#it was much more articulated in my head but

[asidian]

Go Vote

I don't often talk politics on this blog, but I'm going to for a minute.

This is, bar none, the most important election of our lifetimes.

Our options are between a career prosecutor and a career criminal. A person who held rapists accountable and a rapist. An intelligent, articulate woman in the prime of health and an elderly man whose mental facilities barely allow him to string together a coherent sentence. A person who has a genuine plan to make life better for millions of Americans and a grifter who is only in it to line his own pockets. A racist who espouses Hitler's talking points and a competent, experienced woman who will work for all Americans.

Whoever the next president is will likely get to decide two Supreme Court justices. This will determine the fate of the court for a literal generation.

The rights of trans people are on the line. The rights of anyone with a uterus to have a say in what happens to their own body is on the line. My right to remain married to my wife is on the line.

Palestinians are begging people to vote for Harris because Trump's policies will be so much worse for them.

I understand that some people are inclined to vote third party. This is not the election to do that. In 2016, people thought there was a big enough lead for Clinton to enable them to abstain from voting or to vote third party in protest. That's how we got Trump in the first place. Those extra votes would have made all the difference.

Much as we may wish our system was more open, much as we may wish we had more options, now is the worst possible time to advocate for that.

We have exactly two choices today. One of them is going to make life measurably worse for millions of people. One of them may not be perfect but will try her best and may make inroads toward a better life for countless Americans.

Please get out there and vote blue all down your ballot. For President, and Congress, and every single local position.

We need to slap the Republicans on their proverbial knuckles so hard that their free-press-revoking, fascist, rights-stealing heads spin. So hard they realize that our country will not stand aside and let them take it where they want to take it.

I am begging all of my US followers of voting age:

Please go vote.

[potatosapien5]

the sillies!

This is one of the guys(sophont aliens) I’ve been cooking up, for now calling them the fluffbugs(a better name will be made)

This is a portrait of a fluffbug, just showing their head and arms, but they’ve got more cool stuff going on that I didn’t draw here. Gonna try to make a good ref for them sooner rather than later wish me luck 🫡

Some info below: 

I can’t say too much rn(I’ll go into detail about them more when I actually make the ref) but for now I’ll say they’re semi-arboreal sophonts, who have a tech level(before human contact) around that of the pre-Industrial Revolution. They’ve got colorful flaps on the pedipalps just behind their head that they use to communicate emotion, along with a complex system of movements. Most fluffbug languages are divided between spoken words and hand signs. They can use a vocal organ(akin to the mammalian larynx) in their forwardmost pair of spiracles to talk, but they can’t articulate much, and their mandibles can make clacking noises and stridulations if moved right, but that’s about it. Individuals that wish to hold conversations(not just answer simple questions) with humans either have to use a modified human sign language(they only have four fingers so it’s slightly difficult but not impossible), or use a speech generating device(which is the main way one of my characters speaks). 

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Power: a Bloodline x Rhea Ripley fanfic.

Chapter 3: Joshua

As Demi stood in the softly lit hotel room, a mix of excitement and nervousness danced in her stomach. Joshua was an intriguing presence, and she found herself eager yet uncertain about what their encounter would entail.

"Are you ready for our time together?" he asked, his tone calm and inviting.

Demi took a deep breath, nodding slightly. "I think so," she replied, trying to quell the fluttering in her chest.

Joshua studied her for a moment, his eyes assessing her demeanor. "I want you to tell me what you want me to do to you," he said, his voice steady yet gentle. "It's important for you to express your desires."

Demi felt a rush of vulnerability at his request. "Um, l'm not really sure..." she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Noticing her hesitation, Joshua leaned closer, his tone softening. "Do you want something more vanilla?" he asked and Demi was confused at the term ‘vanilla’.

Joshua began to explain, "Vanilla means a simpler experience without kinks or intense dynamics-just straightforward intimacy and connection."

Demi considered his words. "Yes, I think I'd like that," she said, feeling a wave of relief wash over her.

"Great," he smiled, his confidence reassuring her. Joshua took her hand and led her toward the bed. As they reached the edge, he paused to remove his shirt, revealing a well-defined torso that made her heart race.

Once he was bare, he turned off the lights, plunging them into darkness. "I'm going to kiss you now," he announced softly. "With the lights off, I want you to use your hands to explore my body and how I feel against you."

Demi's breath hitched at the intimacy of his words. She felt a surge of warmth, knowing this would be a moment unlike any other she had experienced so far. As his lips met hers, the kiss was soft and inviting, sending tingles down her spine.

She melted into the kiss, feeling safe and encouraged to explore without fear. Joshua's lips moved against hers with gentle pressure, guiding her into a rhythm that felt natural. As their mouths moved together, Demi felt herself letting go of her inhibitions.

With the darkness surrounding them, she focused on how he felt. Tentatively, her hands began to wander, gliding over his shoulders and down to his arms, feeling the contours of his muscles beneath her fingertips. He was warm, and the sensation made her heart race with a mixture of excitement and comfort.

"Go ahead, Demi.. explore..” Joshua urged softly.

Demi let her hands roam further, moving down his chest and back up to his neck.

Each touch felt electric, and she was surprised by how much she was enjoying this simple intimacy. "You feel so strong baby..," she murmured, surprised by her own boldness.

"Good," he encouraged, a hint of a smile in his voice at her using his name. "I want you to feel safe and comfortable with me."

As she continued to explore, Demi realized this was about more than just physicality; it was a moment of emotional intimacy she hadn't anticipated. The way Joshua guided her, encouraging her to discover him at her own pace, made her feel valued and cherished. She was not just a submissive in this moment-she was a partner sharing a connection with him.

Joshua leaned back slightly, allowing her to take the lead. "What do you want to do next?" he asked, his tone inviting her to articulate her desires.

"I... I want to kiss you more," Demi admitted, feeling emboldened by the trust he had fostered between them.

"Then let's do that," he replied, tilting his head to capture her lips again. Their mouths moved in a dance of tenderness, and Demi felt a rush of warmth spread through her, deepening their bond.

In the darkness, she felt liberated to express herself without hesitation, and each touch and kiss served to solidify the emotional connection they were building. This wasn't just a physical encounter; it was a shared experience that made her feel seen and cherished in a way she hadn't expected.

As they continued to kiss, Demi found herself lost in the moment, savoring the intimacy of their connection. It was as if they had created a world of their own-one where vulnerability was embraced and explored. In Joshua's arms, she realized that this experience was about discovering not just his body, but also her own desires and feelings.

And as their kisses deepened and their bodies intertwined, she felt a profound sense of belonging, knowing that she was exactly where she needed to be.

Demi pulled back slightly, her breath coming in soft gasps. A giddy smile spread across her face. "I feel like a teenager again," she admitted, a hint of laughter in her voice. "Just lost in the moment of kissing you."

Joshua chuckled softly, his eyes warm as he met her gaze. "That's a beautiful thing," he replied, his tone gentle. "It means you're allowing yourself to be present and vulnerable. But remember, my focus is solely on you and your needs. What you feel matters most in this space."

Demi felt a wave of warmth wash over her at his reassurance. "It's just... I haven't felt this carefree in a long time," she confessed, her voice softer now. "I love how you make me feel."

"I'm glad," Joshua said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's the essence of what we're building here-an environment where you can explore your feelings without pressure or judgment. You're safe with me."

Feeling a swell of gratitude, Demi leaned into him, relishing the intimacy of the moment.

"It's nice to just be here, kissing and enjoying each other's company. I didn't expect to feel so connected."

Joshua smiled, his expression serious yet tender. "Connection is important, Demi. This isn't just about physical experiences; it's about creating bonds. I want you to explore every facet of what you desire. When you feel like a teenager, it means you're rediscovering joy, and that's something to cherish."

His words resonated deeply with her, and she felt a newfound sense of freedom. "So, what do we do next?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Well, since you're feeling playful, let's keep exploring," Joshua suggested, his voice low and inviting. "What do you want? More kissing? Touching? Or perhaps we can take it slow and talk about how you're feeling?"

Demi pondered his question, feeling the excitement bubbling within her. "I think I'd like to explore more, but I want to keep it simple for now," she replied, wanting to savor this new experience. "Can we just stay here and enjoy the closeness?"

"Absolutely," Joshua said, his smile broadening. "Let's take our time. I want you to feel every moment."

With that, Joshua pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her as they sank back into the kiss. Demi felt herself relax further, appreciating the warmth of his body against hers.

They spent several moments wrapped up in each other, exploring each other's lips and savoring the sweetness of the connection.

Demi's heart raced, not just from the physical closeness, but from the emotional intimacy they were cultivating.

"Joshua," she finally said, breaking the kiss momentarily. "I really appreciate how patient you are with me. It makes this feel special."

"Good, he replied, looking into her eyes with sincerity. "Your comfort is my priority. I want to make sure that every moment we share is meaningful. You deserve that."

Demi nodded, her heart swelling with appreciation. "Thank you for making me feel this way. It's so different from what I expected, and I like it."

As they continued to kiss and hold each other, Demi realized that she was not just exploring her desires physically; she was also nurturing a deep emotional bond with Joshua. Each kiss felt like a step into uncharted territory, and she was grateful for his guidance.

"Can I ask you something?" Demi ventured, curiosity shining in her eyes.

"Of course," he said, pulling back slightly to give her his full attention.

"What do you enjoy about this?" she asked, genuinely wanting to understand the experience.

Joshua thought for a moment before answering. "For me, it's all about connection and the trust that comes with it. Seeing you open up, feeling your excitement-it brings me joy. Your happiness is my happiness."

Demi smiled, touched by his words. "You make it easy to trust you. I feel like I can really be myself."

"Then that's exactly what I want," he replied, leaning in to kiss her softly once more. "Let's keep this space open for exploration, joy, and intimacy."

As they settled into another kiss, Demi felt the world outside fade away. In this moment, all that mattered was the connection they were forging, one kiss at a time.

Joshua came up for air, smiling as he reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. The room filled with a soft, warm glow, and Demi blinked, adjusting to the light as she met his gaze. He reached out, brushing his thumb across her cheek as he studied her face.

“You are truly beautiful, Demi,” he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “In every sense of the word.”

Demi felt her cheeks flush, and a shy smile tugged at her lips. It was rare for her to feel this kind of gentleness, to have someone look at her so intently, as if she were the only person in the world. After a moment, she cleared her throat, her curiosity surfacing. “Joshua, what exactly are you looking for… I mean, with us? What are your goals for our relationship?”

Joshua’s smile widened, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts before answering. “With you and me, Demi, it’s about a different kind of connection. I’m here to provide you with a balance—something gentle, tender, and nurturing. You’ll never experience the roughness or intensity with me that you might find with the others, and that’s intentional. It’s just not who I am.”

Demi’s gaze softened as she absorbed his words. There was a sweetness in his honesty that touched her deeply, like he wanted her to feel grounded, safe, and cherished. “So…if I ever want something softer or even just a regular date, you’re the one I’d come to?” she asked, a hint of wonder in her voice.

Joshua nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Exactly. If you want romantic dinners, quiet nights in, or just a shoulder to lean on, that’s what I’m here for. I’m here to give you the gentler moments, the ones that are about connection, not control.”

Demi felt her heart flutter. “That actually means a lot. I wasn’t sure how each of these relationships would feel, but this… this makes it feel real, like we’re building something unique.”

“Good,” he said, his gaze steady and reassuring. “I want you to know that I’m someone you can turn to, no matter what. No pressure, no expectations. Just you, however you are in the moment.”

Demi reached out, intertwining her fingers with his, feeling a warmth and reassurance that ran deep. “Thank you for being so open about this. It’s comforting to know that, with you, it’s about creating special, meaningful moments.”

Joshua’s expression softened even further as he leaned in to kiss her forehead gently. “That’s all I want, Demi. A space where you can breathe, let go, and feel cherished. So, whenever you need a break from everything else, know that you can always come to me.”

Demi’s heart felt full, and as she leaned into him, she knew that with Joshua, she could experience a relationship that would nurture her soul as much as it would her heart.

-

Joe sat with Joseph and Jonathan, listening intently as they each recounted their experiences with Demi so far. He could see the satisfaction in Joseph’s and Jonathan’s eyes as they shared stories of Demi’s progress, the way she’d adapted, opened up, and started to embrace their dynamics. But as much as he wanted to feel confident in her acceptance, a knot of hesitation tightened in Joe’s chest.

Joseph leaned forward, a knowing glint in his eye. “She’s made some real strides, Joe. With Jonathan, she was pushed beyond her limits and trusted him enough to find her way back. With me, she’s learning patience and the art of yielding. And Joshua… well, he’s offering her something entirely different. He’s giving her the gentle foundation she needs to feel safe.”

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, a small frown settling on his face. “Yeah, I get that. And I’m glad she’s feeling comfortable with each of you. But Joshua’s side of this… it worries me. I feel like she’s growing attached to that version of this whole thing. What if she starts craving only the gentleness? What if she thinks that’s all she really needs?”

Jonathan chuckled, shaking his head. “Joe, that’s Joshua’s angle. It’s his kink—to be the one who’s nurturing, who builds that emotional trust. It’s his strength in all of this, but it doesn’t mean that’s what she’ll expect from you, too. She’ll see that each of us brings something different.”

Joe sighed, the tension in him refusing to release. “I hear what you’re saying. But this is different for me. I’ve known her as my girlfriend. The connection we had—it was honest, and I never had to worry about boundaries like I do now. She’s only ever seen one side of me, the side that loved her openly. But this… this Dominant side of me, the side that demands control and compliance… it’s something I kept from her. I don’t know how she’ll react when she finally sees it.”

Joseph crossed his arms, nodding in understanding. “It’s a fair worry. She might be surprised, sure. But, Joe, she’s stronger than you give her credit for. You’ve watched her with us—you know she’s starting to understand that every dynamic has its own intensity, its own boundaries. And if you’re honest with her about what this means to you, she’ll find her way through it.”

Joe stared at the floor, lost in thought. “It’s not just about control. With Demi, it’s different. I don’t just want her submission; I want her to know I can protect her, that I can lead her in every way—even the parts that are uncomfortable. She trusts me to be her partner, and if I break that trust by introducing this other side… What if she starts seeing me differently?”

Jonathan placed a reassuring hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Joe, that’s the risk we all take, every time. We’re guiding her, but she’s also discovering parts of herself through us. She’s with Joshua to explore softness, with me for boundaries, and with Joseph for patience. With you? She’s coming into this with a history, but that doesn’t mean she won’t embrace who you are now.”

Joe sighed deeply, nodding as he absorbed his brothers’ words. “I just want her to know that she’s safe with me—whether I’m her partner or her Dominant. I want her to feel complete trust, no matter what we’re doing.”

Jonathan’s voice softened. “Then trust her, Joe. Trust that she wants to experience all of you, even the parts she hasn’t seen. The real question is, can you accept that she might actually be ready for this?”

Joe glanced up, meeting Jonathan’s and Joseph’s eyes. He knew that if he wanted Demi to fully trust him, he would need to trust her back, to let go of the fear of losing her to this new experience. With a deep breath, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll give it a chance.”

—

As Demi pulled away when Joshua pushed her hand away from the waistband of his jeans, a flash of frustration crossed her face. This was the first time she’d felt something akin to anger within these carefully constructed boundaries. Joshua, usually so attuned to her needs, immediately sensed the shift. He looked at her, a mixture of longing and regret in his eyes, and gently reached out as if to soothe the tension now buzzing between them.

“Demi…” he began, his voice soft and reassuring. “I want this as much as you do. But there are rules in place to protect you, to make sure you’re ready. Joe needs to be the one to lead you into that part of this dynamic.”

Demi’s jaw tightened. “I don’t understand, Joshua. Why does it have to be him? Why can’t it just be us, here, in this moment?”

Joshua lowered his gaze, his thumb gently rubbing circles over the back of her hand. “Because he’s the one who sets the foundation. He’s the one who will establish that level of trust for the rest of us. Joe needs you to experience it with him first so you’re completely grounded before anyone else takes you that far. It’s about giving you security.”

Demi pulled her hand away, her frustration simmering just below the surface. “I thought I had the freedom to explore this with each of you. But it feels like there are these invisible lines everywhere. And this one… I don’t like it. Plus I’ve already had sex with him!”

Joshua’s expression softened, seeing her inner conflict. “I get it, I really do. And I hate seeing you feel this way. But we’ve all agreed to this for your sake, Demi. It’s not to limit you—it’s to give you the best experience possible. I would never do anything that wasn’t in your best interest.”

She exhaled heavily, glancing away. “Maybe… maybe I need some space to think this over. I don’t like feeling like someone else gets to decide how far I can go with each of you.”

Joshua nodded, looking at her with a tender understanding. “I respect that. Take all the time you need. And know I’m here if you want to talk more about it—or anything else.”

He gave her hand one final squeeze, a gentle goodbye, before he rose and left the room. The space he left behind felt heavier than before, and Demi was left with the overwhelming realization that even in her journey of freedom and exploration, there were rules that bound her. And she wasn’t sure how she felt about them.

—

After some time Joshua decided he didn’t want the night to continue like this. Joshua’s knock on Demi’s door was hesitant, carrying a quiet sense of apology. When she allowed him in, he saw her still sitting in the same spot, clearly deep in thought. He softened his tone as he spoke, “How about we have a nice dinner, Demi? I don’t want our time together to feel wasted.” His eyes held a mix of hope and regret, a look that told her he was eager to make things right.

Demi raised her eyebrows. “What about us being seen in public?”

A small smile broke on Joshua’s face as he reassured her. “I know a place we can go. Somewhere quiet, just us.” She nodded, the prospect easing the tension between them.

When she mentioned not having anything nice to wear, Joshua shook his head. “Joe took care of that. He packed a dress and some heels for you. Going forward, it’s mandatory that you pack an outfit like that.”

Demi nodded, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind it. Joshua stood to leave, adding, “I’ll get ready and call the car around.” He left her to get dressed, and for the first time that evening, she felt anticipation instead of hesitation, looking forward to an evening that could feel like theirs alone.

Demi slipped into the black SUV, feeling the weight of her jacket and sunglasses as a shield against the world outside. Joshua stood by the door, waiting for her to settle in before he climbed in beside her. As soon as he closed the door, he turned toward her, gently removing her sunglasses. “You don’t need to stay covered up, Demi,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

As he reached for her jacket, his fingertips brushed her arms, sparking a warmth that made her linger in his touch. She leaned into him, her eyes meeting his for a heartbeat before she closed the distance, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was raw, unguarded, and filled with everything words couldn’t express. With Joshua, there was a depth, a tenderness to his dominant role that she hadn’t experienced with the others, and it drew her in.

Their moment broke as the car pulled up to the restaurant. Joshua slipped out first, coming around to her side to open the door, ever the gentleman. Demi quickly adjusted her jacket, sliding on her shades as they walked inside, but he gave her a reassuring smile, reminding her there was no need to hide with him.

They were led to a private dining room, usually set aside for large parties but arranged just for the two of them tonight. The cozy setup added an air of intimacy, making it feel like their own little world away from prying eyes.

Once they were seated in the secluded dining room, Joshua leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he looked at her intently. “I didn’t want tonight to pass without giving us this chance,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “Away from all the… chaos.”

Demi let her guard down, a soft smile forming. “It’s nice. Just… us,” she replied, her tone reflecting the relief of being able to breathe around him.

Joshua nodded, his gaze not leaving her. “You deserve moments like this, Demi. Moments where it’s not about rules or expectations. Just you, just us.”

She took a deep breath, glancing down briefly as she absorbed his words. “I didn’t expect this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… with all these dynamics… maybe I’d lose moments like this.”

Joshua’s hand reached across the table, covering hers gently. “With me, you won’t. I’m here for you—not the rules, not the labels.”

Demi looked up, feeling the sincerity in his words. “It’s different with you, Joshua. You make it feel… real. Safe.”

He smiled warmly. “Then that’s what we’ll keep building—something real. Whatever you need.”

They stayed like that for a moment, lost in each other’s presence until the waiter arrived. Joshua gave her hand one last reassuring squeeze before he let go, settling into the dinner with her. Their laughter and easy conversation flowed, unburdened and effortless, a reminder of the simple joy they could have in each other’s company.

As they settled into the evening, Joshua leaned back in his chair, studying her with genuine curiosity. “So, Demi,” he started, his tone gentle but probing. “What’s the future looking like for you in WWE? Do you still want to keep going as a writer, or have you thought about moving somewhere else?”

Demi hesitated, swirling her glass of water as she considered his question. “It’s funny you ask,” she began, a thoughtful smile playing on her lips. “I used to think writing was my endgame. But lately… I’ve wondered if I’m limiting myself by staying in just one role. Being close to the talent, creating stories, understanding how things come together—it’s made me curious about the bigger picture.”

Joshua nodded, clearly interested. “So, what’s that look like for you? Creative direction? Production?”

“Maybe,” Demi admitted, a spark of excitement in her eyes. “The idea of leading something—actually shaping the stories in a hands-on way—sounds challenging but… thrilling. I want my work to mean something, to impact fans and wrestlers alike. But then, part of me wonders if stepping up might take me away from the storytelling itself. I don’t know if I’m ready to lose that connection.”

Joshua leaned forward, giving her a reassuring look. “Then maybe it’s about balance. You’ve got a gift with writing, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have an impact somewhere else. You know more about this business than anyone gives you credit for. Maybe you just need to try new things, see where it feels right.”

Demi’s face softened at his words. “It’s nice to have someone who actually believes I could do more. Sometimes, I get caught up in just staying safe.”

He smiled, his gaze warm. “Staying safe is overrated. You’re not afraid to take risks in other parts of your life; why not take one here? I’ll be here to support you, wherever you decide to go.”

Demi nodded, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. “Thanks, Joshua. I think… I needed to hear that.”

They exchanged a shared smile, the room’s quiet adding a sense of intimacy to their moment. For the first time in a while, Demi felt that her dreams weren’t just fantasies—they were possibilities within reach.

—

Jonathan sat back in the dim hotel room, nursing his scotch, when his phone buzzed. He glanced down, immediately frowning at the alert from Capital One.

Capital One: PURCHASE @ PATOIS for $253.72 has been approved by auth user JFATU.

Jonathan’s expression soured, muttering Joshua’s name under his breath. This was no “movie night.” He pushed up from his seat, frustration evident as he made his way out onto the balcony, where Joe stood, leaning over the rail, a glass of red wine in hand as he surveyed the sprawling New Orleans skyline. The quiet city lights seemed to offer Joe no comfort, his grip on the glass tight.

Without turning, Joe’s voice cut through the silence, chilling in its calm. “I already know.”

Jonathan stopped just behind him, tensing. “Look, Joe, I didn’t know what he was planning. He said it was just supposed to be a movie night, nothing more.”

Joe’s jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening around the stem of his glass. He kept his gaze fixed on the city, his voice an angry murmur that bordered on a snarl. “And you all want me to trust Joshua?”

“Maybe he had a—”

Jonathan’s words barely left his mouth before Joe whipped around, eyes blazing with fury as he cut him off. “No. I’m in charge for a reason, Jonathan. Dinner,” he spat the word, voice dripping with contempt, “is not an approved event.”

With a sudden, violent motion, Joe flung the wine glass at the wall, the shattering sound breaking the heavy silence. Wine splattered like blood against the wall, glass shards catching the light and scattering across the floor. Joe’s breath was harsh, his fury palpable in the tense air, each second ticking by under the weight of his anger.

Jonathan stayed silent, the weight of Joe’s rage pressing down on him. He wanted to say something—to diffuse the tension—but he knew better. Joe’s fury wasn’t something that words could soften tonight. The depth of betrayal he felt, the violation of trust—it ran deeper than any apology could reach.

Joe took a step closer to Jonathan, his gaze like steel, every inch of his body radiating control that teetered on the edge of pure, unbridled anger. Jonathan could feel the intensity rolling off him, the unspoken warning: this was not the time to test Joe’s patience.

“You think I’m going to let this slide?” Joe’s voice was dangerously quiet, each word biting. “You think, for one second, that I’m going to sit back while Joshua does whatever he pleases? He knows damn well what this dynamic requires—discipline, respect, and above all, control.”

Joe took a sharp breath, and Jonathan could see the storm brewing in his eyes. He knew his brother well enough to understand that this wasn’t just about a simple dinner—it was about loyalty, about power, and the boundaries that Joe had painstakingly set. Joshua’s actions had broken that trust, and Joe would not allow even a hairline crack in the authority he commanded.

“When I give orders,” Joe continued, his voice a low growl, “I expect them to be followed, not questioned. If Joshua can’t handle that, then maybe he has no business being in this arrangement. Maybe I’ve been too lenient—maybe all of you have forgotten who’s in charge here.”

Jonathan felt a chill run through him. Joe’s anger was measured, controlled—but that only made it more dangerous. There was a finality in his tone, a promise that no disobedience would go unpunished. This wasn’t a threat; it was a vow.

Joe’s gaze shifted briefly to the shattered remnants of the wine glass, his anger still simmering. “Clean this up,” he ordered Jonathan coldly, as if asserting even this small task was a way to reestablish his dominance. “And when you’re done, get Joshua.”

Jonathan swallowed, nodding as he turned toward the mess of glass on the floor. Joe’s control over them was absolute, and he wasn’t about to let anyone—even his own brother—challenge that.

[scrollonso]

Angel — Pierresteban (+ Kika)

Pierre has dreamed of this moment for a long time now, if he’s honest with himself.

He’s had a thing for Esteban for as long as he can remember, and they’d had brief encounters here and there when they were younger and single and just reckless enough to mess around with a coworker and close friend without worrying about all the ways it could backfire. But those moments were fleeting, far too rare to ever truly satisfy Pierre — if he could even be satisfied at all.

He’s greedy, and he knows it.

He’s with Kika now, and he’s happy. Absolutely head-over-heels for her, and their love life — and sex life — leaves him wanting for nothing. But, damn, Esteban is hard to ignore.

Especially lately.

Esteban was attractive back in the day, sure. The shaggy hair and lean build, the boundless energy, and his unfailing patience with Pierre, even when he was being difficult, were undeniably appealing. But now, Esteban’s matured into stronger, more masculine features, adopting a polished, well-kept look — even at his most laid-back — and a broad-shouldered build that makes even Pierre feel small. His kindness, however, hasn’t changed. If anything, as they’ve grown closer over the years, Esteban’s tolerance for him has shifted into open affection; especially since Pierre’s softened a bit himself, no longer hiding behind snarky remarks and finally accepting the care and appreciation Esteban offers him — albeit a little reluctantly.

So yes, he’s very much greedy, and he knows it. But he thinks it’s justified when Esteban looks like that. When Pierre remembers just how good he was in bed, how attuned he was to Pierre’s body, and how he could say exactly the right words to make him lose control. He misses it. Misses being held down, told what to do, misses the thrill of it all.

That’s why he brought it up to Kika, after a lot of careful thought and some very cautious phrasing, so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea or think he was hiding his true self or using her as a cover.

No, Pierre isn’t gay. Bisexual, yes, proudly so, but not gay.

And, no, Kika isn’t a cover for anything. He loves her more deeply than he’s loved anyone in his life.

Whatever. He’d unpack all those feelings later. For now, he just needed to tell Kika that maybe he wanted to open things up a bit more, take their relationship a step beyond the bedroom.

Preferably not while he’s on all fours, as bare as the day he was born, waiting for Kika to do something.

“God, we should’ve done this sooner,” Kika says. Pierre can’t see her, of course, but he feels the warmth of her breath fanning over the back of his bare thigh. “You’re a sight to behold like this.”

Kika’s fingers start grazing the backs of his thighs with delicate, teasing touches that make him buck his hips back, trying to get more—more pressure, more heat, more anything—but she’s quick to step back entirely, a small, derisive sound escaping her throat to remind him he’s already getting ahead of himself.

There’s a natural confidence in the way Kika takes charge that’s always left Pierre a little awestruck. He should’ve brought this up ages ago — his desire to be dominated and put in his place every now and then. It would’ve saved him plenty of rushed, unfulfilling sessions in the shower, biting his fist to keep from making too much noise.

So when she finally places her hands on his ass, kneading at the flesh the same way he often does to her, his legs nearly give out.

“Might have to fuck you myself sometime soon. Not fair that Esteban gets to have you like this and I don’t.” The pout in her voice is one Pierre knows well — the one she uses when she’s aiming to get the upper hand, as if she doesn’t already always have it. The fact that she’s using it now, when he’s given himself over entirely to her, borders on absurd.

"You like it when I use my strap on you, don’t you?” Pierre moans in response, any hope of articulate speech long gone, and Kika takes his sounds as the affirmation they’re meant to be. “Hm. Maybe next time, I’ll make you fuck me with a dildo inside you. Can’t let you have all the fun, you’ll end up spoiled.” Her fingers start tracing his spine, her perfectly manicured nails drawing shivers down his back.

“Yes. Yesyesyes. Whatever— whatever you want, just— yes. Please, yes.”

“God,” Kika chuckles, breathless and a bit amazed, but Pierre couldn’t care less that she’s seeing just how needy he is. She’d better get used to it anyway. And quickly, considering Esteban’s due to join them soon.

Kika takes a moment to collect herself after hearing the full force of Pierre’s begging, her hands wandering over his back, pressing down just enough to tease him further. He wants nothing more than to be pinned into the mattress, held in place so he has no choice but to take what she gives him. But when she’s ready, she lets him know by dragging her nails down his back a little harder, and Pierre can only wonder why he hadn’t thought to ask her for this sooner.

Her hands slide around his waist, fingers pressing into his skin, nails leaving small indents that make him grip the pillow under his head even tighter.

“I see why Esteban didn’t hesitate to say yes,” she murmurs. “You’re so pretty like this, I don’t know how he’s gone all these years without having you bent over for him.”

Pierre, spurred on by her words and by all the teasing she’s put him through since they’d talked with Esteban weeks ago, tries to grind down against the sheets.

But Kika is quick to pull him up by his hips, delivering a slap to his thigh that leaves a lingering sting and a sharp echo in the room.

It’s the first time Kika’s done anything like this, and if Pierre were a simpler man — or just a bit more desperate — he’d probably come from that alone.

But he’s got a little more pride than that; a decade’s worth of experience being roughed up — properly roughed up — has taught him restraint.

Still, he can feel himself already leaking, and the whimper that escapes him as the sting fades into a warm burn is shameful in a way that only makes him ache even more.

“God, Pierre. I knew you were a slut but a pain-slut? That’s extreme even for you.”

She gives him only a second of reprieve before she brings her open palm down on his asscheek this time, her free hand already at his hip so he doesn’t even think about sinking down onto the bed. Pierre's breath hitches in his throat and he bites down on his lip from the surprise, tasting blood almost immediately.

“Kika,” Pierre says, voice already hoarse.

“What is it, baby?” there’s an abrupt shift in her tone, worry seeping through it loud and clear. “Want me to stop? Slow down?”

“No, no, please don’ stop, I just— Do that again, please.”

Kika doesn’t answer, not really, just hums in acknowledgment and waits a second before striking him again, a little more forcefully so Pierre knows she has committed to giving him what he wants. Pierre can only whine, biting his already abused lip harshly, because he is a painslut.

Kika presses a light kiss over the offended skin and steps away, the empty air behind Pierre immediately feels colder and he whines, high and needy, to try and get her back near him. 

She’s standing next to the bed now. Pierre knows, not because he can see her since his face is half-pressed against the pillow and his eyes are clenched shut, but because she’s running her fingers through his hair as a reassurance.

He doesn’t have to see her to know what she’s doing, either. The sound of their nightstand drawers as they open and close is something Pierre could recognize in his sleep, much like its meaning. So he’s not surprised when he hears Kika uncap the bottle of lube or when he feels the cold drag of the metal plug as she traces the outside of his thigh with it.

This is familiar territory for both of them.

One of the first things Pierre had asked for when their relationship was in its earlier stages and he was starting to feel the restlessness of wanting more was for her to finger him. She’d taken it in stride, as she did with everything else Pierre asked for. He is really fucking lucky to have her.

The first time they tried it at all it’d taken a lot of instruction from Pierre. A lot of “Hold on," and, “Alright move,” and, “Curl your fingers right there,” until Kika muttered a comment about it not being much different from fingering a girl which prompted Pierre to raise a brow in an unspoken question Kika managed to avoid answering by hitting his prostate just right and making him forget all about it.

The first time they used a plug came only a little after that.

Because, although getting fingerfucked by his girlfriend was something straight out of his fantasies, Pierre always found the lingering sensations from it to be yet another tease about something he couldn’t have; not without a lot of conversations, ones he hadn’t felt prepared for yet.

They didn’t even have to buy the plug. Pierre had it stored away with some other toys Kika had eyed with glee when he showed her his little collection. It's always been his favorite thing. A heavy, stainless steel plug that managed to keep him floaty and grounded at the same time with how full it made him feel. It’d been Este's favorite thing too, back in the day. He loved to plug Pierre right after coming inside him, and Pierre was never one to say no to a good deal. Kika, too, took a great liking to it, openly declaring to him how amazed she was that he could take so much, how he was such a good boy for it.

However, it was the first time she was going to be doing all of this when he was in such an obscene position when he knew what would come later.

It was hotter, too, because of that.

Kika starts like she always does, with soft touches all over his ass and just toying with him further. Pierre shoves his hips back towards her, moaning loudly when his naked skin meets the rough fabric of her jeans.

Kika isn’t happy at his antics and she lets him know by smacking him on the side of his thigh, harsh and unforgiving, before stepping away from him once more. Pierre feels like he’s about to cry with how much he wants and how little he’s being given. Kika sighs, much like she does when Simba makes a mess she’ll have to clean up, and lets him just wallow for a moment without saying anything.

“If you’re so hellbent on getting what you want then you probably don’t even want my help, do you?”

Pierre is about to respond, to plead with her, really, not to stop touching him — that he’ll take whatever she wants to give, even if it’s just incendiary touches and nothing else. But Kika is already grabbing one of his wrists, pulling it away from the pillow he’s been white-knuckling for a while, and covering his fingers messily in lube.

“Go on, then. If you want to be full so badly that you can’t even wait for me to do it, you should open yourself, baby.”

She drops his hand over his ass, and it falls like dead weight, Pierre too boneless to exert any control over his limbs.

“Go ahead and make it interesting for me, since you and Esteban are having all the fun tonight.”

The reminder of what’s to come pulls him out of his stupor, and he’s rushing to fill himself with his fingers. It takes less than two minutes before he’s got two fingers inside himself, thrusting wildly — he’s never been fond of moderation.

Kika laughs sweetly behind him.

“You’re gonna make yourself come before me or Esteban even get our hands on you. Is that what you want, babe? To be already fucked out and useless when Esteban gets here? Won’t be too fun for him, I bet.”

Pierre tries to shake his head but is still pressed tight against the pillow.

“Maybe he’ll fuck me then, and we’ll just make you watch,” she says conversationally. Pierre whines, somewhere between a protest and a plea. “No? Are you going to be a good boy, then, and wait for Esteban to fuck you? Or are you so needy that you just can’t help yourself, baby?”

It takes Pierre a moment to push past the fog of his arousal, his brain sluggish with want, and it’s only when Kika yanks his hand away and presses it harshly against his lower back that he realizes she’s asked a question.

“Pay attention, babe,” she says softly, but the underlying warning is unmistakable. “Are you gonna behave or not?”

Pierre tries to fight her hold, but his body already feels like jelly, and his thrashing only makes Kika dig her nails into his wrist, making him bite down on his cheek to keep from squealing.

“I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be so good, please, just let me— I need—”

Kika rewards him with a light slap to his thigh. “I know, babe, I know. I’ll give it to you, yeah? And then Esteban will too, but for that, you need to stop being so needy, okay?”

Pierre nods as best as he can, and thankfully it’s response enough for Kika, who lets go of his hand but stays hovering over him.

“Go on, then. Open yourself for me.”

And he does, to the best of his ability while Kika distracts him with soft touches and murmured praise, the heat of their bodies echoing between them and searing Pierre’s skin. He’s three fingers deep and dangerously close to coming when Kika stops him again. She silences his complaints with tender touches and light kisses pressed between his shoulder blades.

“Good boy, look at you. You’re doing so well for me, baby,” she says. “Gonna get the plug now, okay? Do you still want it?”

Pierre babbles his affirmative, and Kika kisses his shoulder once more before getting up. His thighs are starting to strain, and he’s so hard it hurts, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

Kika sits back on the bed, and Pierre hears the lube uncapping again. He tries to breathe, hoping not to come just from the idea of the plug.

He gets no warning before Kika presses the cold metal against his hole. This time, when Pierre tries to rut against the mattress, Kika doesn’t stop him.

She has her fun, fucking him slowly with the plug, letting it get to the widest part before taking it back, only to do it all over again. Pierre isn’t sure he can handle much more; he’s already so spaced out, and Esteban hasn’t even arrived yet.

“Kik—Kika, ‘m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” she says dismissively, finally pushing all of the plug in and immediately stepping away.

Pierre could cry.

“Stay still now, babe,” Kika commands. “I’ll go get Esteban, yeah?” She doesn’t wait for his response before she leaves.

Kika, damn her, knows exactly what he likes and where his limits lie. This whole “stay just like that while I go do something else” shtick is one he’s well accustomed to. It’s a test of his obedience and a tease for his exhibitionist side.

And he’s never failed a test of obedience before — not unless he did it on purpose, that is. So, he stays mostly still, shifting a little on his knees to get more comfortable and rolling his head on the pillow so he can press his forehead against it.

Waiting isn’t hard. He’s been waiting for years.

Pierre only knows Esteban has stepped into the room because of his familiar giggle.

He and Kika exchange pleasantries, and Pierre knows, from Esteban’s tone and Kika’s barely concealed laughter, that it’s only to mess with him. He’s so focused on not moving an inch that he doesn’t notice Esteban next to him until his hand maps out his back. Pierre keens at the sudden touch, and Esteban shushes at him.

“It’s alright, mon ange, it’s alright,” he says, “I’m right here. Gonna give you what you want, yeah?”

“Please, oh, please, I’ve been good, I’ve been so good, please—”

“Oh, really?” Esteban says, his hand stopping right at his nape. “That true, Kika?”

“A bit needy but yeah. I’ve seen him do worse.”

“He’s probably just excited. Right, doll?”

Pierre wants to tell him — both of them, really — that he’s been waiting for fucking years for this, but all he can manage is another choked moan that gets a laugh out of Esteban.

“Use your words, baby, c’mon,” he says, and Pierre realizes the one thing he didn’t miss about Esteban was that fucking phrase. “Tell me how badly you want me,” he adds, a little lower.

“Want you so bad, Esteban, please, please, s'il vous plaît—” he starts babbling, but Esteban just tuts unappreciatively.

“Didn’t ask you to beg, honey. Y’know I don’t like it when you’re a slut, yeah?”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry.”

Esteban chuckles, “That’s not good enough, doll. D’you remember how we show we’re sorry?”

And, oh, he does remember. But the apology Esteban is demanding from him is not something he ever thought Kika would see. Sure, he knew he’d get fucked in front of her — that was most of the appeal — but for Esteban to ask this of him…

“Yes, sir.”

Esteban’s hand leaves his nape and leaves him untethered. He has a second to ponder on what he should do next before Esteban solves that for him, saying, “knees.”

It’s a well-practiced command. One of the many single-word instructions that made up most of their vocabulary back in the day; when there wasn’t enough time for proper dirty talk and details. Pierre remembers every single time Esteban dragged him into a dressing room or a bathroom or a supply closet and said the exact same word. Knees. Pierre doesn’t dwell on how the timber of it has changed, doesn’t have time when he has to regain control over his muscles and shove himself off the bed, landing in front of Esteban on his knees, his eyes fixated on Esteban’s boots — just how Esteban likes it.

He regrets his carelessness when his knees hit and drag on the carpet floor, knowing he’s going to be feeling the pain for weeks on end, but he thinks the burn of them is worth it when Esteban pets his hair soothingly.

“You ever have him like this, Kika?” Esteban asks. Kika doesn’t say anything, but she must shake her head because Esteban continues, “Shame. I think you’d like it. He’s so pretty on his knees.” Pierre keens. “C’mere.”

Kika’s heels appear right behind Esteban’s boots.

The next command he gets isn’t spoken. Esteban only has to tap the base of his jaw for Pierre to look up.

The image of both Esteban and Kika towering over him, Esteban smiling softly and Kika looking intrigued, is one he burns into his memory.

“Hi, mon ange,” Esteban murmurs softly, “Fucking missed you.”

And then Esteban’s bending down, his hands cradling Pierre’s face, guiding him into a kiss that feels years overdue. He lets himself be kissed, his own hands coming up to hold Esteban’s wrists in an attempt to stabilize himself.

Esteban’s kisses, if possible, are better than Pierre remembers. So easy to sink into. So good he’d be content with just this — Esteban’s lips on his, kissing him like it’s his life purpose — and nothing else, tonight and forever.

“Really fucking missed you,” Esteban muses a little breathlessly when they part.

Pierre can’t take the adoring look on Esteban’s face for too long. It sets him alight in a gentle fire that feels placeless in this scenario and makes him restless for another thing he can’t have — not yet anyway. So, he looks past Esteban’s shoulder to see Kika already looking at him, equally as fond as Esteban, but the affection doesn’t feel as uncharted when it’s written over her face.

Whatever he did in a past life to earn himself this pair, he doesn’t know, but he’s incredibly grateful for it.

Esteban is the one to snap him out of his trance, turning Pierre’s face so their eyes meet again.

“Look at me, doll. Don’t go getting distracted now,” he says, his fingers digging into the permanent baby fat in Pierre’s cheeks.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Second time you’ve said that today and I only just got here, mon ange. Is that how you’re gonna be all night? Messing up at every turn? Another sorry, sir every five seconds?” Esteban has a talent for sounding demeaning while keeping his voice soft and low. It makes Pierre whimper with how overtaken he is by the need to do better, be better for him.

He tries to shake his head but Esteban’s grip on his jaw tightens, and he can’t do much more than whine another, “Sorry, sir. ‘m sorry, I’ll be better, please,” that makes Esteban scoff and let go of him again.

Pierre falls forward, his hands land on Esteban’s hips, and he looks up pleadingly. Esteban doesn’t even extend the courtesy of meeting his eyes, looking back at Kika over his shoulder.

“I swear he didn’t use to be like this,” he says, like Pierre is just a restless pet.

“He forgets his place sometimes,” Kika says with a sigh. Esteban tilts his head in understanding and looks back at him. Pierre’s grip on his hips tightens a bit, trying to express the plea that he knows Esteban won’t want to hear.

“He better learn quickly, then,” Esteban says. “Belt. Be quick about it.”

Pierre fumbles, his unsteady hands not making the process of taking the belt off of Esteban any easier. Esteban throws his head back, groaning theatrically.

“You’d think he’d be faster with how eager he is,” he says to Kika. Pierre pouts, still fighting a war against the belt loops that seem to be conspiring against him.

“Not all sluts are good sluts, Esteban,” Kika says, making Esteban chuckle.

Pierre finally gets the belt off. He folds it haphazardly and offers it to Esteban with both his hands. Esteban’s looking at him unimpressed. “So you can follow instructions. Good.” Pierre doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, stuck between loving the dismissive edge to Esteban’s voice and chasing after whatever praise he can get. “Go on, you know what to do.”

Pierre nods, his hands going back to fumbling with the button and zipper of Esteban's pants, vaguely registering how the leather belt is tracing the skin on his shoulders. It’s making him shudder, making his job clumsier all the while. It’s a ploy he knows well; Esteban will give him an instruction and then try to distract him from it — genius in a very evil way.

“You know, Kika?” Esteban says. Kika hums, but it sounds further than before. “I’ve always thought he’d look pretty with a collar. What do you think?” Pierre is just about done with his job when Esteban taps the underside of his chin again. He’s barely lifted his eyes to meet Esteban’s when the belt is wrapped loosely around his neck; Esteban fastens it so the excess hangs from his hand.

“I can see the appeal,” Kika says, sounding disinterested as ever. “Maybe one with a dog tag and a leash.”

Esteban chuckles at that. “He’s already our bitch. Might as well make him look the part.”

“Please,” Pierre whimpers.

“Yeah?” Esteban pulls on the leather around his neck, bringing Pierre closer. “C’mon, finish the job that you started.”

Pierre quickly pushes Esteban’s pants down and pulls his dick out, his mouth watering at the sight. He sticks his tongue out and leans forward a little, showing Esteban he's ready and looking up at him for approval.

"Go on," Esteban encourages, "show us you can be a good boy."

Pierre submits to his control easily, allowing Esteban to lead his mouth onto his cock. The weight of Esteban’s dick in his mouth is yet another thing he missed, and he shows his appreciation for it by pulling out all his old tricks — the ones that helped rush their clandestine meetings along.

“That’s good,” Esteban says, his voice smooth and patronizing. Esteban’s praise, though laced with mockery, is more than welcome. Sadly, he doesn’t get to properly cherish it before Esteban gives his next command. “Enough. Stay.”

Pierre stops moving, Esteban’s cock halfway in his mouth. He drops his hands, holding them behind his back without waiting for Esteban’s instruction. He lets his eyes flutter closed, diverting all his focus to keeping as still as possible and being mindful of his breathing and how he’s starting to drool around Esteban’s dick.

It almost feels like a gift. Getting to sit there just holding Esteban's cock in his mouth, finally able to relish it properly now that there's no rush or threat of anyone walking in on them. Pierre pushes away the thought that maybe he's always been a little too into Esteban, and how he's already missing this even as he's right in the midst of it.

A pair of hands on his shoulders do away with those thoughts, though. He can tell it’s Kika by the softness of her palms, meeting at the base of his neck. She takes the belt that's still wrapped around his neck and pulls back toward her, eliciting a whine out of Pierre, making him squirm under the pull of the makeshift collar and the urge to stay still to please Esteban.

“So you just have him sit with your dick in his mouth?” Kika asks.

Esteban nods, carding his fingers through Pierre's hair. “He's an overeager little thing. Kept stepping out of line and saying sorry. Until I got tired of sorry and told him to put his mouth to better use. But then, since he loves sucking cock so much, I thought he could just sit there and take it for a bit, learn a thing or two about patience.”

Esteban forms a fist with his fingers tangled in Pierre’s hair, pulling on his scalp just enough to make it sting. “And it seems he has learned. You’ve done so well for us, pet. I think it’s time you get taken care of. What do you think, Kika?” Pierre whines around Esteban as Kika hums noncommittally.

Pierre's eagerness, if possible, burns even harder within him.

Kika delivers his next instruction, far more polite than Esteban, “On the bed, babe,” with another tug on the belt.

Pierre's dizzy with want and excitement, and he jumps to kneel on the bed before Kika's even done telling him to. He’s confused and a little saddened when only Esteban is with him on the bed, Kika sitting a couple of feet away from them on the chair he had brought up earlier for this exact purpose. He’d been enjoying Kika and Esteban’s teamwork so much, the mixing and mingling of their voices and touches, that he’d forgotten Kika is here only to watch him get fucked.

He’s about to bring out the pout and start begging when Esteban's hands start lighting fire across his skin again.

“Sir, please.”

Esteban’s hands are all over him, running over his back and sides, caressing his stomach but avoiding Pierre’s hard dick. Esteban tuts derisively when Pierre shoves his hips forward, trying to get some contact.

“Thought you were going to be a good boy for me.” Esteban places his hand on the middle of Pierre’s back, his fingers light as they tickle over his skin.

Pierre nods again, ever desperate to please. “I’ve been so good, sir, please. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

“Suppose we can’t expect much from a slut like you,” Esteban muses, his hand trailing down Pierre’s back, slipping between his cheeks and pressing on the end of the plug. Pierre holds back a whimper, biting on his lip, clenching his hands. He wants to beg for more but he also wants to behave; he has to be good for Esteban to get what he wants. Esteban plays with the plug some more, pulling on the end and teasing him with it before letting it slip back inside Pierre.

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden, doll? I want to hear you.” Esteban reaches a hand around Pierre’s torso to grab his dick, jerking him off steadily. Pierre cries out loudly, hanging his head, his arms shaking to hold him up. It's very little but it's also too much. The onslaught of sensation after coasting by only on light touches, mixed with the still rising anticipation, is enough to have him on the edge in seconds.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m going to come, sir, please.”

Esteban chuckles a bit, “You’re not allowed to come until Kika says you can.”

Pierre can’t tell what Kika’s response is, too lost in the pleasure washing over him. He’s started fucking forward into Esteban’s hand, too far gone to stop, small pained sounds falling uninhibited from his mouth.

“You’re so good to me, Este baby, I feel so good, please just, fuck—“ He tries to move away from Esteban's hand, feeling his orgasm coil in the bottom of his stomach, closing his eyes as the heat threatens to take him over. “Kika please, let me— fuck, Esteban. I—“

Pierre cries out again, and just before he feels he is going to come he hears, “Go on, babe,” and then he’s releasing all over Esteban’s hand and the bed below him, pained sounds falling from his mouth when Esteban’s hand continues to move over his sensitive dick. He squirms to move out of his grasp but Esteban doesn’t let him, holding him tighter.

“It’s— huh— it’s too much. Fuck.”

Esteban's response is a dangerous thing, whispered right next to his ear. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, doll. Gonna fuck another out of you. D'you want that? Want to sit on my dick and ride me? Show Kika how pretty you are when taking my dick? I bet you look great stuffed full and with your thighs shaking. Imagine the sounds you’ll make, what a pretty show you'll be for Kika."

And Pierre is making more of those sounds now, cut-off whines, choked by the next sound rising from his throat. Esteban presses a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Let’s give you a little break, yeah?” Esteban says, taking his hands off Pierre. There is another pair of hands on him, cool to Pierre’s hot skin, tucking against his waist and rolling him onto his back. Pierre smiles up at Kika when he falls back into the pillows, closing his eyes when she pets his cheek.

“Do you need anything, babe? Some water maybe?” she asks.

Pierre loves that she's checking in on him. It’s the perfect balance to being roughed up by Esteban.

He shakes his head, gently grabbing her wrist and kissing the palm of her hand before turning to look at Esteban who is still partially dressed, his hands pushing his pants down the rest of the way. Pierre licks his lips, eager for what’s going to come next, shifting a little on the bed to feel the plug inside him. Kika’s hand leaves his face, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving away.

Pierre watches as Esteban unbuttons his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders, glancing up at him. He looks almost shy when their eyes meet, some of his dominant persona fading away. Esteban had always been gentle with Pierre afterward, kissing him softly, offering quiet reassurance before they had to leave each other, always making sure Pierre knew he was cared for.

Once Esteban has fully undressed, he climbs up on the bed beside Pierre and cups his jaw with one hand, pulling their lips together. Pierre melts against him, pressing his hands against his chest and waist, elated to have Esteban again after so long.

They linger like that for a while, kissing mindlessly, simply for the sake of kissing and basking in each other’s presence.

It’s both everything Pierre had missed and something entirely new. It’s Esteban, yes, but in a way Pierre had never really had the chance to experience. It’s Esteban giggling into their kiss and tracing his skin, pulling him closer even when their fronts are already molded to each other.

Pierre lets himself sink into it all: the featherlight touches, Esteban’s rushed breathing, and the slide of their lips together. He only realizes he’s been grinding his hips against Esteban’s own when his movements are halted almost forcefully.

Esteban pulls back, and Pierre can see in his face, even before he speaks, that they’re back on track. “I want you to ride me, doll. Do you think you can do that?” he asks, looking for assurance in Pierre’s eyes.

“Yes, yeah, I wanna,” Pierre responds, breathless and eager, his words running into each other with how quickly he's trying to get them out.

Esteban smiles and kisses him again briefly, moving away to settle against the headboard. “Come on, on my lap.” He beckons him with a pat to his thigh, like you would a pet, and Pierre flushes as he crawls towards him.

Esteban stops him. “Ah, aren’t you forgetting something?”

Pierre whines, confused, stopping just shy of Esteban’s lap. He hates this little guessing game Esteban plays sometimes, preferring clear instructions. It’s cruel of him to make Pierre focus on anything other than getting what he needs, while looking pretty for Kika.

Esteban smiles and pets Pierre’s cheek lovingly, but when he speaks, it edges on mocking. “You’ve gotta take that plug out, baby.”

Pierre nods and leans in for another kiss, wanting reassurance. Esteban obliges briefly before guiding Pierre’s hand back, smoothing it over the curve of his backside. Pierre tries to balance himself with one hand on the mattress as he pulls out the plug, biting his lip as he pants, doing his best to follow instructions, even though the bed feels like water beneath him.

“Good job,” Esteban’s voice grows distant, almost disinterested, making Pierre shudder, caught between wanting to earn back his attention or protesting.

“Turn around for me, doll. There you go.” Esteban helps him turn, maneuvering him a bit onto his knees, his legs straddling Esteban’s thighs. “Yeah, facing Kika, just like that. Wouldn’t want her to miss out on how pretty you look.”

Pierre glances at Kika now, pristine as always, sitting at the foot of the bed, legs crossed as she watches intently. Her steady gaze makes Pierre blush a deep red, turning his head instinctively.

Esteban pulls him back, their hips meeting as Pierre whimpers from the contact, reveling in the warmth of Esteban against his bare skin. Esteban’s hands start at his hips, holding him close, then travel up his sides, exploring his skin. Pierre squirms as one hand teases his nipple while the other strokes the sensitive skin inside his thigh. Esteban hasn’t forgotten any of his weak spots.

Pierre glances at Kika again. Her intense gaze amplifies everything he’s feeling; if Esteban doesn’t take him soon, he might lose himself from the teasing alone.

“Sir— let me, please,” Pierre begs, almost delirious, needing more. He tries to stay focused — this is his chance to prove himself, to both of them, he can’t let himself falter now.

“Already falling apart, and we haven’t even started yet,” Esteban murmurs against his shoulder, his smile pressing into Pierre’s skin.

“Please.” Pierre’s voice sounds desperate even to his own ears, and he looks away from Kika’s face as he sees her smirk at his vulnerability.

“Alright, mon ange, we’re going to give you what you need.” Esteban tugs him gently, guiding him. “Sit up for me? There we go, good pet.” He helps Pierre position himself so he’s hovering just above him, and Pierre bites down on his lip when he feels Esteban’s readiness pressing against him.

Pierre sinks down slowly, bracing his hands on Esteban's thighs as he does, shuddering and hanging his head when he bottoms out. He leans back against Esteban slightly and moans at the stretch. It’s not that he hasn’t had a dick in his ass in years; it's that he hasn't had Esteban's dick inside him in years. It still feels as perfect as the first time. Esteban has always filled him up so well, right on the verge of being too much, making him feel proud of himself for being able to take it so well.

Esteban grabs Pierre’s jaw, his fingers pressing into his cheeks as he brings his line of sight back to Kika. Pierre keens at the suddenness of the motion. “I want you to look at Kika while you ride me, think you can do that?” Pierre nods his assent as best as he can with Esteban’s hand gripping his jaw while he shifts back, already trying to fuck himself.

Esteban holds him steady, his lips pressed behind Pierre's ear. “Alright, mon ange, show me you can be a good boy. Fuck yourself on my dick for us.”

It’s a crude show, he thinks, to see him chase his own pleasure so brazenly; the way he can’t find a grip on himself or anything around him, holding onto Esteban’s arm like it’d bring him any balance. He’s never been too careful with sex, always overeager and doing his best to fulfill his cravings.

This is no exception. Pierre sets a frantic pace from the get-go, bouncing eagerly on Esteban's cock, trying to make up for the years of having this need remain unsatisfied.

That was mistake number one. It doesn’t take long before his thighs are straining, and he’s falling forward, barely staying upright. He's too into this, enjoys the feeling of being fucked far too much to try to please anyone but himself. Greed is his fatal flaw, and Esteban doesn’t hesitate to point it out.

“Come on, if you’re gonna be a greedy bitch—" he doesn’t even sound winded as he speaks, "—I think you can do better than that,” Esteban chastises, and Pierre shakes his head, his eyes teary as he rocks himself down, gasping when Esteban grabs his hips and holds him there, his hold punishing when Pierre tries to grind back against him.

“What? You’re tired already? How disappointing. You get so weak for a dick in your ass that you can’t even show Kika how well you take it. What should we do about that then? Hm?"

Pierre really hates the constant questioning. Maybe next time he’ll ask to be gagged, see if that keeps Esteban's conversation at bay. He's here to get fucked, not to be quizzed on how he wants to get fucked. He tries to convey his frustration by shifting his hips some more, letting Esteban know that he doesn't care how; he just wants him.

It does the trick well enough, though Esteban sighs like he’s tired of him.

“Wanna get fucked so bad but you won't even work for it. Spoiled fucking slut is what you are,” one of Esteban’s hands lands between Pierre’s shoulder blades and pushes him down until his face is smushed against the mattress. The change in angle pushes Esteban's cock further inside him, and Pierre keens at the feeling, squirming under Esteban, who's kneeling, tall and proud, behind him. “Can you tell Kika how you feel while I fuck you, or will that be too hard for you, too?” Esteban doesn’t seem to be actually waiting for a response if the way he continues to manhandle him is anything to go by.

Pierre feels like things are starting to fall back into place, though he’s not entirely sure when anything went missing at all. Still, there's something just beyond his reach, close enough that he can taste it, right behind his teeth, but he can't sink his hands into it. Esteban is giving him everything he’s wanted — or everything he thought he wanted. And it's good. Amazing, even. It's bringing him to the edge of delirium, but he can't help but still crave for more.

Maybe if he could have this more often. Maybe if he didn’t have to miss it. Maybe if he could always have it. Maybe if Esteban wasn’t a novelty brought into his and Kika's bedroom for a couple of hours, only to leave again. Maybe if Esteban was a permanent fixture in their life. Maybe then he’d be satiated.

Esteban lifts his hips a little higher and starts to fuck him hard, driving his hips against his own with vigor; it’s all Pierre’s wanted for years now. He's white-knuckling the sheets, letting Esteban do whatever he wants to him, not caring to hide the pathetic sounds that are getting punched out of him with every thrust, sounds that lie somewhere between moans and cries.

Both Kika and Esteban stay quiet, and the backdrop of silence it creates makes the lewd noises E

[mintymuses-podcast-edition]

It's taken me a while but now that I'm older and have listened to TMA a few times, I have a much better appreciation of the character arcs in season three and four. The first time I listened to TMA was sometime mid-pandemic, fresh out of high school and very much stuck in a realm of black and white thinking. Characters were only good and only bad. Maybe it was also the pandemic and the way it interacted with my mindset; more likely it was just. Me being 18 and not fully understanding how to interpret these characters. But I think I get it now.

Back then, I didn't really like any of the characters because - in my mind - they were terrible friends(not even really friends, more just people he spent time with) to Jon and just didn't understand the stuff he was dealing with. Becoming something other than human is a hell of a process and they were all very cold to him during this, something I didn't get. My mindset was usually on main character with good goals = good guy that needs allies. Now I can see it a lot clearer.

Martin lost his mom, Jon, the only coworker he had who had been with him from the start of their stint in the archives, and - even though at the time it seemed like a good thing - any direction from Elias. Everything was uprooted, and he withdrew into himself. He saw an opportunity to help who remained, with Peter, and he took it. Yes, it made him act harshly to the people that reached out to him — but depression and loss doesn't always make people just sad, it makes them bitter and angry when they isolate. I heard the Lonely compared to depression and it finally clicked for me. Yes, he acted like an asshole a few times to his remaining coworkers. He was in pain.

Basira was - at the time - the only one who made it out of the Unknowing alive. She was alone, and she could only count on herself. So when people came back, she still stuck to that thinking because it was the only thing she could do, the only thing that felt right when her other half was gone. She didn't share plans and rushed into things because she needed to be in control at all times and handle it herself, needed to be able to. She was cold to Jon when he went through the dietary intervention(lol) because he became an element she couldn't trust again, after just starting to put some back into him. She withdrew again.

Melanie was someone I used to be incredibly confused by, mostly because I didn't understand her anger and how she used it to fuel herself. It seemed so strange that she'd mourn the loss of something that was likely killing her from the inside out, but the thing is it was attached to a part of her that gave her the strength to carry on. Her anger was her identity and it had been carved out of her; she had no spark left under that and she had to relearn what it meant to be. I didn't understand just how distressing it could be to lose a "negative" part of oneself the first time I listened, because at least she was alive? I didn't understand how much of the self could be lost doing that, even with good intentions.

I think Georgie is the one I was most judgemental towards, because when I first listened, the idea of abandoning a friend that needed help seemed incredibly cruel and selfish to me(seeing it only from Jon's angle). She distanced herself from him when he needed the support of friends most — but now that I've lived more I understand how hard a choice that probably was for her, and also how important it was that she made it. Narratively it was a bad time - she didn't know that ofc - but it probably had been bubbling up for ages. How many times had she been trying desperately to help Jon when he wouldn't even extend a hand to accept that help? Helping people is important; desperately trying to help people who refuse it is a lesson in insanity. At the time, I had never cut someone off for my own health like that, but now I get it. She did what she could until she couldn't anymore.

Idk exactly where I was going with this but ultimately they're all such well-written and human characters going through incredible hardships; no one is going to make good choices when they're under such pressure, no one is going to be 'the good guy' because they're all suffering and reacting to it in their own ways. It took me a few years to see it exactly but it is so worth it 🙏 moral of the story is if you don't entirely like a character when you're younger, visit them again when you're older and have more perspective

[dunmeshistash]

Getting side tracked but dungeon meshi chapter 67 actually makes me insane, has anyone wrote their thoughts about it? Cause I do not think I have the capacity to describe what I think about it myself.

He brutally murders his sister out of love man, his little sister he just wants to protect, and he also did it so brutally and personally to save Marcille from grief...

He abandoned Falin once because he could not deal with the ugliness of her suffering... But now he's facing it head on with all he has...

The little soft smile right before it all goes down...

How brutal and violent the whole thing was, bloody and ugly, and he did it all out of love, he murdered his sister without a wink of hesitation, because if he hesitates he cannot save her.

Makes me want to yell

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[littlecrittereli]

✨️how you draw so well, I'm IN LOVE with the story ✨️✨️✨️ how Chris looks exactly when he's out of control, could you doodle what he looks like :3 I LOVE your drawings <3✨️✨️

Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it! And ofc, I've been meaning to make some art about this...

In the Jaguar suit of cours, Diego has always been partial to cats.

To the outward gaze, he kinda just seems... zoned out. There are moments of clarity or recognition, but for the most part he almost doesn't react to much besides Diego's commands.

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

you can't be a good leader, let alone an ultimate-level one, if you can't work with people or connect with them on a personal level? DICE are referred to as 'friends bordering on family' for a reason. just because he doesn't do that in game doesn't mean it's like 'oil and water'/something he's fundamentally incapable of

I meant that he's like that *in the game specifically*. Of course he's close to DICE, or else they wouldn't've been in his motive video. Hell, outside of the killing game he probably would've worked just the same with the other v3s. Its just the situation that he's in that has him acting on edge and paranoid, pushing the others away do better do what he wants in what he thinks is for their own good. And so he eschews collaboration in favour of trying to pull the strings from outside to best "lead" the others through the killing game as much as possible.

[gomzdrawfr]

i love your art so muchjhh 😭💕🫴🏻 but sometimes i forgot just how heart breaking your angst art can be (Ｔ＿Ｔ) idk how you do it…but i love it all still even if im sobbing on the floor!!!!

hiiiiii thank you wahhh haha <33

as to how i angst...i think somewhere in the blog i mentioned before how I do it but basically I project a lot when i do those sad arts, especially on bad days uhh if that makes sense?? XD would not recommend this as a tip btw im just that kind of person and being honest SKAJDHFKJ

[bat-zilla]

LIL DUDES AQUIRED

[dreadfutures]

.

I love Solas, and I love Solavellan, because I find the character and story so compelling, but sometimes I feel like a fake Solavellan

to me Ixchel and Solas has kind of always been about two friends who both suffer from the same affliction and they are the only two people who can ever understand it, the affliction being outside (duty, responsibility, guilt) and inside (inherent fatalism in philosophy, viewing the self as unworthy, haunted by despair) and though

they can't at first forgive themselves or find the strength within them to stay out of their dark spirals, they can do it for the other. and how important that is. that's love. the smooching and everything is on top. the knowing what dark predators haunt the other person's psyche and saying I'll be there with you when the wolves come, we'll survive together. the I know exactly who you are and how ugly it is and I love you for it and I see the beauty still. the I will never get tired of you even if youre never "fixed." that's love right. that's Ixchel and Solas to me.

so like yeah they have been Together for about like 170+ chapters. they're not being tested about being pulled apart by duty or fear anymore, they're testing the strength of that bond in those dark ugly moments that come for us all. and mostly theyre good. mostly they're just on an adventure together.

somehow it feels like I'm a fake Solavellan 🥲 like early dpdf captured something and... getting together, having truths revealed, this *aftermath* is like I left that behind somehow. like it's beyond what Solavellans want. idk. I think about other fics that are post- truth coming out and staying together and they're very different vibes, I think, you know?

I like my action/adventure fic, I like them together, I like having moments where they find that there is still a dark corner they haven't swept out into the light yet and the way it's still scary for someone to want to know those ugly parts of you that they maybe haven't seen yet. I like having them be mostly utterly confident in each others competency. I like them united against the unknown together. but like did everything about them peak in Here Lies the Abyss, you know? or maybe Wycome? I'm so nervous about everything in TBG :'( it's just hard for me RN in my heart idk to feel confident of like. where it Fits into fandom besides "blue loves lore and wants to explore metaphysics with Ixchel (new perspective) and Solas (wise, experienced guide)"

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[this-should-do]

me when i meet with my colleges first out trans teacher who is like a celebrity with me after one of my teachers puts me in contact with her again (i had interviewed said trans teacher 4 years prior and hadnt met with her since) and she tells me tjat my teacher had so many positive things to say about me, about how i was one of her brightest most well spoken students and that she (within like 5 minutes of having been talking) immediately sees exactly what my professor had been talking about and so many super implied positives about me that i would never had known about and i dod everything in my power to avoid prying for more details but even what i heard was soso nicies

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Greetings Starstruck enjoyers, I bring a fic that has been brewing in my head on and off for a couple months, hope you enjoy :]

[gracemarkss]

finished s4 in my txf rewatch so i'm here's my top 10 so far. these are vaguely in order.

10. oubliette (s3ep08). this episode gives us soooo much big brother mulder. his gentle insistence that lucy, despite everything she's been through, is strong and capable and has value - that she can save this girl (and he's right). when scully calls him out on his overidentifying with lucy and he insists not everything he does or feels goes back to samantha...but when lucy dies, you know he's losing sam all over again. he can't save them all, he can't even save most of them, but by god does he try.

9. memento mori (s4ep14). cliche as hell but the fact that it opens with scully's sensual voice over reading her romantic diary entries which are addressed to mulder...insane. both of them facing a terrible reality, deep seated fears - losing her and abandoning him (is dying a betrayal?) the fact that he's ready to make a deal with the devil. the fact that skinner DOES. death vs love, fight!!!!!

8. beyond the sea (s1ep13). gillian is insaaaaane in the episode like how could anyone involved in this show not think she was capable of anything and everything? scully is such a great character in part because of the constant tension that exists between expectation and desire. the things she should want, the things she wants to want, the things she actually wants. she craves her father's approval while chafing against the weight of his expectation. the "i love this job" "you love your father" exchange goes craaaaaazy. and that's not even getting into the role reversal!!!!

7. pusher (s3ep17). another cliche but god does this episode go hard. another spectacular look into mulder's psyche and another situation that highlights the depth of their connection. when he kneels down in front of her and hands her his gun...i wonder how many times mulder walks into a situation and thinks that maybe he'll die. that maybe he wouldn't mind. i wonder how much scully knows that (her fear here makes me think she knows, and it terrifies her.) but all's well that ends well i guess (them holding hands).

6. end game (s2ep17). i just love that the narrative forces mulder to choose between samantha and scully and he tries to rig the game to save both. from "nothing else matters to me" to if anything happens to scully i'll kill everyone in this room and then myself. there's obviously a lot more going on here and i love all of it but that's my main takeaway. oh also dd rules in this ep. his regression back into a lost little boy saying "i'm sorry, dad," bill mulder you are bones.

5. wetwired (s3ep23). another classic "what are you afraid of" episode and this time the answer is "the prophet you are following turns out to be false." trust is their most valuable and sacred currency. the potential loss of that is truly devastating. let's not even get into the fact that mulder thinks scully's gone missing (again) and it's his fault (again) and he has to break this to her mother (again) and let's not talk about the fact that maggie defends mulder to scully and trusts him with her daughter's life despite everything. and let's definitely not ever mention the scene where he goes to id the body.

4. paper hearts (s4ep10). yet another cliche but there's a reason these episodes are well loved and considered among the best. "it's somebody though" just sums up everything you need to know about mulder. he is so deeply hurt and so good despite it all. he really is the best boy. another ep dd is superb in.

3. demons (s4ep23). part of the reason i love this episode is just because i think the premise of mulder drilling a hole in his head and injecting ketamine in it is hilarious. but also profoundly sad. can you tell i have a thing for mulder angst yet? and episodes that highlight how deep and loving his and scully's relationship is, however you interpret it? she's the first one he thinks of to call when he wakes up in a bad situation. she drops everything to be there for him. she won't stop him, she'll just take the keys and drive. what can i carry for you. what can i do. i will not let you go alone. another great example of dd's ability to play mulder at his smallest - when he tells his mother he needs to speak with her with his head down and his voice pitched just a bit higher...i'll jump.

2. ice (s1ep08). truly what needs to be said. i know this is a ripoff of the thing but i've never seen the thing so this is better probably. stuck in a small space, paranoia at the top of the world...also the guy who plays the landlord in new girl is here and i love that. both dd and ga are also both crazy hot in the ep. i think it just rules even as a standalone and is a great way to introduce someone to the series. just fun and sexy and tense.

3 (s2ep07). HE'S WEARING HER NECKLACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

honorable mentions: lazarus (s1ep15); darkness falls (s1ep20); little green men (s2ep01); the field where i died (s4ep05); grotesque (s3ep14); terma (s4ep9).

[ganondoodle]

so, except for that one painting i still wanna finish im gonna tone down the OC stuff again, zelda work resumes now (°ー°〃)