICHI!? SHE LEAVES YOU FOOLS FOR TEN MINUTES

Checkers: Is she even allowed to visit her daughter

Hina: I think that Maki doesn’t meet their daughter again till she’s older

Ves: is the daughter angry or just tired

Hina: I think a little bit

Apollo: I think Kokichi would be hesitant to let her visit but after talking to Shuichi, they'll allow it

Sini: It's Maki, and given his possible trauma with being abandoned, probably even by his parents…..Yeah-

Apollo: Kokichi, having his own abandonment issues: I dunno Shuichi: Kaito would want them to at least meet once Kokichi: Ugh you're right…But I'm being in the room to make sure everything goes well. It's awkward but can you blame him? He has his own issues he's still working through plus he's never had the best relationship with Maki

Sini: And then she pulls something like that which makes it sm worse He sees her as hypocritical in a sense, cause an orphan like her should've known better to do that Kaito knowing that his death will inflict the same trauma on his daughter that his own parents' death did on him : D It adds more reason to why he's upset at Maki

Checkers: She really just inherited both her parents’ parental issues

Apollo: Plus she's being raised by two guys with their own issues regarding parents. That poor girl

Sini: I don't think she'd be good in any of the V3 cast's hands. They're all fucked She's inheriting some trauma

Clown_Chaoticz: Okay. Considering part of the reason Maki and Ouma don't get along in the first place is due to ✨️ projection ✨️, "I hate that I look you and see the worst of what I could be/have been" silly guys who both end up throwing the last thing they'd ever want done to them at each other. IMAGINE the bitter feeling that would come from watching someone like Ouma live comfortably in the life that for a while she thought she wanted. Why couldn't she have had the same peace he seems to? Why was she never to fit herself in a place like that? She wanted to be happy about it. Why couldn't she be?

Sini: YEAH! Girl was forced to be a caretaker in the orphanage she lived in. It was something she was expected to do since she was young, it became one of her ultimate talents. It's part of what defined her….How could she not acheive what was expected of her her whole life?

Ves: taking care of children was the only reason she kept living for so many years…why shouldn't it be the core of her life? why can't she make herself keep doing it? she doesn't know how to live for herself. beyond the parentification, who even is she? but…she doesn't HAVE to live like that anymore. no one's got a gun to her head anymore. so… i'd flee the country too honestly maki on her self discovery europe backpacking trip

Hina: Caring for kids and having your own are so different She just Doesn't know how to be a mother in that way To actually be seen as nurturing Also her having to grieve Kaitos passing But not knowing how

Checkers: I assume it’s been a few years between Kaito’s death and Maki finding out It’s been so long, how does she grieve? She doesn’t know, like she doesn’t know how to face her daughter after so many years apart does her daughter even remember her

Hina: Her daughter probably doesn't She was only two Kaito having a video about Maki He has a couple: "For when she asks about her mom" "If her mom comes back" "If she wants to find her mom"

Checkers: I just had an awful thought Is there a video for in case Shuichi/Kokichi dies

Hina: Oh no He probably has one Wait imagine Something happens to either Shuichi or Kokichi And she just becomes terrified

Apollo: NOOOOOO SHE'S LOST HER DAD, SHE'S ONLY JUST SORTA RECONNECTED WITH HER MUM AND NOW ONE OF HER UNCLES IS HURT/DEAD

Hina: Just If something happened to one of them and she was ready to drop everything for them instead of Maki

Apollo: Maki doesn't know how to feel cause on one hand, she deserves it. She hasn't been in her life at all but on the other hand…It's Kokichi because despite how much of a help he's been in replacing her raising her daughter, a part of her still can't get over what he was like when they were younger

Checkers: I think it’d make for an interesting dynamic too if Shuichi was the one hurt, because Maki would see how capable Kokichi is with her daughter even under that much stress

Apollo: Like part of her still thinks Kokichi won't take things seriously but he seriously steps up and she has to admit he's changed from the brat he was Like she forgets that he's a LEADER It drives her nuts but she has to thank him

Hina: Maki has to deal with the fact that her only blood related family, likes her mortal enemy more than her That. Kaito would sooner trust their daughter with Kokichi Ouma than her

Apollo: It just…Hurts in a way she can't describe. She knows she left and all. She's not surprised Kaito trusted Shuichi but Kokichi? Was she really gone for that long that she missed him changing? Or was she too blind to see that he wasn't as horrible as she thought he was?

Sini: Love Maki realizing that she had Kokichi wrong the whole time And Kokichi in turn coming to terms with how complex Maki is

Hina: I'm just thinking about the idea of Saiou showing these videos to their daughter and when she first meets Maki she's just like. "You were absent my whole life, I know my dad more than I know you." And the fact she knows Kaito better when he was gone when she was an infant just

I'll give my idea for what could happen before someone else makes it angstier than it has to be: Shuichi gets shot while working on a case, so they rush to the hospital without knowing any details, but it's just a scare and he's mostly fine, going to have a cool scar, the bullet is already removed by the time they get there, it didn't hit anything vital and he's stable

[milaswriting]

'we never go out of style' with P! 👀💕

Extras from P x MC on their way to the Grand Royalton:

Maybe there's another scientific way to battle stress, one that psychologists don't know about. That's your analysis when you see P dressed in emerald green, the type of green that glistens under twinkling stars and moonlight.

There's ease and comfort all mixed into one despite the chilling wind that threatens to cause goosebumps over your skin, despite the silence between you and P as you both walk down a lengthy path.

It almost stays like that until P's voice hits your ears.

"How are you feeling?" they question.

If there's something you could constantly praise P on it's their considerate nature, whether it's your favourite trait about them would take some more contemplating.

You shrug your shoulders a little as your steps fall in sync with theirs. "I've felt worse." Your gaze glances down at your attire. "I think I've looked worse too."

It's not something you imagine, P's gaze does flit over you. It's in a studious manner, beginning with facial features, before quickly scanning you from head to toe and back.

The same way a picture speaks a thousand words, you think a simple glance could do the same.

But simple glances don't linger. They don't rake over your body with P thinking of unspoken words that you're so desperate to hear.

They avert their gaze for a brief moment before speaking again. "Call me a flatterer, but I wouldn't pair someone like you with the word 'worse'," P says with confidence.

The compliment causes the corners of your mouth to shift upwards — a smile along with good company, a smile along with P as your company.

"Okay," you murmur. "I'll call you a flatterer."

They chuckle, the kind that only widens your smile and makes you want to hear the sweet sound again. "Then you'd be surprised about my compliments for you that haven't been mentioned."

That causes your breath to catch, in the same way when you hear something wildly far from your expectations. P expects to casually flirt in a manner that contains no filter, that tells you what they want without any hidden agenda.

Maybe they're telling you exactly how they feel about you, or they're simply getting used to being your fake date for the night.

The entrance to the Grand Royalton is in sight, and the two of you could step in no problem, or you could stay out here and continue the glances, the flirting, and the dancing around each other until someone makes a certain move.

You clear your throat as you watch other couples filter into the event. "Thoughts on how the night will go?" you ask in a somewhat serious.

P's lips purse together. "In our favour, I'm hoping — whatever that may be."

"And if it doesn't?" you shoot back.

P smiles at you this time, one that's both suave and inviting. "Then I would've spent the night with you, so why would I complain?"

[quirkycoterie]

The Crow's Nest

Aliiza concentrated on the swirls of the mists ahead of the ship. She knew from more experience than most would even guess at how to read each one for hazards in the water, even though the hazards themselves were unseeable in these conditions. The helmsman just had to trust in her calls. Her body registered the swells of the ocean below them as her eyes parsed the other movements. Her hair in a ponytail stayed out of her eyes and was as good an indicator of wind speed and direction as any other tool for her.

The raging winds and mists had come suddenly and she'd climbed up to replace the usual navigator. At regular intervals she'd assure the helmsman they were clear. It was hard for anyone to tell how much progress was actually being made and they were too far out for lighthouses. Finally, she saw the lifts and eddies in the mists she'd been watching for. Her voice sounded out to the helmsman, "We're at the first break! Hard to port by 40 degrees now!" She held the edge of the nest as the helmsman made the correction and the crew worked the sails. Now... she just had to guide them thru 5 more difficult breaks.

[memoriesofgelmorra]

FFXIVWRITE Day 1: Steer

Welp, here's my first entry into #ffxivwrite this year! Spoilers for the Island Sanctuary questlines, so if you haven't gotten to 'An Ideal Marriage', don't read.

Moments in time like these reminded Chantelle why Emmanellain and Sicard got along so well, despite their differences. Bicker like a married couple they did, but they wouldn’t pop up so often together if they didn’t get along in some degree… The Ilsabard Contingent had been good for the privateer and her favourite second son of Ishgard, for all she had wanted to box her beloved ear’s after Emmanellain had proclaimed Artoirel’s wish for his younger brother during the grand introductions. Honestly, you would have thought Artoirel would know the worth of different battlefields when she was fought with her words as often as her bow…

The memory of her reunion after the Final Days (and indeed, the tugging of Artoirel’s ear as she gave him a right talking to) brought a smirk to her face, and it was one Sicard caught in the midst of bickering still with Emm. “Oi, Chantelle, what’s got you grinnin’?”, his gaze was skeptical, but it was said with all the rancor of lazy, younger sibling. So no rancor at all.

“Just reminiscing, dear Sicard!”, as she turned to look at Emmanellain. “I doubt Artoirel told you, but I gave his ear a right boxing for that comment he passed to you on sending you to the Ilsabard Contingent! ‘Making a name for yourself, honestly!’, as if you hadn’t already proved yourself quite the connection-maker in Ishgard and beyond already!”

A flush spread across Emmanellain’s face, as he clearly hadn’t expected the comment. For Sicard, who knew of Chantelle as the Warrior of Light, the context was left unsaid. “Artoirel bein’ his elder brother.”

“Indeed!”, Emmanellain exclaimed. “The Count of House Fortemps since the end of The Dragonsong War!”-

“And my beloved.” She said, cutting off him before his true, but odiously long ramble began. “We’re betrothed in all but name at this point. Luckily both of us are busy with tasked deemed righteous by the highborn of Ishgard, so we have a little leeway. Still, it means I can give him a lecture when he deserves it. And he’ll damn well listen to it, by the Fury.”

Emmanellain took a more pensive look at Chantelle, “I-I hadn’t realized you cared so deeply about that…”

“Artoirel is my beloved, but that makes you my future brother-in-law. So of course, I care, silly Emm.” She heard a snort from Sicard at his side, but only rolled her eyes as a response.

“Besides, you two remind me of myself, when I returned to The Shroud, five seasons after The Calamity. ‘Twas 25 myself then. Barely knowing what path I would take as an adventurer, where it would lead. Nary the faintest clue what my fate had in store, with The Scions. As ‘The Warrior of Light’. And even then it took a good, long time to understand where I wanted to steer my path. The Dragonsong War was the start of said path, but it took Doma and Ala Mhigo to learn what I wanted the Warrior of Light to be for Eorzea. For the star.”

“So, what yer’ sayin’,” Sicard replied, in a contemplated tone. “Is that if the Warrior of Light had to find yer’ own path, then it’s unavoidable for anyone.”

“No matter how uncomfortable it might be at times…”, concurred Emmanellain quietly.

“Indeed. But on the bright side, any advice I can give, I give happily. By the Twelve, at least being the Warrior of Light means I have lots of experiences to take lessons from. I can’t help you learn to breathe underwater though. You need the blessing of the Kojin for that.”

[egpenrose]

Writing one looooooong sentence

I am going through the writing exercises in Steering the Craft by Ursula K. Le Guin. As much as I thought I struggled with writing only short sentences, writing one mammoth sentence was harder. Le Guin suggests a goal of 350 words and after a couple of revisions I got up to 121.

This work, simply titled "Prora Prohesy #13," depicts a man—possibly of Huryian descent—wielding a sword-like weapon with other disjointed elements (most notably a frog, an oil latern, and a dandelion seed) placed over an abstract background, and was painted by Prora Chamberlain, widely considered a prodigy of the divinity arts, in 3092—near the end of Chamberlain's life at age 22—for his patron Mr. Ekleipsis Oberron, a tenured professor of divinity at Lignum Parvum University that Chamberlain once studied under and developed a close personal relationship with despite their age differences, which added credance to the Oberron Interpretation of Prora Prohesy #13 claiming that the main subject is Mr. Oberron himself, as oracles often channel premontions regarding those closest to them.

[scho17]

Danny and Bart playing Never Have I Ever: End of the World Edition

Bart: Never have I ever resorted to cannibalism

Danny, very slowly putting a finger down: ...

Bart:

Danny:

Danny: Does it help if I say that they were destabalized ghost clones made by my arch nemesis who sent them to kill me because he thought the zombies wouldn't be able to.

Bart: NO???

something primal is itching in me and i need to write Danny Fenton escaping the Zombie Apocolypse and CW sending him to DC-verse. I'm gnashing my teeth together like a dog.

Bart and Danny meet when

Danny and Bart comparing apocolypses please please please

Danny: Your world took how long to devolve into all out tretchery? Weak!

[katalinhunter]

Steer

Three lives entwined in a way, each from a different world. At a glance there should be no connection between them but in some way they were all tied together.

Katalin

The highlander had just returned from her enforced honeymoon after a similarly enforced marriage. Normally she would have been ornery about someone demanding that she do a thing but this was one of the few times where she was going to do it anyway and the person making the demands was a… time-split version of herself from just over two Eorzean years back who she had attempted to murder, had sworn revenge in return and held her captive/tortured her for moons, had shared a body for a bit before getting forged into a weapon that Katalin had wielded for nearly a year.

It was a complicated relationship.

She still wasn't sure why Harle (that time-split etc. version) was no longer a blade but that was a situation that was slowly resolving without her input. She hoped. There was a bit of concern that she would have to step in and do things but for now she was keeping her hands away, letting things play out.

Jovana

The Ronso held a short 2-page report from Amh Arang, her old home in Mord Souq actually. it had been tucked into her backpack and forgotten about as she and her husband searched for and actually found a path to the First.

"Wicked white…" Not only had the desolate Empty shown unusual stirrings of aether there were actual claims of greenery returning? There were no first-hand sightings so she was skeptical but supposedly the Warrior of Darkness was working towards the same goal as her team.

She remembered stepping out onto the porch, warm firelight embracing the doorway behind her. Her daughter Coto's small hand was warm in her own as they both stared up to a night sky for the first time. Jovana gave a sudden laugh, overcome by the sight, then looked over to Verboten with a fanged smile as he held to Coto's other hand. Her husband's eyes were equally wide in wonder as he stared up. "They did it!"

Anything was possible.

Tawny

Tawny still wasn't sure exactly how they were here. A few people had stories, ideas, things that sounded plausible, but Tawmy really didn't get it. Not that it stopped them from bullshitting through things.

The last memory was back in Fifth Crown, making a delivery to a friendly group on the outskirts of the city. There had been… a voice? A bright white light that leaked out of a sealed case, a hand closing around the hilt of a blade.

Then nothing, blank, empty memories, not even chaotic dreams or a hangover. Just waking up here in this shithole. Skulking around a house and avoiding the notice of people who lived there. A few of the people looked all too much like the Henshin although they didn't seem to act the part.

It had been nice for a couple of weeks until he accidentally walked in on a few of them by accident. Half-truths were spun, barely understood claims were made, and Tawny had actually got them to accept him as 'steward' of the place. Idiots.

There was no obvious path back home but things were okay. The club scene and night-life here were terrible but there was surely an angle to be played.

[pedroscurls]

let me show you (one-shot)

summary: joel comes home and shows you (and mainly himself) that age is nothing but a number.

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), established relationship, age gap (joel's in his 50s, reader's 30), unprotected p in v (be safe folks!), oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, mating press (i feel like this is joel's go-to), doggystyle, cowgirl, multiple creampies (oops), light manhandling, light marking, no use of y/n. word count: 5.5k a/n: so happy to take part at @yxtkiwiyxt's other "never have i ever" challenge for her one year writing anniversary!!! congrats on one year, kiwi - you're such a talented writer that it's so crazy to me that you've only been writing one year! can't wait to see what other stories you create - you got a lifelong fan in me and i'll read everything and everything you write 🫶. i chose joel miller and got the prompt: never have i ever had sex more than 3 times in one night. this is just complete filth, so please heed the warnings and most of all, enjoy <3

The entire drive home, Joel is seething. Hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. Jaw clenching so hard that he’s sure he’ll end up cracking a tooth or two. He isn’t even sure why he’s so angry, why some other man’s words have such an effect on him. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

The frustration radiates through his entire body, tense and tight. The age gap had been something he was wary of in the beginning, but you had always been the one to reassure him that age didn’t matter to you. He tries to hold onto what you would tell him—how safe he makes you feel, the way being in his arms brings you comfort. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

He had fired that man the moment it left his lips. Tommy had to hold Joel back, and could see the way his older brother’s eyes darkened with rage. His personal life was off limits. You were off limits. After firing him, Tommy had convinced Joel to go home, that he needed the rest of the day to just cool off. 

And now, as he pulls into the driveway, Joel can’t help but hear those man’s words echo in his mind. 

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

He climbs out of his truck and storms inside. He knows you’re already home, knows that you’re probably deep in papers that need grading, knows that you’re going to be surprised to see him home so early… 

But Joel is determined—he’s suddenly on a mission to prove to himself that age is nothing but a number. 

He drops his keys in the bowl near the door, kicks off his boots and walks upstairs to your office. The door is slightly ajar and he gently kicks it open with his foot. You look up at him and the look of surprise flashes across your face before a large grin lines your lips. 

“You’re home,” you set your pen down and stand up from your chair. “Everything okay at work?” 

Joel just grunts in response, takes three large strides in your direction before he’s standing in front of you. “Need you,” he growls, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face and past your shoulder. He leans in, presses a soft kiss on your jawline and down the side of your neck. 

“Joel,” you whimper, moving your hands to rest on his hips. “Baby, hold on—What happened?” 

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, teeth grazing your pulse point. He hears you let out a whimper and it only fuels him further. Only he could pull those sounds out of you. Age gap, be damned. 

You try to push him away to figure out what’s truly going on, but he just wraps his arms around your frame and pulls you flush against him. Joel turns you so you’re leaning against the edge of your desk, your hands moving to his broad chest. 

“Joel—”

He pulls back and looks into your eyes. You can visibly see that there’s something bothering him. His gaze is dark, brows slightly furrowed, eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched. “Think you can stop grading for one afternoon, baby?” 

“Can you first tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothin’ goin’ on,” he lies, hoisting you up onto the edge of your desk. Joel immediately moves your legs apart as he steps in to stand between them. Slowly, his hands move along your thighs, gaze moving along your frame. There’s a hunger in his eyes, clear determination that you can’t put your finger on. 

“You’re lying. You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” 

Joel grunts and moves a hand to your cheek, thumb brushing lightly along your soft skin. “Just wanted to get home to be with my girl, that a bad thing?” 

“Not at all,” you answer. “But something’s clearly bothering you and—”

“Ain’t nothin’ botherin’ me, darlin’,” he interrupts. “Now, can you stop talkin’ so I can kiss you, hm?” 

“Me talking never stopped you before–”

Joel grunts in reply and leans in to press his lips firmly against your own. Immediately, your hands card through his hair, gasping when you feel the urgency of the kiss. His hands roam your body, already sliding them underneath your shirt. The way his lips move against yours—hurried and desperate—catches you off guard and you’re finding it incredibly difficult to keep up. You part your lips, slowly trying to pull away from him to truly get to the root cause for his sudden behavior, but he doesn’t let you. 

Instead, his large hands grip your hips, tug you to the edge of your desk so that his jean-covered bulge presses firmly to your already throbbing core. Joel’s lips move effortlessly against your own, tongue darting out to flick against your own. You whimper against him and he growls in response, pulling back only slightly to nibble on your lower lip—this action alone causes your legs to wrap around his waist and pull him even further into you. 

“Joel,” you mumble breathlessly, gently tugging on his hair to pull back from him. You’re breathing heavy, lips swollen, eyes dark when you finally look at him. 

“Gonna spend the rest of night showing you how much I love you,” he promises, rolling his hips against you. 

“Baby,” you moan out quietly. “You always show me how much you love me.”

“Hm,” he answers. “Not enough. Never enough.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Nothing happened at work?” 

Joel shakes his head once. “No, now can we stop talkin’ about work?” 

You nod and slowly move away from the desk to stand in front of him. You take his hand, play with his fingers before lacing them together with your own. “So, just me and you tonight?” 

Joel nods, “just me and you, baby.” He stares at you for a moment and all of a sudden, the man’s words from earlier comes back—serving as a reminder of why he had been upset in the first place. 

He releases your hand and tosses you over his shoulder. Joel hears you let out a quiet gasp of surprise, but he begins making his way out of your office and down the hall to the bedroom. It doesn’t take him long, but he can feel the strain in the center of his jeans when your hands begin to roam his body. 

Once inside the room, he tosses you onto the mattress. You prop yourself up on your forearms, but Joel—once again—tugs you to the edge of the bed. He wastes no time in hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs with your panties, tossing the articles of clothing carelessly to the side. 

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. He parts your legs and licks his lips eagerly, your sex glistening with your own arousal. 

Joel reaches down to undo his belt, followed by his zipper and button on his jeans. He pushes them down his legs, kicks them off to the side, and reaches for the ends of his shirt to lift over his head. Now clad in only his boxer briefs, Joel watches you remove your shirt as well, lying back on your forearms once you’re completely bare and naked for him. 

He reaches down and squeezes the length of himself, hardening even further at his touch. Joel leans over you, hand pressed on the mattress near your head as his free hand comes to settle between your legs. His fingers begin to make quick work, gathering your arousal on his fingertips as he teases your opening. 

“Always this wet for me, aren’t ya?” He whispers, leaning down so that his lips hover near your ear. Joel hears you let out a gasp when he slides in the tip of his middle finger—your walls welcoming him almost immediately. 

“J—Joel,” you moan, eyes fluttering. Joel slides his middle finger further into your depths, down to his knuckle, before he pulls it out completely. His entire digit is glistening and he brings it up to his lips, licking and sucking your arousal off his finger. 

“Christ,” he groans. “Can never get enough of you.” Then, Joel settles onto his knees in between your legs. He presses soft and light kisses on your inner thigh, gently nipping along the way. Though, once his lips hover near where you need him the most, he lets out the most animalistic growl you’ve ever heard. 

You sit up on your forearms, eyes glazing over and beginning to flutter when you feel him lick a stripe along the length of your sex. He keeps his eyes solely focused on you, one hand moving up your body to push you to lie back down. 

“Just relax,” he whispers. “I got you, baby. Always got you.” 

You finally fall onto your back when his lips move towards your clit, tongue flicking against you repeatedly. Your hands move to his hair immediately, pulling and tugging as he applies more pressure. 

Joel knows he could do this for the rest of his life if he could. He ruts against the mattress—your sweet taste only fueling him further. He grunts against you when you pull and tug on his hair and he can feel your arousal drip down his chin. He moves his hands to your legs, holding them apart as he pulls back to look down at you. 

“Look at you,” he says with a low groan. “Lyin’ there lookin’ so pretty.” Joel doesn’t let you get a word in because he leans back down, grips your thighs, and moves his lips to your sex. 

Your back arches—the burn of his beard scratching against your inner thighs, the way his tongue expertly moves in and out of you. A loud moan escapes your lips when you feel his thumb slowly begin to rub circles into your clit. You know you’re close, can feel the pressure building and building. When your eyes lock with Joel’s, you see the corners of his lips lift—the man is fucking grinning. 

He pulls away, but before you can whine in protest, he slides two fingers past your folds. Your hands move from his hair to the sheets, gripping it tightly as you feel him expertly begin to move his fingers in and out of your depths. You’re so wet, the sounds of his fingers squelching with each thrust into you mixes in with your moans. Joel knows—he always knows when you’re close. 

As he pumps his fingers in and out of you, Joel leans down and latches his lips around your clit. It’s just what you need to be pushed over the edge. 

Your back arches in the air, legs attempting to close and squeeze around his head—unintentionally—as your body trembles with pleasure. He slows his movements, pulling back and away from you. His fingers easily slide out of you—your arousal already staining the sheets of the mattress. 

You’re breathing heavily when you finally look in his direction. You can see your arousal glistening on his chin, over his beard. You watch him push his boxers down, his manhood springing at attention. Clearing your throat, you slowly turn on to your abdomen as he stands upright. Before he could even say anything, you reach out and wrap your hands gently around the base of his length.

You glance up at him—there’s just something in the way he’s standing above you that causes a shiver to run through you. He reaches down, gently pushes your hair away from your face, thumb brushing against your jawline. 

“So pretty, baby,” he whispers. His eyes flutter for a moment when you slowly begin to stroke the base of his manhood. When you lean forward to wrap your lips around his tip, Joel moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head as a low groan escapes his lips. 

You hum in approval, feeling his hand slowly push your head down against him. You get the hint—moving one hand from his base to rest on his hip as you take more of him into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around him as your other hand strokes what your mouth can’t take. 

When you glance up at him, Joel’s head is tilted back—neck outstretched, veins more prominent, broad chest heaving up and down, and his lower lip pulled between his teeth. He always looked so beautiful like this. 

Suddenly, you feel his fingers curl into your hair and pull you away from his slickened length—it glistens with your saliva. 

You whine in protest, trying to lean forward to wrap your lips back around his throbbing manhood, but he clicks his tongue and holds you away from him. 

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he admits honestly. “And tonight, I want you as many times as I can.” 

“Joel,” you bite your lower lip, hands moving up his chest. “Once is enough and—”

He shakes his head and pushes you onto your back. His strong arm wraps around your waist and slides you further up onto the mattress as he settles himself between your legs. Joel stares into your eyes and with his free hand, grasps his length to run his tip along the length of your sex. He gathers your arousal around his tip, growling lowly to himself as he notches himself at your entrance. 

“Not tonight it isn’t,” he finally answers, pushing fully into you in one long and deep stroke. Joel groans when your walls envelope him—warm, wet, tight. He always loves it when he thrusts into you for the first time because it serves as a reminder of how perfectly you were made for him. He sees the way your face contorts into pleasure—mouth slightly agape and brows furrowed with a quiet whimper escaping your lips; he finds it so cute how you always try to hold back your sounds of pleasure. 

“J—Joel,” you moan, hands moving to come up to rest on his broad shoulders. 

Something in him snaps and there’s a primal urge that courses through his veins as he stares down at you. Joel takes your hands from his shoulders, gently placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, before he grabs your legs and places them over his shoulders instead. At the new position, he feels himself slide further into your depths and it only urges him further. He pushes into you, his own hands resting at either side of you as he pulls out to his tip only to thrust back into you. 

You’re folded in half—body beginning to tremble already as he picks up the pace in his thrusts. You had a very healthy sex life with Joel, but this time… this time it feels so different. It feels like he’s on a mission to prove something to himself. 

The sound of his skin smacking against yours echo the walls of the bedroom, your moans increasingly becoming louder and louder. Your hands move to his lower abdomen in an attempt to push him away because you feel the pressure creep up once more. He growls in response and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. 

“Close huh, baby?,” he growls.

“Joel, p—please,” you whimper, toes curling. You can’t move—hands pressed into the mattress, legs thrown over his shoulders, and his entire body pressing into you. It’s by far the most intimate position you’ve ever experienced and the way he’s slamming into you pushes you over the edge. 

“Joel!” You moan loudly, walls already clenching around him as your body trembles once another orgasm takes over your entire frame. 

“Fuck,” Joel groans, releasing your wrists to rest his own large hands on your hips. His own thrusts begin to falter as he feels his release begin to creep up quickly. He tries to think of something else, tries to make this last longer, but the way you’re tightening around him just pushes him over. 

He slams into you once, twice, three times before he releases into you. Joel lets out a guttural groan, the hands on your hips tightening its grip as he slowly rolls his hips into you. Slowly, Joel moves your legs from his shoulders to instead wrap around his waist loosely and he looks down between your bodies to see his spend trickling out of you once he pulls out. 

You’re breathing heavily, staring up at him with a dazed look on your face. You gently reach up to touch his cheek, feel him lean into the pit of your palm as he stares deeply into your eyes. “Where did that come from?”

Joel shrugs and gently pecks your lips. “Just wanted you, baby.” Slowly, he pulls away from you and stands from the bed to grab a wet and warm towel to wipe his release from between your legs. He watches you shiver against his touch, eyes fluttering when the towel brushes against your most sensitive areas and he smirks. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

“Sorry,” he grins proudly. Once you’re cleaned up, he sets the towel in the laundry basket and then falls back onto the bed with you. You lie on your side and he comes up behind you, arm draped over your midsection as he brings you flush against him. He peppers light kisses along the back of your bare shoulder. “Love you,” he whispers. 

“I love you too,” you tilt your head back against his shoulder and shut your eyes. “Made me tired,” you whisper, voice trailing off. “Didn’t even have dinner yet.”

He chuckles and shuts his eyes, holding you close. “How about we take a short nap and then I’ll feed you, hm? That sound like a plan?”

“Yes,” you reply with a small smile, turning your head just enough to press a soft kiss onto his cheek. “Maybe you should come home early more often,” you giggle.

Joel’s jaw tightens as the man’s words echo in his mind again. He doesn’t reply—just holds you closer to him and feels you relax in his embrace. 

Joel awakes almost an hour later—you’re still leaning back against him and his arm is still wrapped around you from behind. He can hear your quiet breathing, takes a peek in your direction to see you peacefully asleep. He feels you shift back against him and he’s suddenly aware of the lack of clothing that you both are wearing. 

His mind drifts momentarily, remembering the events that unfolded just an hour ago. He can still feel the anger bubbling within him, can still hear that man’s voice echo in his mind.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” 

His arm remains draped over your waist and his large hand soon encompasses your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple. He hears you let out a quiet moan and Joel can feel his lower half begin to stir. He’s surprised that after an hour, he can feel himself getting hard all over again.

Slowly, Joel presses himself firmly against you from behind and moves his lips along the side of your neck. As he begins to pepper light kisses on your skin, his hand begins to massage your breast into the pit of his palm. He hears your breathing quicken and quietly—in that sweet voice of yours—you say his name. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

“Shh,” he whispers, teeth grazing your earlobe. Joel releases his hold on you and gently moves you to lie on your abdomen. He quickly moves to hover above you, his legs placed on either side of you. His large hands move to your backside, spreading your cheeks apart as he lets out a low growl at the sight of you. “Can’t get enough of you,” Joel growls. 

He grasps his hardening length, tugs on it twice before he presses his tip into your slit. Slowly, Joel pushes his hips forward—you’re already so wet and gripping the head of manhood as he pushes himself further into you. 

Your hand reaches back for him, trying to press against his lower abdomen to stop him from pushing any further. You’re already so sensitive—walls quivering as he grabs both your wrists to hold against your lower back. With one stroke, Joel fills you to the brim and he feels you begin to squirm against him.

“Joel!” you exclaim, eyes falling shut as you press your forehead against the mattress. He feels so much bigger like this and when he pulls his hips back—your walls sliding along his length—only to slide back into you, it causes a loud moan to escape your lips. 

“H—-how?” you mumble, feeling his hand release your wrists only to grip your hips, pulling you to prop yourself up on all fours. 

Joel doesn’t reply, the man’s words echoing in his mind with each thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

Your hands grip the sheets so tight because Joel’s never been this rough before. With each thrust, Joel’s jaw tightens. He grips the back of your neck and pushes you face down onto the mattress as he slams into you repeatedly from behind. His skin slaps against your own and you can feel the tight grip he has around your hips—knowing that there’s going to be bruises there later. 

“J—Joel!” you moan into the mattress, pushing back against him as you feel yourself begin to reach yet another orgasm. Your walls begin to tremble, can feel a rush of wetness between your legs and the pleasure racking through your entire body. 

“Fuck,” he finally moans—your walls tightening around his length in a tight grip. Joel leans over you, hand moving from the back of your neck to grab a fistful of your hair to lift your head off the mattress. He breathes heavily into your ear as his thrusts begin to falter. “Come for me,” he demands, thrusting into you that your body jerks forward. 

“I—I can’t,” you whimper. Your entire body is on fire and you’re so close to the edge, but you’re holding back… and Joel knows because his eyes narrow at your words and he leans down to gently bite down on the side of your neck.

“I said,” he groans, delivering yet another hard thrust. “Come for me.” 

With his free hand, Joel reaches down and begins to circle your clit. It’s just the right amount of pressure for you to reach your peak. Your toes curl and your eyes shut tight as a loud moan escapes your lips. Joel smirks proudly, releasing his hold on your hair as he grips your hip instead. 

Joel delivers one, two, three thrusts before he releases into you. His eyes fall shut, head tilted back as he tries to catch his breath, slowing his thrusts as your walls continue to milk every last drop. When he finally pulls out, Joel opens his eyes to watch his release slowly drip out of you and onto your inner thighs. 

He bites his lower lip and falls back onto the bed next to you, lying on his back as he glances over at you. 

“Well,” you whisper, looking over at him. “That was something.”

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asks with soft eyes—his big, brown, puppy eyes staring at you with concern now that his mind is clear. 

“Would you hate me if I said it wasn’t enough?” you tease, leaning over to peck his lips. “You promised me food and instead…”

“You were just so…” Joel bites his lower lip, his gaze raking over your frame with lust-filled eyes. “Inviting.” 

“Maybe I should sleep naked more often,” you grin, standing up from the bed to walk towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

“If you do that, ain’t nothin’ gonna get done,” he chuckles. Joel stands up as well, walking after you as he wraps his arms around you from behind. “What does my girl want to eat?” 

“Can you order a pizza?” you smile, wiping his release from between your legs. You toss the tissue into the trash and then lean back against him, head resting against his chest. 

“Of course, baby,” he smiles, turning his head to kiss your temple. 

You take note of the marks on your hips and the darkening spot on the side of your neck. You bite your lower lip and slowly turn in Joel’s arms, staring up at him as your arms wrap around his neck. “Gonna have these marks on me for a few days at least.”

Joel arches a brow, eyes glancing down at the mark on your neck before his gaze lowers to your hips. He blushes and rests his forehead against your own. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Don’t be,” you smile, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, small smile lining his lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m all yours, so let’s let the entire world know,” you tease. 

“Naughty,” Joel chuckles. 

“Only for you.”

Joel growls, hand moving to grasp your backside. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Mmm,” you smile. “I don’t think I can go another round,” you say honestly. “I’m sensitive all over and I’m hungry.”

Joel leans in, pecks your lips lightly as he pulls away slowly. “Maybe you just need some food because I am determined to have you one more time before we call it a night.”

“One more time?” you ask, eyes widening. “We’ve already had sex twice in the last hour or so and—”

“Then we’ll eat dinner and I’ll have you again,” Joel interrupts with a grin. “Don’t put anythin’ on. I’ll have pizza delivered.”

“You want me to walk around like this?” 

“Yes,” Joel growls. 

“Yes, sir,” you smile innocently. 

About thirty minutes later, you and Joel are in the kitchen with an opened box of pizza. He’s dressed only in a pair of boxers, but you’re completely naked—just like he said you should be. You’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen island with a slice of pizza in hand, humming contentedly as you take a bite. 

“Good?” Joel asks with a grin, his own slice of pizza in his hand. 

“Very,” you smile, finishing your first slice of pizza in record time. You see Joel arch a brow and you just roll your eyes playfully. “I gained an appetite.”

Joel chuckles to himself and moves to stand between your legs. “You did, huh? Why’s that?” 

“I came like three times already, baby,” you tell him, reaching for another slice of pizza. “I really don’t think I can do any more than that. I’m already—My body’s just so sensitive.” 

“Oh?” he asks, eyes looking at you from top to bottom. He moves his hands to your thighs and gently spreads them apart, looking between your legs to see your sex glistening. “How come you’re wet then, hm?” 

“Joel…” you whisper, setting the slice of pizza down as you wipe your hands with a paper towel. “I’m just—I’m always wet whenever I’m around you.”

“That so?” 

You nod, feeling his finger run along the length of your sex, gathering your arousal. You let out a quiet whimper, a shiver running down your body at the sensation. “Joel, baby…” 

“Always so ready for me, ain’t you?”

You nod, biting your lower lip. “Joel,” you repeat. “I—If we have sex one more time, I won’t last long and—”

“Shh,” he interrupts. “Let me just take care of you, baby.” Joel lifts you off the counter and sets you down onto your feet. He leads you to the couch in the living room where he takes a seat and shimmies out of his boxers, kicking them carelessly off to the side. He can already feel himself getting hard as he grasps his length and begins to stroke himself to full mast. “Come on, baby,” he urges, pointing to his lap with his chin. 

You nod and straddle his lap as your hands move to his shoulders. You slowly lower your hips to feel the tip of his manhood brush against you. Gasping, you lift your hips and stare into his eyes. Joel’s gaze darkens and he moves a hand to your hip, gripping it tightly as he pushes you onto him. Your walls—so wet—encompasses him tightly and he tilts his head back against the couch, a low groan escaping his lips. 

Joel feels so deep like this and you begin to roll your hips forward and backward. The hair at his base brushes against your clit and your body begins to tremble already. Your hips move so slowly because that’s all you can take right now, but Joel… It’s not enough for him. Even with your fingernails digging into his shoulders, gripping it so tight, Joel needs more. 

He moves his hands underneath you and lifts you slightly off his lap—just enough to give him space to begin thrusting upwards. Joel growls to himself as he looks up at you, your breasts bouncing as he thrusts upwards. 

“Joel!” you moan loudly, wrapping your arms around him as you press your front against him—holding onto him tightly. “Baby, please…”

“You feel so good around me, baby,” Joel whispers into your hair, eyes falling shut. “Always so wet for me, always so tight… Fuck, you were made for me.”

“J—Joel,” you whimper, feeling his hands move to your hips instead as you roll your hips against his own. You keep your tight hold onto him, gasping quietly as you feel your walls begin to tremble yet again. 

“Yes,” he groans, arms wrapping around your waist to guide you forward and backward on his lap. Joel knows he won’t be able to last either—he’s surprised that he was even able to recover so quickly in the span of two hours to do this three times. 

“Love seein’ you like this,” he says quietly, feeling your arms unwrap itself around his shoulders. Joel feels your hands move to rest on his shoulders as you ride him like your life depended on it. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he grins, eyes scanning your face before his gaze lowers to your naked frame. 

“Joel, baby… I—” 

“I know,” he whispers. “Let go for me, darlin’. I got you.”

“Fuck!” you moan, head tilting back as you move your hips forward and backward quickly. Your body shakes with pleasure as the tightness builds and builds until you can no longer take it. You collapse into Joel, breathing heavily. 

Joel groans to himself as he grips your hips, guiding you along his length as he chases his own release. It doesn’t take long because when you whisper his name, he feels the tightness in the pit of his stomach break until he releases into you for the final time that night. 

Joel rests his forehead against your own, feeling himself soften while still inside of you and he makes no move in lifting you off his lap. Even as he feels his seed trickle down to the hair at his base, Joel keeps you seated on his lap, strong arms embracing you. 

“Thank god it’s the weekend tomorrow,” you whisper with a quiet giggle. 

“Why’s that?” he asks with a small smile. 

“Because I’m sure that I’d have trouble walking,” you answer. 

“You’re good for my ego,” he chuckles. 

“Where did all of that come from?” you ask honestly. 

Joel shrugs, staring into your eyes. “Nowhere.” 

“You’re lying.”

He sighs and finally asks, “Does our age gap bother you?” 

“What?” 

“I’m old enough to be your father–”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt him. “Our age gap means nothing to me…” 

“But it should, shouldn’t it?” 

“A bit too late for that, don’t you think?” You shake your head, lifting your left hand in the air and taking his left hand in your other one, showcasing both of your wedding rings. “We’re married now, baby. We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Some– Some asshole made a comment and it just got to me,” Joel sighs. 

“Did this happen at work?”

“Yeah,” he answers truthfully. “Fired him and Tommy had to stop me from doin’ somethin’ stupid and I just—” he sighs. 

“Well, you just proved that age is nothing but a number, Joel. We had sex three times in the last two hours… And I’ve never had sex more than three times in one night so…”

Joel lets a small smile line his lips. “Never, huh?” 

You shake your head. “You’d be the first.” 

“And your last,” Joel finishes. “I’m sorry it got me,” he sighs. “I don’t usually care what other people have to say about our relationship, but for some reason… This just got to me.”

“If our gap bothered me, I wouldn’t have married you,” you say quietly, hands coming up to gently brush his hair away from his face. “I love you. All of you.” 

“Even if I’m some old man?”

“An old man wouldn’t have been able to do what we just did,” you smile. 

He chuckles and gently pecks your lips. “Love you so much, darlin’.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” Slowly, you stand from his lap with a quiet whimper as you extend a hand out for him. “What do you say we take a shower and then spend the rest of the night cuddling?”

Joel smiles lovingly in your direction and stands from the couch, taking your hand. “That sounds like a great way to end the night, baby.”