moodline
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Dennis remembered the first time he felt his father’s rage; it was also the first time he felt Godless.
He begged God to forgive him for talking about a boy in his class too much in his prayers, for being too soft-hearted, unlike his brothers, and for making his mama cry. He remembered begging God to change him, to like who God intended him to like.
God never answered that prayer.
So now, there he was, lying in bed with his boss naked.Bookmarked by moodline
22 Dec 2025
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Dennis Whitaker is fucked. So incredibly fucked. Thoroughly, like in one of those Reddit stories his nephews would listen to on Tiktok with a Minecraft video playing as a visual stimulation. (He’s supposed to turn those off, but hey, they catch your attention.)
Hey Reddit, I fucked my new boss without knowing he was my new boss the night before my first shift. Ask me anything!
Or, exactly what it says on the tin.
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22 Dec 2025
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Someone punches Dennis while he's working on Street Team and McKay won't let him go home alone. He calls the one person he knows is available. And really, who better to call than your situationship who's also your boss?
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Dennis is bleeding but Robby's in pain.
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22 Dec 2025
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After getting a patient's blood in his mouth, Dennis contracts "anthmablossomvirus" a sex pollen virus that will try to shut down his organs unless he has sex.
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Kinktober Day 15: Semi-Public, Object Insertion, Sex Pollen
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Bookmarked by moodline
22 Dec 2025
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His hand lifted.
And then his fingers were there, sinking into the hair at the crown of Dennis’s head.
It was just as soft as he’d imagined. Softer. He was definitely using some kind of a special conditioner. The slight curl wrapped around his fingers like a caress. He felt the solid warmth of Dennis’s skull beneath his palm, a shocking, intimate contact. He registered the perfect texture, the clean scent of generic hospital shampoo—and the absolute, petrified stillness of the man beneath his touch.
The world crashed back in.
The card game had stopped. Princess was frozen, a card halfway to the table. Mohan’s laughter had died in her throat. Mel’s smirk had vanished, replaced by wide-eyed shock.
What. the. actual. fuck.
Bookmarked by moodline
22 Dec 2025