#anyway‚ not finished. obviously. but yeah

[ccazimi]

cw: crack, fluff, smut, dubcon, panty sniffing/stealing, scent kink, etc. (he's literally part animal what do you expect)

tiger hybrid!sukuna who's prissy and sassy, much like an actual housecat. picky about everything, from the temperature and consistency of his food to the way his water tastes to what a light sleeper he is. sometimes you talk to him, and if he doesn't feel like responding, he literally won't even turn his head to you - all you'll get is an annoyed flick of his ear to tell you that he does hear you, he's just actively choosing to ignore you.

tiger hybrid!sukuna who has a serious issue with boundaries. he's allowed to ignore you if he feels like it, but you dare try and do the same thing back? unacceptable. will be extremely miffed if your attention isn't on him at all times. yes, even when he actively acts like he doesn't want it.

not to mention you need to deal with him literally getting offended at the fact that you wear clothes around him even though "it's just you two in the house" and on more than one occasion will you be absolutely mortified when you find he’s been stealing your dirty panties- he, of course, doesn’t get the big deal.

oh, you thought that was bad? wait till you find that he insists that you sleep naked with him, and your nightly ritual includes him not only licking you clean (at least your face and neck) but sniffing down your entire body. yes, the entire thing. the part where he gets to your pussy is the worst for you, and the best for him. and whenever he gets down between your thighs to smell you, he makes this weird face almost automatically, with his lips pulled back to show off those fangs and mouth a bit open somewhere between a snarl and a smirk, like he’s trying to taste the scent

tiger hybrid!sukuna who has a special vomeronasal organ at the roof of his mouth that can pick up pheromones—and that weird thing he does, when he opens his mouth while sniffing your pussy? yeah, that’s him drawing the scent in deeper, some focused, instinctual decoding process of your sexual health

"you're ovulating, probably peaked this morning. also you're kinda stressed...maybe you need to sleep more," he graciously informs you of his findings between your spread thighs. "oh and your pH is a little off. maybe skip that stupid new soap you got next time."

he looks up at you expectantly—clearly waiting for your gratitude. and you know he won’t finish this whole ridiculous routine until you sigh and say, flat as ever, "thanks for that. can we sleep now?"

"you've got two days left if you're trying to get pregnant, by the way."

you shoot him something between a glare and a grimace.

tiger hybrid!sukuna can pick up everything, but there are two times of the month when he can pick up those smells even with just his normal nostrils. the first one -obviously- is when you’re ovulating. but the only thing worse than the scent of you ovulating, is the smell that envelops you right before you get your period. “worse” in the sense that it drives him completely insane. sweet, cloyingly thick, warm. in fact he blames you for tempting him. you'll be innocently doing the dishes or something when suddenly it's too much for him and he pounces on you from behind, wrapping his arms around you to keep you in place, claws instinctively pushing out to dig into your skin so tight it hurts.

of course you panic, squirming as he begins rutting into the curve of your ass, his cock quickly swelling up till it's very noticeable. and the scent of him that becomes so much stronger when he's...excited like this - warm, musky, all iron and spice, wrapping around you.

"sukuna- let me- go!" you try as you struggle in his grasp, but it's too late he's too far gone, just mindlessly grunting and growling as he chases his release, too desperate to even fuck you properly. "almost there, just a bit more," he pants, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. "it's your fault anyway, walking around like -hah- i can't smell your pussy fucking begging for me." and right as you're about to splash some cold water on him, you hear him groan filthy, and guttural, as he finishes in his pants just from grinding against you.

and that's when he finally comes to his senses, trying to retract his claws to let go of you. unfortunately they get stuck in the fabric of your clothing, and he just panics making them get even more tangled while you yell at him to stop moving so that you can unhook his claws. finally you turn with your arms crossed, giving him the coldest, and most stern look of all time. he stares at you guiltily, a large wet patch forming on the crotch of his pants where his cum seeps through.

it's not his fault -not exactly- like any good hybrid he needs to be trained, and soon enough you've corrected that little problem of his (mostly)

tiger hybrid!sukuna is intensely territorial, especially when it comes to you. so when you come home smelling even faintly like another man? he’s agitated to no end — not even jealous, exactly, he just feels like it’s wrong. soon after come several arguments his way about “how he can’t piss around your house to mark his territory” or about how “it’s completely unacceptable to leave long clawed scratch marks on the walls or furniture”

tiger hybrid!sukuna who simply cannot keep his hands off you when you're on your period. this time he doesn't touch you (too much) without your permission, but he will beg you incessantly till you finally give in. and that's how you end up with your clothes shredded, and him biting and sucking every inch of your body hungrily as he makes his way down, tail wrapping possessively around you to keep you in place

tiger hybrid!sukuna with long sharp fangs that make his kisses hurt just a little, especially when gets too excited and nips your skin, drawing just a bit of blood that he happily licks up. he loves when they scar a bit too, just so that you’re marked as his.

tiger hybrid!sukuna with rough, spiked papillae on his tongue meant for cleaning raw flesh off bone that are now scraping against the bud of your stiff nipple. you gasp and writhe, and he knows he can't lick you nipples too much (as much he wants to) or it'll really start to hurt.

tiger hybrid!sukuna eats you out like he eats wild prey, teeth just shy of nipping your clit as he laps at your cunt. and of course the rough sandpaper texture of his tongue against your swollen nub feels like nothing else - a bit painful, borderline overstimulating, but so good at the same time. but just like with your nipples he has to be carefully so he doesn't seriously hurt you down there.

tiger hybrid!sukuna who just can't help himself from pinning your thighs open almost painfully as you cum, just to stick his tongue inside your hole and finally taste the leaking sweetness that's been teasing him for days. even when you're done, he continues to lick your pussy gently, almost affectionately. you squirm a little from the slight overstimulation but just let him do his thing as he laps your folds clean, deep purrs rumbling from inside his chest as he does so

[heartsforsav]

♯┆HONEY, HONEY .ᐟ ★

mark grayson x greek!reader

cw. reader is described as tan, with dark curly hair. you have an established family. all fluff! no smut here. there’s a somewhat descriptive kiss scene, but it was rushed writing by me.

synopsis. in which mark grayson and his family venture on to greece for a vacation. stupidly, he is captivated by the local that lives in the house next to his rental. vacation crushes never last… but why is this girl so engraved in his mind!

MARK HAD NOT INTENDED TO FALL HEAD OVER HEELS ON HIS TWO WEEK GREECE VACATION. him and his family had gotten a rented house, perfectly suitable for them. they were in the middle of the cute little greek town, surrounded by the tall white house’s in Mykonos.

two weeks to get away from the weight of the world. school, being a superhero, etc. cecil could get off their damn back for once. they deserved this break. and sweet little debbie had been ecstatic, perfectly planning this for months in advance.

nolan had promised that he would keep away from his heroism for as long as he possibly could. mark, too. if there happened to be a huge monster attacking that was only a few miles away… then that’s another story, but that’s because they had to! they couldn’t just ignore it.

but, anyway. they had flew in (literally) and arrived at their designated house. it was cute, something you’d see out of “mamma mia” since debbie was the one to book it. they had already checked out the beach (since they were flying right over it) and it was crystal clear.

after they finished the packing, they were going to go check it out for realsies. bags safely placed, as debbie started to unpack. mark was outside bringing in the last suitcase when he saw you.

his temporary neighbor. you were beautiful. obviously a local, due to your tanned and sun-kissed skin. you had dark hair, falling in natural curls around your face. it was long… almost down to your butt. it made marks lip twitch upward.

he stood frozen in place as he watched you hop down from your front steps, dressed in a bikini top and frilly white maxi skirt. you were probably on your way to the beach. the beach! he had to go there now. like, asap. now, now.

he blinked himself back to reality as you skipped away. he had to get ready. he brought the suitcase into the house, and rushed up to what-is-going-to-be his bedroom. he wasn’t prepared to meet such a beautiful woman so soon! what was he doing to do? how is he going to talk to you? gosh, what if you had a boyfriend? or maybe didn’t like non-greek men?

he stumbles a bit as he hurriedly dresses into swim shorts. getting his foot stuck in the hole of them, causing him to trip and fall back onto the bed. yeah, he was a mess.

after he got dressed, he yelled to his parents explaining his soon-to-be whereabouts (which they declared that he should wait, since they were going to join him) and dismissed it, rushing out the door to go find you. it shouldn’t be that hard to find you, he knew where you were going to be and the beach can’t be that big!

he was wrong. oh, so wrong. obviously the beach was going to be big…what did he expect. he groaned, rubbing a clammy hand down his face as he searched the sand for you.

he mostly just saw old men. tan, speedo wearing, old men. is this seriously who lives here? this is his competition? yeah, right. he felt a little better at that, chest more raised and posture more straight. what a relief.

his feet burned on the hot sands as he cautiously walked. the idiot had forgotten to put on sandals, too excited at the thought of seeing you! he certainly regretted being so careless. the heat nipped at his toes and it made him uncomfortably hiss.

his eyes found you before his brain did. it took him a second to process. but he knew it was you. he approached, falling back a couple feet where you stood, kicking at the waves with a little girl holding your hand as she did the same. he heard the genuinity of your loud giggle. it made his heart soar. the little girl, identical hair to yours, though it was shorter and more sporadic on her head, had a matching giggle. but, it was more high pitch, obviously.

you looked like an angel. okay, woah, maybe he should slow his roll. but truly, you did. his mouth grew dry at the thought of him not even having a plan. he couldn’t just approach you, he’d seem like a creep. and he was alone. and male. so he really had no ideas.

he groaned yet again, frustrated, and decided to find a spot in the sand, near where you were, to drop his towel. he was just going to watch, maybe get in the water if he got too hot, and wait til he found an opportunity to introduce himself to you. yeah, that could work.

he watched as you lifted the little girl into your arms, and went further into the clear blue water. he was smiling unknowingly, seeing you throw her into the crashing wave. you loudly laughed as she resurfaced, starting to splash little weak splashes at you.

he liked that you were good with kids. that you were fun, happy. it was charming.

“markus grayson! there you are.” his head craned to see his mother standing there in a one piece, dark sunglasses placed atop her nose. his dad was next to her, athletic build on display. he stood out from the tan, weirdly built men in greece. “you left me and your mother, mark.” nolan’s deep voice said.

mark shrugged. “was excited, i guess.” he simply says, turning back to watch you. his parents took a seat next to him, except they were in bougie beach chairs. of course debbie was going to sit comfortably on the beach instead of flat in the sand. she was worth more than that.

“what’re you looking at?” his mother sweetly asks, eyes following his. his ears flush pink. “uh, the water. s’very…clear?” there’s a hint of questioning in his voice. she hums, as if she believed his lie. she did not.

she sees you. spinning around in the water with the little girl, hand in hand, as the both of you bursted with radiance and laughter. she knowingly grinned, elbowing her husband next to her and jutting her head towards you. he knowingly nods, an ‘ah’ leaving his lips.

“sure, son. very clear water. that’s right.” nolan teases. mark turns back to look at him, then turns his attention back to you.

mark had begrudgingly left before you did. you seemed to spend your whole day on the beach (who wouldn’t if they lived in greece) and his parents forced him back home so they could prepare dinner. he dragged his feet the whole way back.

after dinner, he decided to wait on the front porch to see when you’d come back home. not in a creepy way… just in a making sure you got back home safe way.

he was on his phone, shooting a few texts to william to tell him about this “ethereal greek baddie” he had seen, when he heard the sound of approaching voices and the slapping of sandals on pavement. he shot his head up and saw you, with what he presumed was your younger sister holding your hand again, followed by your mother trailing behind you. the three of you looked almost identical. as if it was each generation of the same woman.

debbie came out of the house in what seemed to be perfect timing. she sat on the porch chair next to mark, and followed his eye line again. “oh! that’s her!” she recognized. he opened his mouth to say something, he already knew where this was heading. “no- mom- do no-“

“hello! are you the neighbors?” she was standing, heading her way over to them as they were a few steps away from their porch stairs. they all looked at debbie, who was holding a friendly smile.

“ah, yes! renters, i assume?” your mother spoke in broken english. debbie nodded. “yep! i’m debbie, this is my son, mark. he’s a little shy.” mark sunk into his seat, fingertips squished over his eyes in embarrassment. he heard your giggle again and dropped his hands to look at you, seeing you already staring right at him. it made his cheeks blush. and his heart skip a beat.

“no problem!” your mother began the introductions, saying you and your sisters name along with her own. debbie continued her friendly short talk, which drew way longer than it should’ve.

your sister started to become bored, trying to pull you along with her as she headed walking towards the steps. you quietly said something to her, which made her turn towards mark, and stop talking. he wondered what you said to her. especially when the little girl started smiling all crazy, and you bit your lip to hide your own, but the creasing of your eyes gave it away.

his hands got a little sweaty after that. but he pushed off any worried thoughts he had, and looked back to his mom, who was still bugging your poor mother. she was too friendly for her own good.

“alright, well, i’ll stop bothering! it was nice to meet you all, right, mark?” it’s as if she read his mind.

mark enthusiastically nodded, making his head a little dizzy from the abruptness of it. “uh-huh. it was.” he quips.

you and your family said your departures, and you all headed inside.

“sooo…” debbie began. mark threw his head back, already prepared for debbie’s teasing. “she’s cute.”

“yeah, i know, mom.”

the next day was the quickest marks ever gotten up and ready. ever. he had a great dream (totally unrelated to you, whaat..) and was ready to for real talk to you today.

after he finished breakfast, and ignored all the questions from his parents, he went back onto the porch chair. he must be blessed by a timing God, because a few minutes later you were opening the door and stepping out.

he silently cheered to himself. you looked as cute as ever, wearing a little strapless dress with your bikini tops strings poking out above it. hear me out, he wasn’t a foot guy, never had been, but you had an adorably stylish anklet on and your toes were painted a vibrant pink and wow, he had never expected to not be disgusted by feet. interesting, but he’s not into them! he swears by it.

you looked over as you placed sunglasses onto the top of your head. you seemed to spot him, eyes widening and smile etching onto your face. “mark!” you greet.

he hadn’t expected you to say anything. or remember his name. “oh- hey! hi!” he had stammered. he hoped you didn’t notice.

“i’m going to the beach! care to join?” you ask, though you already knew what he was going to say. he nods immediately.

“yeah, ‘course! lemme just- uh- change. real quick. stay here…please.”

you giggle at his rushed response and nod, sending a thumbs up his way. he gave one back before clambering inside.

he had definitely topped yesterdays time to getting changed. that was the quickest he’s ever changed into swim shorts in his life.

when he came back, you were still standing there all prettily, looking at something on your phone when he shut the front door. you look up and put your phone back into your tote bag.

“ready?”

“yes! let’s go.” he couldn’t believe he was already starting his day by talking to you. what a blessing.

after that day, he had found it much easier to talk to you. it became more natural, and his stuttering didn’t occur as often anymore. he was getting less nervous around you, and you seemed to get more comfortable with him. it was flowing smoothly.

couple days later, the two of you found yourselves sat on a shared beach towel, facing each other even though you were right next to the ocean.

“so, how much longer are you here for?” you ask, twirling a piece of hair around your finger, toes digging into the sand. the eye contact you held made his stomach turn into knots.

“uh, like a week and… two days?”

“are you asking me or telling me?” you tease. he lets out a breathy laugh.

“telling. i think.” you nod along, looking down from his eyes down to his chest. your wandering eyes made him audibly gulp.

“do you like greek men?”

fuck. why did he ask that. like, totally wrong timing. he didn’t even think about saying it. and the surprised face you made at him, eyes flicking back to his. you stifle a laugh.

“uh…what?” you laugh aloud this time. he shrugs, acting all confident as if he meant to say that. “jus’ wondering. do you?”

you bite your lip in thought. “some, sure.” is how you decide to answer. he nods his head, looking at the sand as he cups some of it into his hand. “cool, cool.” he wanted to be nonchalant. as if he didn’t care that you like ‘some’ greek men.

“but i like other men, too. specifically ones that travel from the U.S.” your words float in the air. he doesn’t even try to hide his wide ass toothy smile. were you flirting? or just being very, very specific?

“i see…”

“mmhmm. do you like greek women?”

you seemed to be sat a little closer than you were before. he didn’t mind. he liked it. he wished you were closer.

“yep.”

“cool, cool.” you mimic. you tilt your head, eyelashes fluttering and a pouty downturned smile on your lips. it made your dimples pop out. he lets his eyes fall from yours to your lips. he regrets it. it only makes him want to kiss you more.

“not all greek women..just..some.” he voices.

your eyes fall to his lips. “oh, yeah? anyone in particular?”

“mmm. maybe. i dunno.”

you giggle. it was like he was trying to kill you with this slow burn! you lean in towards him, crawling to hover over his body that starts to tense up. his eyes widen, and mouth drops open with a sharp breath. “you sure?” your voice is lower. more sultry.

it makes his throat dry. he doesn’t dare drop his eyes to your chest that’s hovering over his own. he can’t afford to. he does not want a boner right now. “n-no..”

your even closer than before. your lips almost, almost ghost over his, but not quite. he decides to lean in a tinsy bit more to just feel the warmth from yours, to just barely feel the slightly sticky gloss residing on your plump lips.

then you take the initiative again, and slot your lips against his own. he’s still for a millisecond before he crashes them further, deeper, into yours, bringing his hands to cup the sides of your face. you have one palm flat against his toned chest, the other placed sturdily on your towel to keep you upright. his lips are soft, fitting perfectly into place with yours. like pieces of a puzzle coming together.

he chokes on a whimper when your hand lowers to his abs, scratching your acrylics just barely into them. you swallow his whimper, letting yourself fall into him to straddle him. you practically forget that your in public, surrounded by tourists and local people that you definitely know.

his left hand goes to your hip with a tight grip, the right one staying at the side of your head and just barely tangling his fingertips into your curly hair.

your tongue licks at his bottom lip, slipping into his mouth when he lets out a breathy noise that resembles a moan.

you hear a couple walking past complain about the “abundantly disgusting teen PDA” and you break apart from the kiss. an almost unnoticeable string of saliva connects to your lips, but you both notice it. it makes him blush even more, like a sense of pride hitting him. you look at the couple that made a remark, give them a dirty look, then slink off of marks lap. “sorry, forgot we were in..public.” you mumble, face bashful and hand scratching nervously at the back of your neck. you’re a little ashamed, but you also don’t really care because that was one of the best kisses you’ve had.

“yeah…” his face is red. he could be mistaken for sunburnt it was that red.

“…still not sure?”

[charliegyrth]

The Lottery Winner - 1 of 2

My Amazing New Job

Hi, everyone! Charlie here. I wrote this story based on a suggestion from one of my readers. Anonymous, wherever you are, I hope you like this story!

***

I didn’t expect the job interview to be by the side of a pool.

I’d catered plenty of events for eccentric rich people, and every single one of them had been a mixture of professional and condescending. Usually, they’d meet me in their drawing room (or “foyer” or whatever) and tell me a long list of what they do and don’t want. They depended on my services, so they treated me with respect (more or less), but at no point did any of them want me to feel comfortable in their fancy mansions.

So when Grant himself (not his butler) greeted me at the front door and gave me a tour of the place, I was a bit surprised. He took me into his courtyard and had me sit across from him in the shade of an umbrella. He even had lemonade waiting for me.

“The weather’s really nice today, huh?” he asked, smiling.

He was quite a handsome man. Tan. Muscular. Black hair and very dark eyes. He wore a loose gray shirt and torn blue jeans. He looked very blue-collar, and very out-of-place surrounded by all this opulence.

“Yeah,” I said. “Nice and breezy.”

That wasn’t a joke, but he laughed anyway. “I look around sometimes, and I still can’t believe that I live here.” Then he glanced away. “Sorry. I probably sound like an entitled snob, huh?”

“Not at all.” In fact, he was the first rich guy I’d met who didn’t sound like a snob. Most people with enough money to afford a place like this take everything for granted. They surround themselves with beauty and then refuse to appreciate it. Not Grant.

“Good,” he said, laughing again. “This is all so new to me. I won the lottery a few months back and I moved here three weeks ago. I’m still adjusting.”

“Wow.” I always thought the lottery was a scam. I barely knew this guy, but I could tell that he was genuine, that for once, all that money went to the right person.

He clapped his hands together. “Tell me about yourself, Bradley!”

I assumed he was asking about my professional experience. Despite how friendly he was acting, this was still a job interview. “Well, I went to Le Gran Culinary School. I was sous chef for three years at Langley’s in Vegas. And for the last three years, I’ve been head chef at—”

“Marcone’s,” he finished for me.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why I know you’ll be perfect. I’ve eaten there like ten times since I got rich, and my God, the food is incredible!”

“Thank you.”

“I actually saw you a couple times, too. Talking to your workers or whatever. You always seemed so… nice. Not, you know, Gordon-Ramsay-ing at people.”

“Thank you,” I said again. I trained under some real monsters, so I always tried to treat my crew with respect. They worked better that way.

“So?” Grant said. “Will you take the job?”

“Um, aren’t you gonna ask me more questions?”

“No,” he said very casually. “Don’t need to. And I really, really need a cook. I work in construction. Well, worked, I guess. I have this big fancy kitchen now and the only food I can make is cold cereal.”

I took a long sip of his lemonade, forcing myself not to flinch at the tartness. It was terrible.

This was the single easiest job interview of my life. No hard questions. No questions at all, really. Just a friendly, extremely handsome guy who liked my cooking and wanted me as his live-in chef. I knew that I should take some time to think about it, but I just had this feeling that I was meant to be here.

“I’d love to work for you, Grant.”

***

Grant stepped out of the pool, pushing back his dripping hair. It took all my strength not to stare like a cartoon character. When I started working here a week ago, I had no idea that my employer was so freaking hot. I knew he was handsome, obviously. His dark eyes and sharp jaw gave his face definite movie-star vibes. But seeing him shirtless, seeing how a decade of construction work had hardened his body… I mean, Jesus. The guy looked like he could be on the cover of a romance novel.

I also didn’t realize just how often he’d go around shirtless. He spent huge stretches of the day longing in the pool, and often, he’d get out of the water and just remain shirtless.

It was so difficult to act professional around him, to look him in the eyes when all I wanted to do was stare at his developed, dark-haired chest. He wasn’t gay, of course, so the unobtainability helped, for sure. He always treated me like a friend instead of an employee, though, and there were times when his friendliness verged on flirting.

All in my head, though.

He walked from the pool to the table, still dripping wet. I had just set out his lunch, two submarine sandwiches and a salad. He had a huge appetite (and always finished his meals), so it was genuinely amazing that he had maintained his godlike physique.

I waited at the table, just in case he needed anything else. (Sometimes he asked for a bowl of ice cream to go with his lunch.) He smiled gratefully at the food. “Looks amazing as always.”

“Thank you, Grant.” (He told me multiple times not to call him sir.) “Would you like anything else?”

“Actually, yeah. But you can say no if you want.”

I wouldn’t say no if he asked for a kidney. He paid me a fortune and I got to live in this mansion. “Anything you want.”

“Can you eat with me? I’d like the company.”

I felt my cheeks blush. “Absolutely. Just give me a second.”

I ran back inside and grabbed my own sandwich. Whenever I cooked for Grant, I always made an extra (smaller) portion for myself. I wasn’t much of an eater.

He was already chowing down on his first sandwich when I came back and sat across from him. Even when he was scarfing down food, he looked handsome. I liked watching him enjoy my work. I really did.

“How are you liking it here so far?” he asked through a mouthful of food.

“Love it. Really.”

“Great,” he said. “You know, you remind me a lot of my ex Jennifer. Great cook. Happy all the time.”

That comment gave me some mixed feelings. I was glad that he liked my personality, that he thought I was “happy all the time” even though he was the one constantly laughing and smiling. And I guess I liked that I reminded him of his ex. I didn’t like that he was comparing me to a woman, though.

“Thanks.”

“Oh,” he mumbled. “I offended you.”

I shrugged.

“Sorry, B.” (He’d started calling me B instead of Bradley. I was on the fence about that.) “I’m not used to, you know…”

“Talking with gay people?” I asked.

He flinched. “Having employees.” Then he looked at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. “You’re gay?”

I laughed. I thought he was joking. Everyone who met me knew I was gay. My kindergarten teacher knew it. Then I realized he was dead serious. “Yeah. I am.”

“Oh,” he said. It was the most neutral-sounding “oh” you could imagine. I couldn’t tell if he was totally fine with it or if he was freaked out and wanted to fire me.

We sat in silence for a while. Grant kept eating, still with an awkward expression, still staring at me. I just sat there.

Finally, he asked, “So are you dating anyone right now? Sorry if I’m not supposed to ask.”

“No,” I said. “Freshly single.” That was one of the reasons I quit working at Marcone’s. My ex was one of the owners.

“Oh,” he said again. That “oh” had a lot of meaning. Was he interested? Did this straight, rich former construction worker like me? It sure sounded like it.

Then he added, “If you want to get back out there, go on dates and stuff, just let me know. I don’t wanna hold you back.”

My heart sank. Nope, he didn’t like me. He was just being a good boss.

“Thanks,” I said. I really should reenter the dating scene. It had been too long.

We started talking about other things (thankfully). He told me about his favorite action movies (which removed all doubt that he was gay). Pleasant conversation, though. I really enjoyed eating with him.

Pretty soon, he finished his meal and I pushed the remains of my sandwich to the side. (I told you I wasn’t a big eater.)

He looked at my plate with a hint of disappointment. “You don’t like your own food?”

“No, I just don’t eat a lot.”

“Then, um, can I have it?”

I’d left two thirds of my sandwich, but my bite marks were on it.

“I can make you another one if you’re still hungry?”

“I’m not. I just don’t like food going to waste.”

I pushed the plate toward him. He smiled and kept eating.

***

We ate every meal together after that. He always ate my leftovers. He always complimented me, too. I knew I was a great cook, but there were very few compliments in the restaurant industry. In movies, you see people sending their "compliments to the chef," but in reality, that never happens. It felt great to be so appreciated.

It also felt great to get to know Grant. We got into deep conversations. He told me everything about himself, from his struggles as a kid in foster care, to his difficult high school experience, to his long days working construction. He never complained. If I had lived through a fraction of the difficulties that he had, I wouldn’t stop complaining. Not Grant. He took life as it came and was grateful for everything he had.

We didn’t just confine our conversations to the dinner table, though. We hung out throughout the day. Some nights, we’d watch movies together. We went shopping a couple times. I even introduced him to my family. Outside of actual romance, it felt like we were a couple.

I think that’s why I felt confident enough to tell him that he was gaining weight. I first noticed it a month into the job, when I saw his shirtless stomach bunch into rolls during one of our lunches. At the time, I assumed it was just a temporary softening, but two weeks later, those rolls had only gotten more obvious. That’s when I said, “Grant, I think you’re gaining weight. If you want me to adjust our menu, I totally can.”

He looked down at his stomach and poked his new flab with his fingers. He seemed surprised but not concerned. “I guess I am. And no, don’t change the menu at all. It’s too good.”

And that was that. I’d brought it to his attention, and since he didn’t seem to care, I decided not to mention it again. He was choosing my food over his own appearance, and I was fine with that. He still looked quite handsome.

His added pudge didn’t change his habits at all. He still walked around shirtless all the time. He still finished all his food and most of mine. He still acted confident in his own skin. I missed his six-pack, but that confidence more than made up for it.

One day, three months after I moved in, he surprised me in the kitchen. His belly was rounder than it ever had been, and his nipples were starting to look puffy. I was surprised to see him. He never interrupted me when I was cooking.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. I just wanted to see you. And if it’s not too much of a distraction, I kinda wanted to see you at work. Maybe I could learn some tricks.”

Even though I loved seeing him with his shirt off, I told him to put something on so that his thick chest and belly hair didn’t end up in our food.

He laughed at my request but did as I said. As he bounded out of the room, I noticed that his ass was jiggling under his shorts. That was a new development.

When he came back in, he was wearing an old gray shirt that I’d seen him in plenty of times before. Now, it barely contained his belly. A sliver of skin was exposed at the bottom. He noticed my eyes dart down there.

“I know,” he muttered. “I think we need to go shopping again.”

That sentence struck me for two reasons:

One, he still wasn’t upset at his weight gain, and he expected it to continue.

And two, he said “we.” It definitely sounded like something a boyfriend would say. Whether or not he saw me in a romantic light, we’d settling into the rhythms of a couple.

I pushed that thought out of my brain and started showing him around the kitchen. I was making beef stroganoff and had all the ingredients laid out and ready to go.

He listened attentively, asking enough questions to tell me that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. (He literally got the “stove” and “oven” mixed up.) As a professional cook, I should’ve been annoyed, but I thought it was cute.

Everything about him was cute. His excitement. His eagerness to learn. Even the way his little belly bobbed around as he rushed across the kitchen trying to “help.”

When it was time to mix the cream sauce on the stove (not the oven), I had him do the stirring for me. I grabbed his waist and positioned him in front of the pan, then reached around him and guided his hand so he’d stir at the right speed. I didn’t realize how intimate this was until he looked at me over his shoulder. He had a strange look in his eyes. A hungry look. “You’re a good cook, B.”

“And you’re a fast learner,” I said. Perhaps that was an exaggeration. But whatever. It made him smile. He was still looking at me, so I added, “Eyes on the sauce, please.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

I gave him some space. I didn’t want to take things too far.

With my instructions, he finished the rest of the meal himself. I was so proud of him.

Read Part 2 here. Check out my list of stories here and my ebooks here.

[slasherslittlesimp]

How You Meet- Bo Sinclair

You awkwardly walk alongside Wade and Carly as you enter the town of Ambrose. Just moments ago you were in a truck with a friendly but off putting male who offered you all a ride into town to get a fan belt after Wade's broke or something. Not caring much for sports, you volunteered to go with both of them since it sounded more interesting than riding with the others.

The two talk with each other as you simply follow after them in silence. Approaching the place Lester mentioned, Wade calls out into the place to see if this Bo guy is there. His calls are answered by silence so he turns away to look around the small town. "Hey, there's that House of Wax." Wade points at the building.

"Wade, what about the fan belt?" Carly questions, wondering why her boyfriend is heading away from the place he needs to be.

"There's no one at the station." He explains with a shrug as he continues on.

Carly sighs as she follows after him, you following her. "Why don't we check the church?"

You look towards the church at the end of the road, wondering why she thinks there'll be people there of all places. As they both enter the building, you simply stand outside, not wanting to go inside. It doesn't take long for them to walk back out, both of them looking embarrassed. "What happened?"

"There was a funeral going on." Carly scrunches her nose as she moves to stand next to you. You nod in understanding. That explains why the entire town is seemingly empty. In a small place like this if someone dies then pretty much everyone will be attending the funeral.

An older male exits the church, lighting a cigarette as he walks down the steps and past the fence. "Hey, man. Sorry about walking in."

"We didn't know..." Carly trails off, obviously feeling bad.

"You shouldn't have walked in." The man speaks and you can't help but to blush a bit at his voice. He's certainly attractive and doesn't seem to be all that much older than you. You're in your late twenties- older than both of your cousins who just so happen to be Carly and Nick.

"Yeah, I know. It's just that we're having car trouble. We're not from this town." Wade tries to explain.

"We're looking for Bo. He works at the gas station."

"You found him." You zone out of the conversation after that, simply looking at Bo. He finishes his cigarette before flicking it aside, turning around to face all of you. His gaze flickers towards you, likely only just now realizing that you're there as well. After a bit of talking the other two go to walk away while he heads back towards the church.

You hesitate to follow after them, glancing between Bo and them. "Hey, Bo?" You call out, catching his attention. He stops walking, turning towards you slightly with a raised brow. "I'm sorry about interrupting the funeral. I'm also very sorry for your loss."

He seems surprised as he turns fully towards you before walking down the steps to stand directly in front of you. He looks down at you, his eyes scanning your face as bit as you try to keep from blushing. "No need to apologize, doll. You're not the one who barged in uninvited."

"I'm still sorry." You mutter, giving him an apologetic smile which makes his eyes flicker down to your lips. Without letting him say anything else, you turn away to rush after your friends who seemingly disappeared. You have no idea where they went so you simply make your way back to the station to wait for either them or Bo to show up.

It feels like hours before Wade and Carly finally come back, apparently having just finished at the House of Wax which wasn't even open. You hold back your scolding, finding it especially disrespectful that not only did they barge in on a funeral but they also broke into a place and likely messed with things they shouldn't have.

To top it all of, Wade also enters Bo's shop without him being there. You want to speak up to keep Carly from going in after him but hold back since she likely won't listen to you anyways. Instead, you lean against the wall outside as you once again wait for them. Their voices drift out of the building though you can't really hear what they're saying.

"Where's your friends?" Bo questions, approaching out of nowhere.

You jump slightly, having not noticed him walking up. "They kind of went into your shop. Apparently they have a real knack for breaking and entering that they didn't tell me about." You joke, trying to not feel bad about the situation. Hopefully he's not actively pissed that they went into his shop.

He steps up next to you, looking through the window to see that Wade and Carly are indeed inside the building. He smirks slightly, turning towards you with an amused look. "I'm gonna mess with them."

"Have fun with that." You snort, shaking your head as you also smile. Bo's eyes flicker to your lips once again before he turns away to enter his shop, leaving you outside alone. You can barely hear them inside but you can tell that he startled both of them. Soon enough they all step back outside, Carly motioning for you to follow after them.

"So, is it too late to sign up for that beauty pageant?" Wade questions, nudging his girlfriend with his arm.

"Unfortunately it is, because I know someone who would've won hands down." You don't see his eyes glance towards you as he says this. You're used to people thinking Carly is more attractive than you so you simply assume he's talking about her like everyone else usually does.

"That House of Wax was pretty cool." Wade comments, changing the subject once again.

"You went inside?"

"Yeah, it was unlocked so, you know..." Wade shrugs.

"Everything seems to be unlocked around you, don't it?" Bo understands now why you said what you did earlier. He sighs before launching into a story about the House of Wax and some woman named Trudy who apparently was the original artist of the place. After that you arrive at what is apparently his house. "Why don't you guys hop in while I go get that fan belt?"

You hop into his truck without question, Carly getting in after you while Wade mentions using his restroom. Bo takes one last glance at you before leading him into the house. If only you knew that things would be going down hill very soon.

[bogos-bint3d]

Messin around w/ perseverance stuff

[xxplastic-cubexx]

top five worst people to be around when theyre experiencing road rage

[wyvernity]

sss day my favorite national holiday WOOOOHHHH

bonus

[nellasbookplanet]

I recently started reading (and ended up dropping partway through) an m/m retelling of an old legend, and it made me think of this reoccurring thing I've come across a handful of times now in m/m fiction and how they approach women, equality, and world-building.

Let's call it the omegaverse problem, because that's where it seems the most blatant (I've only come across it twice outside of fandom spaces that I can remember). Basically, it's when the writer looks at the unequal and sometimes oppressive roles women serve in society (today and historically), and goes 'this is a good basis for dark romance but there are too many women here' and then just. plops men into the roles traditionally served by women and recreates heteronormative tropes but They're All Men Now, none of those icky women.

Now, completely removing any and all gender based inequality isn't a bad basis for a queer-inclusive fantasy! But thing is, this type of narrative isn't interested in women, so they often read as if women have mysteriously disappeared from society (except for the occassional mom or sister). They don’t bother to include women in traditionally male areas (the book I dropped had plenty of male courtesans, with diplomats and bodyguards and advisors also being male) nor to create new roles for them.

They also generally don’t bother to look critically at the systemic and societal inequalities they're mimicking. The concept 'typically sexist society but they're all men (or all women)' could be used to alienate and deconstruct our ideas of what’s 'normal' and what’s oppressive, a way to compare the intersections of class and gender. Instead, this kind of story is only interested in using inequality as inter-character conflict and set-up for romance. And it sucks.

[ruvviks]

finally finished this piece of my three new d&d characters!! click for better quality as always :] shivani "juniper" nightingale is a faun from the feywild and a great old one warlock of vashna, a hag from primordial times. she travels the material plane with an insatiable hunger for knowledge, as she seeks to understand how the feywild as mirror plane works and how it came to exist in the first place artem "hindsight" kaithos is a tiefling hailing from the frozen shore and a gunslinger fighter. carrying the gun of his deceased father, he has left his home for good to try and find his place in a world he believes he does not belong in erytheia zephyrine is an air genasi from ridgewater and a grave domain cleric of the tidemother. having left home at a young age to travel the world and broaden her horizons, she meets the rest of the party at a tournament in kuya springs, kharfaldir kingdom, where they team up to figure out who's behind the distribution of a magic-infused drug that turns creatures into a bloodthirsty, feral version of their former selves

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @mojaves;

@shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption, @ncytiri;

@calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm, @strafethesesinners;

@fashionablyfyrdraaca, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian, @estevnys, @devilbrakers;

@aezyrraeshh, @carlosoliveiraa, @adelaidedrubman, @batwomxns

[p0rk-guts]

Ah yes I love finding frankie

[cent-scratchnsniff]

doodle i made when talking about lobcorp to people. i dont think they see me the same anymore after playing lobcorp and rambling about it

[ayoyoungg]

Maybe it’s too early for me to say this (I’m only on ep 3), but I’ve already seen people online saying that Jentry should be with Kit or Stella instead of Michael and it’s giving…😒

[okitanoniisan]

no one can reach my level of petty hating about the stupid english title

[egopathic]

If it helps the discourse still kinda exists in the aspd and npd community but it’s now in the form of accusing everyone of larping. I swear I have seen every and all ways ASPD can present being called fake on here. It’s so stupid and annoying but has its funny moments. But now I just don’t ever talk about my experiences because of it. ��

aspd fakers this, npd fakers that.

enough idle talk. to find the One True Narcissistic Psychopath we must lock all of cluster B tumblr in the octagon and fight it out

[overly-verbose]

Does the Kahoot theme apply at all to the upcoming chapter?

To some of it, certainly!

Some of it not, especially after A Point - but yeah lol, pretty accurate besides that 😂

Everyone's doing some THINKIN' there

(maybe some overthinkin' in places, heh - but honestly one really can't blame them 😂)

Poor SIkuna, man - Sweet Dreams were not made of this 😔😔😔(😂)

[exercise-of-trust]

it baffles me, though it probably shouldn't, that someone can write an entire rpf novel about j. r. r. tolkien finding a mysterious ancient book and going on thrilling international adventures, and get it published with enough success that i can accidentally stumble across it in the sff section of the local library